by: Clancy Nacht & Thursday Euclid
Genre: MM Romance/Urban Fantasy
Release Date: October 1, 2020
Publisher: Eine Kleine Press
Amazon US | Amazon UK | Goodreads
It's a mysteriously charmed life for orphan Sebastien Harris, but it's still a shock to be offered a full ride to attend grad school at the obscure but prestigious Bosch University in upstate New York. Trouble starts as he attempts to reach the campus for his interview: first the train is cancelled, then a swarm of migratory air mattresses block the streets.
When he finally arrives, he's too exhausted to question why a remarkably handsome man named Gem is waiting for him, nor does he have time. A demon horde demolishes the university, and the pair run for their lives—at which point Sebastien realizes Gem is not, strictly speaking, human. Their adventure exposes Sebastien's heritage...and reveals the prophecy he is destined to fulfill. Gem is infernal, a human-demon hybrid, and meant to be Sebastien's servitor, a magical well from which Sebastien, a warlock by birth, will draw the power to remake the world. If he survives.
“You’re late.” The tall man’s tone was so nonchalant it bordered on melodic, carrying the cadence of a world-weary sigh. “That is, you’re late if you’re Sebastien Harris.” He paused, eyeing Sebastien from his lofty vantage. His aquiline features formed an exceedingly dubious expression. “Are you Sebastien Harris? The gates opened for you, so I’m making an assumption here, but honestly.”
He pulled languidly at his pipe and made no comment about the cacophonic blue jays or the Hello Kitty helmet.
Sebastien wanted to reply, but he was still having a hard time breathing. Instead, he pulled off the helmet and let it roll away as he stared up at the man and nodded.
With the visor out of the way, Sebastien could admire the stranger properly. Even breathless and flat on his ass, Sebastien had to admit he was interested.
The tall man flowed smoothly into a crouch beside Sebastien, his long legs moving like well-oiled hinges, too graceful by far. His monochromatic ensemble was shades of gray, black, and white from dark curled hair down to his pointy-toed, iridescent black boots. It wasn’t exactly cool out—although it seemed far crisper here than it had on the road—but the man wore what looked like five or six layers on top, most of them silk or velvet or some other expensive material.
Sebastien had met lots of fashionable boys living in New York City, but this man seemed like another species entirely.
“Sebastien,” the man repeated with a little more enthusiasm this time, holding Sebastien’s gaze in a way that suggested he’d caught him looking. “You’re very late. Get your shit together, fresh meat.”
He smiled just a little, but it transformed his striking countenance into one far more accommodating, though still edged with intriguing cruelty.
After another puff from his pipe, the stranger passed it to his off hand and extended the other to shake.
“You can call me Gem, if you please,” he rasped as he exhaled richly scented pipe smoke to one side.
Sebastien took Gem’s hand and shook it even as Gem helped him to his feet. Sebastien’s legs trembled as he rose; the day’s activities were really catching up with him.
“I was delayed!” Sebastien shouted it, gesturing at the shrieking party of blue jays swarming around the gazebo. “I mean, I knew the birds were bad in the city, but I had no idea how intense they got this far out. How does anyone get here on time?”
This was, of course, leaving out the frolicking flock of mattresses and the subway being shut down, both of which were… Well, he had planned for the subway to possibly fail.
But it was his first mattress migration.
“Are you talking about the birds?” Gem looked momentarily puzzled as he gestured with his pipe toward the flock. “I’m uncertain how to break this news to you, Sebastien, but… Those are your birds. They’re here for you. They are not Bosch birds.”
He smiled, just a little, and this time it was distinctly unsettling. “You’ll know it when you see Bosch birds.”
“I don’t have birds. I was thinking about getting a cat, but—”
Fuck. Why was Sebastien bringing that up?
He was late, probably a mess, and there were angry birds.
Sebastien tried to smooth hair that had mostly parted ways with the little bun on the back of his head. Some stuck to his face, and he brushed it away as he looked down at what had once been a tidy, if imperfect, tie. The dress shirt was all but soaked through with sweat under the knit sweater he’d thought made him look quite smart. Now it just made him feel… damp.
