Michelle Zink's Blog, page 17

Recipe of the Week – Chili Enchiladas

I found this recipe from Eating Well via Pinterest a few months ago and it quickly became a favorite in our house.

First let me say this; we LOVE Mexican food. One of the hardest things about moving from California to our small New York town is the lack of good Mexican restaurants. I quickly learned to cook anything and everything we missed from California.

Turning vegetarian was another challenge, because anyone who loves classic Mexican food knows that if you’re not using meat, you’re using cheese.

Sometimes A LOT of it.

And the kids and I agreed when we became vegetarians that we would be HEALTHY vegetarians, replacing meat with legumes, tempeh, and grains like quinoa – NOT cheese.

This recipe is the perfect solution. I was skeptical at first (mashed beans and Greek yogurt? veggie broth enchilada sauce?), but I’m telling you; it’s AH-mazing. Plus, it’s super quick and easy. I make a few changes to the original recipe as follows;

Use Ancho chili powder in place of New Mexican Chili Powder and halve the amount called for in the recipe (it was way too spicy for the younger kids as is). The Ancho chili has a really nice, smoky flavor.

Add a bit more Greek yogurt – about half a cup – to make the beans creamy.

Add a little water to the bean/yogurt mixture for easy spreading.

Otherwise, this recipe is perfect as is! Make it vegetarian by using veggie broth and vegan by omitting the cheese or replacing it with soy cheese (I’ve made a cheese-free version for someone with dairy allergies and got rave reviews).

Also, the shredded iceberg in the photo is essential! It add some nice crunch and also offsets the heat of the chili powder. It’s one of our favorite Friday night dinners.

Hope you enjoy it!

The Sunday Experiment – Balance

A month into the Sunday Experiment and I realize how truly fucked up my head is.

It is HARD for my brain to take a break from writing, thinking about writing, worrying about writing, etc. for even one day. Even without checking email (which I didn’t do for the second Sunday in a row), Facebook, and Twitter, I caught myself obsessing over writing-related things several times throughout the day. I had to forcibly move my mind away from it, which tells you how how of control – and out of balance – my life has become.

Basically, this frog is better at relaxing than I am.

I was halfway through my yoga routine – something I usually LOVE – when I realized that I just wasn’t feeling it. I was trying to hurry and get into the shower so I could have lunch with the kids and watch The French Connection (something Kenneth and I had planned to do). So why was I forcing myself to do yoga ON MY DAY OFF?

I had to consciously give myself permission to skip it, because while I usually see it as a critical part of my everyday routine, taking one day a week off IS OKAY. Right?!

Which is why the Sunday Experiment has made it clear that time off is only a small part of the problem. The real problem is one of balance.

In short; I’m out of whack. And I haven’t even realized it, because somewhere along the line, out of whack became normal. So I’ve decided to turn the Sunday Experiment into a year-long quest for balance, focusing on one component every month. January was about giving myself one day a week completely away from work and technology and the demands thereof.

In February, I’ll focus on Mindfulness, because I’ve realized what a huge problem it is for my noisy mind. I’ll post more about that later this week. In the meantime, I’d love to hear about the things that make balance difficult for you to obtain. Is it juggling work with family? Over-scheduled kids? Getting enough sleep? Eating right when you’re busy?

Share your challenges in the Comments section and I’ll choose ten issues that speak to me, too – one for each month March through December.

We’re going to make balance our bitch. In a Zen sort of way, of course.

 

Sneak Peek Saturday – This Wicked Game

This week I’m giving you the first chapter of THIS WICKED GAME, in honor of the gorgeous cover, revealed just yesterday.

I’m super excited about this book, which features a moody setting (New Orleans), creepy subject matter (voodoo!), and an awesome, multicultural cast. It’ll be out this November form Penguin/Dial.

Stay tuned for more details!

 

Claire was at the front of the store, uploading a new batch of photographs while a pot of wax melted behind her, when the woman entered through the unmarked door.

