R.M. Garry's Blog: Words with R.M.

In Love Again

We often map out our entire lives,  even though we know that plans often end up insignificant in the grand scheme of life. Like many people, my sister had the next ten years of her life mapped out: she would send one son off to college and care for her remaining two children (ages 10 and 8) and, eventually, the restaurant she has been dreaming about owning since junior high would finally be hers.

It was a perfect plan. She worked hard to ensure the timelines matched up with what she wanted. No one – especially Optimus Prime (the second oldest of my siblings and bossy as hell) – could have guessed that a little angel was pouring milk on her blueprints.

Pregnant. I’m pregnant. How did this happen? (It was not the time to insert one of my classic R.M. lines.) I have no idea what to do with a baby. I listened to the rant and waited for her to be done. Optimus was panicking, and I was imagining all the kisses and cuddles I could squeeze out of my new niece or nephew. Being one of the strongest women I know, there was no doubt that she would take this new challenge on like a champ. The funny thing is, I never processed how far that strength would be pushed.

On March 3rd, I had the honor of being selected to stand by another sibling giving birth, since I was also there for my younger sister last September, I had to be there for this sister too. Ok, I just wanted to be the first to hold him. It was all planned out: she would be induced, give birth, I would cuddle the baby, and then go home to my wolf pack. Of course the baby, Tristan, had his own plans.

After hour twenty, I lost count of the hours my sister was in labor. The epidural was patching – which meant that every contraction went on forever, with only a little buffer for the pain. Just when I thought the drama was over, her cervix took a lunch break at 6 cm. What the hell?! Who quits at the half-way point?! After an extended discussion with the doctors and each other, we agreed to a C-section. I was finally minutes away from holding my little cuddle buddy. As you might guess, the best plans always get blown sky high especially when my sisters are involved.

Remember the patchy epidural? The anesthesiologist was playing on his smartphone for most of the surgery – which had started off well. I wanted to look up the protocol for C-sections and beat him in the head with it. Another anesthesiologist eventually replaced him after being called out to another room. The doctor pulled the baby out, and he looked beautiful. I wanted to laugh and cry. I was immediately smitten with the little angel.  “He is perfect,” I thought. Then fear sunk broken glass into my joy as I heard my sister scream.

“Oh God I can feel the pain it is too much!”

I couldn’t wait to take pictures, but I stop half way between the operating table and the baby warmer, frozen by the sound of my sister’s pain.  Then I turn and saw the doctors doing their best to stop her bleeding. Her eyes were red as she tried to endure the pain of being cut as the anesthesia wore off. It took superhuman control for me to speak to the replacement anesthesiologist calmly.

“She is in pain. Give her something, please.”

She responded with “I’m worried that she will pass out or become unresponsive if I give her more.” She looked concerned.

Let me give you a little insight: my sister moved a freezer while pregnant. There was no one there to help, and she had to move out of her house.  I swear that woman has the pain tolerance of the Hulk. So when she was screaming from the pain of feeling her insides being sliced, I knew she was serious. She never cries.

I glared at the young woman and spat out, “We will cross that when we get to it.”

“Give. Her. Something. NOW.”

Once the medicine was in, my sister immediately started drifting off;  I was barely able to get her to open her eyes long enough to see her new angel.  “My little Tristan. I love you” Were her soft words before shutting her eyes.

Later that day, my sister had to have two blood transfusions because she lost some much blood during the C-section. I would love to say that I didn’t know how close she came to dying, but I did because our souls are deeply connected. It was as if part of her started to leave.

Imagine trying to appear calm while knowing that there is a good chance someone you love won’t make it. I knew how much blood she’d lost because the nurses had to keep getting more cloths to stop the bleeding. There were so many blood-soaked rags that one of the nurses pulled another basket over to dump them in.

The doctor had said, “We can’t stop” while she screamed. Rage nearly suffocated me. The doctor’s tone was cold and unfeeling. I knew they had to keep going, or she would die, but hearing him ignored her pain tore at my soul.

After the ordeal, I finally left the hospital at 2 am.  I had to be at work at 9. I needed to shower, eat, sleep and kiss my children. My husband had been holding down the fort for twenty-four hours. But, once I was in the privacy of my car, the tears broke free in a torrent.  The reality of how close she came to leaving us all behind stabbed through my heart.

When I came back to the hospital that afternoon, I found my sister smiling. Relief washed over me at the sight of her joy.  I kissed them both. She looked up at me and said, “I am totally in love again.”

