Martinis with the Devil: Part One (Zyan Star, #1)

by A.A. Chamberlynn

There are two primary scents of death. Actual decomposition, which is pretty disgusting. And then there’s hospital smell. That sterilized and infinitely scarier smell, because it seems clean but you know it’s not. You know lives are ending despite all attempts to keep them. Death both imminent and drawn out, lingering beneath the hand sanitizer and the Clorox.

“The Agreement has… imperfections. It cannot change the free will of the inhabitants of this dimension. Each individual chooses his or her own path, be it light or dark.” I frowned. My path had definitely dipped into a dark area a few times.

here. I could almost sense the sun, the first rays of it lightening the blackness to a dark, dark eggplant hue. A hue which would lighten to indigo, then cerulean, then lavender to rosebud and finally a pale turquoise.

Decipher and paint! VS 20aug20

It’s not true what they say. It didn’t make me feel an ounce better to admit my sins to another.

“Everyone takes the wrong path at one point or another,”

And then I screamed. I screamed my rage, and my sadness, and my aloneness. I screamed for my soul, and for my sister’s soul. I screamed my burning desire for revenge, and every ounce of my pain with it. I screamed for all the years, those that had passed and those that would come.

Things had declined significantly in the few minutes it took us to arrive at the outskirts of the chaos. The fire had spread from a couple buildings to a couple blocks. People were still trying to escape the area, fleeing through the streets in panic. Of course, some of the humans had decided this was the perfect time to loot the stores, and so most of the storefronts we passed had smashed-in windows and were being emptied out. As we walked deeper into the melee, people cast us strange and terrified glances, wondering no doubt why we were heading this way when everyone else was running their asses off in the opposite direction. The usual human disaster management teams were on site—ambulances, city policemen, firefighters. They were no match for this type of emergency. The policemen seemed to know they were ineffectual against the supes, what with the witches casting spells, and the vamps and weres being too fast for human eyes. They seemed to have taken a strictly defensive position, simply trying to protect the paramedics and firefighters. Where the hell was the NHTF?

@n@rchist mob riots in Seattle and other m@jor cities in the name of black lives matter in the p@ndemic summer of 2020 when the norm will never be the same again

The night was still purple, not quite black, and only a couple stars were out. Or at least, only a couple that could outshine the city lights, which were at their twinkly brightest. It was the equivalent to the glittery dew at the birth of morning, when all is fresh. Before the evening grew stale and everything faded.

with thoughts darker than the asphalt beneath my feet.

It felt like an electric sizzle as his mind touched mine,

Dr. Who, unicorns, and katanas make her very happy.