K. Ferrin's Blog, page 23

Desiderium, Monsters the First Ch 17

My #WedPeeks post for this week is chapter seventeen of my new novella, now availble!  Desiderium is a dark fantasy/horror and is for mature readers.

*Warning: There is violence, sex, and a lot of profanity in these pages.

 

~ SEVENTEEN ~

Grave Robbery

I started immediately when I got home.

I pulled out the broom, the smudge—a gathering of sage and other herbs—and the collection of orange calcite from the occult shop. I opened all of the doors and windows and scrubbed the house from top to bottom. I cleaned every surface in every room.

Then I closed the doors and windows and drew the curtains closed as well. I took out the ceremonial broom and briskly brushed the walls and floor and ceiling in every room. With every brush I forced myself to imagine flames burning the surfaces clean of all negativity, of all traces of the monster that Annabel was.

Following the sweeping came the smudging. I burned the bundle and walked through the house, imagining the smoke purifying everything further still—binding to any negative energy the cleaning and the sweeping may have missed and carrying it away to be burned, obliterated. At every entryway to the house, door and window alike, I placed a piece of orange calcite.

At first I felt stupid going through such a routine. I’m a skeptic through and through, and this all seemed like complete nonsense to me. But I have to admit, with each step I felt lighter and stronger, as if the heavy shadow that had been settled over me for months, for years, was now lifting away. Once the house was thoroughly cleansed I felt calm, strong, and sure. With that done, and protection in place for me, I began planning the hard part.

In the end, it turns out grave robbing is actually quite easy to pull off.

Once I’d hopped the tall fence bordering the cemetery, the hard part was the digging and the thinking. Thinking about what I would find when I opened his casket only two years after he had been buried. I had read that with all the preservatives and processing they do these days, he may in fact look not all that different from how he looked the day we buried him. I prayed, fervently and violently, this would not be true for Blake. I thought that maybe, just maybe, I could reach in and grab a single arm bone once I had the coffin open. But if it looked like Blake, even desiccated as he had been when he had died, and if I had to tear off a fleshy arm still connected to the shoulder with muscle and sinew, I didn’t think I could do it. No matter the cost. The thought of what I’d need to do to get past the flesh and to the bone made me nauseous and shaky.

These thoughts haunted me as I dug into the dirt of his grave. I had remained hidden in my apartment for weeks before this night meditating, reading, and preparing. I slept a lot and ate a lot, trying hard to recover from the extreme exhaustion the last couple of months had imposed upon me. But now it was only one night before I was to complete the ritual. I had waited until the last minute; I didn’t want to have Blake’s bone in my possession any longer than absolutely necessary, and I figured I only had one shot at this anyway. If I tried and failed, there would be no second chance. Once the world knew there was a grave robber on the loose they’d up security at the cemetery and my chance would pass me by.

So here I was, the night before I planned to banish a succubus, up to my hips in my brother’s grave trying to dig him out of the ground. I focused on the digging and kept my mind off the inevitability of opening the casket. I focused on my breathing and found a place of quiet meditation within the rhythmic pattern of digging. It was a clear night, and cool. A good night for digging up a grave, I guess.

The shovel clattered against the coffin in a sudden spate of noise that broke my meditative state like a plate dropped on a hard tile floor. I jerked out of my reverie and looked around in a panic. How loud had that actually been? I couldn’t tell. I got back to work. I had to hurry. I needed that bone.

I gripped the side of the coffin and paused.

Forgive me, Blake. Forgive me for disturbing your resting place and for taking part of you from it. I do it for you, Blake, and for your son. For me. We can end this together. Please forgive me.

I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and lifted the lid of the coffin. I held my breath until I started seeing stars behind my closed eyelids, and as I expelled it, I opened my eyes.

Bones. Relief flooded through me. It was only bones. Blake’s bones, but it was easier that it didn’t look like him. I reached in and grabbed his right humerus.  Rest in peace, Blake, you are soon to be avenged.  I pulled the bone out of the casket, stuffed it in my bag, and lowered the casket top back into place. I hopped onto it and pulled myself out of the grave. I began shoveling the dirt back in. It was silly, I know. It would be obvious when the caretakers came out in the morning that the grave had been dug up. I wasn’t trying to hide what I had done, that was impossible, but I didn’t want to leave my brother exposed like that. It was indecent.

I got two or three shovelfuls of dirt into the grave when I heard a voice floating across the cemetery grounds.

“John, over this way, I’m pretty sure it came from over here.”

I froze, considering, then dropped the shovel, grabbed my pack, and ran as fast as I have ever run, stooped as low as possible without impeding speed, and as quietly as I could. I jumped the fence easily, ran up the street a block, turned right for another block, and then I was in my car speeding away with the bone.

I’m sorry, Blake.