No matter what her plans had been before that day, they would never have been complete without Tristan.

I too am in love again.

Until next time, minions, stay naughty because you’re good at it.

R.M.

Rage!

I am proud to support my amazing friend who happens to be a rock star author.  I have been waiting for over a year to see this book published. May I introduce Rage by D. C. Bowser. If you love Sci-Fi then this is the story for you.

Pix, a class three fielder, had enough problems in her life. After being honorably discharged from a Special Forces unit, simply existing became a chore. Now, she would give anything to go back to that life since being wrongfully imprisoned and threatened daily. Her unofficial power of pissing people off has gotten her in trouble again. This time, her new found enemy, the warden, wants nothing less than Pix’s head.

Lyloe has decided to use his new status and money to build an outlier training facility. The quickest way to promote his new facility is to have a sponsored prize fighter for the Ten Tournament. He didn’t have a prize fighter in mind until he found out that a person he used to know (Pix) was in prison and up for a parole. He needed to get her out of there just as much as he needed a winner.

Cover Reveal for Fangs and Finals

Hello Minions, I mean fans,

When I’m focused, things seem to come together. Here is the cover for my short story ebook. The edits are almost complete. I still don’t have a publishing date, but I hope you enjoy the cover. Until next time, stay naughty because you’re good at it.

R.M.

Updates and All That Jazz!

Hello, loyal worshipers fans! (Note to self: avoid referring to your minions as worshipers.)

I know it has been a long time since you received an R. M. update. I had to do a lot of self-care and recharge. The business of being sarcastic and channeling insane characters while juggling reality can be a bit daunting. There are moments where the desire to hurl my laptop is overwhelming. Luckily, not being a millionaire usually quashes those urges. As always, thank you for being supportive and patient during my absence.

Hold on to your whips – seats! I mean seats. (Note to self: keep your dirty thoughts to yourself when addressing your minions). Your updates are below.

Words with R.M. blog:

There are two pending posts for the family series blog.

In Love, Again explores my oldest sister’s return to the life of giving birth.
Because I Need You, examines the double edge sword of being a strong woman in a relationship. I can imagine the insane comments now.
Novels in the works:

Somewhere between the initial publication of Beacon of Sound in July of 2014 and the release of the second edition in January of 2015, I fell out of love with the Noir Dera series. I don't know if it was personal stress or uncooperative characters (Yes, you Marcelus Noir) – probably a combination of both –but I ran into a wall with book two. Recently, Layla and Sid (No, I don’t speak to them aloud, much.) told me their story and I started writing Penance.

Penance is a paranormal journey about a woman who commits a sin and does everything to seek forgiveness. There are times when truth and forgiveness are not co-occurring events. Visit my website for more details: http://www.rmgarry.com/#!hearts/c10m7.
Beakers and Fangs is an eBook of three short stories about women who have close encounters with the paranormal world. I am expecting to have it ready for Kindle by the end of the summer. I am still trying to squeeze one more story into the eBook but, if my brain lets me down, it will go on sale with only three. The price will be .99 cents and free on Kindle Unlimited.
New Project:

As you know, I am in love with music. Like reading, listening to music gives me an escape from the world’s inability to get it right. While gushing over a song, I decided to share my love of music with the world. Lustful Pairings is a project that will bring music, life, and other random things together to form a lustful pair. There will be more news on this project at the end of 2015.

Thank you for being patient, supportive, and open to my brand of insanity. To all the authors who have given advice, I will never be able to repay you. “Thank you!” Is all I can say. Beta readers, I promise no more random texts at 3 a.m. (probably just at 2 a.m.). Ok, loves, until next time. Stay naughty because you’re good at it.

R.M. Garry

Updates and All That Jazz!

Hello, loyal worshipers fans! (Note to self: avoid referring to your minions as worshipers.)

I know it has been a long time since you received an R. M. update.  I had to do a lot of self-care and recharge. The business of being sarcastic and channeling insane characters while juggling reality can be a bit daunting. There are moments where the desire to hurl my laptop is overwhelming. Luckily, not being a millionaire usually quashes those urges. As always, thank you for being supportive and patient during my absence.

Hold on to your whips – seats! I mean seats. (Note to self: keep your dirty thoughts to yourself when addressing your minions). Your updates are below.

Words with R.M. blog:

There are two pending posts for the family series blog.

In Love, Again explores my oldest sister’s return to the life of giving birth.
Because I Need You, examines the double edge sword of being a strong woman in a relationship. I can imagine the insane comments now.

