Chapter 1, part 1

Cy stared through a red haze at a patchwork metal ceiling, panic squeezing his lungs. He shouldn't be able to see. His eyes were closed, damn it! He could feel them... well, one of them anyway. Only one. Oh, God. That eye snapped open. He tried to open his mouth to scream--and couldn't. His jaw scraped open, adding to the agony in his skull, but his lips were sealed shut. Sharp points of pain blossomed around them, and liquid dripped down his cheeks. His scream vibrated against his sealed lips, emerging as nothing more than a pathetic whimper.

His brain couldn't make sense of any of this. He couldn't concentrate, couldn't think, past the sharp pain lancing through his flesh. The misery was so intense, it made his limbs twist and ate away at all other sensations. There was only the pain and a mind-numbing cold. He was so cold that a glacier may as well have taken root in his chest, and yet he could feel the stifling heat and the ungodly humidity of summer in Slag City pressing against his skin and making the air thick enough to chew. Oh, yes. He was home. He knew that at least.

Voices drifted from his left. A man and a woman, arguing. The two had been at it for some time, Cy realized. Did they know he was awake? He didn't dare turn his head to see. One, it would hurt too much. And two, he didn't know if they were his friends or enemies. Cy's lips twitched with ill-placed humor. Enemies, definitely. It's not like he had many friends, being a hybrid and all. Of course, he didn't have many enemies either... did he? He couldn't remember. He blamed the pain. Although, if it wasn't his imagination--please, God, don't let it be his imagination--the misery was starting to ease.

"He's part fey. I felt it," the man accused. His voice was smooth and cultured--money, definitely--and held a deep, sensual layer of seduction that marked him as a full-blooded sidhe. Cy sighed, blinking back tears. If he let it, the faerie's hypnotic voice could take his pain away. It whispered sweet promises of wildflowers and sunlight, freedom, if he would only give in. Hell. No. The disgust dripping from the sidhe's tone could have eaten through steel. Cy's fingers itched to flip him off.

The woman was slow to respond, probably fighting the same pull as Cy. Arguing with a sidhe was always so much fun. Her boot scraped the floor as she stepped back. "Yeah, so?" she finally said. Her country lilt colored the ugly drawl of the city slums into a soft caress. The fear constricting Cy's lungs loosened. He knew that voice. Loved that voice. If he could just... remember... There--a flash of memory: the two of them tangled in bedsheets beneath an open skylight, gasping for breath as they watched the stars glitter beyond the smog. Moxie had cuddled beside him to trace gears on his chest, a habit of hers, and Cy's fingers curled in her cinnamon hair. Do you love me, Cypher? she'd asked. You know I do, he'd breathed, and she had shivered, no more immune to his half-sidhe voice than she was to that of the bastard standing before her.

The memory splintered and Cy growled in frustration. He couldn't pretend anymore that the pain was mucking up his memory. Something was very, very wrong. Like being able to see with your eyes--eye--shut? He shuddered then noticed the patchwork metal in the ceiling again. His breath caught. No. Please no. He knew which levers made those skylights open, baring the workshop to the open air.

"He'll hate you for what you've done," the sidhe was saying. Then his voice deepened, becoming husky, hungry, as his darker side peeked out. "And you lied to me." His feet whispered against the floorboards as he stalked toward her. "Do you know what happens when you lie to the fey?"

"Oh, shut it," Moxie snapped. The faerie hissed and she gentled her tone, but gave no ground. That's my girl, Cy thought. Knowing her, she had a pistol in her hand and was packing cold iron shot. "I didn't lie," she said. "I told you he was human and he is. So what if he's also part fey? If that bothers you, leave."

Silence fell between them. All Cy could hear was Moxie's fast breaths, the sidhe's low growling, and the rapid beat of his own heart. Cy tried to move, but his limbs wouldn't work right and the pain was excruciating. Black winked in and out of his vision. What the hell had happened to him? All he could recall was blood pooling around him and a silky, condescending voice--this sidhe's voice. Oh, God. Did Moxie know? He fought the lethargy in his limbs, even managed to move his right arm, only to find that he was bound to the worktable.

Finally, the sidhe said, "You would claim a hybrid as one of your own?"

Moxie didn't hesitate. "I would walk through hell and back for this man. Hell yes, I claim him. He's mine." 

The sidhe laughed. [To be continued]

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Please post your comments. What would you like to have happen next, or later in the novel? I integrated several plot threads into this scene. Please pick up on any that interest you and run with them.

Or tell me about the characters. Moxie is a steamer, a mechanic and inventor of steam technology. Cy became involved somehow with a rebel faction and was murdered. Moxie and this sidhe brought him back, integrating steam technology into his body for the parts that were destroyed. Moxie had to promise something major to the sidhe in exchange for his help. I'm thinking some sort of betrayal that will play out throughout the rest of the book, such as spying on that rebel faction for him for whatever reason. Whatever she promised, it's something she'll have to struggle with because breaking a promise to a faerie is basically a death sentence, and a long and torturous death at that.

I've also started some themes that we can play on: Betrayal. Love struggling against what should tear lovers apart (death, betrayal, etc.). People's need for the natural world even while living in a highly industrialized city.

Thanks! I look forward to hearing from you.