Claire pulled her eyes away from the pictures flashing across the computer screen. It wasn’t unusual for customers to use the private entrance. Other than the staircase leading to the house, the door was the only way in, and there were plenty of people in New Orleans who had a key.

But Claire had never seen the woman before, and that was unusual, especially since she had been working in the store since before she was tall enough to see over the counter without a step stool.

Still, rules were rules. The fact that the woman had a key meant she was authorized to make purchases, no questions asked.

Claire turned down the temperature on the wax and closed her laptop as the woman approached the counter. She was startlingly beautiful, her milky skin contrasting with the red lipstick that shaped her full mouth. Her clothes were expertly tailored, the white button down nipped in at the waist, the hem of her navy trousers just grazing the floor as she walked.

Claire wiped her hands on a towel as the woman stopped at the counter. “Hello. What can I do for you?”

“Good afternoon.” The woman’s voice was low and gravelly. Claire figured her for a heavy smoker. Either that or a time-traveling 1940s film star. “I have some things I’d like to purchase.”

“Sure.” Claire pulled out the yellow notepad they used for orders.

The woman opened her slim black handbag, pulling from it a folded piece paper. She pushed it across the counter with her neatly manicured hands.

Claire opened it, glancing at the long list of items. It was a big order, and Claire immediately started transferring the woman’s list to the notepad.

“This is your family’s establishment?” The woman asked the question with the certainty of someone who already knew the answer.

“Uh-huh.” Claire had to resist the urge to add “unfortunately” at the end of the sentence.

Frankincense, black cat oil, anise seed, aloeswood powder…

“It’s quite a store. It seems you have everything.”

“Just about,” Claire said. A strand of her long blond hair fell forward. She tucked it behind one ear and continued transcribing the woman’s list to the notepad.

“And how long does it usually take to fill an order?” the woman asked.

“It depends on what you need. Let’s see…” Claire scanned the list. Everything on the front page was in stock. She turned the paper over to the back. “We should be able to do this while you…”

The words stopped coming out of Claire’s mouth as she came to the last item on the list.

Two (2) vials Black Panthera Pardus Plasma.

She felt her face flush as she searched her memory, wanting to be sure.

“Is there a problem?” the woman asked.

Claire didn’t know if it was paranoia or something else, but she thought there was something new in the woman’s voice. An undercurrent of acceptance, as if she’d known the Kincaid’s wouldn’t have the plasma all along.

Claire shook her head, resisting the urge to call out for her mother. Pilar Kincaid had little patience for Claire’s “lack of commitment” to the family business. Calling her would only highlight Claire’s inability to handle the store on her own. Besides, her knowledge of the craft wasn’t exactly encyclopedic. Maybe she was wrong.

“Um… not a problem. But one of these items might take us a while to get in. I think it’s a special order.”

“And which item would that be?” the woman asked, her voice frosty.

“The black panther plasma. We don’t keep it in stock.”

No one keeps it, Claire thought. As far as the Guild was concerned, there were some things you just didn’t mess around with, even if you were an experienced practitioner.

The woman tapped her manicured nails on the wood counter. “How long do you expect it will take to get it?”

“I’m not sure.” Claire didn’t have time to really think about it. “Maybe a week?”

The woman didn’t hesitate. “Fine. I’ll take the rest of the items now.”

Claire nodded, turning to fill the order. Everything else on the list was in stock, and Claire busied herself filling vials with the powder and herbs and wrapping roots in brown paper. She could feel the woman’s eyes on her back while she worked. It made the tiny hairs at the back of her neck stand on end and caused a prickling sensation behind her eyes. She felt vulnerable, exposed.

Once the order was filled, she turned around, half expecting the woman to have transformed into some kind of monster.

But she was just the same, her gaze unflinching, her eyes so dark they were almost black.

“Here you go,” Claire said, pushing the package toward the woman and turning to the calculator. She consulted the notepad, her fingers flying over the keys. “That’ll be $357. 42, without the panther plasma.”

She had a hard time even saying it. Questions were drumming through her mind. She needed to get upstairs to her mother. She would know what to do.