My heart was racing and I was sweating. I don’t think they’ll be able to trace it to me. I’d worn gloves and a hat, and left nothing behind but an anonymous shovel I’d stolen from a garden shed across town three nights ago. But I had never committed a crime like that before. I’d smoked pot and gotten a couple speeding tickets, but now I was a grave robber.

I forced myself to breath more slowly, to focus on what I was trying to accomplish instead of what I had just done to get there. In this case, the end justified the means. I was not stopping. I was going to see this thing through no matter the cost.

I got home and threw my clothes and backpack into the fireplace. I’d never wear them again. I hopped in the shower, bringing Blake’s arm bone with me. I washed the sweat and grave-dirt off my face and scrubbed beneath my fingernails. I washed Blake’s bone clean, too. When I got out of the shower, I dried off and then I burned another sage bundle in the bathroom, inhaling the clean earthy scent and clearing away whatever negativity I may have carried in from what I had just done. I rubbed the bone with a purification oil made from Frankincense, Myrrh, and Sandalwood. I pulled out my camping knife and purified it as well by running it through the smoke rising from the still-burning smudge, and began carving away one end of Blake’s humerus. It needed to be sharp. Sharp enough to impale a beast with sickly green eyes and row after row of lamprey teeth.

A beast that would be trying just as hard to kill me.

Desiderium, Monsters the First Ch 16

My #WedPeeks post for this week is chapter sixteen of my new novella, coming soon!  Desiderium is a dark fantasy/horror and is for mature readers.

*Warning: There is violence, sex, and a lot of profanity in these pages.

 

~ SIXTEEN ~

Realization

The first thing I did when I finally stumbled, exhausted, into my house was eat. The second thing I did was search out all of the pictures I had of Sophie, pull them out of the hiding places I had stuffed them in, and set them back into the light of day.

Now that I was fully awake, I realized how much I missed her. I wanted so badly to see her and to hear her voice. The phone was a constant temptation for me. She was only ten digits away. But she had been specific. Remember her, think of her, but call her only when I had come out on the far side of this thing. I was not through. I was in the thick of it. I had no idea if Annabel would go after a woman, but I had no intention of finding out. There was no way I was going to call Sophie until I had seen this through and was able to go back to living a normal life. As normal is it could be, anyway, knowing now that monsters were real. With Sophie’s face all around me once more, I fell into an exhausted sleep. I had to regain my strength. Annabel really had left me for dead, and I think if it hadn’t been for Sophie and the memories we’d made together, I would have been.

I had some research to do. What was she? And how the hell do you kill whatever she was? I found the answer to the first question surprisingly fast. A succubus, a demonic  being that fed off the sexual energy of humans. It proved a lot harder to figure out how to kill one, though. Most of the info I found involved adolescent boys whining about a girl they were dating who they thought was crazy or needy. There was also plenty of information centered around exorcism and demonic possession, but none of that really seemed to apply to my situation. I was not possessed, I was obsessed; two very different things.

Searches into the occult got me closer, but the results quickly overwhelmed me and I couldn’t tell what was fact (if you could call any of this fact) and what was just Joebob Internet Troll’s opinion/fantasy on the matter. I didn’t have time to learn the in’s and out’s of the occult. I needed answers now. I needed help.

I turned my attentions to finding the nearest occult store. I walked in and walked right up to the cashier. The place was empty, thank God. I felt stupid just being here, felt sure I’d be laughed out of the place as soon as I asked my questions, and the fewer folks around to witness my humiliation the better. I felt like a tool, but I owned it, walked right up and just asked outright.

“Um, excuse me,” I started, trying to sound confident. The woman behind the counter looked up from whatever she was reading with a vague smile on her face. Friendly, but only because she had to be. Clearly she was very involved in whatever she was reading. But once she had focused on me her eyes narrowed, and the glance turned to a bit more of an examination. I squared my shoulders, ready for embarrassment.

“I need to know how to kill a succubus.” I spit it out clearly in all my humiliated glory, and then waited. But this pronouncement was met with silence. She was still staring at me, her eyes somehow unfocused and focused at once.

“Succubus,” she said, then, “yes, you most certainly do. I have never seen anyone so drained yet still living. How long has this been going on?”

I stared in open-mouthed surprise. I had thought she’d laugh me out of the place, but she’d not only taken my announcement in stride but acted as if this ridiculous thing I had just admitted was as obvious as the weather. Maybe I had a big giant S for succubus emblazoned on my chest. Or maybe S for sucker.

I had always believed places like this were really all about new-age-y hippy Christians acting all open-minded and shit; apparently that wasn’t entirely true. Certainly not this place, and certainly not the woman behind the cash register.

“A couple of months,” I replied finally.

“Only a couple of months? You look like you’re barely on this side of dead,” she said, making a disapproving little tsk tsk noise with her tongue.

I shuddered at how close to the truth that statement was. It had been two weeks since I had set foot outside my apartment. During that time I had slept and ate and slept some more. I had done some thinking, too, but mostly I’d slept, giving my body time to recover. Giving it time to take a few steps away from death’s doorstep. I felt OK, but obviously didn’t look it.

