Shadows of Fear a serial by Martin Slusser

In this, the first book about the infamous Janissary Project, we first meet Benny Grey, a young "stud" who has been genetically and medically altered by the government for its own, vile purposes. Saved from a life of child prostitution and murder, Grey tries to come to grips with a past which haunts him and, if the present is any indication, a future he will not live to see.

Janissary Project - Saved from a life of child prostitution and murder, Shadows is the story of Benny Grey trying to come to grips with a past which haunts him and, if the present is any indication, a future he will not live to see in

only the lucky die - Mom was gone for the day. Carl was just plain gone. There was nothing they could do to stop the Arab. Shivering, he reached up and touched the scars where a training collar once encircled the neck. It was starting again. Chains, slavery. A living death for him and dozens like him. There was no choice in the matter.

First Quarter Moon - In dull amusement Cindy VanTur drooped boneless in her chair, watching the pictures roll by on the screen of her monitor. It showed the subject from the time he was yet in swaddling clothes to the drama now taking place in the Wilkes-Barre courthouse. Her people were good at what they did. Very good. A gift from a prominent and highly successful politician, an electric pen moved in slender, nervous hands.

We have work to do - Deep in the forest, they met at an abandoned house. Tommy threw a rock at a window. Glass shattered. He picked up a second, hefted it, and his arm whipped in an arc. The window rattled into pieces. The woman snarled at him. 

Half Moon - Outside of the bleak offices of Wilson’s chambers, Benny squatted on a bench under the suspicious and evil eyes of a withered old crone of a secretary. He leaned back and closed his eyes. It was all too much. 

Sir, you have a call - The monitor showed only his choice of screen-savers. The party on the other line was demanding. He grew pale. Wilson made a sporadic clutch at his stomach. Heart like ice, Wilson snapped upright in the plush chair. 

Almost over. Ha - Old man ‘Spider’ Ryan leered a malignant smile. He nodded, tapping a gold-headed blackthorn cane on the floor in a gesture of excitement. It was the DA, O’Brian himself, who had told the County Prosecutor that he was personally taking the case, with only a slight push from the ‘Spider.’ 

Evil there, now, again - The galon:v:yu appeared out of the sun, soaring high above the thick-forested valley floor. Eyes of the raven were a light gold, the irises black, cold beady specks. The feathers were black, so black they appeared blue under the westering rays of the sun. 

The Natives were growing restless - No packs of lawyers. Gods be praised that ‘breed’s bitch of a mother hadn’t been able to afford the luxury. Someone had the foresight to close every account of her whole dammed tribe. Where that stoke of luck came from, he had no desire to pry. Ah, but that brother of hers. Frigging redniggers. The Natives were growing restless. No matter, Pennsylvania knew how to deal with them. 

Full Moon - Anna gritted her teeth. She wanted to go up, drag Benny down by his long, shaggy hair. Haul him kicking and screaming out to the shack at the crossroads where Ivanovitch, that jerk stepfather of his, lived, then kick Benny so hard they both fell down. 

church was boring - He watched Anna leave. Small, needle sharp teeth of guilt worried at Benny. Face creased in a bleak scowl, he flopped back on the army surplus cot. Sightless and angry, he stared at the cobwebbed shadows in the high peak of the loft’s ceiling. 

Little Black River - A minor lord of a darkened-sun raised his head from the grass. He gestured at the select few chosen for this raid. Under dappled light that came through mossy chestnut trees, the Wolf’s Brat was playing in the waters. Sniffing the air in gulps, slave-warriors of the darkened-sun growled. Slinking close to the ground, they shivered, peering at the trees, the sky, their eyes wide and unblinking. 

Come out to me - The microchip surgically implanted in Benny’s cebrial cortex worked like a charm. Despite the loss of a collar, the little bastard. It was infuriating, though. Without a collar Benny could not receive signals, usually a painful jolt, or a mild sexual glow if he were obedient.