The woman nodded slowly, pulling a wallet from her handbag and removing four hundred dollar bills.

Claire took the money and made change from the lockbox they kept under the counter. “Would you like us to call you when we find out about the special order?”

“That won’t be necessary. I’ll see you one week from today.” She took her change and picked up the package, her unsettling gaze resting on Claire. “Goodbye, Claire.”

She turned and left through the private entrance. Claire watched the door shut behind her, listening for the click of the automatic lock. For a minute, she was rooted to the floor, wondering if she’d imagined the whole thing. Then she looked down at the list of items.

Two (2) vials Black Panthera Pardus Plasma.

She took the stairs two at a time.

* * *

The Kincaid’s living quarters were separated from the store by one floor and a two level staircase. Just a few months ago, the door between the two spaces hadn’t even had a lock, but after a rash of break-ins, the Guild families who had stores on-site had taken measures to protect their private quarters from the customers who had access to the supply houses.

The world was changing, Claire’s mother had said as the locksmith installed a heavy deadbolt on the door that separated the store from the two floors above it. Once a secret society of old-school voodoo suppliers and their clients, the Guild of High Priests and Priestesses had become too large to allow for intimate knowledge of each and every member. Now, it was up to the regional leaders to vet and approve new members based on lineage and practice.

Claire reached the top of the stairs and fumbled through her keys for the one that fit the new lock. When she found it, silver and strangely shiny compared to the old ones that went to the house and store, she unlocked the door and spilled out into the main hall of the house. She locked the door behind her and moved down the first floor hall.

“Mom? Where are you?”

She checked the drawing room first. The floor to ceiling windows were open to the terrace, the sheer draperies moving slightly in the barely-there July breeze. But her mother wasn’t there.

There was only one other place her mother would be if she wasn’t in the drawing room going over the accounts for the store or writing notecards to Guild members who lived outside the city, and that was upstairs. Claire headed for the main staircase.

When she reached the second-floor landing, she continued down the hall past her bedroom, her parent’s room, two guest rooms, and an extra bathroom.

She stopped at a closed door at the end of the hall and listened.

She heard the gentle murmur of her mother’s voice a second later, smelled the incense she burned when practicing the craft.

Claire hesitated. It wasn’t that she was afraid to interrupt her mother. She just didn’t like the ritual room. She never had.

She’d been about four-years-old when she’d first come upon her mother in the room. She had been wearing a white floor-length garment that Claire would later learn was standard ritual garb. The simple cotton tunic made her mother look taller and younger than she did in her everyday clothes. Her hair was long and loose around her shoulders as she kneeled in front of the alter, covered with burning white candles, wax figures, and dried herbs.

Her mother hadn’t looked like herself at all. Not to Claire.

She had waved Claire forward without speaking, silently inviting her to join in the ritual.

Claire had been afraid. The strange words that came from her mother’s mouth frightened her, however softly they were spoken, and the flickering candles cast unfamiliar shadows.

Claire had shaken her head and retreated. She’d avoided the room ever since.

But she couldn’t avoid it now, and she wrapped softly on the door, turning the knob without waiting for an answer and pushing the door open quietly, so as not to disturb her mother.

She was there, in the same position Claire had found her all those years ago, kneeling in front of the tea table that served as an alter. This time she was in her regular clothes. The alter was alight with purple candles that meant her mother was either working a spirituality rite or trying to channel her power more effectively. Two sticks of incense burned on either side of a bible, their smoke rising into the air in abstract swirls.

Her mother didn’t look up or in any way acknowledge Claire’s presence. Claire waited for a few seconds before she finally gave up and started talking.

“Mom, I-”

“You know I won’t speak to you until you come in properly, Claire.” Her mother didn’t look away from the alter. Her hair, still long and black as a raven’s wing, tumbled down over one of her shoulders. “Besides, aren’t you supposed to be working the counter?”

Claire stepped into the room, but just barely. “I am working the counter, but-”

Now her mother looked over at her. “Then what are you doing up here, for heaven’s sake? You know you’re not supposed to leave the store unattended.”