She nodded knowingly. “You have never set foot in a place like this before, have you, Honey?” she asked. I took a breath to answer but she just kept on talking. “This will be hard for you, being a neophyte and all, but it has got to be you. No one can banish her except you. Priests’ll say different of course, but their full of cockamamie bullshit. Succubi ain’t like other demons. They don’t possess.”

She had moved out from behind the counter and was bustling through the store gathering stuff together in a basket. Rocks of various sizes and colors, one remarkably phallic in shape, herbs—some loose and some bundled—four white candles. Wordless, I followed behind, listening.

“Without a possession, there is no exorcism. And the trappings of religion mean nothing to these entities anyway. Simple elemental type critters they are, their language is in the ebb and flow of energy only, doing whatever they need to keep the flow moving. To stay alive, and stay here, where they have easy access to human energy. Male energy.” She turned and looked at me with studied focus, winked, and went back to gathering.

“She can be banished, though…”

“I want to kill her—it. Not banish it.”

“Well now.” The woman smiled as she made her way back to the cash register with a basket full of occult goodies. “For these critters, that’s one and the same. You can send them back to where they come from. They don’t exactly die, though. Not the way you and I’ll do some day. That’s why they love feeding on us. Mortal energy is violent and brief, just like our lives. Burns hard and hot, but it burns fast. Such energy is difficult to find in other places. I think it’s like a drug for those things from the other side.”

Like a drug, I thought. So I was her drug, just as she was mine. I suppressed a shudder.

“Now…” The woman was saying, “…I will write down what you need to do step by step. Follow the directions explicitly. The summons needs to come from you. You’ll know what to do, but if you don’t prep right and set up right you’ll not likely come through to see another day. You need to make damn sure you’re protected before you start this. And strong. Now, go wander around while I write, we’ll talk about it when I’m done.” She made a shooing motion with both hands.

I wandered around the store looking at everything from tarot cards to bibles while the woman scribbled away up front. When she finished she walked me through everything and sent me on my way. I had to wait almost a month before I could give it try. Time to heal, the woman had said, to get strong, and to do the ceremony when the moon was right. When everything was supposedly in my favor, my power waxing at its strong point.

So that was that. I had a month to do what was likely going to be the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my life.

I had to dig up my brother and steal his bones.

The only way to truly banish a succubus is by stabbing her with a knife made from the humerus of one of her victims. The idea of digging up Blake from his grave and desecrating his body made me sick and shamed. Revenge may be sweet, but it’s also ugly.

Desiderium, Monsters the First Ch 15

My #WedPeeks post for this week is chapter fifteen of my new novella, coming soon!  Desiderium is a dark fantasy/horror and is for mature readers.

*Warning: There is violence, sex, and a lot of profanity in these pages.

 

~ FIFTEEN ~

Dissolution

 

The sky is raining blood. Deep copper tears of rust run down buildings older than old, and pools of ruddy liquid gather in the pavement cracks. It is raining, and I am freezing. Not that it matters all that much. I am numb, tortured beyond caring.

I am awake, lying buried in soggy boxes at the end of a dark alleyway. Somewhere far in the distance I can hear voices and traffic. The noise of the real world. The world of light, of sun, of warmth. Where monsters don’t exist and the world does not smell of rotting meat and maggots.

But they may as well be on another planet for all the good it does me. I am no longer a part of that world, and I can’t reach it anymore. I know what happened to Blake. I know how he died. She had promised that she would tell me at some point, and she kept her promise. She showed me. First-hand. And now I know that Sophie had every reason to fear for me. Kate had every reason to come to hate Blake, even as she continued to love him at the same time.

“There are things that go bump in the night,” she had told me. She had warned me then that she was one of them. I had known she was one of them. My gut had warned me. She had warned me with that menacing look when I had first reached out to touch her. I had known, but I had been fascinated, and had gone forward anyway. Forward toward Blake, toward the truth, I had tried to tell myself. But the time for lies was long gone. Blake had had nothing to do with it. I had wanted to walk into the darkness. He was involved only in that he had done it first. I would have done the same, if she had found me first. Gladly. And then Blake would have been left to deal with the doctors, the media, our mother, his own questions.

The rain kept falling, still the color of blood. I opened my mouth to the moisture, and tasted the coppery red flavor of blood. It felt like everything was dying. I was dying. She had not returned me to my apartment because she knew I was dying. But she had not taken the last of me, either. She left enough to ensure I knew. A kindness, or a cruelty? Maybe those are one and the same to such as she.

I looked up and saw Sophie’s face hovering in front of me. Her eyes teary and filled with compassion and love. Her lips moving, forming words I could’t hear, but I knew what she was saying.

Think only of me, Terryn. Don’t forget. 

“It’s too late, Soph. I’ve forgotten. I’m lost,” I uttered into the bloody wetness around me.

