The Prescient - Installment 5

dontravis.com blog post #404

 Those readers from Hong Kong must really dig vampires. They led to pack by 10 to 1. Russia remained in second.

 Last week, Boris returned to succumb to Tancready’s initial demands. Then he fled into the night again… this time naked. What happens next?

 Courtesy of publicdomainphotos.net

 *****

THE PRESCIENT

            As before, the boy kept his distance for a few days before appearing unannounced on my doorstep. Neither of us spoke when I opened the door. Faint bruises beneath his eyes bespoke hours of worry and lost sleep. His aura was wild, fretful, fearful. Yet, he was here. He moved into my living room and turned on me accusingly.

“What have you done to me? What is this hold you have over me? It…it’s ungodly! Why don’t you leave me alone?”

“Is that what you wish?” I asked quietly.

He fought and lost his battle while standing in the middle of a darkened room in my home. “No!” he moaned, clutching me to his breast and kissing me with a passion that took me by surprise.

Ripping off his clothing, Boris took my head in his strong hands to guide me down his smooth torso. I followed his lead, and soon he was feeding my energy with his fluid essence.

“God! It was as good as the first time! Who…are you? How do you make me do these things?

I paused to answer. “I make you do nothing you do not already crave.”

“No. Yes. No! He staggered backwards, his eyes widening with the shock of understanding. “You’re going to make me do it to you, aren’t you? You’re going to make me fuck you?” He gave me no time to reply. “Are you going to do it to me too?”

I flinched at the anguish in that question. “Only when you want me to, Boris. And you will … eventually.”

“Who are you?” he cried again. “A-are you who I think you are?”

“And who is that?”

“One of those creatures Grandpa Balint used to talk about.” Boris moved away from me, his dilated eyes full of doubt. “That can’t be! Those are nothing but old wives’ tales. Folklore. Oh, Lord,” he exclaimed, pacing restlessly around the darkened room, oblivious to his naked beauty. “What am I saying? This is the twenty-first century. This is the good old US of A. I … I’m a modern guy.” He halted and indulged in a sour grimace, which turned him absolutely fetching. “I’m just all messed up over getting it on with a guy. That’s all; that’s all it is.”

“Do your sexual regrets usually span days?” I asked quietly.

“No, but this was with a man!”

“Boris, at a guess, I’d say that half the male student body at the university has had an experience with another male, and they do not appear so agitated.”

“Yeah, but…but I came back for seconds.” He resumed pacing again. “Something’s not right. I gotta figure this out. Gimme my photos, my prints, Tancready. I’m not coming back. Not ever!”

I gave him a doleful smile and handed over an envelope from the coffee table. “Yes, you will. Here are your film and the prints. But be warned. Every time you view them, you will remember this magnificent experience.”

“Never!” he breathed and once again headed out the door naked.

“You are welcome in my home any time, Boris Balint.” I sent a tentacle toward him and viciously drew on his energy. He reeled against the doorframe and stumbled outside.

#

He was back within a fortnight, wild, disheveled, and at the edge of his sanity. As I opened the door, shading my sight against the sudden light, he pushed his way inside. Immediately, he turned fretful.

“Why am I here? I’ve got no control anymore, Tancready. My life’s gone to hell in a handbasket. I broke up with my girl. My grades have taken a nosedive. I can’t sleep. Eat. Do anything. And it’s all your fault!”

He stopped directly in front of me, his eyes flickering as his suspicions fell into place. “You’re one of them. A Vampire! God, I can’t believe I’m saying it out loud! But nothing else makes sense! How you make me do what I don’t want to do! How you got me to talk to you in the first place even though I knew I shouldn’t.” That sent a look of surprise across his handsome face. “How did I even know it was wrong to talk to you?”

“You are a Prescient,” I replied. “A human who is sensitive to Eternals.”

“Eternals,” he laughed harshly. “Vampires, you mean. That explains so much. You can’t stand the light; you wear those damned shades all the time. You live in the dark! But…” he hesitated. “I thought you burned to a crisp in sunlight.”

“False folklore,” I scoffed. “I have difficulty, but I can function by day.”

“That’s why you cover up with clothing,” he seized on the point. “And another thing … I drove like a madman the other night, but you beat me back to the campus. I sensed you. How did you get there so fast?”

