Alastair Rosie's Blog, page 3

Chapter Seven excerpt Angel of Mercy

Angel of Mercy Cover image.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Wednesday, January 15th, 2014

Sven’s here today! It was so good to see him again. Mom’s given him a bed in the spare room even after he said he’d take a hotel room. Mom won’t hear of it and quite right too! I love Sven, he looks like a Viking, he has this wide expressive face and bright blue eyes. When he talks to you he always looks at your eyes. He’s been one of mom’s friends for centuries and was born in the tenth century. I haven’t asked him about his history because I still feel odd asking, like it’s prying into someone’s personal life but I’ve been assured that Sven won’t be embarrassed. He’s promised to fill me in on some of the things mom got up to when she was a kid. She laughed at that and told him to keep it clean.
He brought an extra suitcase with him, which is filled with some of my personal things. There was an awful lot of stuff I left back home for obvious reasons. One of the things he brought over was my fiddle, I learned how to play it in Chicago and I’ve missed not having it. Another of the goodies he brought over was another DVD of the Raven Queens that the girls converted from old videotapes and digitized. It’s kind of weird seeing mom, the Kings, Shina, Sigrid, Amelia and Melanie back in the late eighties. They haven’t aged a day since then and that’s almost scary when you realize they’ve stayed that age for hundreds and even thousands of years. Mom’s hair was a lot longer and very eighties, like a red-haired version of Farrah Fawcett.
It was another of Cat’s buddies, Billy Ray who found me my first car. He owns an auto shop out near Highland Park. He’s part Cheyenne and part Lakota. The first time I met him was when I went with dad to pick up his car that Billy had serviced. He’s a big guy and I’d hate to get on the wrong side of him in a dark alley but he’s as gentle as a lamb. He had this map of North America, hanging in his office with the names of the tribes superimposed over the states and provinces. He saw me reading the names and pointed to the Cheyenne and Lakota.
“They’re my people and that’s my land,” he moved his hand from Colorado to South Dakota, “all of it and one of these days I’m gonna collect back rent off all them pesky white squatters and retire for the rest of my life.”

When my stepmom’s plane went down a part of me died, Cat was my world. In her place she left us to her friends, the Grey Ravens. Over the years I slowly came to realise her death was a mere facade. When we were reunited I learned the truth about Clan Grey Raven and her remarkable history. Some people will always love. Some people never lose hope. Some people never die…
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This excerpt is from The Chronicles of the Grey Raven. Book One, Angel of Mercy, now available on Smashwords and Amazon and Amazon UK

Gaza: Will this be the final straw or final solution?

Alastair Rosie:

Enough talking and more action. Boycott this rogue nation of bigots and racists.

Originally posted on Cintayati:

HARSH WORD MUST BE FOLLOWED BY ACTIONS

After the “harsh words” of shock and condemnation that Israel, once again, attacked an URWA school (that transmitted its precise coordinates 33 times to “Israel’s” authorities), will there be action? The Secretary-General of the UN called it “another blatant violation of international humanitarian law” which clearly means that the other violations are not only known but recognised. The Secretary-General has the power and authority to refer a case to the International Criminal Court, but will he? Will the Americans veto another Security Council resolution on behalf of their client state? And what about the ‘final solution’ being spouted by Ministers of “Israel’s” parliament for Palestinians in Gaza? In the totality, the world must unite to stop this genocidal, rogue state.

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Chapter Six Excerpt: Angel of Mercy

Some people will always love, some people never lose hope, some people never die…

This excerpt is from The Chronicles of the Grey Raven. Book One, Angel of Mercy, now available on Smashwords and Amazon and Amazon UK