Behind Sophie’s floating face I could see the window from the Chartres cathedral—the place where Sophie had shuffled the labyrinth as I sat staring up at that beautiful pink glass. Her mouth continued moving.

Think of me, Terryn. Don’t forget. I love you. I am waiting for you.

“Stop waiting, Sophie,” I said. “I am lost. Just leave.” My heart lurched in my chest as those words left my lips. A thump of love. What I had felt for her so long ago. Or it felt like so long ago. A lifetime ago.

Her eyes chastised me, and she shook her head in dissent.

I am waiting for you still. Will always wait. Think of me, come back to me.

I looked away from her and up at the rose window once more. My eyes meandered through the paths between the images in colored glass. Around half-moon scalloped edges, around square saints and fleur de lys, doves and wings, color and darkness. Follow the darkness. Follow it, until you see the light.

I am waiting for you.

“I am looking for you,” I heard myself reply.

The cold disappeared as I lost myself in the patterns within that window and the sound of Sophie’s voice. I felt warmth inside. Deep inside. A small flame at first, but as I traversed the dark spaces within that bright, sunlit window, it grew. Red, blue, yellow, white…more colors than I could name.

I love you.

“I see you.”

Think only of me.

“I love you.”

Sunlight. The sun is yellow. Light.

The dark began fading away, those dark paths getting smaller and smaller until the dark bled into light. Black became white. And I was warm again.

I opened my eyes to a bright blue sky free of all clouds. I was still buried in damp cardboard and covered in garbage. But all I could smell was light, and I could see clearly for the first time in months.

I pushed the garbage aside and got to my feet. Aching, sore. I had an open wound in my side where Annabel had fed off of me. I shuddered at the thought, and I knew what I had to do. I thought of Sophie. Her beautiful face and warmth and generosity. I thought of Blake, my big brother, my hero. And I thought of his wife Kate, broken now. Raising a child alone. How many more lives had been broken because of Annabel Lee?

I made my way home. I needed to eat. I needed to clean the sore in my side. I needed to get strong. There was work to be done.

Blogger Book Fair – Emma Adams

Finally, the last entry for Blogger Book Fair (this makes me sad!).  Today we are going to the dark side with an author who finds inspiration by looking for the strange in everyday life.

…she can see into the Darkworld… and the darkness is staring back.

Ok, with a line like that on the back cover you know it’s going to be great! Darkness Watching is a supernatural/Paranormal young adult novel. Check out the full blurb:

Darkness Watching

Amazon – Barnes & Noble

Eighteen-year-old Ashlyn is one interview away from her future when she first sees the demons. She thinks

she’s losing her mind, but the truth is far more frightening: she can see into the Darkworld, the home of spirits– and the darkness is staring back.

Desperate to escape the demons, Ash accepts a place at a university in the small town of Blackstone, in the middle of nowhere – little knowing that it isn’t coincidence that led her there but the pull of the Venantium, the sorcerers who maintain the barrier keeping demons from crossing from the Darkworld into our own world.

‘s looking for. The demons want something from her, and someone is determined to kill her before she can find out what it is. In a world where darkness lurks beneath the surface, not everyone is what they appear to be…All-night parties, new friendships and a life without rules or limits are all part of the package of student life – but demons never give up, and their focus on Ash has attracted the attention of every sorcerer in the area. Ash is soon caught between her new life and a group of other students with a connection to the Darkworld, who could offer the answers she

Author Bio:

Emma spent her childhood creating imaginary worlds to compensate for a disappointingly average reality, so it was probably inevitable that she ended up writing bizarre, fantastical stories. She was born in Birmingham, UK, which she fled at the first opportunity to study English Literature at Lancaster University. In her three years at Lancaster, she hiked up mountains, skydived in Australia, and endured a traumatic episode involving a swarm of bees in the Costa Rican jungle. She also entertained her creative writing group and baffled her tutors by submitting strange fantasy tales featuring dragons and supernatural monsters to workshops. These included her first publication, a rather bleak dystopian piece, and a disturbing story about a homicidal duck (which she hopes will never see the light of day).

Now a reluctant graduate, Emma refuses to settle down and be normal. When not embarking on wild excursions, she edits and proofreads novels for various publishing houses and reads an insane number of books. At the age of 21, she signed a publishing contract with Curiosity Quills Press for the first book in her creepy urban fantasy Darkworld series. DARKNESS WATCHING was published in October 2013, the first in a five-book series. She also writes adult crossover urban fantasy featuring magic, monsters, and a ton of inappropriate humour.

Find more from emma at her website, on Twitter, and on Facebook.

Blogger Book Fair – J.C. Conway

J.C. Conway’s passion for writing began in grade school with stories that typically involved dinosaurs, robots, giant insects, mass destruction, army heroes and alien invaders. Since then he’s added to the list, and now writes romance, sci-fi and fantasy for middle-grade, young adult and adult readers. He has numerous short stories available to download, and his debut novel – Hearts in Ruin – is also available now! You can find all his writing at www.jcconway.com

On to some of his short stories!