Wincing as he peeled the sweaty fabric away from his skin, Sebastien mulled over the Bosch birds. That notion rang a bell, but he couldn’t quite place it. He couldn’t fucking think. The noise was inhuman.
“If they’re my birds, I’d really appreciate it if they shut up,” Sebastien muttered off-hand.
The shrieking stopped, leaving behind portentous silence.
He stared at Gem. Gem stared at him. Sebastien opened his mouth, thought, closed it again, and then blurted, “Um. That was weird.”
Weird being a relative term.
Then the ground began to shake.
He pulled languidly at his pipe and made no comment about the cacophonic blue jays or the Hello Kitty helmet.
Sebastien wanted to reply, but he was still having a hard time breathing. Instead, he pulled off the helmet and let it roll away as he stared up at the man and nodded.
With the visor out of the way, Sebastien could admire the stranger properly. Even breathless and flat on his ass, Sebastien had to admit he was interested.
The tall man flowed smoothly into a crouch beside Sebastien, his long legs moving like well-oiled hinges, too graceful by far. His monochromatic ensemble was shades of gray, black, and white from dark curled hair down to his pointy-toed, iridescent black boots. It wasn’t exactly cool out—although it seemed far crisper here than it had on the road—but the man wore what looked like five or six layers on top, most of them silk or velvet or some other expensive material.
Sebastien had met lots of fashionable boys living in New York City, but this man seemed like another species entirely.
“Sebastien,” the man repeated with a little more enthusiasm this time, holding Sebastien’s gaze in a way that suggested he’d caught him looking. “You’re very late. Get your shit together, fresh meat.”
He smiled just a little, but it transformed his striking countenance into one far more accommodating, though still edged with intriguing cruelty.
After another puff from his pipe, the stranger passed it to his off hand and extended the other to shake.
“You can call me Gem, if you please,” he rasped as he exhaled richly scented pipe smoke to one side.
Sebastien took Gem’s hand and shook it even as Gem helped him to his feet. Sebastien’s legs trembled as he rose; the day’s activities were really catching up with him.
“I was delayed!” Sebastien shouted it, gesturing at the shrieking party of blue jays swarming around the gazebo. “I mean, I knew the birds were bad in the city, but I had no idea how intense they got this far out. How does anyone get here on time?”
This was, of course, leaving out the frolicking flock of mattresses and the subway being shut down, both of which were… Well, he had planned for the subway to possibly fail.
But it was his first mattress migration.
“Are you talking about the birds?” Gem looked momentarily puzzled as he gestured with his pipe toward the flock. “I’m uncertain how to break this news to you, Sebastien, but… Those are your birds. They’re here for you. They are not Bosch birds.”
He smiled, just a little, and this time it was distinctly unsettling. “You’ll know it when you see Bosch birds.”
“I don’t have birds. I was thinking about getting a cat, but—”
Fuck. Why was Sebastien bringing that up?
He was late, probably a mess, and there were angry birds.
Sebastien tried to smooth hair that had mostly parted ways with the little bun on the back of his head. Some stuck to his face, and he brushed it away as he looked down at what had once been a tidy, if imperfect, tie. The dress shirt was all but soaked through with sweat under the knit sweater he’d thought made him look quite smart. Now it just made him feel… damp.
Wincing as he peeled the sweaty fabric away from his skin, Sebastien mulled over the Bosch birds. That notion rang a bell, but he couldn’t quite place it. He couldn’t fucking think. The noise was inhuman.
“If they’re my birds, I’d really appreciate it if they shut up,” Sebastien muttered off-hand.
The shrieking stopped, leaving behind portentous silence.
He stared at Gem. Gem stared at him. Sebastien opened his mouth, thought, closed it again, and then blurted, “Um. That was weird.”
Weird being a relative term.
Then the ground began to shake.
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The Thursday Euclid is a strange and elusive creature dwelling in the Texas Gulf Coast region. Frequently mistaken for Bigfoot, Chupacabra, or the monster of the week, he is, in fact, a 30-something black sheep with a penchant for K-pop, geekery, and hot and sour soup. When he’s not playing Dragon Age or World of Warcraft, he’s probably watching B-movies or talking to his best friend and frequent collaborator Clancy Nacht. You can find him on Facebook, Twitter, or email him at thursdayeuclid at gmail dot com.
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