Teeth and Other Stories
J.R. Rain here. When I get email regarding my books, more often than not that mail consists of a single question: Who's Fang? Fang, for those of you who have not read my vampire mystery novel, MOON DANCE, is Samantha Moon's online confidant. Although I always suspected his role would expand in future books, little is explained about who Fang is or where he comes from. Well, considered his role expanded. At least for the time being. "Teeth" is his story. Or, rather, his backstory, in which the question is asked: What happens when a child is born with a rare throwback gene, a gene that produces two exceptionally long teeth?
Also included in the collection:
"My Father's Eyes", in which Death comes to a small bar in Los Angeles...and orders a beer.
"The Fridge", in which a man buying a state-of-the-art refrigerator gets much more than he bargained for.
"Die Spy", in which a spy very much comes out of the cold.
"Step on a Crack", in which an old curse gets a very real update.
And a bonus short story from THE BODY DEPARTED:
"Two Ghosts", in which two lost souls figure out a way not to be so lost....
(Cover design by Bren at bren@gotchacoveredbydesign.com.)
Order Teeth and Other Stories here:
Read an excerpt of "Teeth" below:
The defense attorney circled the witness box and studied the killer. The young man, with his head bowed and hands clasped loosely before him, looked as if he were in a confessional. The attorney nearly chuckled at the image.
Forgive me, Father, for I have sucked my girlfriend dry.
He stopped circling and now stood directly in front of his client. As usual, the young man ignored him and stared down into his lap.
Remember, Aaron, thought the attorney. Your fate rests with me. I'm your friend here, not the enemy.
The crowd was silent; so silent, in fact, that the attorney actually heard a pen drop, clattering loudly on the polished tiles. The lawyer, however, was not so delusional as to believe that those in the courtroom were holding their collective breaths and waiting for him. Indeed, he knew they were spellbound by the young man. The killer. Hell, the whole damn world seemed spellbound by the young man, whom the pressed had dubbed the American Vampire.
The attorney removed his glasses dramatically--he always removed them dramatically--and spoke loudly enough for all to hear. After all, this was his big moment, too. This case would make his career.
"Aaron, you have been found guilty for the murder of Annie Hox. Now a new jury must decide your punishment. In particular, they will decide if you are worth more alive than dead. The ball is in your court, Aaron."
The young man continued staring down at his hands, almost petulantly, like a scolded kid.
A hell of a scolding, thought the attorney.
Aaron Parker had always been a quiet young man, the very definition of introverted. Long ago he had learned never to trust anyone, especially not to open up to anyone. Now, sitting here for all the world to see in the witness box, he felt uneasy at best. The uncomfortable chair didn't help, either.
As Aaron shifted again, the lead defender paused in front of him, smelling of expensive cologne and looking, if anything, like he was enjoying himself. Aaron hated him. Aaron hated most people, but he especially hated his own attorney. The polished man looked like the older version of all the kids in school who had made fun of him. All the good-looking kids who had it good and easy.
Aaron never had it easy. Ever.
And so he hated the man, just like he hated all the others.
Despite himself, Aaron inhaled deeply, drawing in the man's cologne. Aaron always had a thing for scents and smells. In fact, he often thought of all his senses as being highly attuned. Especially his sense of taste.
He looked past his attorney, his small darting eyes finding the faces of those sitting in the courtroom beyond. Hundreds of faces, belonging to everyone from family members and friends, to the media and the damn curious. Expressions ranging from revulsion to amusement to horror. And all were staring at him. Everyone one of them.
Just another freak show, he thought.
As he gazed at the crowd, as he watched those watching him, he did what he always did, what many in the crowd had noticed throughout the course of this outrageous trial:
He opened his mouth, just a little, and the tip of his tongue poked out as he unconsciously ran it back and forth along his upper incisors. He did this for perhaps ten seconds--
And then he opened his mouth a little more, as he always did. Now his roaming tongue stopped at his massive canines--teeth that projected down from his upper jaw like mighty ivory stalagmites--
Wet, gleaming tongue sliding down one of the freakishly long stalagmites--the right one, in fact--down, down this massive fang, stopping finally at the tip. There it paused, and, like an elephant's curious trunk, gently tapped the tip of the tooth. Tapped it hesitantly, as if testing it. Tapped it carefully, as if fearful of it. Tapped it again and again and again....
"Aaron, can you please recount for the court the events that led to the killing of Annie Hox?"