Novels in the works:

Somewhere between the initial publication of Beacon of Sound in July of 2014 and the release of the second edition in January of 2015, I fell out of love with the Noir Dera series. I don’t know if it was personal stress or uncooperative characters (Yes, you Marcelus Noir) – probably a combination of both –but I ran into a wall with book two. Recently, Layla and Sid (No, I don’t speak to them aloud, much.) told me their story and I started writing Penance.

Penance is a paranormal journey about a woman who commits a sin and does everything to seek forgiveness. There are times when truth and forgiveness are not co-occurring events. Visit my website for more details: http://www.rmgarry.com/#!hearts/c10m7.
Beakers and Fangs is an eBook of three short stories about women who have close encounters with the paranormal world. I am expecting to have it ready for Kindle by the end of the summer. I am still trying to squeeze one more story into the eBook but, if my brain lets me down, it will go on sale with only three. The price will be .99 cents and free on Kindle Unlimited.

New Project:

As you know, I am in love with music.  Like reading, listening to music gives me an escape from the world’s inability to get it right. While gushing over a song, I decided to share my love of music with the world. Lustful Pairings is a project that will bring music, life, and other random things together to form a lustful pair. There will be more news on this project at the end of 2015.

Thank you for being patient, supportive, and open to my brand of insanity. To all the authors who have given advice, I will never be able to repay you. “Thank you!” Is all I can say. Beta readers, I promise no more random texts at 3 a.m. (probably just at 2 a.m.). Ok, loves, until next time. Stay naughty because you’re good at it.

R.M. Garry

Rejection As The Best Motivation?

authorrmgarry:

You are welcome R.M. fans!

Originally posted on Once Upon Your Prime:

Dear Editor,

I received your recent rejection notice and unfortunately it’s just not what I’m looking for at this time. It’s certainly a well-crafted piece and I wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors, rejecting other aspiring writers. You may try me again in the future with something more upbeat.

Sincerely,

Stephanie D. Lewis

Aha! Rejecting the rejection letters! That’s the smart thing to do. I wish I could say that IS what I do. Instead when my writing gets turned down, it motivates me to try that much harder to get published in that particular venue. I become obsessively relentless. In fact, I seem to stop submitting to all the other places that actually like my stuff, in order to pursue chasing after the one place that clearly wants nothing to do with me. Sounds perfectly healthy, right?

On the off chance that this is typical…

View original 695 more words

Never give up on your dreams – part II

authorrmgarry:

Cristian has inspired me to take a second look at my journey.

Originally posted on Cristian Mihai:

“A writer is a writer because, even when there is no hope, even when nothing you do shows any sign of promise, you keep writing anyway.” – Junot Diaz

I write because I know that I couldn’t live without my stories, without my characters, without my strange habit of angrily punching those keys on the keyboard late every night. 

View original 651 more words

Dark Instincts !!!

‘DARK INSTINCTS’

(The Phoenix Pack Series, Book Four)

Available Today

Publisher: Montlake Romance

Available in the following formats: kindle edition, paperback, unabridged audio download, and MP3 CD,��audiobook

��Amazon.co.uk������ �� �� �� �� �� �� �� �� ��Amazon.com�� �� �� �� �� �� �� �� �� �� ��Barnes and Noble �� �� �� �� �� �� �� �� ��

�� �� �� �� �� ��

Synopsis

It happens whenever wolf shifter Roni Axton is near Marcus Fuller: a crackle of sexual awareness that���s��intoxicating…and deeply annoying. Marcus is a pack enforcer who oozes power, but Roni is lethal in her��own right���nothing like the flirty females who flock around him. Even still, his possessive gaze makes��one thing clear. Marcus has singled her out for seduction, and he wants to make her sit up and beg.

No matter how aloof and unfazed Roni acts, Marcus can tell she wants him. When a brutal attack by a��jackal pack forces them to work together, it���s the perfect opportunity for Marcus to chip away at her��defenses���until he falls into his own trap, completely unprepared for the intensity of their connection.��Roni is the only one who���s ever seen past his shifter charm and discovered the man hiding beneath it.��And for Marcus, claiming Roni once will mean needing her forever.

DARK INSTINCTS

��

CHAPTER ONE

Opening your eyes to find that you���re upside down can���t be good, can it?

Through the cobwebs clouding her mind, Roni Axton realized that it wasn���t just she who was upside down. The car had toppled over.

