No Title - yet

This could just about stand as a short story but when i wrote it i had a novel in mind unfortunately i've thus far drawn a blank - see what you think.

Fingers scrambled, spraying rock dust and slipping from the rough granite momentarily before holding. He looked down the uneven rock surface to the trees two hundred meters below as he swung almost lazily, hanging from the straining fingers of one hand.

‘I’m sorry lieutenant but the damage to your spinal column was too extensive. You might regain some sensation in your legs but you’ll never walk again.’
He stared at the doctor’s face seeing the well practiced sympathy pasted there. The words had lost their shock value; after hearing it from four different doctors there was nothing left – he’d expected them and just like the other three times he refused to accept them. He said nothing, manoeuvring the wheelchair away from the desk over to the oak door. He heard the doctor rising quickly to come round and open the door for him but decided not to give him the satisfaction; grabbing the handle with one hand and wheeling himself back with the other before banging his way out the door.

He opened his eyes again, the view hadn’t changed. With the strength of his arm he pulled himself up toward the ledge, his other hand swinging over only when he had pulled his head up above the level of the uneven and decidedly narrow ledge of rain-slick granite. Muscles bunched around his chest and arms as he levered himself up, swinging dangling legs up onto the ledge.

‘…you want a miracle, I can’t give you one. You have to face it; there isn’t anything anyone can do. Many people are confined to a wheelchair and live long and productive lives…’ The doctor continued to talk but Alex had already switched off – it was nothing he hadn’t heard before. Just shut up and get used to the fact that you have a set of wheels instead of legs. No-one had used those exact words but it was what they all meant. The truth was however Dr Hamad had been his last hope; he’d pioneered a new surgical technique, highly experimental, highly dangerous and highly expensive. And apparently Alex Cain wasn’t a suitable candidate. In his desperation he’d offered the doctor money; a lot of money; money he didn’t have. It had taken the last of his savings just to travel to the states to see Hamad only to find that it had all been for nothing.

He stared out at the pine forest far below, tasted the wet air. The air in Iraq hadn’t been wet; it had been dry, dry and searing hot, so hot it felt like it would set your lungs on fire. Even the water from canteens was hot. A man could boil in his own sweat… He closed his eyes again. Even though it had been five years, he could still remember the pain, still remember the smell of burning flesh, his flesh, and still remember the screams of others in his platoon mingling with his own. He opened his eyes once more, driving the memories back to the dark recesses of his mind. The burns had healed well so too the lacerations, broken ribs and punctured lung but a tiny piece of shrapnel no larger than his finger nail had all but severed his spinal cord and that couldn’t heal…

The empty scotch bottle fell with a dull thunk and he blinked, momentarily disorientated. His eyes moved around the darkened room, his alcohol fuddled brain recognising the worn furniture, the pictures telling him he was in his own home. But it also told him something was wrong, something wasn’t right. It took another pass with bleary eyes before he realised that she was sitting on the sofa, silently watching him, her face cloaked in shadow. He stared back at her not sure whether his mind was playing tricks on him.
‘You can drink more than anyone I’ve ever met.’ She noted in a quiet purr, ‘and believe me I’ve seen quite a few drinkers in my time.’
Alex blinked sure that the woman was nothing more than a creation of the alcohol slowly pickling his brain.
‘You won’t find the answer in the bottom of a bottle you know, no matter how hard you look.’
‘Who the hell are you?’ Alex croaked in return. ‘And how did you get into my house?’
She leaned forward, sinuously uncrossing the most perfect pair of legs Alex had ever seen. He could hear the whisper hiss of silk on silk as his eyes travelled from the six inch stilettos up her immaculately shaped calves….
‘As to the first my name isn’t really important but you can call me Ms Gerard. And as to the second well let’s just say that I have a knack for getting into places when I feel the need.’
He switched his gaze to her face; the way she was sitting it was covered in shadow, all he could make out were a pair of emerald eyes that seemed almost to glow.
‘Well if you found the way in you can find the way out again, can’t you.’ His head hurt, he felt sick and was in no mood for mind games. He wheeled his chair toward the kitchen door but one of those perfectly shaped legs barred his way. He resisted the urge to reach out and touch it.
‘Don’t you want to hear my proposition?’
He swivelled the chair round to face her, ‘What? You got a thing for guys in wheelchairs?’ He could make more of her out now, enough to tell him that the body beneath the tight fitting skirt suit was as exquisite as her legs. ‘I probably couldn’t afford you.’ He snarled. ‘Get out of my house.’ He backed the chair away from her looking around for a bottle that wasn’t empty.
Ms Gerard stood, straightening her suit before walking over to the curtains and pulling them wide. Alex blinked furiously as blazing sunlight stormed its way into the room. He swivelled back toward the woman but now all he could make out was her silhouette in front of the bay window.
‘We can discuss that another time, for now what I’m offering you is a job.’
He squinted at her trying to decide if she was trying to be funny or just a nut who had wandered in – he could have left the door open, he couldn’t remember. He rubbed a hand across the three day stubble covering his chin. ‘I don’t know what your game is but I’m not playing; get out of my house or I’ll call the cops.’ He manoeuvred the wheelchair around and started for the bedroom. A hand appeared on his shoulder, the skin pale, the fingers long a delicate looking.
‘No games I have a ‘once in a lifetime’ offer for you.’
He could smell her perfume but he refused to look at her; her scent was strange, heady yet subtle.
‘I’ve come a long way and waited for quite some time to find someone like you. At least hear me out, then, if you want me to leave I will.
He wanted to shout at her to get out; to find another bottle and crawl back in but his anger seemed to evaporate with her touch. He swivelled back around and for the first time got a clear look at her face. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen; her features were delicate, porcelain like with thin, arching eyebrows, high cheekbones and an elfin nose and a pair of lips that he found himself so wanting to kiss…
‘Will you listen to me?’
He didn’t trust himself to speak but gave her a quick nod, never taking his eyes from her as she returned to the sofa.
She sighed then began speaking and Alex truly thought his sanity had fled.

‘You still think you’ve got something to prove?’
He opened his eyes as he heard the newcomer settle on the ledge beside him and turned to look upon a face that came straight from some kind of narcotic induced hallucination. Anyone who didn’t know what ‘it’ was would have been screaming werewolf but Alex knew there was no humanity in the creature seated next to him and while the Voire’schtath – for that was the name of his species – were savage fighters the one seated beside him was no threat to him.
‘Only to myself Kiorn, only to myself.’ He answered dryly.
‘There’s no trick to it, no—’ He wiggled thick, clawed, fingers, ‘—magic. Just because it’s beyond your race doesn’t mean it’s beyond the ability of others.’
Alex stared at the fur covered features, holding the amber gaze. No magic. Six months ago that’s exactly what he would have called it all. Everything he had experienced seemed to have come out of some weird fantasy movie but he wasn’t insane. He eased himself carefully to his feet, looking down at the forest below then up at the three moons floating in the pink sky above. He wasn’t insane, he was whole and there was no such thing as magic.