“I have other means of travel,” I answered vaguely. I saw his look. “No, I do not fly around like a bat.” I stroked his smooth cheek; he looked panicked but suffered my touch.

“Maybe not, but you can see in the dark like one, pick a flying insect out of the air with your radar. And you feed off people, Tancready. I’ve seen it! You draw from them…drain them. You’ve done it to me.”

“Yes,” I admitted. “I feed my energy by drawing from others. But I always sought to spare you, Boris. Your power is your cum, your seed.” I rubbed my thumb across his mouth.

His eyes became saucers, and his aura flared. He feebly batted my hand away. “I’m a fucking meal to you?”

“What I take from you, I am willing to give to you.” I parted his lips with my finger, raked a nail over his teeth.

He struggled a moment, and then his broad shoulders slumped. He licked the end of my finger. “You want me to blow you, don’t you?” The spirit was gone from his voice.

“I want you to taste me, as I have tasted you. I want to imbue you with my power.”

Tremulously, he opened the robe I wore and ran his hands down my chest. “I didn’t know Vampires were handsome… like men,” he mumbled befoe moving to lick my sternum. His moist lips were electrifying; his touch set off sparks. I was so swollen I thought it might burst. He was awkward and inexperienced, but ultimately quite successful. Afterward, I knelt to embrace him, cooing in his ear as he fought his emotions.

“Giving pleasure, begets pleasure,” I philosophized inanely.

The boy rose to his full height, every inch a man. “I can’t believe it! You made me do it!” Alarm flooded his halo. “Will I be all right?”

“You will be fine. As much as I would like you to stay the night, my beautiful Boris, I think you should return to your dorm. Try not to fret. Get some rest and return to me this weekend. There is much for me to teach you.”

He dropped his head into his hands for a moment and then looked at me again. “You want us to do it, don’t you? I mean really do it! You’re going to make me fuck you! And you’re going to do it to me!” His hand suddenly went to his neck. “You want my blood, too, don’t you?”

I responded quietly. “You must trust me not to harm you.”

“Trust you?” he demanded. “Yeah, Tancready. First, you take away my power to resist. Then we do this. Now you want my fucking blood! Will it turn me into…a creature like you?”

I shook my head slowly. “No, that is another lie told over the generations.” I brushed his hand away and fingered the pulsing vein in his throat. He shuddered. “Go now, Boris, with the certain knowledge that I love you beyond all things. And when you return, you will understand my meaning.”

I was sated when he left me and had no need to prowl for partners, willing or unwilling. Nonetheless, I went to the campus to see that he arrived safely. As he entered the dormitory, I could tell my handsome young Prescient was aware I hovered near.

*****

 Tancready’s drawing the delicious Boris deeper and deeper into his net. Now he’s not only had his way with the lad, he’s forced Boris to reciprocate, driving him away in a panic yet again. But something is different now. Boris has put a name to his tormentor/lover. What more does Tancready want? Maybe we’ll learn next week.

 The following are buy links for my last BJ Vinson mystery The Voxlightner Scandal.

 Dreamspinner: https://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/books/the-voxlightner-scandal-by-don-travis-11285-b

DSP Publications: https://www.dsppublications.com/books/the-voxlightner-scandal-by-don-travis-537-b

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Voxlightner-Scandal-Vinson-Mystery-Book-ebook/dp/B07VL33P99

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-voxlightner-scandal-don-travis/1132632844?ean=9781640809260

iBooks: https://books.apple.com/ca/book/the-voxlightner-scandal/id1473985039?mt=11&ign-mpt=uo%3D4

Google: https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=H3ilDwAAQBAJ

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/ca/en/ebook/the-voxlightner-scandal

Universal Link: https://books2read.com/u/4AxPDo

 Now my mantra: Keep on reading and keep on writing. You have something to say, so say it!

 My personal links: (Note the change in the Email address because I’m still getting remarks on the old dontravis21@gmail.com.

 Email: don.travis@aol.com.