Drop the kid - Held in the hollow of the twisted and gnarled bole of a cedar, the portal to that part of the universe known as Solar:6 rose into view. A burning circle of golden fire that was the Veil rumbled. It seethed outward, falling in an ever-moving ball of flames. Laughing, the pack told Benny in no uncertain terms what awaited him when they sold him to the Owl. 

A Mack truck - Bright with laughter, three pair of golden eyes squinted, and God tried Their collective best not break into uncontrollable hysterics. 

Angie O’Brian - He was lightheaded, on the verge of blackening out, but felt like iron. He snatched the phone away from his head and gawked at it. 

blond all over - Angie uttered a small scream of pure outrage. On the gleaming white stone of her father’s driveway was a battered motorcycle. Low and cat-like, she growled, nearly matching the soft rumble of the Native American Built Uohali:Night Sun. 

YOUNG STUD - Turning her head away from Benny, Angie whispered a sigh. It caught in her throat. Raising her hands to her eyes, she pricked the corner of one eye with a fingernail. 

Thou cheap whore - Only Leda saw him. Her and the Cu’alani, she noted with a sour frown at the weeping boy. The kid had the sight, but it was too late. Far too late. The rest of the coven swooned to the damp ground, falling in limp heaps around the blood-blackened ‘Stone. 

It was one of them - Plucking dying flower heads from the shaggy mums his mother planted, Spike groaned, forlorn, and shredded the flowers. Man, but would it be great if someday he could get Benny to take him for a ride. Maybe even Two Mile Hill into the town of Weatherly. 

If only he had money - Her hot little ear pressed against the sweaty tee shirt. She found herself fantasizing about Benny and her mother. Was he as good as her own memories claimed? Being used, one person after another, waking with needle tracks still bleeding from her arm, Angie could see only a dark cloud of faces in a room that was brightly lit.

The Witch Stone - Anna’s car limped over the cobblestone driveway. The muffler scraped on a broken chunk of sandstone and the rusted clothes hanger holding it up snapped. The old car roared, misfired and bounced hard. It chugged once before wheezing a death rattle. 

Homework - It echoed off high, crumbling buildings and he was all of eleven again. Carl ducked his head and ignored it. It was this way, day after day. 

Don’t let her use you - Rolling over Blackman Street, an invading army of live music jetted from open doors of the cement block building. Even over the unmuffled roar of the Uohali Benny could hear it, feel it. It thrust into his brain and pounded with the beat of his heart until he lived it. 

It’s eating me - Blood seeped from under her nails. Leda’s head went back in a deep smile. This part she loved. Her hands opened, letting the knife drift down. The tip hovered just above the chest. 

Ga-i-io-wi-da - His was an ancient power, yet it was useless. Aye, totally devoid of power, without direct intervention of those who wear the envelope of flesh. Mohawk:Buu watched his slaves, human and spirit. A thin smile grew on the pale, coldly handsome face. He raised his hands and demanded his slaves stop Benny from calling on power.

Something was wrong. Missing - In the midst of heat Leda abruptly and irrevocably changed. Thick gray fur covered her body. She strained back against him, her claws digging into the urine-stained soil, the stubby tail wrapped over her left buttock. Then she noticed it. 

The Spider is coming - One of the creeps who pounded him were standing by the corner of the building. Not doing anything. Just watching in the almost deserted parking lot. 

POSSIBLE CAVE-INS - At Mountain Top, the motorcycle hung a left off of 309 and raced the miles down to White Haven. Benny hung over the bars. Wisps of mist became lowering clouds of fog. He dashed away the clammy moisture and suddenly found the road tipping down. He grunted. The Night Sun seemed to find every pothole and rock. It had never been this bad. Had it? 

The thin lights of Wilkes-Barre - The thin lights of Wilkes-Barre showed through the fog. Leda stumbled in a pot hole and crouched low. She sniffed, scenting him, smelling Benny in the dampness of wet leaves and dying grass. And the smell was old.

So much for evolution - The Deusenburg climbed through a worsening fog, then down into Freeland and neared Karr’s. There it slowed, and took the winding road through the scrub oak and laurel thickets of the Forest.