Worlds Less Traveled

Science Fiction – Adult

An attorney at an off-world deposition faces a strange witness and even stranger circumstances. But can his senses be trusted this far from Earth as his anti-psychotic field wanes? “Worlds Less Traveled” is a fresh look at at an ageless problem, rife with intrigue, corporate malfeasance and relentless tension in a way that doesn’t take itself too seriously. Previously published by Perihelion Science Fiction and available in audio from Comets and Criminals, this short story by J. C. Conway keeps readers guessing and engaged. “Giggle, snicker, chuckle… oh, I liked that.” Don’t miss the chance to glimpse humanity from the eyes one of its troubled own as he struggles with internal and external adversity on a world less traveled.

Buy Links:

Only $.99!

Amazon | Other Formats

Silence of the Imbeciles

Fantasy – Middle Grade

14-year-old Frankie Turnbull is fascinated with magic wands and he is very good at making them, as the enchanted beings have assured him. But with great power comes terrible consequences, and Frankie must learn to face his. Originally published by Residential Aliens, this story has been described as “very well written, understated and poignant.” While Frankie’s problems seem unusual for a 21st Century small-town kid, there is something universal at the heart of his troubles and his reaction to them.

Buy Links:

Only $.99!

Amazon | Smashwords

 

 

Murphy’s Traverse

Science Fiction | Adult

Centuries-long interstellar colony missions are serious business. It is Murphy’s job to make sure the ship arrives in one piece and he has at his disposal the resources of the entire vessel and its advanced caretaker programs to ensure he meets that goal. With nothing in their path and a vast store of redundant systems, what could go wrong?

Buy Link:

Only $.99!

Amazon

Blogger Book Fair – Ashley R. Carlson

A neurotic german shepherd, a serene Mexican mutt, and a cat who owns the world title for “bitchy” kick off today’s Blogger Book Fair post! These three make up quite the writing group for author Ashley R. Carlson!

Ashley is the author of the short story Cruel, and the soon-to-be-released steampunk novel The Charismatics. She lives in the “bowels of hell” (as she calls it during the summer months) of Scottsdale Arizona – bowels of hell indeed! I can’t imagine the heat!

Ashley’s been writing for years, but it was a 2013 stint in NaNoWriMo that really kicked her passion for writing into full gear. So much so that she quit her job to write full time, cranking out her novel The Charismatics in just four months – pretty damn epic if you ask me!

And now onto the book!

The Charismatics – YA Fantasy (Releases December 13, 2014)

Goodreads  or Visit on Website

An arranged marriage. A corrupt government known only as Legalia. A forbidden spiritual realm. Duchess Ambrosia Killaher was just seventeen years old when exiled to Shinery—a city of snow and darkness—to marry a man who despised her, finding her only solace in an invisible companion named Roan.

Now, as the poor starve in the streets below and rebellious acts become a frequent occurrence, Shinery holds its yearly celebration to commemorate Legalia’s rule. But when Ambrose catches a government official using a strange device on a servant, she is thrust into a secret world of the supernatural—one she never knew existed. With the help of a handsome stranger, Ambrose begins to learn of the past Legalia has covered up, and the terrible things they have in store for the future.

 

Head over to Goodreads and add The Charismatics to your To Read list now! You can find more about Ashley and her writing at www.ashleyrcarlson.com   on Twitter and on Facebook.  For more amazing Blogger Book Fair authors and some amazing giveaways (Amazon gift cards people!) go to www.bloggerbookfair.com.

Desiderium, Monsters the First Ch 14

My #WedPeeks post for this week is chapter fourteen of my new novella, coming soon!  Desiderium is a dark fantasy/horror and is for mature readers.

*Warning: There is violence, sex, and a lot of profanity in these pages.

 

~ FOURTEEN ~

Alone

 

It’s been a month since I was fired from my job, and a month since I last saw Annabel Lee. I don’t talk to anyone. I don’t go out. I feel like I’m losing my mind.

I tried to find her. I spent ten days straight staked out in front of her building in the alleyway around the clock, eating and sleeping there, but I never saw her (or anyone else for that matter) for the entire time. I half believe no one actually lives there, and maybe Annabel just moved away without a word. But I don’t really buy that—I still somehow knew she was out there. We were linked, tied together by some animalistic, carnal umbilical cord. There was no question she was out there somewhere, avoiding me, frustrating me, teasing me.

I couldn’t find her door, either. I have no explanation for that. I’ve walked through it three times, I know it’s there, but I couldn’t find any trace of it. Even in the light of day there’s nothing there but filthy brick and garbage. No trace of a seam on the brick that might indicate even a hidden door. I stood in front of it and muttered open sesame, only half joking, but the brick remained unchanged. I tried it at night, too, thinking the light of the sun killed the magic like it does the demons, but I had no luck there, either.