Claire crossed the room, her throat closing against the heavy scent of sandalwood. She held out the piece of paper with the list of ingredients the woman had ordered.

Turning toward her with a sigh, her mother took it, her gray eyes traveling the front page.

“These are all basic ingredients, Claire.” She turned it over. “Surely you know how to…” Her voice trailed off. She shook her head, her face two shades paler than it had been when Claire entered the room. “Where did you get this?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” Claire said. “A woman just came in. She gave me this order to fill.”

Her mother rose to her feet, pacing to the fireplace. “Which client was it?”

“That’s the thing,” Claire said. “I’ve never seen her before.”

Her mother turned to face her. “Then how did she get in?”

“She had a key,” Claire said simply.

“Are you sure the door was latching? That it was locked when she came in?”

Claire sighed. She didn’t blame her mother for doubting her. She wasn’t exactly attentive on the job. But still.

“Yes, Miss Julie was the last person to place an order, and the door locked behind her, just like always.”

“Did this woman give you a name?”

No, Claire almost said, but she knew mine.

She didn’t say it. The woman had probably been told about the Kincaid’s by whoever referred her to the store.

Claire shook her head. “And I didn’t ask. You’ve always told me not to. That if they have a key, I honor the policy, fill the orders, and that’s it.”

Her mother consulted the list again before looking up to meet Claire’s eyes. “But this is… this is impossible. We’ll have to call a meeting.”

She was still standing there, a look of shock on her face, when the phone rang from the hall.

“I’ll get it.” Claire left the room and picked up the phone that sat on a table in the hall. “Kincaid residence. How may I help you?”

“Hello, Claire.” She immediately recognized the voice on the other end of the line. “May I speak to your mother or father, please? It’s urgent.”

“One moment.” Claire covered the mouthpiece and went back to the ritual room, holding out the phone to her mother. “It’s Aunt Estelle,” she said quietly. “She says it’s urgent.”

Estelle Toussaint wasn’t a blood relative to the Kincaid’s, but all the women in the Guild were Claire’s “aunts” just as her mother was “Aunt Pilar” to the other Guild members’ children.

Pilar smoothed her skirt, as though Estelle could see her through the phone. “Hello, Estelle.” Her mother paused, turning her back on Claire. “Well, I… When?” Another long pause. “Today?”

She didn’t say anything else for a couple of minutes. Claire was beginning to wonder if her mother was still on the phone when she murmured a few quiet words. Then she turned around, avoiding Claire’s eyes as she finished the call.

“Yes, I understand. We’ll see you then.” She hung up the phone, staring at it like it was something she’d never seen before.

“Mom?” Claire finally said. “What’s going on?”

Her mother looked up like she’d just realized Claire was still there. “We weren’t the only ones who received an order for black panther plasma today.”

“What do you mean?” Claire asked.

But Pilar was already rushing from the room. “An emergency meeting has been called. Be ready to leave at six.”

Cover Reveal – This Wicked Game

I’m super psyched to FINALLY show you guys the cover of THIS WICKED GAME, my November 2013 book from Penguin/Dial.

I love this book so much. It’s dark, moody, and set in New Orleans amid a backdrop of voodoo and old voodoo families.

Here’s a brief summary I whipped up for you this morning;

Claire Kincaid’s family has been in business for over fifty years.

The voodoo business.

Part of the International Guild of High Priests and Priestesses, a secret society that have practiced voodoo for generations, the Kincaid’s run an underground supply house for authentic voodoo supplies. Claire plays along, filling orders for powders, oils and other bizarre ingredients in the family store, but she has a secret.

She doesn’t believe.

Struggling to reconcile her modern sensibilities with a completely unscientific craft based on suspicion, Claire can’t wait to escape New Orleans – and voodoo – when she goes to college, a desire that creates almost constant conflict in her secret affair with Xander Toussaint, son of the Guild’s powerful founding family.

But when a mysterious customer places an order for a deadly ingredient, Claire begins to realize that there’s more to voodoo – and the families that make up the Guild – than meets the eye.

Including her own.

