Spiked
a body mod anthology edited by M. Rode
Torquere Press

Tattoos. Piercings. Implants. If body modification is your thing, then Spiked is right up your alley. From the everyday guy to the cyberworld of a huge futuristic corporation, Spiked explores all the ways men change their bodies, and love each other's bodies, too.

In Tattoo You by Willa Okati Jacob Lee goes to get a tattoo to please his lover Donathan. Will it mean a new beginning for both of them? Possesion, by Jourdan Lane features Lucian and Saaban, from the Soul Mates series. What they do might just surprise the whole coven.

Laney Cairo's Marginalia pits cutter Bailey and his new love Quint against the government and the big corporations. Will they be able to save Quint? Finally, in Beneath the Mask, by Mychael Black, Lance thinks he's interviewing powerful vampire Triarius, but Triarius has other plans. Will Lance survive the night?

Explore a world of skin and ink, of metal and mayhem, where art is not hidden away in museums, but displayed in the gritty underworld of Spiked!

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Excerpt from Beneath the Mask:
"Thank you for meeting me like this."

"My pleasure."

I flipped open my notebook to a fresh page and tried to ignore the slight shakiness in my hand as I clicked my pen. "I'm just going to jot down some initial notes. If anything is wrong, please feel free to correct me." There was no answer, but when I glanced up, I saw the shadowed figure nod. I fixed my gaze back onto my paper. "Triarius... Any last name?"

"No."

I continued. "Born in Rome in 12 BC, turned in 7 AD." I paused. "You're... over two thousand years old?"

"I am."

I stifled a sigh. Maybe this was a mistake. When Jeff gave me this lead, I had high hopes of a great interview -- the pinnacle of my career. Yes, vampires were quite well-known to exist, and some even held ranks within the human government, but aside from a few instances, getting into their circle was next to impossible. And that was just the Romanorum. This... was the Brotherhood. I twirled my pen in my fingers, wondering just how to start this. I've been interviewing vampires for nearly fifteen years. Why was this one so different?

"Is there something wrong, Mr. Shaw?"

"No!" I shook my head. "No, no." I cleared my throat. "I asked you here to fulfill an opportunity -- for us both. A chance for me to, quite honestly, get the story of the century: the history of the Inferi Brotherhood. And a chance for you to dispel the rumors of... well... less than pleasant acts said to occur within the Brotherhood."

"And what if the rumors are true?"

I swallowed compulsively, my mouth and throat suddenly dry. "True?" He stood and I watched him walk over to the window. Moonlight shone through the glass around his body. He was shorter than I'd expected, for some reason, and of slighter build. I'd thought one of the most feared men in the world would be much larger in stature.

"Size matters little when compared to the mind, Mr. Shaw," he said without turning. He clasped his hands behind his back, shoulders straight and squared. On a lesser man, the position might have been seen as bravado; on him, it seemed natural. "I created the Brotherhood because I no longer felt the Romanorum served its purpose."

"What if Diocourides were to find out? He would-"

"Dio knows we exist, Mr. Shaw. The Romanorum knows. At this point, I would daresay the entire world knows. The fact remains, however, that they cannot find the worst of us. And by that, I mean those of us who actively kill humans."

Fuck. I was in over my head. What was I thinking? Here I was, in some nondescript ghost town in the middle of nowhere England, with a man -- a creature -- who could easily kill me. And no one would ever know. Curiosity, however, is a strong influence.

"I know the Brotherhood is underground -- both figuratively and literally, and no, I won't ask where. I am curious, though, as to why the Romanorum can't find you. Can't every vampire -- even a rogue -- trace his or her blood back to the sire?"

"Not all of us are rogues," he said. "It is true that I myself am, by Romanorum standards, but you forget that the oldest of us did not take the formulas required to make that distinction. It is by name alone that I am known for who I am, not by any taint to my aura or soul."

"So... there are those who are not rogues within the Brotherhood?"

"Yes. The Brotherhood is not based on killing humans. We are gods, Mr. Shaw. Descended from gods, created by them. Human are cattle, put upon this earth for us to use as we see fit."

"The Romanorum would have something to say about that," I said quietly.

"You are not writing. Is my tale that uninteresting?"

I blinked down at the paper. A large stain spread out from where the tip of my pen rested, but there were no words. What was I supposed to say, how was I going to write any of this into a news story? I stared at the blotch of ink and wondered why I'd even asked for this meeting.

"Perhaps you were curious, more for your own sake than that of your readers."

"You can read minds."

"I can."

I figured the best step would be to find out more about the man behind it all. "What else can you do?"

Triarius chuckled, still facing away from me. "Much. More than you could ever begin to explain to your readers, Mr. Shaw."

It occurred to me then that I had no idea what this man even looked like. He was here when I'd arrived, cloaked in shadows. "What do you look like?"

"Another question for your story?"

"No." For me...

Triarius turned and my heart nearly stopped. Light glinted off of something silver on the right side of his face. Like some real-life twist on the Phantom, Triarius had a silver mask -- or at least half of one -- covering the upper right side of his face. There was a hole for him to see out of, and the mask stopped just an inch or so above his mouth, and then tapered off to the side. The eye peering through the hole in the mask was milky white, almost glassy. His other was steel blue. His lips curled into a twisted smile that said he knew exactly what I was thinking.

"I was disfigured long before my turning. A bit of sparring gone wrong, you could say."

I could tell there was more to it, but he didn't seem inclined to elaborate. He stepped away from the window and closer to the table where I sat. The shadows seemed to move with him, somehow, wrapping around his body like a cloak. I knew some vampires were able to control the shadows. I'd even been witness to the Prince of London toying with them a time or two. These shadows were much different, though -- thicker, consuming. Like Triarius, they seemed to draw in the light, engulfing it until there was nothing left. I wanted to say this man was evil, but even that felt inadequate for what I saw in his eyes. There was power behind them, more than I think anyone ever realized, but there was something darker. I knew he was a rogue -- he'd said so himself. This went beyond being a rogue. It wasn't blood lust that fueled him. It was the worst kind of power imaginable: unspoken, quiet, calculating.


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