I’m fully recovered from the drug-induced exhaustion from our last encounter, and my desire’s built again to a feverish state. It really is like an addiction. I Googled “withdrawal” one night, mildly sloshed on tequila again, and the symptoms match exactly. I’m addicted to Annabel Lee. It isn’t love, I’m certain of that now. It’s more like I have a physical need for her in order to continue to function normally. Or at least what passes for normal these days. How can a person become physically addicted to another person? It doesn’t seem medically possible. But I never said that whatever I share with Annabel falls within the realm of science, or even reality.

Maybe it’s just another excuse. Another way I lie to myself about the fact that I’m just a pervert and that’s the real reason I seek Annabel out. Just like the lie I tell myself about searching for Blake’s killer and going on the offensive. All just excuses to rationalize away all of my behavior, the way I’ve treated Sophie, the way I’ve fucked up my job.

I’d driven everyone away. Even my mom only texted me every several days to see if I was OK, but otherwise left me alone. I had bitched her out finally, irritated that she kept calling and wanting to hang out. I’d told her she was overbearing and being a bitch and that she needed to respect me and my space. She had said nothing for several long moments, and then had told me she loved me and had hung up the phone. That was the last time I’d heard her voice. I send her a terse “fine” every time she texts me so she knows I’m still alive.

Silence weighs heavy in the house, and tonight I am getting the fuck out. I feel like the walls are closing in on me, and the ghost of my brother is everywhere. Last night I dreamt of him again. It was the first time since I met Annabel, and it was worse than the dreams have ever been. This time, the mysterious woman turned into Annabel, and then her beautiful pixie face morphed into nothing but that all-too-familiar giant mouth filled with row after row of those sharp teeth. She attached her face-mouth to my brother’s abdomen and fed on him, and then she turned those sickly green glowing eyes on me and lunged at me, hissing. I woke sweating and shaking, not able to separate dream from memory.

I head out to that shitty club down Blake used to visit just before he died. Maybe I’ll catch sight of her out on the town. I don’t really know her at all, I have no idea what she does or what she’s into, but a club seems like a place she’d hang out. And if I can’t find her, then I intend to find someone else. The frustration is too much. I need to relax. I need release.

The music hits me hard as soon as I walk in, loud and throbbing. The floor is filled to bursting already and I have to wrestle my way to the bar to get a drink. I order two shots of tequila and a Budweiser. I intend on getting drunk tonight, and don’t mean to waste any time at it. I also mean to get laid tonight. I hope it can be with Annabel, but if not her, then someone else. Anyone else. I feel swollen and bloated with desire.

I throw back both shots of tequila and suck down the beer. I turn to the floor and scan the writhing mass in front of me. I am not the hunted tonight. I’m prowling, scenting, stalking. When I see a likely candidate I move out onto the dance floor and slide my body into the gyrating, throbbing mass moving with the music. It takes me awhile, but eventually I slide up behind the woman I had seen from the sidelines and I place one hand on her hip. She turns to me, and apparently likes what she sees because she turns back and pushes herself against me as we dance. An electric shock shoots through my body, and I’m instantly hard. I press against her, letting her feel my response, and she responds in kind. I smile to myself and clutch her tighter against me.

The night blurs into nothing but thumping music, sweat, and heat, bodies bumping and rubbing against each other to that thrumming animal rhythm. Song after song, dance after dance, we get closer and closer, both relishing the growing excitement and pressure between us. I don’t know how long we danced, but eventually the buildup becomes too much for both of us, and she grabs my hand and pulls me toward the door. I have no idea where she intends to take me—I don’t care. I’d fuck her up against a grimy alley wall with rotting garbage at our feet just as well as in a backseat or bed.

She pulls me out of the front door and into the coolness of the early morning. I walk out after her and stop dead in my tracks. I see the woman I’m with turn back to me. From the corner of my eye I see her mouth move in some question, but I ignore her. She means nothing. Not anymore.

An ice-blue sedan idles on the side of the road across from the bar; the engine alternating in purrs and sputters in the early morning air. The exhaust puffs out random patterns, but through those patterns I see Annabel.

She’s on the far side of the car, splayed against the hood, with a man in front of her. They’re clearly having sex. He’s moving fast, clearly close to finishing. I’m already excited, but the sight of the two of them together drives me mad. As I watch, Annabel leans far back on the car and turns her head to look at me. She watches me, intent, while the man in front of her groans and spends himself into her. After a moment he collapses, still panting, out of my sight.

She stands up, pushes her skirt down with an inspiring wiggle of her hips, and walks to the side of the car facing me. She never takes her eyes from mine. She opens the back door of the car and stands there waiting, watching.

