Forty years ago the Spirit of Vengeance—a
Purpose—took William Morgan as its host, demanding he avenge the innocent by
killing the guilty. Since then Will has retreated behind Gar, a façade he uses
to avoid dealing with what he’s become. Cold, impassive, and devoid of emotion,
Gar goes about his life alone—until his tidy, orderly world is upended when he
meets Ryan, a broken young man cast out by his family. Spurred to action for
reasons he can't understand, Gar saves Ryan from death and finds himself
confronted by his humanity.
Spending time with Ryan helps Will claw out
from under Gar’s shadow. He recognizes Ryan is the key to his reclaiming his
humanity and facing his past. As Will struggles to control the Purpose, Ryan
challenges him to rethink everything he knew about himself and the spirit that
possesses him. In the process, he pushes Will to do something he hasn't done in
1st Edition published by Dreamspinner Press,
“Who is this?” Annoyance?
No, more like uncertainty.
“My name is not
important, but I have information about the four who got beat up in Dupont last
night.” That would get his attention.
“How’d you get this
Hooked him. Gar smiled.
The man wouldn’t hang up now.
“From your coworker’s
cubicle. It’s on his wall.” He let the silence linger. “I left a moment ago,
just as you and your partner entered. I was standing inside the hallway by the
door. You didn’t see me because I didn’t want you to.”
“Look, I don’t have time
“As you entered the
building you said, and I quote, ‘Chief is already up my ass about proving this
wasn’t a rogue cop. And she’s pissed that the details of the Clay Terrace
incident got out. Like I have anything to do with that case.’ Do I have your
Following the sidewalk up
the hill, Gar let the silence linger. Griffin’s ragged breathing warned Gar he
was communicating with someone inside. “Who are you?”
“How many times will you
ask that before you realize I’m not going to tell you?”
Gar crossed the side
street, walking west when he reached Pennsylvania Avenue. Rapid footsteps
filled the silence of the phone. “I’ve left, Detective. Rushing out of the building
will do you no good.”
A door opened, followed
by running. Gar smiled. Would the man turn the right way? There were so many
“What’s your game?” The
voice was rushed, out of breath.
“This is no game.” He
stopped at the corner, still invisible to everyone. Griffin was staring right
at him from the entrance to the parking lot. “You’re on the sidewalk looking
for me. I’m in plain view, but you will not see me unless I want you to. Right
now, I do not. So you can listen to me, or I’ll end this call and we won’t
“Fine, I’m listening.”
Doubling back, Gar moved
closer to where Griffin stood searching the area for his caller.
“Go back inside. You
might want to write this down.” A car drove past, blocking his view. When it
was gone, Griffin was heading inside. “I beat those four when they asked an
innocent if he knew what time it was. We both understand what that means. They
were guilty. I merely rescued the boy.”
“If that’s true, come
forward and we won’t prosecute.” Griffin disappeared behind the wall.
to go home.
“There is no danger of me
being prosecuted. You have no idea who I am or what I look like. You’ve got
three different descriptions. Not a strong case, is it?”
“Why are you telling me
“Detective….” Gar heard
the sound of a car door closing on the other end. “I see you decided to get in
your vehicle. This call is at an end. Next time, if you want my help, you’d do
well to listen to my directions.”
“Wait! I’ll get out.” The
door slammed shut. “Don’t hang up. Hello?”
“I’m going to my desk.
Just don’t hang up.” The buzz of the keypad confirmed his statement. “So what
did you want to tell me?”
“No doubt you found a gun
in the alley. It belongs to the one who hit his head against the wall. I’m sure
you will find his prints on it. I only punish the guilty.”
More silence. “Why are
you telling me this?”
“We should meet. I’ll be
in touch.” He disconnected the call and hailed a cab. He was too distracted to
do this right now. Better to think it through.
Andrew Q. Gordon wrote his first story
back when yellow legal pads, ball point pens were common and a Smith Corona
correctable typewriter was considered high tech. Adapting to the times, he
now writes with a shiny new MacBook that he sets on the same desk as his manual
typewriter and vintage adding machine.
Long a fan of super heroes, wizards and sports,
Andrew’s works include high fantasy, paranormal spirits, magic as well as
contemporary fiction. He is still trying to find the perfect story that will
include all his favorites under one cover.
He currently lives in the Washington, D.C. area
with his husband, their young daughter and dog. In addition to dodging
some very self-important D.C. ‘insiders’, Andrew uses his commute to catch up
on his reading. When not working or writing, he enjoys soccer, high fantasy,
baseball and occasionally sleeping.