Facebook: www.facebook.com/donald.travis.982

Twitter: @dontravis3

 Buy links to Abaddon’s Locusts:

 https://www.dsppublications.com/books/abaddons-locusts-by-don-travis-486-b

https://www.dsppublications.com/books/abaddons-locusts-by-don-travis-487-b

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Abaddons-Locusts-Vinson-Mystery-Book-ebook/dp/B07JLHKJLY

Apple: https://itunes.apple.com/ca/book/abaddons-locusts/id1439968525

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/ca/en/ebook/abaddon-s-locusts

Google: https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=R0Z0DwAAQBAJ

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/abaddons-locusts-don-travis/1129769593

 See you next Thursday.

 Don

 New Posts every Thursday at 6:00 a.m. Mountain time.

The Mountain, Part 1 of 3 Parts

dontravis.com blog post #327

Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

I’d like to try a short story in a slightly different vein. It’s a story of discovery but told in the language of past centuries. The setting if mythical, the story mystical. I hope you like it.

*****

THE MOUNTAIN

“Be ye Hargis of Rodenbury?”

The harsh voice pulled me from my cobbler’s stand. A broad, rough-hewn man of middle years stood straddle-legged, hands planted on hips.

“Aye. I am Hargis,” I answered uncertainly. He had the look of the law, but in these times, the ruffians dealt such misery in the kingdom sheriffs were necessary, I suppose. My mind scampered over my last few days, searching for offenses committed. None came to mind.

The stranger’s face eased its stern frown. “You have knowledge of Lavena and Dirkston of Dag Durgess?”

“I know them,” I answered with a broad smile. “You have news of them?”

“Aye,” the man replied, accepting my indication to take the seat opposite me in my small stand at the edge of the market. Normally, it was a stool reserved for those who bring me custom; however, he was welcome to it if he could refresh my knowledge of my two childhood friends. He gave the loud sigh of a heavy man happy to relieve his feet of weight.

“I’ve but returned from Dag Durgess; my boat docked at early light. I searched for you in the rock quarry but was told to find you here.”

“I worked the quarry through the last high summer, and then found a master who taught me to cobble. But where did you see my friends? How are they doing?”

The man held up a hand. “Hold! Don’t bury me with questions. Before we sailed, a fair youth hailed me and asked if I was bound for Rodenbury. He prayed that I deliver a missive to a big lout called Hargis. Marveling that a lout could read and write, I agreed. Then a pretty vision stepped to his side and handed me a message, as well. They introduced themselves as brother and sister, which was needless wind, since one could have been the other—give or take a few changes.”

“Aye, they are twins. Born of the same mother in the same birthing bed, one after the other. He first, and then she. They are well?”

“Doubtless they advise of their estate by these,” he answered, holding aloft two sealed documents. “They looked well fed and decently hosed. Spoke like my betters; acted the part, too, although there was nothing offensive in their demeanor.” He heaved himself to his feet. “Tis time to be about my business; I’ve accomplished theirs. May this day in the next Year of Our Lord find you well, Hargis.”

“And you, sir. Thank you for your kindness.”

Lavena’s letter reflected my recollection of her. Small neat letters formed precise words conveying exact thoughts. She told of her work as seamstress at the nearby Manor and her brother’s position as gamekeeper at the same. Their parents were in health. They were well-favored in their lives and content, except for missing their childhood playmate. She closed with the words ‘All love, Lavena’. No mention of swains or would-be-beaus. No hint of wedding vows. Nothing to tell me if she was still a maiden not yet promised.

Aye, and Dirkston’s missive, which I eagerly read, reflected him, as well. Bold letters carelessly formed yet conveying straightforward thoughts. He liked his job, loved his family, and chased the girls. His message closed with ‘faithfully’.

I pictured the two as they were some three years past when we all had seventeen summers. Lavena was tall for a girl and possessed a heart face crowned by curly golden tresses. She had budded long before either of us and had the bearing of a woman while we were yet striplings. The rock quarry had begun putting muscle and a man’s form on me, although Dirkston still had the look of a boy. They were both beautiful. Her beauty was feminine, his beginning to emerge from androgyny.

I reread the last lines of his letter. “Oh, how I long for you again! You would not believe Lavena. She’s the rose of this town, as I am its thorn! I catch my share of looks from the girls, let me tell you. The Festival of the Harvest Moon looms hard on the horizon. It is a wild time. Wicked…without being evil, if you take my ken. Anything goes. We could have a grand time together were you but here.”