As she bands together with the other firstborns of the Guild, she comes face to face with a deadly enemy – and the disbelief that may very well kill her.

Super excited to share it with you guys!

The Little Things – An Amazing Cup

It sounds crazy, but one of the things I love most about having coffee in a good hotel is the cups. They tend to be big, complete with a saucer and weighty feel that makes you feel like your breakfasting (I feel very British typing that and I don’t know why) at the Four Seasons even if you’re really at the Hilton.

Not that there’s anything wrong with the Hilton.

Anyway, I bought a set of these cups and saucers at a local auction a few years ago. They’re Hungarian porcelain, and I think I paid something like $10 for ten of them. Back then, I was selling antiques to make a living while I wrote Prophecy of the Sisters, and I spent many hours sitting at local auctions, bidding on things I loved and thought I could sell.

Problem is, when you buy things you love, you usually don’t want to sell them. Case in point; these cups. They sat in my “to be sold” pile for months before migrating to my cupboard, used only on special occasions.

But I’m not really a believer in “saving” things for a special occasion. Every day is – or should be – a special occasion, and like so many things I “meant” to sell, these cups became part of my daily repertoire. Now I use them for my morning coffee every day, and you know what? They make every morning a little special, even if I’m on the sofa instead of at the Four Seasons.

The best part about this “little thing” is that it’s a cheap way to give yourself a little luxury every morning of the week. And you don’t have to buy one from a store. Take your time and search yard sales, auctions, and flea markets for the perfect cup, one that makes you feel special every time you use it. It can be a dainty cup and saucer, a heavy hand-thrown mug, or old hotel porcelain (I suspect this is what my Hungarian cups are). Whatever speaks to you, the search is part of the fun!

What about you? What’s a “little thing” that makes your mornings nicer? Post in comments or tweet with #thelittlethings.

Recipe of the Week – Apple Pancakes with Greek Yogurt

This is an easy one! I had two granny smith apples in the fruit drawer that needed to be used and I was looking for a special breakfast to have on Sunday. I whipped these up in no time. The Greek yogurt added just the right zing to the counter the sweetness of the pancakes, and the  added protein is a bonus, especially for vegetarians.

Here’s what I did (and forgive my sometimes loose measurements – it’s how I do in the kitchen!);

1 regular pancake recipe (whatever you normally use, be it from a mix, from scratch, etc.)

1-2 apples (I used two, but I also triple batch my pancakes because I have a 16- and twenty-year-old guy in the house)

1 cup applesauce (ditto above, adjust for the amount of pancakes you’re making and/or the level of apple flavor you want)

Cinnamon (as much or as little as you like)

Chopped walnuts (optional)

Greek yogurt (optional)

Real maple syrup (PLEASE don’t use “pancake syrup”. It’s not maple syrup. It’s maple-flavored corn syrup and is SO BAD for you. Plus, there’s nothing like real maple syrup, even if it is more expensive.)

Get all your ingredients ready. This is important because the pancakes start to cook fast, and you won’t have time to cut the apple in-between.

Make your regular pancake batter according the instructions. Add applesauce and cinnamon and combine (don’t overmix or your pancakes will be flat). You can choose to add the walnuts to the mix or you can wait and put them out as a topping.

Ladle mixture onto griddle or into hot pan, sprinkling some of the diced apple on top of each pancake (I pressed them into the batter a little bit). Flip and complete as usual.

Top each pancake with a dollop of yogurt and sprinkle walnuts on top (if you choose to use them and didn’t put them in the batter). Pour warm maple syrup over the yogurt and pancake.

All three of the kids who are home LOVED these. Kenneth kept saying, “I can’t believe how good those apple pancakes were.” The biggest testament? It’s the first time I’ve EVER eaten leftover pancakes as a snack.

Enjoy!

 

The Sunday Experiment – Week Two

This week’s Sunday Experiment was… interesting. I was expecting a day reveling in my free time, enjoying every last second cut off from email, social networking and writing.

