Gnashing Gears

By Aaron Gehrig

High above the mist-choked hollows of Dourbrook, where lanterns flicker like dying stars and trees sway with the creak of unseen weight, stands the Storme Estate, a crumbling monument to a forgotten age. Its gables claw at the sky, and its shutters rattle not with wind, but whispers. Inside, time drips like rusted oil through the gears of grief, and the past festers in every cobwebbed corner. Beneath this massive grandeur, deep in a basement of brass and shadow, Jason Storme labors by gaslight and obsession. A man of fractured genius, equal parts engineer and mad alchemist, Jason serves no master but memory. The hiss of steam, the whirr of tiny cogs, the click of surgical instruments, these are the hymns of his devotion. And from the corner, a dusty radio plays old classical records, their notes distorted slightly by static, like ghosts trying to sing through a needle's scratch. And on his altar lies a body.Mason Storme, his brother, his blood, now barely held together by bolts, gears, and something far less earthly. Death claimed him by the roadside, but something darker than death brought him back.It happened the night the storm came down from the hills with a vengeance. Jason and Mason were nearly home, headlights slicing through the deluge, laughter still clinging to the air. Then, in a burst of lightning, they saw it.A wolf.Massive. Unnatural. Its snout snarled, front legs braced, rear haunches raised, tail bristled as if carved from wire. Its eyes glowed like furnace coals, watching, waiting. Jason slammed the brakes, but the tires hydroplaned across the slick asphalt. The car spun violently, struck the guardrail, and careened off the road into the waters below.Deadman's Brook swallowed them whole.Jason awoke to the sound of rising water and the sting of blood in his eyes. Mason wasn't moving. Panic sharpened him. He unbuckled himself, reached for Mason's service revolver, and used the butt to shatter the driver's side window. Water surged in. With desperate strength, he pulled Mason free, dragging his lifeless body to the shore.He didn't call for help. He just brought Mason home. Back to the mansion. Back to the machines. He laid Mason on the couch and paced, wild-eyed, wounded, muttering to himself. The front door stood open, rain sweeping in. That's when it returned.The wolf. It limped into the house, steam rising from its soaked fur, eyes still glowing. Jason froze. It leapt onto the couch, fangs bared, and locked its jaws around Mason's throat. Thinking it meant to devour his brother's remains, Jason raised the revolver and fired. The beast collapsed, steam hissing from the wound. But death would not be the end. From the wolf's snout spilled a thick, black vapor, slithering across Mason's chest like living smoke. It coiled around him, then plunged into his mouth, his eyes, his wounds. And Mason breathed. Now, his heart beats again, but something else beats with it. Something that stares out from behind his once-blue eyes. Jason carried Mason down the stairs and began to work. He was rebuilding him. He used what he could, parts from the wolf, Gears embedded beneath torn flesh. Mechanical braces reinforcing shattered limbs. Aether-fed cables woven into muscle. He calls it healing. He calls it salvation. But the gears grind too loud now. The shadows twitch when no one moves. And the music on the radio has begun to skip, over and over, on the same few haunting notes. In the bowels of the Storme Estate, something is being born. It wears a man's face. And it howls like a machine. What it hunts, could save the town.

• Format: Paperback
• Language: English
• ISBN: B0FCCNK572
• ISBN13: 9798287156374
• Release Date: June 2025
• Publisher: Independently Published
• Length: 536 Pages
• Weight: 2.02 lbs.
• Dimensions: 1.1" x 7.0" x 10.0"