Storm Grant Fiction that's pretty, witty, straight and gay!

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Acolyte (working title) Psycho serial killer or hapless pawn of ancient and cruel gods?

Excerpt: At the appointed hour, Gabriel takes the bus to a dark and dirty part of town, the part the tourist ads don’t mention. He feels unclean just being there, but he steels himself and sets one foot before the other on sidewalks redolent with sin.

His head throbs with Their longing; the orders he must follow. He finds a car that suits, coaxing the engine with prayers and wire cutters. He cruises the boulevard slowly. Sleazy people — young and not so young — loll in doorways and against palm trees. The neon and fluorescent lights paint these whores in gruesome colours: reds, greens, and blues, outlined in shadow; grinning death masks of those ripely dead.

It’s early and there’s a cocky sense of adventure in the eyes and attitudes of the boys and girls who work the street. The desperation would come later. He avoids the cliques and klatches, looking for the loner, the outcast, the one no one will miss. A misfit among misfits.