And I DID have a lovely day. I even took pictures to prove it!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But there was a side effect. I sometimes felt edgy, nervous and distracted by my inability to check email. I don’t think I noticed it as much last week, because I was busy a good part of the day helping Rebekah move back into her dorm (and I hadn’t initiated the email embargo). This week, I’d arranged to be home, and there were definitely times when I was jonesing to check email, Facebook, or to write.

A hazard of loving what you do!

Still, I forced myself to stay off my computer (didn’t open it once!), taking the fact that it was difficult for me to do so as proof that I really NEED to learn to do it.

I feel that way in meditation a lot, too, especially when I go to meditation practice and we have longer, 20-30 minute sits. It’s like I’m trying to claw my way out of my own mind. At times like that, I tell myself, “You can’t run from yourself,” and force myself to be still. It’s not always easy – or to be honest, even pleasant – but I think we SHOULD be able to be still in our own minds. The fact that it is difficult makes me realize how desperately I need to cultivate that ability, because if we can’t retreat into our own minds now and then, how screwed are we?

And just taking this one day a week has made me realize how terribly out of balance I’ve been. That has to change if I want to be healthy in mind, body, and spirit – and I DO.

This week’s lessons learned;

1) Not logging into email helped a lot, even though there were times I was dying to check it. I set an away message late Sunday night letting people know I’d get back to them Monday, and that prevented me from worrying that everyone would think I was a flake for not replying right away. Also, because a lot of people knew I was doing the Sunday Experiment, I was pleasantly surprised by how many people went out of their way to honor it, telling me in advance that they would send me interview questions on Monday (thank you, Nazarea!) and that they would talk to me about specific things then. So I think telling people Sunday is your “day off” helps them recognize the boundary, too.

2) I’ve been working a lot – but not working smart because I’ve been more burned out than I realized. After last week’s Sunday off, I felt really ready to tackle that week’s tasks, and I hit the ground running on Monday. Knowing I had a day off coming, I planned to tackle certain things during the week so I’d be somewhat clear on Sunday (because let’s face it, we’re never *really* in the clear). One of the things I did to work smarter was to start using Freedom again when I wrote during the week. And let me tell you, I am always SHOCKED by what a difference it makes. My head just feels clearer, my mind more focused knowing I can’t log into the internet. I ended up getting way more done last week than usual. That made me feel proud and relieved and more like I DESERVED a day off.

3) Even fun things can be not fun when you have too much on your plate. If you remember, last week, I vowed to plan a couple of nice things for myself to do on Sunday. I ended up with the following list; have a leisurely morning, watch The New World with the kids while we ate lunch, make homemade pizza, take a couch nap, and play Scrabble with Caroline. I managed to do it all — and I enjoyed it! — but there were times when I felt rushed to cram it all in. When Caroline asked if we could make Scrabble a Sunday tradition, I forced myself to tell her we would have to see. Scary how easy it is to slip into overscheduling even a day off! Next week, I’ll think of one or two things I want to do and play the rest by ear.

But it was SO NICE to have all that time away from writing and from the computer, even if I sometimes did feel like an addict looking for a fix. I spent the morning drinking coffee and reading magazines, made homemade apple pancakes with Greek yogurt (will post the recipe for you guys this week), did yoga, watched The New World in the middle of the afternoon (an afternoon movie felt like the epitome of luxury), took a nap, made pizza, watched a documentary with the kids, and played Scrabble with Caroline. Then I meditated and read before bed.

One upside to jonesing for work is that I woke up today READY to get shit done. I’ve already knocked a bunch of stuff off my to-do list. That forced down time made me appreciate the time I have to work.

Plus, I want to get as much done as possible before next week’s Sunday Experiment.

What about you? Did you take the day off? If so, what how did you spend your day? if not, what are the challenges facing you in finding downtime?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sneak Peak Saturday – Untitled WIP

This week’s sneak peek is from an as-yet-unsold WIP.

And that’s all I can tell you.

 

They made their way to the bunker in an unmarked SUV. Another agent drove wordlessly, a unidentifiable tattoo peeking out from under his sleeve, while Audrey sat in the back next to the agent who’d come to retrieve her.