Well that sucked. Clearly the fuck-up fairy had made an appearance.

Strangely, Roni felt no rush of panic, no fear. And despite that she was pretty sure her head was bleeding, there was no pain. There was only a feeling of weightlessness. Even the fact that her wolf was frantic didn���t disturb Roni in this dreamlike moment.

Her brain distantly registered that the car kept leaning sideways, as if something was repeatedly pulling at it. But it was the various sounds that penetrated her mental fog: low moans, a phone ringing, a child crying, and strange voices arguing.

Sensing that the ringtone and the moans were coming from her left, Roni turned her head to find a male wolf shifter in the driver���s seat, eyes closed. Tao. Huh. Odd that the Phoenix Pack���s Head Enforcer was with her. She rarely hung out with anyone outside her pack. In truth, Roni counted very few people as friends.

Sadly, she was very like her brother, Alpha of their recently formed Mercury Pack, in that she found social situations uncomfortable. In Nick���s case, it was because he didn���t like most people. In Roni���s case, it was because most people didn���t like her. Even when she was a kid, she���d found making friends difficult, especially at school. It was kind of hard to fit in when you were a tomboy with a higher IQ than that of your teachers.

It probably made things worse that she didn���t ���get��� her own gender. But she just didn���t see the appeal behind constantly gossiping, shopping endlessly, asking deep personal questions, or having different lotions for different body parts.

Roni was more comfortable around guys, particularly her two brothers and her Beta male, Derren. Men didn���t care that she wasn���t a people pleaser, or that she didn���t know how to satisfy social niceties, or that she preferred chocolate to living beings of any species. The only female she thought of as a friend was her Alpha female, Shaya, who���

A succession of memories suddenly hit Roni hard: Shaya singing to a toddler in the backseat, Tao playfully grumbling about the noise, the sound of tires screeching, an unexpected impact to the side of the vehicle, a blow to her head that made everything go black.

Grasping onto those threads of memory, Roni remembered how she had escorted Shaya���who was two months pregnant���on a daytrip to the zoo with Shaya���s godson, Kye, and his bodyguard, Tao. The Alpha female had wanted a break from Nick and his extreme overprotectiveness. It was during the drive back to Phoenix Pack territory when a car had slammed into theirs.

And then she���d gone and passed out like a girl. How embarrassing.

Blinking rapidly, she swiveled her head as much as she could. She might have winced at the sharp pain that lanced through her neck if she hadn���t been distracted by the fact that Shaya wasn���t in the backseat beside a still crying Kye. That was when Roni noticed the female body sprawled like a ragdoll on the grass a few feet away from the vehicle. Fuck.

The dreamy quality of the moment disappeared as reality crashed into Roni, and her wolf howled in fear and rage. One word dominated Roni���s thoughts: Out. She had to get out.

Forcing a reassuring smile for Kye, who was squirming in his safety seat and reaching for her, she crooned, ���It���s okay, little man. Give me a second and I���ll������

The car wobbled sideways again. ���This crowbar is a piece of shit!��� griped an unfamiliar voice.

���Hurry up!��� ordered an equally unfamiliar voice. ���We don���t have much time before someone shows up. Coleman and Axton will sense through their pack links that something���s wrong with their wolves.���

The stranger was right about that: she could sense Nick���s rage and anxiety. She could also sense Shaya through the pack link; she was alive, but unconscious.

���I can���t open the door, it���s jammed.���

A growl. ���Move. I���ll do it.��� The car swayed again. That was when Roni understood what was happening. Someone was yanking at one of the rear door handles, trying desperately to get inside . . . trying to get to . . . Kye. Oh the fuck no.

Roni awkwardly fought to unclip her seatbelt. It eventually snapped open, and she cried out at the sensation of falling onto a bed of glass. She shelved the pain as she righted herself and began to slide toward the backseat on her stomach. ���Tao, wake up! Get to Shaya!��� All she received was another moan.

���Shit! One of them is awake!��� Rather than flee, the strangers redoubled their efforts to open the door.

Their efforts paid off.

Just as the top half of Roni���s body wriggled through the gap between the seats, the door was yanked open, and a tanned arm reached for Kye.

Roni unsheathed her claws and sliced at the limb, causing it to flinch away. Her wolf growled her approval. ���I swear to God, if any part of your body tries to touch him again, you won���t get it back intact!���

���You bitch!��� Two arms reached inside this time, both sporting claws of their own. One set of claws acted as a barricade between her and Kye while the other set cut through the belt that secured Kye���s safety seat to the car. In a lightning fast motion, the arms caught him before he and his seat could crash to the floor.

