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    Swift and the Black Dog
    Swift and the Black Dog
    Swift and the Black Dog
    Ebook78 pages1 hour

    Swift and the Black Dog

    By Ginn Hale

    4.5/5

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    About this ebook

    When Jack Swift killed a tyrant and won the revolution he became a national hero. But someone in the new government prefers dead heroes to living, swearing, cynical wizards. Caught between bullets, revenge and desire, Jack had better be swift indeed.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBlind Eye Books
    Release dateSep 7, 2016
    ISBN9781935560494
    Swift and the Black Dog

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    Reviews for Swift and the Black Dog

    4.5/5

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    • 5/5
      Excellent short story with rich, developed world-building, memorable characters and twisty plot. Dark and light...
    • 5/5
      I very much enjoy the short novellas that have something to say and boy, did this one have something to say! The plot was amazing, the writing so clear and so beautiful and it wasn't the classic "hero goes and saves world" but showed the ugliness of what happens after big revolutions and reforms and how broken people are left after all the fighting. All in all it was a breath of fresh air and I absolutely adored it. Definitely recommend!!

    Book preview

    Swift and the Black Dog - Ginn Hale

    Swift & the Black Dog

    By Ginn Hale

    Chapter One

    We were just kids, Jack muttered.

    Shafts of afternoon light speared through the blinds, illuminating the hard angles of his lean face. He exhaled a cloud of pale blue smoke and ignored the glare of the well-dressed diners seated at other tables. In a moment a maitre’d would appear and smoothly suggest that he remove himself from the building.

    Then, inevitably, David would intervene, flashing his ministry badge and pronouncing Jack’s full name a little too loudly, a little too officiously. A halting apology would be offered and followed by requests for autographs and photos. Behind it all Jack would hear the whispers.

    That’s Jack Swift?

    God, did you see his hand?

    He looks like some ragman from the Bone Ledges.

    I’ve heard he’s a queer.

    Lifting his scarred hand, Jack drew the smoke down to ring his fingers. Let the surrounding diners see that the ragman in their midst was a wizard. They didn’t need to know which one. Any wizard was too much trouble for most decent folk.

    And indeed suddenly all eyes were averted. All except David’s, but then David hadn’t been paying attention to him in the first place.

    He sat across from Jack in a tailored blue suit, clinking his gold ministry ring against the side of his fourth emerald gin. He liked the gin, David did. Liked that and girls. But he couldn’t handle either well.

    It was fun though, wasn’t it? Rachael says it was all a lot of laughs back then, David said.

    Sure. It’s fun to kill a tyrant when you’re just kids, Jack replied quietly.

    It hadn’t been, really. It had been agony—bloody, ugly agony. But not at the start. At first it was a challenge—him and his pals defying night-curfews and breaking open the lightning vaults. It had been heart-pounding, wild fun, like fucking in a falling plane. But then the Fireguard had caught wind of them and they’d learned what it was to bleed. They found out just how quickly they’d abandon one of their own to the dogs if it bought the rest ten more minutes to save their own sorry asses.

    But those stories didn’t sell theater tickets or glossy books. Certainly, didn’t make for the pretty child-heroes people liked to think had liberated them. And David wasn’t asking because he really wanted to know. He wanted to be reassured that Jack wasn’t going to become an embarrassment, like Beadle had.

    It never did for child-heroes to grow up into faggots, dykes and trannies.

    Rachael says it was fun, then it was fun. Hell, maybe we should crash the palace again for old times’ sake. Jack couldn’t help the menace in his tone, but David didn’t seem to perceive it.

    Of course it was. David smiled and Jack knew the other man was thinking of the latest film version of the revolution where all the blood had been cherry syrup and the twenty-two year old trollop playing Rachael had waggled her tits and giggled like a stripper.

    Look, Swift, I know it’s hard to put the glory days behind you. David clinked his ice obtrusively at a passing waitress. But you’re not a ruffian on the street anymore. You’re a hero of the Republic, a grown man who has a responsibility to be a role model for our youth. You understand what I’m saying.

    You want me to get a hair cut? Jack suggested.

    David frowned at him but said nothing while the waitress took his glass. For a moment David’s gaze followed her ass as she walked to the bar to refill his gin then he returned his water-blue gaze to Jack.

    I’m talking about the big picture here, Swift.

    I won’t quit the smoke, Jack told him flatly. He had too much magic wrapped up in the rhythm of burning paper, striking matches and the slow exhale of poison.

    No. The Ministry of Health understands that they’re part of your image. Part of the whole devil-may-care package of our Jack Swift…. Your Way, isn’t that what you wizards call it? Your Ways? David flashed a smile at the waitress’ cleavage and took his drink from her manicured hand, with a little too much overlap of fingers. Jack noted her shudder at the contact. He felt some sympathy, having earlier shaken that frog-belly soft hand.

    Look, I’m just going to come out and say it, all right? David turned his attention back to Jack after the waitress made her escape to another table.

    Really wish you would.

    You and Rachael.

    Me and Rachael what? Jack asked, though he already knew. He knew and dreaded it. Hell, Rachael would dig up the ivory gun and fire the five names of death into Jack’s heart if someone suggested it to her…he hoped.

    Rachael’s a good looking woman and you’re…. You’re single. David took another dive into his gin as if it would cover the gaffe. Jack just laughed. A ring of smoke rose around his fingertip, feeling hot as a live wire. Tantalizing electric charges jumped inside the tiny gray cloud, flickering like distilled lightning. It only took a little electricity to stop a heart, a tiny lightning strike that would leave only a small burn scar on Jack’s right hand. One of many.

    But he was done with that. Now the smoke was just a habit, a prop, a toy he played with to keep his mind out of the real clouds and away from that far fiercer fire.

    It would be the match of the century, David said. You know, comrades and lovers stuff.

    Jack did know, but only because he’d seen it. Rachael and Amelia had been all that, certainly done it better than he ever could have with the men he’d knocked around with. No, Rachael and Amelia had been the real thing all the way up to death do us part, and then Rachael had eaten the ashes.

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