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Dare gets lost in the music playing inside his head, so lost that the rest of the world melts away. Will giving up the music give Dare a chance at a so called 'normal' life and the love of the bandmate he adores, or will it cost him everything, including himself.

Desolation Angels Excerpt:

Dare sat on the stoop and hummed, his guitar across his lap, fingers absently caressing the strings as his green eyes stared off into the distance. If someone had asked, he never would have been able to describe what he was looking at, the things he saw, when he was ‘dreaming,’ were more shapes and colors and swirls of notes and images bathed in light. Some thought him a bit eccentric, while others out and out called him crazy, though never where his big brother Tommy could hear. Tommy played bass in their band, the Desolation Angels, he lived in the house too, all the band did, but they were at work right now.

Dare couldn’t work, he’d tried a few times but it never lasted long, he always ended up ‘dreaming’ on the job, and they’d have to call his brother to come get him, telling Tommy he was fired, because when he ‘dreamed’ he couldn’t hear anything outside of the music that twisted and rolled through his head. It was okay with Tommy though, ‘cause Dare wrote killer songs and the people who came to the bars to hear them loved their sound and the dark, haunting words that Dare belted into the mic.

Tommy’s boyfriend Mark played the drums, and his other boyfriend, Paul was their rhythm guitarist. They made sort of a weird threesome, but it worked for them and Dare didn’t mind ‘cause sometimes they let him curl up in their bed too, cuddled to one of them when he was too restless in his own bed to stay put. They’d all grown up together anyway, so who really cared? They were more than just a band, they were family, and as long as they had each other, the rest of the world really didn’t matter anyway.

The last member of their band was Sionn, who’d moved into their neighborhood when he was ten. His family had immigrated from Scotland, so he still spoke with the rolling, deep brogue of his homeland, a sound that sometimes sent shivers up and down Dare’s spine. He loved listening to Sionn talk, loved listening to him telling stories of kelpies and red caps and all manner of other lore. Sometimes that deeply accented voice was the only voice that could pull him from the ‘dreaming’ though it felt at times like Sionn resented the necessity of it all; resented him for his oddities and the fact that he only seemed to stay focused when he was standing on the stage, playing one of his songs.