Roni stabbed her claws through one long, muscled arm, past bone, and all the way into the rear seat, pinning the arm in place. He howled in pain, hurling obscenities at her. Well, she had warned him; he���d chosen to ignore her, so there was really no need for that kind of language.

With her free hand, Roni worked Kye���s belt open. His little body toppled out of the safety seat and onto her outstretched arm. If her wolf could have sighed in relief, she would have. Curling her arm around him, Roni pulled him tight against her body. Only then did she release the would-be-kidnapper from the grip of her claws.

She was feeling a hint of victory when someone grabbed a fistful of her hair from behind. Turning her head as much as the strong grip would allow, she realized that the second male had come at her from the other side of the car. He held her in place by her hair while the other shifter frantically struggled to drag Kye from her grasp. The toddler was wailing and clinging tightly to her, absolutely terrified. When two large hands got a firm grip on his little waist, panic bit into her. No, no, she wouldn���t let���

Her hair was suddenly released, and a scream mingled with a familiar animal growl that meant Shaya had shifted into her wolf form. While Roni was relieved that she was conscious again, Roni did not want the pregnant female, ruthless or not, fighting a male shifter.

���Don���t shift!��� the other male yelled. ���A car���s coming!���

Footsteps thudded along the ground as the two males disappeared from view. Seconds later, there was the sound of a car speeding away, and a heavy sense of relief surged through Roni.

Hearing Shaya���s wolf pawing at the vehicle, whining, Roni assured her, ���We���re fine.��� But, really, Roni wasn���t fine. Her head was now throbbing, her body ached in several places, and her vision was starting to blur and darken. If she passed out again, she would be seriously unhappy. Dominant females did not pass out, dammit.

���Roni, how badly are you guys hurt?��� Shaya asked, back in her human form.

Roni wanted to answer her Alpha female; wanted to ask Shaya how injured she was and reassure her that everything would be fine. But Roni���s mouth suddenly felt stuffed with cotton, her chest felt tight, and black spots were dancing before her eyes. Worse, there was a horrible ringing sound that made her head pound even more.

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Her wolf began to panic once more as the ringing became deafening and a dark veil fell over Roni���s vision.

Then there was only blackness.

�� Suzanne Wright

About the Author

Suzanne Wright lives in England with her husband, two children (one angel, one demon), and her bulldog. When she’s not spending time with her family, she’s writing, reading, or doing her version of housework – sweeping the house with a look. Use the links below to stay in touch with Suzanne and get updates about the smokin hot��Phoenix Pack.

http://www.suzannewright.co.uk

https://www.facebook.com/suzannewrightfanpage

https://twitter.com/suz_wright

http://www.suzannewrightsblog.blogspot.co.uk

I hope you enjoy this steamy read. Until next time, stay naughty R.M. Fans.

Foster of Dark-Battle Scene

This is a short unedited scene from Foster's first meeting with Marcelus. They are fighting demons.


“Fuck this is taking too long. Why won’t you assholes die already?” The woman inquired as she stabbed another idiot in the neck.

“Maybe you tempted them too much young one.” The words were spoken as he reached out and severed a head with his hands.

“I can handle it grandpa, Besides, I don’t like group activities.”

“As erotic as that may sound, I am only here to put down demons ma petite feu.”

“Translate dude, I don’t speak French.”

She hit a man with a backward kick without breaking a sweat.

“It means my little fire.”

“I am not your little anything. You are a little twisted if you think group activities are erotic. My idea of erotic is the feel of two Chinese butterfly swords right before I bring a demon to their knees.”

Forster of Dark Prologue

Hello R.M. Fans. Here is the Prologue from Foster of Dark. Please remember that this is not the final version. Things may change when we are in the final stages of editing. Don’t enjoy this preview alone, share it with friends. Thank you for all of your support. Until next time, stay naughty.

R.M. Garry

Prologue

Marcelus

Marcelus Noir’s lungs burned from exertion. He was leading the women of magic toward safety by running through the Blue Forest. They all had the power to blaze to the tree that lead to the mortal realm but using that power would alert the Derans. Their group had been running for at least two hours because the sun had set. The idea of taking a short break clawed at his resistance. A moment to rest against the sweet scented blue grass would refuel his spirit. The idea evaporated with the reality of what could happen.

When a man is at war, rest is equivalent to death.

