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Prophet [MultiFormat]
eBook by Elisa Viperas
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$3.49 |
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$2.97 |
eBook Category: Erotica/Gay-Lesbian Erotica/Fantasy
eBook Description: Raid Tanner isn't too keen on being a Prophet. Especially not for some guy who wants to kill the whole human race. Or at least that's what Priest says he is, and Raid finds more and more evidence to prove it's true. Still, Priest has this way about him, this thing that Raid can't describe or understand, just love. And as he shows Priest what it means to be a human being and do what humans do, he grows to love the weird guy even more. Can they stay together, and stay sane, when Priest decides it's time to put his plan into action and take over the world?
eBook Publisher: Torquere Press/Everyday Spectre, Published: www.torquerepress.com, 2006
Fictionwise Release Date: September 2006
30 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: eReader (PDB) [130 KB]
, ePub (EPUB) [138 KB]
, Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [112 KB]
, Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [797 KB]
, Palm Doc (PDB) [125 KB]
, Microsoft Reader (LIT) [123 KB]
, Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [174 KB]
, hiebook (KML) [313 KB]
, Sony Reader (LRF) [141 KB]
, iSilo (PDB) [102 KB]
, Mobipocket (PRC) [129 KB]
, Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [159 KB]
, OEBFF Format (IMP) [164 KB]
Words: 38801
Reading time: 110-155 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED
 
Thing about being psychic is that you can't tell no one. First off, none of their damn business, and secondly, you really think they're going to believe you? Thirdly, if they are insane enough to believe you, they're going to say "If you're so damn psychic, why didn't you tell me my radiator was going to crack?" and they ain't going to stick around long enough for you to explain that it don't work like that. And you just lost yourself a customer, I bet. And Hell, I can't afford to lose any more customers. I'm barely paying my rent as is. I mean, forget about Raid Tanner, homeowner. Right now I'm trying to avoid being Raid Tanner, homeless guy that likes to yell at the sidewalk. That's the thing people don't get about my abilities. If I could see the future, you really think I'd be busting my ass eight hours a day instead of sitting in my mansion and enjoying my lottery winnings? Yeah, right. No, all I got is the ability to see what already happened to you. That's everything that happened to you. All of it--from when your hamster died in fourth grade to the night you lost your virginity to the stupid television shows you watch every afternoon without fail.
It gives me nosebleeds, and tends to make me more than a little hostile.
Got to admit, that's one of the reasons I like cars more than I like people. A person, I've got to grit my teeth and ignore the buzz of their life floating around their head, and if I let my concentration down one little bit, bam, I get the full-detail biography, and they get to watch me gush blood like someone shot me up the nose. As is, I tend to get a sort of Reader's Digest version of it all. But see, a car? Nothing but metal and plastic, and maybe a nice purr from the engine if I've done her right.
To be honest, though, every once in a blue moon I'll get a hunch. I'll wake up knowing I ain't going to be at work on time, and later I'll find out the buses are running light. I'll know it's a bad idea to eat at a certain restaurant same way you know it's a bad idea to touch fire. Small hunches--and always for bad things, you notice that? Yeah.
And I had a hunch today was going to be a pain in the ass.
I tried to ignore it. I thought, Hell, maybe I'll be wrong. First time for everything. That was before my last customer of the day came in for his vehicle--sweet as anything little seafoam Caddy, LS7 with peak 505 output. Goddamn, you know? And ain't it always the way, those sweet little roadsters are always owned by the biggest assholes on God's green earth.
This guy? Forty something exec type, and I didn't even have to read him to figure out he had a toupee. Came in to figure out why his air wasn't working, and of course, didn't actually want to hear the answer.
"So, you're saying I need new tube things?" He looked like I'd just told him to go shove his head up his ass.
I took a deep breath. No alienating the customers. "Uh, yeah, that's what I'm sayin'." I pointed at one of the hoses. "See there? It's split. It ain't gonna work unless you get new ones."
"You can't ... patch it?"
I tell you what, if this world was fair, I could smack him upside the head for being a moron. Instead, I patiently explained, "There's a Hell of a lot of pressure goin' through there. A patch'd go in less than a week, 'specially if you're usin' the air a lot, and with the heat we've been havin'..." I let my voice trail off, and smiled at him. See, I don't try to be ornery on purpose. I can do friendly.
He stared at me for a real long time. I held his gaze, and realized too late I was holding the smile, too. Shit. I couldn't stop smiling now, it'd look all sudden or something. I was almost glad when he finally spoke.
"You know? I think you're trying to take me."
Son of a bitch. I sighed. "Sir--"
He raised a finger at me. "No, you're trying to take me. I wasn't born yesterday." He swallowed, then held his hand out. "Come on. The keys." He wiggled his fingers at me. "I don't have all day."
See what I mean about hunches?
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