CHAPTER SIX

Tuesday, January 14th, 2014

It seems as if I’ve gained a new reader tonight. One of mom’s friends, Sean came around to help me update the software on this laptop as it was his before he sold it to mom. This laptop is running Linux Ubuntu, which is a big change for this Windows girl! While he was downloading updates he was reading the printouts and wants to read more. Like mom he thinks it’s good I get it out of my system. It’s weird that I can talk about it with mom easily but writing about it was different. I guess that’s the artistic part of me, worrying about what people will think of my work, constantly making changes and then changing it all back again. Sean was full of praise though. He’s a detective based here in Glasgow, before that he was a detective in Melbourne, Australia. He’s been a member of Cat’s clan for nearly forty years. He was turned back in the early seventies and spent years living in safe houses and vampire guild halls before he accepted his vampirism.
Sean understands the clan loyalties that regulate and control his world. I was a beneficiary of that loyalty by virtue of Cat’s guardianship. Basically, the mortals who’re part of a vampire’s family are automatically accepted as part of the clan even though many will never know it. We moved from New Orleans to Chicago and were instantly surrounded by Cat’s clan and that leads me into this next excerpt.
I’ve been to quite a few American cities. but two are my favorites. The first is New Orleans, for obvious reasons. I was heartbroken when Hurricane Katrina devastated it. So was Elizabeth, she contributed a few million dollars for aid and we sat together in a big warehouse with volunteers to pack essential items. My second favorite city would be Chicago although if I’m honest, they’re level pegging it. If New Orleans was where I spent my formative years, Chicago was where I matured. We lived in Highland Park and Elizabeth opened the door to her very private world by giving us an open invitation to visit whenever and so I spent many many days and nights with either Elizabeth or Melanie.

When my stepmom’s plane went down a part of me died, Cat was my world. In her place she left us to her friends, the Grey Ravens. Over the years I slowly came to realise her death was a mere facade. When we were reunited I learned the truth about Clan Grey Raven and her remarkable history. Some people will always love. Some people never lose hope. Some people never die…
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My Heart is Breaking

Tonight I was set to write another blog post to promote Angel of Mercy. It’s a task I’ve been trying to start for the last few days but each time I open up a blank document to write I feel sick, angry and so terribly afraid. I’m talking about the situation in Gaza and when I was talking with my cousin in America tonight she suggested I write it out and so here I am sitting with a not so blank page.

I could write a history of the causes of the Arab/Israeli conflict going back to 1948 but this is not the time nor the place for such an essay and there are those far more qualified than I who’ve written books on the subject. I’ll leave links below for those who want to know more and perhaps get past the media spin doctors on Fox, CNN and the BBC, all of whom have Hamas tattooed on the inside of their eyelids.

This is not about Hamas or Fatah, or any of the other Palestinian factions. This is about people, children, women, the elderly, and men who aren’t combatants. They are doctors, lawyers, bloggers, mothers, school children, babies, grandmothers and grandfathers, mothers and fathers all caught in the crossfire between armed groups and the IDF. The media spin coming out of the IDF and the Israeli government is truly chilling in its cold blooded evil. They talk about human shields as if it was a brand name, just tell the west they’re human shields and they’ll think of Saddam Hussein or some other tyrant. Netanyahu’s comment that they were telegenically dead Palestinians was bizarre even for him.

The problem with that narrative is Western journalists from mainstream media outlets have been at the other end of an IDF onslaught that has shocked hardened journalists used to covering war. It has driven them and the UN Coordinator to tears on television because there are no words to describe the barbarity. I have seen the most shocking pictures of children blasted to pieces simply because they were in the same building as a Hamas fighter and all they can say is that it was a regrettable incident or the more insidious, human shield. It’s not precision bombing, it’s indiscriminate shelling and they do it because they know the American media and Congress is on their side. What civilised army would send warnings that they were about to bomb a hospital? Even if there were militants nearby, the IDF has enough technological know how to use other methods, all funded by the West.

Hospitals, ambulances, houses, the only powerplant in the Gaza Strip, and even UN shelters filled with terrified civillians, children blasted to pieces and decapitated by Israeli shells and bombs. If any other nation did this there would be an outcry, sanctions, boycotts and an international force sent in to clean up the mess. But this is Israel and they are sacred cows in Congress and Westminster, just to name two of the co-conspirators.

The Israeli media would have once condemned such atrocities but now that has changed, there’s an evil in Israel that emanates from the Knesset and permeates outwards to the media and the public. The Times of Israel today printed a blog post from a blogger with the headline, When Is Genocide Permissible? It was swiftly deleted a few hours later but to have a major Israeli outlet actually allow that headline is a descent into the abyss. Obama did his usual duck and dive, our Prime Minister David Cameron was more outraged at the reported capture of an Israeli soldier than the 1300 dead civilians. While the world stood in horror to read of the cowardly attack on a UNWRA facility by the IDF, killing many sleeping children, the US Congress nearly fell over themselves in the rush to push through emergency relief fund of $275 million in arms funding for Iron Dome. Just to kill more children I suppose, how many more dead children will it take before Obama and Cameron man up?

