Colina de Lavanda

Table of Contents

Blurb

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

About the Author

By August Li

Visit Dreamspinner Press

Copyright Page

Colina de Lavanda

By August Li

Lord protector of whores, thieves, sorcerers, and deviants.

Owning a parcel of land the railroad needs means Edward gets to run the border town around the station as he sees fit. What starts as a place to indulge his varied appetites becomes a haven to society’s castoffs, and if Edward encourages legends about its founder to flourish, well, he’s not so much a liar as a man who wants to protect all the cultures living in peace. Being mayor means folks might ignore his vices, but they also expect him to fix what goes wrong.

When a crushing heat wave and drought threaten not only the town’s diverse holiday celebrations but its very existence, Edward must turn to the one man he’d rather french kiss a timber rattler than face—the icily elegant Cantonese mage Edward walked out on but never stopped loving.

Chapter One

EDWARD ROYSTON Nightingale Pennelegion-Oldershaw had only stopped by to inquire as to why the whorehouse wasn’t decorated for Christmas. If there were two things he loved, they were Christmas and… well….

But the madam, Miss Nelly Birtbaum, had other ideas.

The brothel manager, a striking middle-aged woman whose sunrise-on-snow complexion and cool blonde locks had resisted the Southwestern elements remarkably, arranged her voluminous satin skirts as she perched on the edge of a velvet settee, picked up a paper fan, and launched into a tirade.

An armadillo fell into the well again. I sent that worthless boy you hired to fish it out, but do you think he could manage? Do you think he could, Your Worship?

Edward paused at the sideboard next to the piano, his hand resting on a bottle of Kentucky bourbon. I feel, Miss Birtbaum, that I’m safe in my prediction that young Davon’s performance was once again a disappointment.

You’ve got that right! Do you have any idea what a dead armadillo boiling in hundred-degree water smells like?

I shudder to think. I’ll get one of the celestials to take care of it. Edward poured his drink and took a seat on one section of the lurid round sofa. Now, about the holiday decorations—

Something has to be done about this heat! Never in all my years have I seen anything like it! It’s bad for business. Especially with this god-awful drought on top of it. My boys and girls barely have enough drinking water, let alone any left over to wash. Now use your imagination, Mayor. Do you suppose not being able to wash regular adds to a whore’s appeal?

Edward took a deep drink of his bourbon, but amidst the stifling heat that had descended over his town right after Día de Muertos, its burning path to his belly barely registered. Miss Birtbaum wasn’t wrong about that; his Parisian shirt and gold brocade waistcoat were soaked through. Still….

My good woman, I can hardly control the weather.

The madam used a silk handkerchief to dab the sweat from her face and décolletage. If someone don’t do something, it’ll be the end for this town. The ranchers can’t keep their cattle alive. Nobody gets off the train to enjoy the many pleasures we’re so famous for or to trade in goods hard to get anywhere else. Lots of folks are talking about moving on to California. Even Texas. If something doesn’t give, won’t be nothing left out here but a scorch mark across the desert. You mark my words. Seeing as how you’re its founder and mayor, it best be you.

As I’ve said, my talents fall short of making it rain.

Miss Birtbaum caught his gaze in the steel trap of her blue-gray eyes. But there are those whose talents don’t fall short, and we both know it. We both know who it is you have to see, even if you don’t want to.

Edward shook his head and finished his drink, though it felt like molten lead in his guts and caused him to feel faint when he stood from his couch. Neither unpleasant sensation competed with his dread over the visit she suggested. He committed to a simple I’ll see what I can do. Now, have the young ladies and gentlemen gather some piñon for wreaths. He pointed to one of the arched windows that ringed the parlor. Hang some garlands there.

All the decorations in the world won’t matter if this heat spell and drought don’t break.

He forced a smile. It will matter to me, my dear. Christmas and the other holidays symbolize everything this town stands for, everything I hoped to build. So if you can decorate this brothel for no other reason, do it to please me.

She stood and adjusted her large bosoms in the bodice barely containing them. I suppose you are our benefactor. Lord protector of whores, thieves, sorcerers, and deviants.

This time his smile was genuine as he scooped up her hand and kissed the back.