It just earlier this week that I posted the third progress update for my next book, The Black Glass Killer. I’ve been itching to share more from it, and often selecting a teaser can be difficult due to not wanting to give away spoilers and the problem of a selected scene lacking context, which can detract from it. However I ended up choosing a scene from early on in the book which is isolated enough to act as a brief glimpse into the character of the protagonist, particularly his sadism and explosive anger.
I’ve stated that The Black Glass Killer is in many ways an opposite to my first book. Whereas Jack Mercer (The Sorrow, protagonist) was a man trying to do the right thing, lead character of The Black Glass Killer Damon Carter is by all accounts a villain. In his past he was a torturer, but it wasn’t an occupation to him. It was ecstasy. Damon is a sadist; he yearns for those cries of pain, and discovering what his victims’ pressure points are. While not quite a killer, he is a man without empathy who isn’t afraid to use people for his own ends.
The teaser I chose is a rather typical scenario early on in the book, in the first chapter, as an introduction into the mind of Damon Carter. What’s important isn’t the events taking place, but rather the elements of instantaneous anger and sadism ingrained into his character. These are critical parts of him that give me a lot of liberty to play around in the story, particularly when it comes to his interactions with others, including his own family.
That’s enough said there, and I hope you enjoy the teaser!
The Black Glass Killer – Teaser 2
A loud, rude wolf-whistle sounded out behind her. I glanced up. A bulky man was pointing at Aria and laughing it up with his fellow cretins. They were clearly drunk. A glance at the television screen mounted on the wall told me that the evening’s football match was the cause for celebration. The score told me which fans they were. They had had a bit too much to drink, and the man in question had wobbled over to our table, ignoring me completely of course. I watched him.
“Come get a drink with me, darling. Ditch the pretty boy,” he slurred.
Aria’s expression darkened, “Get the hell away from me right now.”
The words had sounded harsh on her lips. She had not spoken so crudely before, and her voice teethed with the kind of venom that seeped through her barriers. I deduced then that she had an aversion to drunk men, or perhaps drinking in general. Most likely a bad encounter in her past with someone close to her. The sudden, angered change in her demeanour and the balance of probability suggested that it was family related. I had too little information to assess the matter further.
“I don’t think so,” he said and tried to touch her shoulder.
Aria looked at me, her expression perplexed that I was not intervening. I did not see a need to. The man was drunk and would get thrown out if Aria simply got a waiter’s attention. It was a classy restaurant after all, even if it did not adhere to all formalities. But I could tell that Aria expected me to do something. Common sense had taught me not to get involved with drunks. If I spoke he would shut me up. If I went looking for a fight he would give me one. It was a waste of time and effort. A pointless endeavour. I looked over to the drunk man then, and studied him. Overweight and an obvious binge drinking problem, judging from his eyes, reddened face and the sheer off-putting state of him. Alcohol had brought a specific bad behaviour out in him, which told me that he was not inherently respectful towards women to begin with. The scarring on the left side of his face was unnatural and jagged. Based on his behaviour tonight the most likely scenario would be a bar fight. Hit with a broken bottle. He was almost a walking caricature.
“What are you staring at, you stupid asshole?” the drunk fool said to me.
My breath caught, but only for a moment. Then I exploded; instantaneous, like a raw nerve being struck. I leaped from my chair as my anger burst forth wildly. Fuck you, you ugly fucking cunt! My mind screamed at me from the depths as I closed the distance, knowing he would throw the first punch.
“Damon don’t-” Aria pleaded.
“You’re asking for it now…” he muttered.
Within seconds he cursed me and lashed out. Clumsy, slow and pathetic. I swept under it with ease, and brought down my foot hard into the back of his leg. He cried out and dropped to one knee. The room instantly went silent. All eyes went to me. Aria cried out. It was not a fight. It was merely a dance. I took the back of his head and slammed it into the corner of the table with a hideous thud. Blood began to seep from a cut above his eye. He was completely dazed now, unable to defend himself. I grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back, forcing him down onto the table in front of Aria. It had been over in moments. Disappointing. Elementary. Worthless.
“Apologise to her,” I said, and applied pressure to his arm, drawing his agony.
“Stop….sorry, I’m sorry!” he pleaded.
His friends at the back watched as I expected them to. He had been the tough one in the group. The rest were cowards who succumbed to his pressure.
“Damon, stop, it’s okay…” Aria said.
I glanced up. She was visibly afraid by what she had seen. She was actually shaking. I realised then that my adrenaline was pumping. And in that moment I was miraculously alive.
“You are going to leave now. And you will be no more trouble.”
He nodded through the pain. I bent down to whisper in his ear, unable to hide my smile.
“Her presence spared you from leaving here a cripple.”
I hesitated. I had him. There were so many options; nearly twelve. With the right kind of force, I could kill him in multiple ways. I could paralyse him from the waist down. I could perform surgery, controlling every output of pain. To me his body was but a map to torment. The difference between him walking away relatively unharmed or in tatters was such a fine line. It would be so easy. It would be so glorious. But the anger was already beginning to ebb away. The dull void of nothingness in my gut would soon return. I realised then that I did not want it to end. I did not want to relinquish the temporal power that I had. The energy that coursed through me was destroying all reason. It was a high better than any drug. If I let go it would all be gone. I would walk away with nothing. Unless…
“On second thought…” I said in hardly more than a whisper. I felt a smile reform on my lips.
I knew that only he could hear me. Aria stared. The room made no sound. The man whimpered. I heard rushed footsteps as security made its way over to me. I was out of time.
“I want to hear you scream.”
I would show them something beautiful. It would not kill him, but it was going to fucking hurt like all hell. I grit my teeth and ripped his arm with a violent force, tearing muscle and dislocating his shoulder with a sickening crunch of bone. His ghastly roars of agony – a melody to my ears – sent unparalleled ecstasy coursing through my bones. It had not been reckless. It had been surgical, designed to inflict the maximum burst of pain. I was instantly surrounded by shouts and panic. Pure elation. I let go of him. I looked at Aria. She was so frightened. Of me. It was almost erotic. I found myself chuckling then as I basked in the chaotic noise that spread throughout the room.