Gaza has been described many times over as the largest open air prison on the planet. All goods in and out of Gaza have been controlled for the last eight years, I mean ALL goods, even food and medicines, CDs, toys, it’s all on the list. Movement in and out of prison through a series of checkpoints that can be closed at any time and there are usually long queues for Palestinians, who are searched rigorously, even children are searched. Netanyahu and his co-defendants in the Western media can call it what they want, call it a holiday resort but a rose by any other name is still a rose. And these prisoners, like Andy in Shawshank Redemption, really are innocent. Their only crime was being born to Arab parents, that’s it. That is racism, it’s ugly and evil and our taxes support this evil.

So what can we do about it? Apart from locking the two opposing leaders in a room without food or water until they sort it out?

We can write to our MPs and elected members, let them know we oppose arms shipments to a militaristic nation bent on driving every Arab out of Israel. We can also get involved in the Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions movement, which basically means stop buying products made in the Occupied Territories. And every time you see one of the talking heads on CNN or other mainstream networks going on with the usual spin, use your Twitter account to good effect and tell them to stop talking and start reading.

There are links below to their website for those who want to make a difference, I don’t mind going without Coca Cola or Nescafe coffee. But I do mind that my taxes in Britain are being used to prop up a murderous regime ruled by despots who claim to be democratic but then deny basic human rights to those in the Occupied Territories just because they can. It’s wrong, it’s twisted and I’m no longer afraid to speak out. It doesn’t make me anti Semitic in any way at all. It means I’ve found my humanity. Feel free to leave comments but any anti Semitic or racist comments will be deleted. Updates on the on the ground situation can be found on Twitter using the hastags, #gaza, #GazaunderAttack, #FreePalestine, #ICC4Israel, #IsupportPalestine

The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good people to do nothing.

Edmund Burke.

Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions 

Palestinian Solidarity Campaign (British based)

International Solidarity Movement

Jewish Voices for Palestine


Want to know more? These are essential reading for those who want to get past the mainstream drivel.

Gaza in Crisis: Reflections on Israel’s War Against Palestine. Noam Chomsky and Ilan Pappe

The Ethnic Cleansing of Palestine. Ilan Pappe

The Punishment of Gaza. Gideon Levy

Drinking the Sea at Gaza: Days and Nights in a Land Under Siege. Amira Hass

Tomorrow I will return to my regular Angel of Mercy blog but tonight I just wanted to write out the rage, sorrow and helplessness.

Elizabeth McIvor – An Intimate Encounter

AN INTIMATE ENCOUNTER WITH…
ELIZABETH McIVOR

Rarely has Elizabeth McIvor ever granted access into her homes to the press. The intensely private billionaire head of House of McIvor has always maintained a discreet distance between the press and her homes. She owns four homes in New York, Chicago, San Francisco and New Orleans, as well as a ranch in southern Illinois and a ranch in Montana. Recently one of our reporters travelled to her New York home on the eve of her departure to the UK. Peter Freeman was given a guided tour of the large sprawling house and his pictures are found here. He had the opportunity to speak to Elizabeth about her British Invasion and other matters.
Peter: This is a big venture for you. Do you feel a little overawed by it?
Elizabeth: Oh now and then I sit back and think, gee, I’m about to invade Britain and there’s a moment of anxiety but it doesn’t last. I’ve got a good team behind me. This isn’t one of those spur of the moment decisions, we’ve been planning this for a few years. I’ve been looking to expand across the pond for quite some time it was just a matter of looking for the best way to do it.
Peter: Why so long? 
Read More…

Angel of Mercy – Chapter Five excerpt

Some people will always love, some people never lose hope, some people never die…

This excerpt is from The Chronicles of the Grey Raven. Book One, Angel of Mercy, now available on Smashwords and Amazon and Amazon UK