She thought about texting Lucas to let him know she might not make her shift tomorrow. But what could she say? There were too many things he didn’t know.

Too many things he could never know.

She turned her attention to the window instead, watching pieces of her life pass by — the bakery on the corner where she went for croissants on Sunday morning, the diner where she and Lucas sometimes had coffee after work, Lenny’s. She tried to let go of the feeling that it was all moving away from her, that she was being sucked back into the world that cost her so much and would still cost her more.

She tried to soothe herself. Her return to the bunker was temporary. A necessary part of her role as architect, of the Shepherds commitment — her commitment — to keeping mankind on plan. They would fix the problem with the map, and a few hours from now, she would be back in her bed, the moonlight streaming in through the old factory windows. Tomorrow, she would go to Lenny’s and work her shift with Lucas. She would look into his blue eyes and laugh when he was silly. Maybe she would even say thank you for the friend he’d been when being her friend was no easy task.

The continued through Manhattan toward the Henry Hudson Parkway. Things were rougher than she remembered in this part of the city. A couple of buildings close to the water were charred, victims of a recent fire. The FDNY was already cleaning it up, despite the smoke still rising from its ruins. A bunch of people were protesting noisily near 11th Street, the police out in riot gear, herding the group toward the water, away from the center of the city. It all made the city feel ominous, as if a storm cloud were moving overhead, blocking out the light and vibrancy Audrey loved about Manhattan.

She shouldn’t have been surprised by the changes. It’s not like she bothered to look around very often. She liked her little corner of the city, took comfort in frequenting the same places in and around the loft apartment rather than venturing out into other neighborhoods.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know what she was doing.

All the Shepherds were trained in the psychology of their genetic disorder. The psychology of living forever. They were taught to accept the death of people they grew to love, to seek out new experiences to avoid becoming bored, to rely on the extended family of Shepherds for lasting companionship. And yes, to avoid clinging too desperately to people and places in a misguided attempt to create what would only be a false sense of permanence.

They were also taught that all of those things were completely counter to human nature, which is why she’d been immersing herself in the funky little vibe of her loft apartment and her job at Lenny’s, enjoying her attachment to Lucas even as she feared it, trying to pretend she was just like everybody else.

She pushed the thought away. She didn’t want to think about Lucas while she was on her way to the bunker. One had nothing to do with the other.

And that’s how she wanted it to stay.

They drove for about ten more minutes before the driver pulled the car to the side of the road. Audrey knew what was next, and she turned her face to the agent next to her.

“Sorry,” he said as he wrapped a length of black cloth around her eyes.

“It’s okay.”

Everything went dark. His hands were gentle as he knotted the fabric at the back of her head.

She wasn’t offended. She hadn’t been privy to the location of the map since she’d moved out of the bunker. It was standard operating procedure, a security precaution in the event she was taken by the Apostles and interrogated for information about the bunker’s whereabouts.

All of the Shepherds who lived outside the bunker were subject to the same rules, though Audrey was forced to adhere to them more rigorously than most. If the breach was as serious as it sounded, they would eventually have to clue her in to the bunker’s location so she could come and go more freely. But for now, the blindfold brought with it a sense of relief. Proof that she would soon return to her normal life.

She took deep breaths as the car hurtled forward, the darkness behind her closed eyes disorienting. They seemed to be going fast, probably still on the Parkway, though she had no way of knowing for sure. There were several turns, a swift acceleration that might mean they were getting on the highway, and then a deceleration that probably meant they were leaving it.

Some time later the car stopped. She heard one of the windows roll down, followed by an electronic hum that could have been a gate or garage door opening.

“I’m going to remove the blindfold now.” The agent’s voice was very near her face as he untied the knot. The scent of mint hit her nostrils.

Weak blue light assaulted Audrey’s eyes. “Thank you.”

She looked out the window. They were in some kind of parking garage, the kind that could have served any mall or office building in any of the city’s surrounding suburbs. The car pulled into a small room. Doors closed behind them, and Audrey felt a jolt as they were lowered — vehicle and all — on some kind of elevator mechanism.

