As promised, another deleted scene for Mercy for the Damned. I could have sworn, I posted this over a week ago, but apparently I never hit the button! This one takes place at the end of Chapter Five. I do love my dream sequences, but there just wasn’t room for it in the final draft.

Strong arms reached around my waist from behind, and I threw my dishrag down in disgust, expecting to see Parker’s cheesy grin over my shoulder. “I thought I told you not to get gropey with me at work unless I give you my permission?”

Instead, another deep voice stirred the hair by my ear. “Is there someone other that me you’d be giving permission to?”

“Adam!” I whirled to see him with my own eyes, throwing my arms around him in an enthusiastic hug. “Oh my God, what are you doing here? When did you get out?” I demanded, half laughing, half crying.

“Cool it, your co-workers are gonna think I just got out of prison,” he chuckled, pulling back to brush the hair away from my cheek.

“Well… you did, didn’t you?” My eyes drank him in, feasting after being starved from his presence for so long. He looked good enough to eat, dressed in his usual black jeans and a black button up shirt. His hair seemed a little longer, and my fingers itched to grab a pair of scissors and attempt to tame it.

“Sadly no, I’m still there,” he pouted, but he didn’t look all that disturbed by the notion.

“What? Then… how are you here?”

“Beats the hell out of me, it’s your dream,” he shrugged as if it was unimportant.
A dream. All at once it dawned upon me; I must be in the Ether, the space between being awake and dreaming. “I thought you couldn’t get to the Ether from Midian?” Otherwise I’d have spent all my time in bed.

“I’m not, it’s just a good old fashioned dream. So let’s enjoy it before the Gestapo notices us.”

“Huh? I looked up and sure enough, there were demons dressed in World War II Nazi uniforms lined up at the bar, enjoying a beer and ignoring us. The rest of the club underwent a shift, somehow merging the old with the new. Civilians and military alike slow danced to an old fashioned big band sound, among the colorful, modern play of lights on the dance floor. Turning around, I saw Adam dressed in the olive drab of an old army uniform, his chest decorated with ribbons. It occurred to me; he could have very well served in the army during the war, or any number of wars over the past hundreds of years.

“Come on, baby, let’s dance like there’s no tomorrow.” Grabbing my hand, he tugged me out there, and I tottered on heels I hadn’t been wearing moments before, my dress longer and tighter than my usual work uniform.