Without a second thought or a glance back I move to her. Briefly, Sophie’s face floats up into my mind as I cross the street but I push it away. I’m instantly overwhelmed with that rotten smell—it’s the smell of a thousand bodies rotting in a hot room, maggots wriggling everywhere in sight. I blink once, twice, and Sophie’s face—her beautiful face—shifts and sinks in on itself, her eyes hollowed out and filled with maggots.

My steps falter, but Annabel is suddenly there beside me. “Terryn!” she whispers. “Oh have I missed you, Terryn.” A thick, sweet smell overtakes the rot, her voice soothes me, and all thoughts of Sophie flee my mind to my great relief. We hop into the back seat together, and this time she doesn’t wait until we get back to her apartment. She takes me right there, in the back seat of that sedan with some other man’s still-warm jiz lubing my path. It’s as glorious as ever, but something’s wrong—I keep whiffing that rotten smell, sometimes so strongly I come close to retching.

Annabel keeps repeating my name and talking to me. Talking passionately, and maybe a little desperately. With every caress of her voice the smell sweetens, but then it starts to cloy, the grotesque scent of rotting corpses emerging again a short time later. I try to bury myself in Annabel, to vanish into her like I usually do. I bury my nose in her hair but recoil immediately at the old, stale scent I encounter there.

I shake my head like a wet dog, and when I refocus my eyes I recoil from the pale green eyes looking hungrily at me from that once-beautiful face. And teeth. It’s my nightmare looking me square in the face. I take a sharp breath. I think I meant to scream, but nothing came of it. She lunges at me and attaches herself to my chest. I feel a piercing pain and take a breath again to scream but she reaches a hand up and jams it into my mouth. Her hand fills me up, presses my tongue down and pins it to the bottom of my mouth, even pressing back against my tonsils. I want to vomit but can’t. I want to struggle, but I’m paralyzed and can’t move. I stare at the ceiling of that car, seeing the ripped roof, smelling that rotten smell, my heart hammering in my chest and feeling terror overwhelm me. But I can’t even twitch a muscle as Annabel continues to ride me. She bounces on me desperately, and I start to come. She rides me even harder. I have no idea how long I lay like that, with her head buried in my abdomen and her legs wrapped around me, fucking me as if her life depended on it.

Maybe it does.

Blogger Book Fair – Andi O’Connor

Welcome to Blogger Book Week feature number two! Every day this week I will be featuring a new speculative fiction author on this blog, along with an entire army of other authors doing the same on their blogs. It’s a week of absolute gluttony for fans of speculative fiction!  You can find all the contests (Amazon gift cards people!) and the full list of participating authors and bloggers at www.bloggerbookfair.com.

A slave on the brink of breaking, an exiled elf with the fate of a world resting on her shoulders, and an every-man suddenly thrust into a foreign world of magic and mystique usher us into our second feature this week. These characters are the work of award winning fantasy author Andi O’Connor. Her works include The Dragonath Chronicles, The Vaelinel Trilogy, and The Legacy of Ilvania.

Andi has been writing since 2003, but has been downright hooked to it since 2011, after finishing her book The Lost Heir. Andi writes fantasy, but she says reality has a great deal of impact on her writing, and because of that, she finds inspiration everywhere. Her books have dealt with some heavy hitting topics such as rape, abortion, religion, equality, defying stereotypes, female empowerment, and epidemics – among others. She doesn’t flinch away from dealing with real issues in her writing.

Part of what draws people into Fantasy and what makes it so relatable is that it is so steeped in reality. There’s real emotions, real issues, real struggles, real dilemmas. Fantasy is unique in that I can let my imagination and creativity take me anywhere. I have no limitations other than the confines of the world I create.

Silevethiel (The Vaelinel Trilogy #1)

Following her father’s murder, Princess Irewen Donríel is betrayed and left for dead in the forests of Mistwood. Rescued by the elf prince, Laegon Elendell, Irewen awakes an exile with no home, no country, and no people. But as the horrific memories of murder and betrayal return, she realizes the nightmare is only beginning.

The world of Vaelinel is failing—its fate bound to her in ways no one fully understands. A mysterious elven prophecy may provide her with some answers, but continuously hunted and fighting for her life, Irewen quickly learns that unearthing the truth will be more difficult than she ever imagined. Can she accept Laegon’s love and the friendship of the Wood Elves, or will she stand alone against the terrifying evil now threatening to destroy the entire world?

Excerpt:

A voice penetrated Irewen’s deep sleep.

Her father said only one word, her name, but he was so desperate in his calling that she was immediately pulled from her slumber. She woke, searching in vain for the man she knew wouldn’t be there, couldn’t be there. Sorrow filled her heart anew when he didn’t answer her silent plea. But amidst the all too familiar grief, there flowered a warm bubble of joy.

She had heard his voice, and she had not forgotten.

You can buy Silevethiel through Amazon or Barnes & Noble.