CHAPTER FIVE

Monday, January 13th, 2014

It’s a dark and gloomy day today as I sit down to write this next excerpt. It’s been on my mind the last few days and I couldn’t think about what to write. I guess it’s because mom is reading this as well and I feel awkward knowing that this excerpt is about that day when my safe, comfortable world was upended. For years Cat had been a constant presence in my life. She was there when I woke up and went to sleep. There was never a moment I felt unsafe around her, and on more than one occasion she’d stepped between me and danger. Parent teacher nights were never a cause for concern because she was my staunchest supporter as more than one teacher found out to their cost. But after the accident everything changed and I felt as if I’d been cast adrift and thus writing about it now feels oddly disconnected as if I’m looking at myself through someone else’s eyes, knowing the truth but being unable to communicate it. I spoke to mom about it tonight and she encouraged me to speak my mind.
“I’m the one who did this and you were the one most affected by my actions so tell it like it is and don’t hold back. If you bury the memory it doesn’t die, it just lies dormant waiting for the right moment. You need to let it out and I need to read it.”
She’s right of course, she usually is and so I’m sitting here thinking about it. With the benefit of hindsight, in her situation I’d have done the same thing.
The year 2003 stands out in my mind as being one of the worst years of my life. It was the year I lost the stepmom who had been the center of my life. I was ten years old when her plane went down over the Gulf of Mexico on what was supposed to be a routine flight to Galveston for a two day conference. It was Friday, August 10 and I was with Jana, who had taken me to the mall and then back to her house to watch a film. Dad came to the door at about three in the afternoon and I felt my heart jump because he wasn’t due until five thirty, we had only just made popcorn. He’d been crying and for a minute or two he said nothing to me but spoke to Jana in the kitchen, then he came through and told me her plane had gone down over the sea and we had to go home now and wait for news.
I remember staring at him not registering the fact and then Jana gently put her arm around me.
“There is always hope,” she whispered, “even on the darkest days the sun still shines.”
I didn’t want to believe it. I kept saying over and over, “it’s gonna be all right, it’s gonna be all right,” all the way home. We waited until I fell asleep and in the morning I came through to the bedroom but she wasn’t there and so I sat at the front window and waited. A few hours later the tears did come and dad held me tight. Jana came around with some dinner for us and stayed the night. The following few days are like a blur but a lot of Cat’s friends dropped in to see us. Even mom’s side of the family came to offer condolences and for the first time I can recall, dad allowed Pastor Peskin to say a prayer and I prayed silently too, but God didn’t answer his prayer and so I decided in my heart that me and God were now estranged…

It was a letter written a few years ago. I still have those letters, I think I’ve read them all several times over. There was a paragraph that stood out for me.

‘Sam came home with an A- for her history report but to me she deserves an A+. There’s not a day goes by I don’t sit and stare at her in amazement. My little girl fills my heart with pride. I hope I’m there to see her graduate from college and if by mischance I’m not, I hope she lives each day as if was her last. I hope she remembers that my love for her is as thick as blood and that nothing can ever make me reject her. She is my hope, my joy, my pride.’

I remember crying when I read that bit and Melanie reassuring me, and then dad came through with Elizabeth and he read it as well. He looked emotional as well but dad doesn’t cry, he merely looked at Elizabeth and let me go.
“Elizabeth has made me a job offer but we have to move to Chicago because that’s where I’ll be working,” he paused, “so, what do you think?”
“I,” I took my glasses off and started cleaning them methodically, “I don’t know, it’s not me you should be asking.”
I was so intent on cleaning my glasses that I didn’t notice Elizabeth approaching until she squatted in front of me and gently took my glasses away.
“I can’t bring Cat back for you, but I can do what I promised for her. One of the things she asked was that I look after you and your dad. The job I’ve offered him doesn’t actually exist right now but it will in a month or two. I think what she wants is for you to finish school and live your life. I will look after you because that’s what she asked of me, so what do you say, Sam? Do you want to move to Chicago with your dad?”
I stared at her as she handed my glasses back to me.
“Melanie will be tutoring you in art by the way, she thinks you have talent. I know Cat wanted you to persevere with your drawing.”
“What about Slep?” I looked at dad.
“We’ll get another horse soon, I promise.”
“The hell you will,” Elizabeth smiled crookedly, “Slep and Cat’s horse will be on my ranch in southern Illinois for now until we can find somewhere closer,” she raised an eyebrow, “is that okay with you?”
“Okay,” I managed in a small voice, “okay.”
“You’re gonna make it, Sam,” Elizabeth hugged me briefly, “I promise.”

