Free Specter Rising (Brimstone Network Trilogy) by Thomas E. Sniegoski

at the woman, whom he did not know but who had been responsible for giving him life, as she passed, feeling a strange protectiveness emerge.
    “What did he do to her?” Bram asked.
    Lita looked at him as they walked.
    “Barnabas—what did he do to make her like that?”
    “Poison,” Lita answered. “A poison not found upon the Specter world. Likely Barnabas had it brought over from one of the foul worlds that he is in contact with, and that has helped him achieve his madness. Try as our loyal physicians did, it does not appear to have an antidote here.”
    They walked in silence, both of them staring at the two Specter warriors and the burden that they carried up ahead.
    “Without a cure, I’m afraid she is going to die.”
    The words came before Bram could give them much thought. They came from his heart, charged with raw, powerful emotion.
    “No,” he said with complete conviction. “She isn’t going to die.”
    I won’t let her.

7. O NE OF HIS KIDNEYS HAD HAD DEALINGS WITH THE Fthaggua before.
    It was a distant memory, and not all that clear, but Mr. Stitch, made from the body parts of the finest Brimstone agents who had died in battle, knew that he didn’t care for the demon race in the least, and doubted that this journey to their homeworld was going to change his opinion much.
    Bogey’s rift crackled and sparked as the passage from the Brimstone Network’s headquarters to Fthaggua opened.
    The demons had done a good job of protecting their defenses. Powerful magickal barriers had been erected to keep spells very much like Bogey’s rift from their world,but the Brimstone Network had better magick users.
    The spells of Fthaggua sorcerers collapsed as if a rock had been hurled through a plate-glass window, allowing Stitch to step directly into what he believed to be the Fthaggua leader’s throne room.
    His kidney twitched with the memory of this place. Its original owner had died here on a mission, and Stitch was more than happy to oblige it a little bit of payback if the need arose.
    It seemed that he was interrupting lunch as he stepped from the quickly collapsing passage, a body bag slung over one of his broad shoulders.
    “What is the meaning of this?” the Fthaggua leader bellowed, looking up from a bowl of what appeared to be giant maggots in some sort of a heavy cream sauce.
    Delicious.
    “Greetings, Fthaggua leader,” Stitch said, bowing ever so slightly, hoping that the translation spell placed upon him earlier would work. By the look on the demon’s horrific face, he could see that it was. “I bid you welcome from the Brimstone Network.”
    He watched the eyes of the demon grow wider with the mention of the Network, and for good reason. It wasa Fthaggua that had entered his home and made an attempt on his friend’s life.
    Stitch was surprised the creature hadn’t tried to bolt from the room.
    “You are not welcome here,” the leader scowled, dipping its hand into the bowl of squirming life and bringing a handful to his waiting mouth.
    “I am aware of that,” Stitch said, moving a bit closer to the ornate throne upon which the Fthaggua leader sat.
    “Come no closer!” the demon bellowed, maggots squirming at the corners of its horrible mouth.
    “I have come only to return what I believe is yours,” Stitch announced as he removed the bag from his shoulder.
    The leader squinted its yellow eyes as Stitch unzipped the bag. Reaching inside, he hauled out the burnt and blackened remains of the Fthaggua assassin.
    “Am I wrong in assuming that this is yours?” Stitch asked, a cruel smile starting at the corner of his mouth. He tossed the charred remains at the foot of the leader’s throne, the dead Fthaggua assassin breaking into a hundred pieces.
    The leader bolted up from his chair, the sudden movementspilling the bowl of extra-large maggots and sauce onto the floor.
    “Guards!” he screamed at the top of his demonic lungs. “To me . . . guards!”
    Stitch remained perfectly