He was a young beacon, and at the age of 10 mortal years, his body was not at full power. Adult Beacons could run for hours without resting. Being so young made it difficult to run for so long without some rest. For now, determination would have to take the place of limitless energy. When violence erupted in Dera, Marcelus wanted to do something to protect his family. His mother had been drugged and left for dead by people they had called family. A war between the houses of magic and the original Derans soon followed.

Everyone assumed he would hide away while his loved ones battled for survival. Marcelus went in search of the Ether and asked for her assistance. Their conversation a few hours ago played on an endless loop in his head.

“Grandmother Ether, help me. Tell me what to do.” He begged.

“Marcelus, my young beacon, it is time for you to play your part.” She stated as her brilliant light filled the forest.”

“I want to help. Let me fight.” His hands curled into tight balls at his sides.

“You do not have to yield a sword in order to protect the women and children of this land, my child.”

The Ether’s golden hair and glowing skin made it difficult to look at her directly. Her white eyes seemed to see through him. The Blue Forest grew silent as if afraid to overshadow this powerful God.

“My powers are limited Grandmother.”

“Nothing is limited if I will it so.”

He lowered his gaze to the ground. The Ether was their creator, guardian, and God. How could he doubt her power?

“Lift your eyes to me my son.”

He raised his head and watched as she glowed even brighter.

“Open your mind to me and I will tell you everything you need to know. Speaking telepathically is the only way to ensure we won’t be heard by others.” Her voice was commanding as she imposed her will on his open mind. She spoke in his mind:

The house of magic and original Dera are at war. The dark Dera will not stop until all Beacons, and future Beacons are full of Blue Spirit and forced to return to my essence. You must guide the Houses of Sept and Noir to the mortal realm.

They will have to hide all over the world where magic is potent. It is the only way to ensure the survival of my children.

As her words ended, a wave of white light poured from her body into his chest.
Heat coursed through his veins as his limbs gained renewed strength. Marcelus wanted to both cry and leap with joy. His body shook as he fell to his knees before her.

He was pulled back to their current flight from danger as Ahmose collapsed from the weight of her pregnant belly. She was his mother’s best friend and leader of the house of Sept. Marcelus called water from the land to quench her thirst. There were six other women with them. They all tried to help Ahmose regain her strength.

“Thank you Marcelus. You have taken such great care of us.” Ahmose said as she rose to her feet.

Her flushed cheeks and sweaty covered face made him feel guilty. It took a lot to push a Beacon to that point. This was too much for her, but they had no choice. He was pushing this pregnant woman to her limits. This was the only way to ensure the safety of her unborn baby and the rest of the women there. They had to keep going.

His next words were filled with the sorrow that was gripping his heart. “We must continue. I am sorry, sisters.”

It was Femi who spoke next. “My young warrior, we are honored to follow your command. Let us resume our journey.”
She gave him an affectionate smile and a brief hug.
As their feet continued to pound against the forest floor, Marcelus’s thoughts returned to his conversation with the Ether.

“Will you lead them?” she asked.
“I will,” Marcelus pledged.
“Let the women know what they must do in order to survive. Here are my instructions.”

As the mental pictures of what was expected flooded his mind, the women of magic from the house of Sept, and Noir appeared in the forest. The Ether had transported them to Marcelus.
She spoke to him and her daughters.

“My daughters go with Marcelus, warrior from the House of Noir. He will lead you to safety.”

She looked at him one last time before saying “My son, this journey will be a terrifying one. It will test your strength and faith. It may be a long time before you are home again.”

“I am ready. I will not fail.”

He pulled the hood attached to his jacket closed in order to protect his ears during the run.

“No, Marcelus, it is I who has failed you.”

Before he could say another word, she was gone.
He and the women had finally arrived at the portal that separated Dera from the mortal world. It was hidden inside of an old African Baobab tree. No one could see it unless the Ether willed it so. The opening to leave would only last for brief minutes.

Time was not on their side. They had been running for too long. By now someone would be on their trail. He started casting the magic that would protect the women and allow them through the tree. The green energy flowed from his fingers and wrapped around the women. The light danced in the air in preparation for his final spell. The air would turn bright red when the magic begins to work. Marcelus spoke to the women quickly. He did not want anyone else to hear the instructions he had been given.

“You must tell your children The Story of Origin once their power arrives. Once you leave, you will be mortal, and your bonded mates will pass when you pass. Open yourself to the Ether and one day you’ll return to Dera. Bind your children to your spirit as long as you can. They will be born Beacons with more power than a God.