When my stepmom’s plane went down a part of me died, Cat was my world. In her place she left us to her friends, the Grey Ravens. Over the years I slowly came to realise her death was a mere facade. When we were reunited I learned the truth about Clan Grey Raven and her remarkable history. Some people will always love. Some people never lose hope. Some people never die…
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Chapter Four Excerpt

Some people will always love, some people never lose hope, some people never die…

This excerpt is from The Chronicles of the Grey Raven. Book One, Angel of Mercy, now available on Smashwords and Amazon and Amazon UK

CHAPTER FOUR
Friday, January 10th, 2014

Some events unite people all around the world, VE Day, the coronation of Elizabeth II, the assassination of JFK, the death of Princess Diana and the September 11 attacks. That fateful day is one I will always remember with crystal clarity. I was in school when my teacher was called out of the classroom. She was only gone a minute or two and then she came back and asked me to pack my things and come with her. Everyone stared at me and one boy sniggered, the teacher just glared at him and told him to be quiet.
Cat was waiting outside and she looked pale and tense.
“You need to go with your mom, sweetie,” the teacher told me.
I heard about the attacks as Cat put her arm around me and led me down the hall. My dad had flown into JFK that morning. He was due to catch up with an old army buddy and meet up with Cat’s foster parents who were staying at the Sheraton on Canal Street. He’d called Cat from the Williamsburg bridge but then his phone cut out suddenly. The last thing he told Cat was that the battery was about to die but he also said a plane had crashed into one of the towers. The cell network went down all over the city and all we could do was go home and watch the news. She tried calling her parents but they weren’t answering the hotel phone and the receptionist wasn’t much use either.
Cat was out of the room when the South tower went down, I screamed and she came through and said, “the bastards, the fucking bastards.” She picked up the home phone and called another number and spoke to someone called Bjorn, the conversation was in Norwegian I found out later. She put the phone down and put out an arm for me and I fell into her, shaking like a leaf.
“Bjorn is on his way,” she told me quietly, “if he’s there, Bjorn will find him.”
I had no idea who Bjorn was but the story has been told many times since of how a big guy with long blonde hair and a mustache grabbed dad on the shoulder as he was walking north. Dad said he looked like one of those Viking types and at first he thought the guy was trying to rob him but then he introduced himself.
“I’m Bjorn, your wife called me. Come with me if you want to live.”

When my stepmom’s plane went down a part of me died, Cat was my world. In her place she left us to her friends, the Grey Ravens. Over the years I slowly came to realise her death was a mere facade. When we were reunited I learned the truth about Clan Grey Raven and her remarkable history. Some people will always love. Some people never lose hope. Some people never die…
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More Chapter Three

Some people will always love, some people never lose hope, some people never die…

These excerpts from chapter three are from The Chronicles of the Grey Raven. Book One, Angel of Mercy, now available on Smashwords and Amazon and Amazon UK

More excerpts from chapter three

In June, 2000, we flew to Britain to spend time with Cat’s foster parents, Iain and Margaret for their fortieth wedding anniversary, they live in Camelon, Falkirk. We spent a few days with them and then drove around Scotland. We visited, Edinburgh castle, Stirling castle and the Wallace Monument. Dad liked the Wallace sword, something Cat found amusing.
“Aye, but it’s no’ his sword,” she stared at it.
“So you’re an expert on medieval swords now?” Dad raised an eyebrow.
“Fifteenth century more like it. There’s no fuller and the guards would have been straight not curved down the way, still you might be looking at thirteenth century metal somewhere there, swords were melted down and reforged several times over.”
Dad didn’t believe her until we went back to her parents who also scoffed at the thought it was the actual Wallace sword.
“But it serves a good purpose,” Iain chuckled, “it makes us money.”
There were many other memorable outings in that three weeks. Westminster Abbey, Buckingham Palace, Hyde Park and many other places. She had an intimate knowledge of history and could conduct her own walking tour that put the paid tours to shame. One example that stands out is the area of Smithfield. She told us it was where people were executed and could describe it with uncanny accuracy. She could do the same even in New Orleans and other parts of America but like I said, she could be a bit of a walking encyclopedia and I loved her all the more for it.

Cat made you feel safe just through virtue of her presence. That had been graphically illustrated when we went to Russia and went shopping and sight seeing, she could steer us away from dangerous areas almost as if she’d been there before. Tourists usually have to study tour guides in order to get from point A to point B. Cat just knew which line to take and where we had to get off. She amazed me.
Dad got his wish a few months later when a Republican finally got into the White House. Cat thought the whole affair reeked of corruption and decadence. It was the closest election in years but dad was just happy a Republican got back in.