Seized by an acute yearning, I cast around with a speculative eye. My parents had gone to The Lord, and there was nothing to keep me here, certainly not this little stand. A man can cobble anywhere. And while I had improved my station in life, there was a disquiet, a longing eating at me at odd moments.

Two fair images floated in my mind, and I made a small game of trying to decide which I missed the most. Lavena held the calm and ready wit of the pair, yet I missed Dirkston’s rough and tumble and his odd moments of intimacy as we shared important secrets of childhood.

It took three days to sell off my meager collection of things not required to set up business anew. The effort reaped barely enough to keep body and soul together during my trek, but far less than the price of a berth on a ship. One master gave my strong body the once over and offered passage in exchange for seamanship. I eagerly accepted but grew so green with mal de mer on the dory ride to the boat that he sent me back to shore in disgust.

Thus it was that I set across our island kingdom by foot, and being a cobbler, I was superbly shod. My remaining belongings strapped firmly to my back, my stout hickory staff in hand, I turned my face to the east and took the first of countless steps.

The freshness of being on the road fell off my eyes quickly. By the end of the first day, I was tired and sore. A twelve-month away from the quarry had softened me beyond belief. I slept beside the road, one eye open for riffraff and highwaymen and the like. In truth, I half hoped for a set-to with miscreants to stir my blood.

Days passed as I paced along watching a distant mountain loom larger. At the foot of the thing, the trail forked. The well-trod road turned north while a faint path led into the mist-shrouded mountain. There was no question in my mind that the path over the mountain was far shorter than the highway. Nor was there doubt as to which I would take. The direct route would gain my goal quicker. With hardly a pause, I strode resolutely eastward toward the distant sea.

The mountain trail was easier than expected. This must be some sort of a pass through the hills. And he heavy fog I'd encountered earlier had cleared away. At times I walked with sheer stone walls on either side; at others, I broke out into pleasant forested meadows. In the second of these, I halted at the sound of singing.

A rushing stream sparkled through the trees on my left. Quietly, I left the trail and made my way to the edge of the forest. Spread out below was a glade of such beauty and peace that it took a moment to focus on the young woman singing as she stood ankle deep in the water. Clad only in a thin shift that clearly revealed the long legs and darkened mysteriously at her pudendum, she removed garments from a small basket to beat them against a broad, flat rock. Her back was to me when she bent to the water and rinsed a linen. I grew aroused as her shift tightened against her buttocks. Realizing she was aware of my presence, I boldly stepped through the brush and marched down the slope.

“Hail, master,” she called gaily as she turned to me, not in the least disturbed by my presence.

“Mistress,” I returned the greeting.

“You travel the high trail, I see. Tarry awhile. I do not see many travelers. Where are you bound?”

“Dag Durgess on the eastern sea. Before I’m done, I will have crossed this kingdom from shore to shore.”

“Kingdom? What kingdom?”

“Why this kingdom. This very place where we stand.”

“I know nothing of kingdoms. Just this mountain.”

I laughed disdainfully at this pretty lass’ ignorance of the outside world. “The Great King will be surprised to learn we are not of his realm.”

“Perhaps so, but enough of this. You’re tired and require a refreshing swim in my brook,” she declared. Laughing gaily, the beautiful young woman strode a few paces up the shore to plunge into a deep pool. I stripped to my trousers before joining her.

The water pasted her thin shift to her flesh, and at times glimpses of the dark nipples hiding beneath stirred my excitement, but she turned and swam away. I raced after her. As she rested against the far bank, I rose to my thighs in the water. Her gaze raked my torso frankly, and I flamed with unseemly pride in my build. The quarry had laid a slab of muscle over my breasts and pulled my sides into a narrow waist. My corded arms had never been a matter of interest until now. She reached out and touched them gingerly, cooing over their strength.

“What is your name?” I asked for something to say.

“Gwyndolyn,” she answered, dropping her eyes shyly, an artifice if ever I’d seen one, since she had boldly examined me mere moments before. “And yours?”

“Hargis,” I answered. “Hargis of Rodenbury.”

I cannot explain what happened next. Gwyndolyn loosed all her feminine wiles on me, which is as it should be since she was a female, but the sidewise glances, the feigned modesty, the teasing with fluttered eyelids cooled my ardor. Of one thing I was absolutely certain, never had such alluring female flesh been so available, and never had I desired it less. Abruptly, I stood, the water running in rivulets from my body.