They continued their descent for almost five minutes. Wherever they were, it was a long way down.

Finally, the doors opened. The driver put the car into gear and pulled into another garage. He parked the SUV next to one just like it and got out, opening the door for Audrey. They made their way to a pair of massive steel doors set into a concrete wall.

There were several layers of security. It wasn’t unexpected, though the protocols changed as new technology became available. To hear her father tell it, there had once been threatening guards, passwords, and cryptic puzzles where now there were palm and iris scans, voice recognition, signature matching. And Audrey wasn’t fooled by the lack of physical security, either.

Someone, somewhere, was watching their every move via hidden camera.

With every step, Audrey grew more nervous. She told herself it was stupid. These were her people. The ones who had trained her and protected her. The ones who looked out for her from afar and who would continue doing so in the decades ahead.

They were the only family she had.

Still, it had been a year since she’d seen them, and that somehow made it seem like starting all over again.

“Step inside.” The agent who had come to her apartment indicated a large cylinder in front of them.

She walked into it. A red light came on above her head, and she stood still while the machine scanned her body. When the light turned green, she stepped out of it.

The agent hadn’t followed her through.

“Aren’t you coming?”

He shook his head. “This is the end of the line for me.”

“Security clearance?” she asked.

“Level 4,” he said.

She nodded her understanding.

“They’re waiting for you in the last conference room.” He gestured to a marble hallway to her right.

“Thank you,” she said, lifting her hand in a gesture of goodbye.

She swallowed her nervousness as she made her way down the hall. There were doors on either side, but she had no idea where she was or what took place in this part of the compound. Even as she put a hand on the door knob and pulled, she couldn’t hear a sound from within. The bunkers were always designed to be soundproof.

She stepped inside, coming to a stop when she spotted the two men at the back of the room. The large, imposing one turned, revealing a shaved head and goatee, his flinty eyes meeting hers as the smaller man stood with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Well, well, well,” the big man said said. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

Audrey let out a squeal and flew into the big man’s arms. “Danny? Sam? Is it really you?”

Things I Love – Night Time Tea

No, I didn’t upload the wrong picture. It’s not tea!

A couple of years ago, a friend gave me a Bath and Body Works package for my birthday that included a small bottle of this lotion. I kept it by my bed and used it on my hands every night before I went to sleep. By the time it was gone, I was thoroughly addicted. One of the first things I did at the start of winter was to treat myself to a full size bottle.

And since I’ve realized it’s the little things that make a difference in life – the little luxuries, added touches, small comforts – it scores the first spot in my new weekly feature, Things I Love. These will all be small, affordable things to which we can treat ourselves. Things that are easy on the bank account but big on enjoyment and/or comfort.

Night Time Tea is described as having “soft and soothing Cedarwood and Orange essential oils help calm and comfort like tea before bed,” but really, it’s like a blankie and a cup of tea that you can slather all over your body.

Or just your hands if you want to make it last.

It’s become one of those precious little things that make every night just a little bit better. A bonus? I’ve used it so much right before bed that now when I put it on, my nose tells my brain, “It’s time to sleep, dummy! Stop talking!”

The bad news? it turns out its a seasonal item for B&BW and they’re already out for the year. *cries* But this Amazon seller has a few, so if you hurry, you can snatch one up. It’s the perfect pick-me-up to get you through the rest of winter.

Now it’s your turn! Share your favorite bedtime things in the comments!

Recipe of the Week – Black Bean & Sweet Potato Flautas

I posted about this recipe from Peas and Crayons last week and had the chance to make it tonight.

In a word; AH-mazing!

It was a great vegetarian dinner that everyone loved. The only tweaks I made was omitting the cream cheese and spraying the corn tortillas with a bit more olive oil that was called for (I wanted them crispy). Next time, I think I’d also double the spices for flavor. Other than that, they were perfection.

And if you’re vegan, just omit the cheese and you’re good to go!

Check out the recipe (and more great ones from Peas and Crayons) here!