When my stepmom’s plane went down a part of me died, Cat was my world. In her place she left us to her friends, the Grey Ravens. Over the years I slowly came to realise her death was a mere facade. When we were reunited I learned the truth about Clan Grey Raven and her remarkable history. Some people will always love. Some people never lose hope. Some people never die…
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Bottom Up Management

Management the McIvor Way

When I was doing my Business Management degree there were three recognisable tiers. The top level was Executive, headed by a CEO answerable to a Board of Directors, then there were middle managers who were essentially on the firing line between the Executive and the Regional Managers. Below the Regional level were the local managers and their underlings, deputy managers, supervisors and the like. The top level controlled vast numbers of worker ants who were there to do their bidding or face the axe. I laboured under this regime for five years in the banking industry and by sheer luck or hard work, depending on your opinion of me, I was transferred to the Los Angeles branch. There were many changes to adapt to, like seeing a sun that was actually warm and no snowbound roads, but the three tier system was still in place.

Some three months later, much to my surprise, my boss put me forward for a Management Enhancement course, (MEC). The three week course is run by a loose conglomeration of companies who run courses at various retreats to share their management skills and expertise. The final ten days saw us paired with one of the CEOs who’d given the lectures. We were then ‘employed’ by them for ten days as PAs in order to gain on the ground insight. These placements are always carefully vetted in advance and thus my hope I’d be picked up by Bank of America was dashed, instead I was placed with House of McIvor….

…People have limits, boundaries and if you respect the limits and boundaries they’ll reward you with increased productivity. Forget it and you’ll still get the results but you’ll spend more money training new employees when you’ve worn the last crop out.” Read more…

Angel of Mercy Chapter 2-3 excerpts

Some people will always love, some people never lose hope, some people never die…

These excerpts are from The Chronicles of the Grey Raven. Book One, Angel of Mercy, now available on Smashwords and Amazon and Amazon UK

CHAPTER TWO
Saturday, January 4th, 2014

My first memories of America were of wide open skies and everything seemed bigger, the houses, stores, cars and there was a general feeling of confidence. We lived in San Antonio, Texas due to the fact dad still had two months to go before he was discharged. One incident that struck dad as odd was the fact she referred to the San Pedro Springs area as Yanaguana, meaning refreshing waters.
“The Payaya Indians once lived here.”
Dad didn’t believe her until he took her to a local museum and found out the truth for himself.
“That’s my Cat, the walking encyclopedia.”
It wasn’t the only odd thing about his new wife. She was a doctor who smoked and yet she didn’t show any signs of wanting to give up, although she frowned on smoking as being an unhealthy habit. Over the years I tried to get her to stop but she wasn’t for giving up something she enjoyed. Another oddity was her expertise with firearms. About a month after we arrived in America we went to dinner at his buddy’s house. They had quite a bit of land out back and as he’d just bought himself a new pistol to add to his collection, he and dad set up some cans to do their male bonding thing. Cat and me were inside when they started banging away and eventually she took me outside to have a look. To dad’s surprise, she wanted to have a shot and I can remember the look on his buddy’s face, she didn’t exactly come off as one of those NRA types.

CHAPTER THREE
Sunday, January 5th, 2014

Jana came over for dinner tonight. You remember her from my previous entry? The last time I’d seen her was back in New Orleans as a kid, I wasn’t aware she’d changed jobs let alone countries. She’s working as a security consultant for the Latvian consulate in Edinburgh now. Being a vampire, she changes jobs and locations frequently. We spent a bit of time talking about New Orleans and recalling old memories, I’d no idea back then she was a vampire as well. She read the first two entries and wants to read more! That’s okay, it just feels weird having someone read my stuff, apart from mom of course. One of the things she asked was if there were any other hints I’d picked up that might indicate my stepmom was different to other moms and I had to think about that one.
There were signs of course but nothing that might point to vampirism.
Like the fact she was so knowledgeable and multilingual. Indeed when we went to an Italian restaurant once and she ordered in Italian the waiter, who was a recent immigrant, mistook her for an Italian rather than a Scot who’d learned the language. One of the things we native English speakers don’t realize is that other languages have accents too. This waiter actually thought she was from Milan. A few months later we were at a soccer game and as we were leaving she got into a conversation with another Italian. This woman was from Venice and she thought Cat was from Venice as well. It’s one thing to learn another language but it’s another thing entirely to manage the different accents. Cat could change mid stream and I suppose that’s one hint.

When my stepmom’s plane went down a part of me died, Cat was my world. In her place she left us to her friends, the Grey Ravens. Over the years I slowly came to realise her death was a mere facade. When we were reunited I learned the truth about Clan Grey Raven and her remarkable history. Some people will always love. Some people never lose hope. Some people never die…
Smashwords
Amazon.com
Amazon UK