“I’ve a long way to go,” I said firmly. “Best be on my way. The bathing was welcome. For that you have my thanks.”

She made a small moue of disappointment, standing in the water to give me a look at everything blurred only by the sodden linen shift. “Are you sure? Are you certain? So few come up this path. I get lonely. I would make your stay worthwhile.”

“I am sure,” I replied, the sincerity of my tone surprising even me. Retrieving my clothing and staff, I set off down the trail without looking back.

*****

What’s with Hargis of Rodenbury? A beautiful young woman throws herself at him, and he goes mountain climbing. Let’s withhold judgment until we see what happens in the second part of the story.

Abaddon’s Locusts, the fifth in the BJ Vinson mystery series, received several positive reviews. I hope you’ll consider buying a copy. If you do, please post a review of the book on Amazon. Each one helps… as do letters to the publisher.

Now my mantra: Keep on reading. Keep on writing. You have something to say… so say it.

My personal links:

Email: dontravis21@gmail.com.

Facebook: www.facebook.com/donald.travis.982

Twitter: @dontravis3

Buy links to Abaddon’s Locusts:

https://www.dsppublications.com/books/abaddons-locusts-by-don-travis-486-b

https://www.dsppublications.com/books/abaddons-locusts-by-don-travis-487-b

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Abaddons-Locusts-Vinson-Mystery-Book-ebook/dp/B07JLHKJLY

Apple: https://itunes.apple.com/ca/book/abaddons-locusts/id1439968525

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/ca/en/ebook/abaddon-s-locusts

Google: https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=R0Z0DwAAQBAJ

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/abaddons-locusts-don-travis/1129769593

See you next week.

Don

New Posts are published at 6:00 a.m. each Thursday.

The Dancer (Part 1 of 3 Parts)

dontravis.com blog post #320

Courtesy of Wikipedia

TO MY READERS: The “Contact” section has disappeared from my Web Site, so I have no way of reading or responding to your comments. I’ve tried all the corrective suggestions by “experts” to no avail. Please make any comments directly to my personal email, dontravis21@gmail.com, until this situation is corrected. Thanks.

WARNING: Some readers will find language in the following story to be offensive, but it accurately represents at time that was—and in too many places, still is. Enjoy the story, don’t concentrate on such language.

*****

THE DANCER

          A call from my ex-wife venting her undiminished rage drove me out of the apartment into the streets of Manhattan. Melanie and I had met and married in college. Upon graduation, we moved into the apartment my folks had left me in a good high rise and pursued successful careers—me as a writer of how-to books and Mel as a nursing supervisor. I hadn’t realized how much trouble my marriage was in until her younger brother visited one weekend. His first night there, while Mel was working overtime, Brad sneaked into our bedroom and seduced me. The good-looking nineteen-year-old introduced something new into my life and drove me out of a stale marriage. He’d both liberated and crippled me, opening me to a new and exciting experience while leaving me with no idea how to replicate it.

          Mel’s phone call this otherwise pleasant early summer afternoon let me know she had learned of my liaison with her “little brother.” If only she knew! In addition to all my other sins, I had corrupted an innocent youth. Yeah, right.

          Nursing my frustration, I headed for my favorite place in the world… the public library. I fumed at the fates on the eight-block walk to my destination. Could I induce Brad to come back for a visit? Not likely, given the fact he’d spilled the beans to his sister. Should I visit a gay bar? The very thought shriveled my insides. Men’s rooms? They say men’s rooms are places homos go to meet. That thought brought me to a halt in the middle of the sidewalk. Is that what I had become? I resumed pacing, unsure of the answer.

           A vivid red and black poster advertising a flamenco troupe posted outside the public library caught my eye. A haughty young dancer stared out of the picture through smoldering eyes. His broad shoulders and unbelievably slender hips and accentuated groin instantly focused my desires and brought me into a state of physical discomfort. Glancing around guiltily, I was startled to find a man at my side eyeing me boldly. When he suggested what we could do for the handsome dancer… or for one another, I panicked and fled down the sidewalk.