You must protect them, so they are not captured by the Dera. Once they’re born, the Dera will sense their existence. They’re no longer immortal, but they’re still connected to the eternal spirit of the Ether. Make sure your children carry the name of all the houses who contributed to their birth. The new Beacons must command more than one house. You’ll be sent into countries that are firmly rooted in magic.”

Tears fell from the faces of the women as they hugged one another. He had to look away. An emotional warrior could not protect his people.

Marcelus continued, “Seek the assistance of the mortal Gods if you must. When the war is over, we will all return home.” The women hugged him and began to cast the spells that would bind them with his Truth in Direction spell.

The magic would also slow down their pregnancy significantly. If the Beacons were born later than expected, then the Dera would not find them.
Each daughter of magic began to disappear. Before Agna left, he kissed her belly. Her daughter Angelique had always danced in her womb when she heard his voice.

He spoke to her, “goodbye my friend, one day I will bring you back. I, Marcelus Noir, will lead you to Dera.”
Agna’s tears touched his cheeks as she cried. She pulled him close and whispered, “she will be waiting, brave warrior.”

He stepped away so she could leave. She grabbed Femi and Ahmose’s hands as they stepped into the tree. As he looked on, their eyes widened. They screamed for him to turn. He turned in time to see a figure appear with a woman who looked like his dead mother.

His instincts told him to blaze away. This was one of the men involved in his mother’s death. He still had blue hands from handling the poison he had used. Marcelus could not get away in his weakened state. The man grabbed him by the neck and put a blue fruit in his mouth. Tears fell from his eyes as realization dawned. Marcelus knew he would never see Dera again.

###

Foster

Foster D’Arc gasped for air. Her lungs refused to accept any oxygen. The cold, wet feel of her own filth made her whole body shiver. She could hear the staccato beat of blood dripping from her skin onto the wooden floor. Each raspy breath she took echoed like death in her ears. The red hair she loved now felt hard and sticky against her scalp. This nightmare was slowing consuming her soul.

It was her 18th birthday.

The momentous day had been on her mind for the last four years. She would finally be able to leave her foster home and make a life of her choosing. Someone had different plans.

Her guardian, Abo, stood over her in a daze. He was waiting for Papa Loko’s approval. Papa Loko was a Voudou Loa that protected Hougans and Mambos. He demanded inhumane sacrifices.

This entity had spent eight years torturing her. He would request that Abo whip her until her skin would bleed. One week, she endured three days of lashings with a bamboo rod until she pretended to worship Loko. The beatings consumed her body until every fiber of her being was baptized in pain.

The agony became so familiar and intimate that she waited for it like a hungry child. She knew there was no escaping it. The system set up to protect her had failed in every way possible. The social worker never noticed the bruises or signs of abuse.

Abo would always say that her sacrifices would ensure they remained safe.
“You must sacrifice because he has given you a good home,” was his constant sermon.

Abo’s devotion to Papa Loko proved how dark the Vodou religion could be.

Abo finally spoke. “Pa fè danje antre nan kay la, ti zwazo.”

His smoky voice made her cringe.
It was the same warning over and over. “Don’t invite danger into our home, little bird.”

She hated the nickname. When she was younger, her aunt had called her little Agna. Agna had been her mother who’d died during childbirth. The happy memory of her aunt’s loving voice was replaced by a fire blazing along her cheek.

Foster was immediately pulled back to her current state of nothingness.
Her deranged guardian had slapped her and now stood over her with a candle and began to dance and chant calling the loa forward.

His song was both a physical and mental assault. There were deep gashes on her arm caused by a box cutter. The cuts formed an angry work of woven art across her body. She had been there on that floor for two hours. Every click of the grandfather clock from the living room was a haunting melody. She began counting the seconds in order to escape the pain.
First, she was beaten, violated, and then cut with a blade. When he was done, she was tied to the floor with rope in a room adjacent to the living room. The room had been adorned with talismans, pictures, and idols dedicated to the Loa.

The torture continued as the minutes melted into hours. All she could do was lay in agony and wait. Suddenly the heat traveled from her face and caressed the flesh above her thighs.

Why not? She thought.
She’d assumed he’d placed the lit candle against her skin. Lifting her head to verify the torture was too much. She was weak and exhausted. There was no burning sensation, she just felt hot. The slight warmth increased in intensity. It became invisible lava.