Blogger Book Fair – Diantha Jones

Welcome to Blogger Book Fair week! I am so excited about all the amazing authors participating in this event! I’m even more excited that I get to host five (FIVE!) of them here this week!  You can check out the full list of participants over at www.bloggerbookfair.com. And you should! There is a serious amount of talent over there.

Let’s kick things off with a bit of destiny, prophesy, and a women riddled with prescription meds, pestered by therapists and saddled with the title “Whack Job” by those in her home town.

Perhaps not the most auspicious of beginnings, but then again, Oracles always have lived on the edges of things.

Chloe Clever is the Oracle of Delphi. A prophesier of the future. And she’s got some things to do. Mythical monsters, cunning Greek gods with secrets of their own, and a search for the Most Beautiful drive Chloe to the brink, but also bring her a demigod Prince sworn to protect her with his life.

Prophecy of the Most Beautiful is written by Diantha Jones, otherwise known as “turkey” (hey, she was born on Thanksgiving, it fits!).  Diantha started writing seriously in 2010 and, for her, the best part of writing is what she calls “The Tingle”.  She says:

“You know, that feeling in your stomach when you’re about to release a new book or have just come up with your next project. The feeling never disappoints and never gets old.”

I’d have to agree.

You can find Diantha (and her books) at www.diantha-jones.com, on Twitter at @DianthaJones, and she’s on Facebook too!  https://www.facebook.com/dianthajones

If you’ve not already decided you must read Prophecy of the Most Beautiful here’s an excerpt to wet your appetite. Also, you should know, she’s got a Rafflecopter giveaway going on to!

Excerpt: 

Another three blizzard-filled hours passed before their help arrived.

“Och! Check this out!” Ace exclaimed. He had been leading the group through a tight thicket of snow-covered trees. Spotting something up ahead, he took off running.

“What the…hey! Wait for me!” Swindle exclaimed and sprinted off behind him, Bill flying overhead. Soon, they were all running to see what Ace had found.

“Thank the gods!” Dropper exclaimed as they emerged from the grove. Chloe bit her lip to keep from screaming with relief herself. Way to go, Apollo.

It was a cabin, logged and sealed in the corners with bricks. It had a timber wood porch surrounding three sides and a brick chimney spouting puffs of smoke. Flickering light spilled out of the cabin’s tiny windows, promising safety and warmth on the other side. The others whooped loudly and leapt up the porch stairs.

Strafford stopped her when she tried to follow them. “Why did you ask him for help?”

How did he know?

She tried her best to pull away from him, but he wasn’t letting go of her arm. “It’s cold,” she snapped, “and it’s snowing! We were freezing to death out there!”

“Bah!” Strafford grunted, releasing her. “They’re demigods! They weren’ gonna freeze to death, Red!”

That ticked her off. “I’m not a demigod! Dropper isn’t a demigod!”

“So it’s abou’ tha’ wanker, eh?”

“Jealous, much? And what’s your problem anyway? You can’t expect everyone else to hate your dad just because you do!”

He groaned and pulled her by the back pocket of her jeans as she tried to storm away. “This isn’t abou’ me and Apollo, Red. This is abou’ you makin’ decisions without askin’ me first.”

“I don’t have to ask you for permission to do anything!” She tried to walk away but he yanked her back, this time cupping her bottom with his hand to keep her in place. If she hadn’t been so flustered, she might’ve slapped him, but…

“You do need my permission, Red,” he said, his face close to hers. “And if you’d consulted with me before you decided to ask a favor from a god without a tribute, I would’ve told you how stupid of an idea tha’ was. Gods don’t do anythin’ without expectin’ somethin’ in return.” He let his voice drop a level. “And now you’re in a god’s debt. And believe me, Red, Apollo will collect on it, and you’ll be questionin’ whether the favor was worth it when it’s time to pay up.”

Blogger Book Fair has some giveaways going as well. You can win:

a $50 Amazon gift card: a Rafflecopter giveaway

a $30 Amazon gift card: a Rafflecopter giveaway

a $20 Amazon gift card: a Rafflecopter giveaway 

Thanks for stopping by!

~k

Reading Until Dawn Con!

Today I am interrupting my usual Friday website related post to share some exciting news!

If you are reading this blog, you are a big fan of books, and what better way to indulge than in a Reading Until Dawn Conference! Meet your favorite authors, curl up with a glass of wine and a good book, mingle with fellow book lovers… seriously, it can’t get much better! Oh wait, there’s going to be a pillow fort. Shit. Just. Got. Better.

The coolest thing about Reading Until Dawn Con (RUDC) is the interaction between authors and readers. They’ll not just be lecturing at you from behind a podium. You’ll be playing games with them, reading with them, maybe even getting out on the town with them. Yikes! So cool!

This is a relatively small conference, so don’t wait to buy your ticket. Early Bird registration is happening now, and it’s only $75.00 to attend. You find find all the details at www.readinguntildawncon.wordpress.com. I’ll be there moderating some of those events, and I better see you there!