          Realizing I had missed an opportunity to find what I yearned for, I turned back, but the pleasant-looking stranger was gone. Succumbing to a sudden urge, I did something totally out of character. The poster came away in my hand, although the corners ripped a little. A clerk at a nearby framing shop grumbled at my request for a rush job but assured me it could be trimmed and framed. An hour later, I carried my ill-gotten treasure into the apartment and hung it in my bedroom.

          The unknown young man’s whip-like body was as exciting as his features were handsome. A strong jawline saved his beautiful face from androgyny and made me wonder at his experiences with women—and men. Entranced, I stood before the picture and gave myself over to lust. The poster became my shrine. I spurned human contact and turned to the image of this young Adonis for my carnal needs. By late summer, I was content with my existence. I no longer hunted for something I didn’t know how to hunt

          One day, as I wandered the Times Square area in a moment of leisure, something caught my eye. My dancer! My poster strode down the sidewalk in jeans and shirt instead of a flamenco costume. I froze, caught my breath, and hastily fell in behind him. He moved in long, graceful strides—just as I had imagined—drawing me along helplessly in his wake.

          The tall youth turned into one of those Turkish baths that public health officials tried to close down years ago at the height of the AIDS epidemic. Heedless of anything other than catching a better glimpse of my quarry, I handed over the price of admission, accepted a large towel, and rushed inside. He stood stripping off his shirt in the locker room, exposing a long, muscled torso. Eventually, I recovered my wits enough to sit on a bench and remove my shoes.

          This was not my dancer, but it could have been. Hispanic, twenty or so, six-foot, hundred and seventy, broad back, narrow waist. He nodded a silent greeting. I smiled but took my cue from him and said nothing. He slipped jeans and briefs down his trim hips. He was breathtaking—a dark golden tan all over. The youth fixed a towel around his waist and disappeared through another set of doors.

          I sat on the bench, shaken by proximity to a real, live Lothario. What had his face looked like? No idea, except he was handsome. My attention had centered on his smooth chest, flat belly, and exciting nether regions.

          A banging locker startled me out of my trance. I undressed and rushed through the door, coming to an abrupt halt. A big room dominated by a huge swimming pool with lounges scattered around the edges teemed with men. Some were older, and all appeared to be on the hunt. A dozen predatory eyes fixed on me.

          I secured the towel around my waist and fought a wave of panic. Ignore them! Go about your business and ignore them. Go about my business? My business was ogling a young man the way these guys were gaping at me. I strode through the room studiously avoiding eye contact. As I reached the far doors, a man rose from one of the lounges and started my way. Seeking to put distance between us, I more or less blundered into the steam room. There was one occupant. My young man. Totally naked, he sat on his towel and leaned back against the wooden platform, legs splayed. He opened his eyes long enough to give me a quick, irritated look. I took a seat opposite him, winced at the heat of the wooden bench, and emulated him by sitting on my towel.

*****

Many years ago, I visited a New York Turkish bath, and it scared the hell out of me. My tender Oklahoma roots weren’t built for such aggressive soil. I scooted right back out of there, but it looks like our hero—Rob’s his name, by the way—is made of sterner stuff. Of course, he’s pursuing a dream. I was merely a timid youth exploring the unknown and the unfamiliar.

Tune in next week to see if anything develops between Rob and his flamenco dancer look-alike.

Abaddon’s Locusts--my fifth BJ Vinson mystery series book--comes out on the 22nd. Hope you’ll get a copy of it. If you do, please post a review of the book on Amazon. Each one helps… as do letters to the publisher.

Now my mantra: Keep on reading. Keep on writing. You have something to say… so say it.

My personal links:

Email: dontravis21@gmail.com.

Facebook: www.facebook.com/donald.travis.982

Twitter: @dontravis3

Buy links to Abaddon’s Locusts:

https://www.dsppublications.com/books/abaddons-locusts-by-don-travis-486-b

https://www.dsppublications.com/books/abaddons-locusts-by-don-travis-487-b

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Abaddons-Locusts-Vinson-Mystery-Book-ebook/dp/B07JLHKJLY

Apple: https://itunes.apple.com/ca/book/abaddons-locusts/id1439968525

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/ca/en/ebook/abaddon-s-locusts

Google: https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=R0Z0DwAAQBAJ

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/abaddons-locusts-don-travis/1129769593

See you next week.

Don

New Posts are published at 6:00 a.m. each Thursday.