The imaginary flames swelled like an out of control forest fire in her head. It devoured whatever was left of her sanity.

Abo had finally done it. She was going to die. Death hovered inches from her heart, and she waited for it to liberate her from Abo and the world. Death never came. She remained on fire for long moments until a voice boomed in her head.
“Vous disposez d’attente pour la mort, mais il ne viendra pas aujourd’hui.”

The voice seemed to shake the room and then it changed into a taunting singsong sound.

“I forgot you only speak Kreyol and English. You were not given the opportunity to be educated properly. Why don’t we move beyond the language thing and discuss your little situation.”

Foster’s body shook violently and then she saw nothing.

The voice spoke again. “You are dramatic, little bird.”

She was in a dark place being taunted by the faceless voice. Her body was still bound to the floor. Then she heard the silky voice again.

“I mean trying to die before your purpose if fulfilled. Did we say you could die?”
“Who are you?” She could barely manage the question. “What do you want?”

“We are many things,” was the confusing response.

“How is that an answer?”

“Oh, little bird, would you like to continue playing with Abo or are you ready to end your
little torture experience? I must say Abo has become a bit aggressive with you.”

Fury ripped through her. She screamed her next words.

“A little aggressive, is that what you call being tortured? Aggressive! Send me back now and let him finish! Where were you when Abo beat me until I could not walk? The only thing I am prepared to do is die.”

“Are you angry, little bird?”

She spat in the direction of the voice.

“Stop calling me that. My name is Foster.”
“No, your name is Angelique, but we can call you Foster. If you are through with the theatrics, we are here to give you a gift.”

Foster put a temporary lid on her rage by grinding her teeth. It was the only way to keep her mouth shut.

“Good bird, I mean Foster.”

Then they appeared, twins dancing between male and female forms. They were without definition but looked exactly the same except for their eyes. One twin possessed piercing hazel eyes that seemed almost gold. The other had cold dark blue eyes. Their bodies were glowing amber light that brightened as they came closer.

Foster forgot to breath.

“If you don’t breathe, you will die and then we can’t give you the gift.”

She closed her eyes and waited.

“We can free you from Abo. We will make it so that no one can ever use your body as their sacrifice. All you have to do is say you will take our gift and never attempt to suppress it. We will lead you to all the people who are responsible for your little vacation in Abo world.”

I swear I will kill these freaky twins if they do not shut up.

Those monsters called her ordeal a vacation? Their careless words doused her rage with ethanol, and she allowed it to explode.

“Go to hell, you demons!”

There was silence then the voice boomed again.

“You dare call us demons? Maybe we should heal you so that you can experience the pain again. Would you like that, Foster? Would you like to wake up feeling Abo ripping you into a thousand pieces? We are the truth that lives in darkness. We are Lemi, and you will obey us.”

“I will die a thousand deaths. No one will own me ever again.” Foster shrieked at her tormentors loud enough for them to taste her hatred.

“Do you want the gift or not?”

“I’ll take your gift and use it in my coffin.”

“Ok, whatever you want little bir…Foster.” Without warning, they disappeared.

She opened her eyes to Abo’s wretched form looming over her with a white candle. Hatred, rage, and pain seduced her once more.

She looked at Abo and yelled, “Ou pral mouri. You are going to die.”
As he reached back to slap her, a cloud of smoke rose from the candle in Abo’s hand.

It forced itself into Abo’s nose and mouth. It invaded every pore in his sinus cavity and consumed his breath. He stumbled and landed on the floor. He begged his Voodoo God to save him. The fire from the candle engulfed the room.

Abo couldn't yell or pray. His gaze was transfixed on something. Foster could not move so she just kept staring at the black cloud that was consuming the air.
It floated down and crawled up her body.

She inhaled and felt it flow into her lungs. A sense of calm engulfed her broken spirit. Death had finally found her and this time he would take her away. Foster lay still, waiting to choke, but the smoke lifted her up off of the ground. The ropes snapped as the dark energy forced her to stand over Abo.

Their eyes locked, and she smiled at the terror on his face. The compulsion to conquer and destroy this weak man made her skin feel tight. For a mere second, there was complete stillness. They both held their breath, waiting to strike. Instead of breathing, a dark snake-like energy poured from her mouth and flew into Abo.

His desperate wheezing made her smile. He made no sound, but his body shook so hard that it cracked the floorboards. Then he was still. The dark energy returned to Foster. Her body hit the floor, and she was drowned in darkness as greedy flames devoured the house.