Fireworks

By T. Strange

On Canada Day, Undead Canadian Kit, his husband, Edward, and their friend Kamaria to go see the fireworks. While there, Kamaria sees words written in the sky—Help Me. Realizing the fireworks must be involved somehow, Kit steals the ones that look out of place.

The ghost responsible for the message refuses to appear while Kit is nearby, but Edward and Kamaria learn the fireworks are blended with the ashes of a deceased woman. The woman, Rose, convinces them to return her ashes to her wife, Petra—so Kit, Kamaria, and Edward head off on a road trip.

• Language: English
• Publisher: T. Strange
• Release date: Nov 19, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463705865

T. Strange

T. Strange didn't want to learn how to read, but literacy prevailed and she hasn't stopped reading—or writing—since. She's been published since 2013, and she writes M/M romance in multiple genres, including paranormal and BDSM. T.'s other interests include cross stitching, gardening, watching terrible horror movies, playing video games, and finding injured pigeons to rescue. Originally from White Rock, BC, she lives on the Canadian prairies, where she shares her home with her wife, cats, guinea pigs and other creatures of all shapes and sizes. She's very easy to bribe with free food and drinks—especially wine.

Book preview

The Undead Canadian Series

Fireworks

by T. Strange

On Canada Day, Undead Canadian Kit, his husband, Edward, and their friend Kamaria to go see the fireworks. While there, Kamaria sees words written in the sky—Help Me. Realizing the fireworks must be involved somehow, Kit steals the ones that look out of place.

The ghost responsible for the message refuses to appear while Kit is nearby, but Edward and Kamaria learn the fireworks are blended with the ashes of a deceased woman. The woman, Rose, convinces them to return her ashes to her wife, Petra—so Kit, Kamaria, and Edward head off on a road trip.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

Fireworks Copyright 2019 T. Strange

Smashwords Edition

Editor Amanda Jean

Cover designed by Jennifer Gavens

First printed by Less Than Three Press: May 2019

Published with permission

All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever except as provided by the Canadian Copyright Law.

Contents

Fireworks

Bound to the Spirits: Rattling Chains

About the Author

Also by T. Strange

fireworks

t. strange

I haven’t seen fireworks since I died.

Not that they were a huge part of my life before I became an Undead Canadian—I don’t like being called a ‘zombie’—but so much has changed since I was murdered and resurrected by my now-husband, Edward.

Just to be clear, Edward is not the one who murdered me.

I can’t eat any of the foods I used to love—not without being sick like the world is ending. I can drink all the alcohol I want, but it tastes like nothing and I can’t get so much as tipsy.

Finding things—experiences—that are the same now that I’m dead as they were when I was alive has become precious to me. So has celebrating with the people I love, no matter what the occasion. Okay, that hasn’t changed much.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my…unlife? Second life? Afterlife? Whatever.

I love Edward, and our cats, Winston and Boo. Boo is a nightmare creature from the Void—Edward raised him from the dead as a child, and… let’s just say his necromancy has gotten better since then. As evidence I present: myself. Just as tall, blond, and gorgeous as I was in life. I have all my teeth. I don’t lose patches of hair.

I’m sick of thinking about Boo, so I’ll switch to Winston.

Edward got him for me as a kitten our first Christmas together. If Boo is darkness, Winston is light. He’s the sweetest little dumpling and I love him to bits.

I love the rest of my new family too: Edward’s parents, Moira and Jonathan. His mentor Mariel, who helped teach him to control his necromancy, allowing me to be, well, me and not Boo. Mariel’s nibling, Kamaria, is the newest member of our group. They recently moved to Canada from Haiti to study Vodou with their aunt.

I’ve even come to love, in his own way, Edward’s creepy ex, Bone. Mostly because Edward probably wouldn’t have been able to rescue me from the evil necromancers who kidnapped me without his help. Although, given that Bone stealing a book from said necromancers and giving it to Edward was probably what attracted their attention in the first place, the whole situation could easily be blamed on him.

Even with all the good—and good-ish—things in my life, I’ve only been undead a few years. I spent so much more of my life, well, alive, and bridging the gap between who I am now and who I used to be is important to me, frustrating, and often elusive.

And with that, our stage is set. Scene:

You want to go see the fireworks tonight, Kit? Edward asked, incredulously. His use of my name made it sound like he was trying to make sure I was really myself. Not an unreasonable fear, given his experiences with ghosts and other undead nasties.

I’d expected him to ask. He’s pretty predictable, but that’s actually one of the things I love about him. Predictability is great after the whole coming-back-from-the-dead thing.

I shrugged, trying to pass it off as NBD, and it kinda was. But it also kinda wasn’t.

His eyes kept darting across my face—mouth, eyebrows, cheeks, mouth again—clearly trying to decide if I was fucking with him or not. He gave a sigh of exasperated laughter. Okay, I’ll bite. Why?

I shrugged again, just one shoulder this time. I didn’t want to have to explain why the fireworks were important to me. I don’t like to talk to Edward about my issues with being undead often. It makes him uncomfortable and sad, things I don’t want my husband to feel, especially because of me.

I do have a counsellor. A very open-minded one.

We’ll get eaten by mosquitos.

You’ll get eaten by mosquitos. I smirked at him. I have to admit, I’d been a little concerned the first time I saw a mosquito land on my perfect undead skin—would it bite me? If it did bite me, would it simply die, or would it become undead itself, passing on the Undead Canadian virus to every subsequent victim? I think Edward’s paranoia and worst-case-scenario attitude are rubbing off on me.

I was tempted to kill it, but I’d forced myself to keep still and just watch. Better to find out what would happen while I was paying attention, rather than have a mosquito get me when I didn’t notice and potentially start an undead plague.

The mosquito flew away without so much as breaking my skin, and I kept my relief as silent and inconspicuous as possible. I hadn’t mentioned my concerns to Edward because, while I worry about things with decorum and poise, he freaks out. I try not to tell him about my worries