tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85408157987111525342024-02-07T17:18:00.793-08:00Digital DigestRiley Quinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02363595230073330154noreply@blogger.comBlogger102125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8540815798711152534.post-13023464427859352232011-12-27T02:00:00.000-08:002011-12-27T02:00:01.924-08:00Daria's Dating Dilemma, Part Six<span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><u><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Daria’s Dating Dilemma, Part Six</span></u></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">When we left Daria on November 26<sup>th</sup>, she was sitting in the rain wondering if things would ever go right…</span></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;"><b>I sat in the rain</b> until a passerby threw a dollar at me. Now I was reduced to looking like a street beggar. I stood quickly, hurling the wet wad at the person’s head, and shouting incoherently. Sure it made me look crazier, but I was irate. My phone was gone, my first good date was ruined, and now my lawyer friend probably thought I was a loser. What else could go wrong?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">Deciding my pity party needed to be mobile, I started walking along the sidewalk. Home wasn’t a far and warm, clean clothes awaited me. Muttering to myself, I negotiated the streets and people racing out of the rain. The storm came harder and faster, soaking me to the skin in record time and setting me to shivering. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">I stopped at the corner one block from home when a different large truck hit the puddle in front of me. I cried out as a deluge of muddy water and debris washed me onto my ass at the curb. The driver of the truck didn’t even slow down, the bastard. Wiping the water off my face, I shook my hands angrily and dug my purse out of the street. I was soaked and dirty, my purse was ruined—its contents probably destroyed as well—and it wasn’t even noon yet. My patience was stretched to the limit. The anger fueled my pace and I finished the trip in record time. Beat that Patrick Makau.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">Digging my wet keys from the ruined clutch, I let myself in and stripped inside the door. I threw the clothes on the tile for washing or discarding—I hadn’t decided which. I carried my purse into the kitchen and dumped everything in the sink. I’d take care of it later. First, I wanted a hot shower and a pint of ice cream. And, yes, I’d call off work to spend a day shut in with emotional chick flicks, Ben, and Jerry. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;"><b>Two days later and I’d</b> replaced my phone, the contents of my purse, and was working on my pride. There were no messages from anyone on my new cell or my home phone. <i>Queen of horror dates strikes again</i>, I silently cheered watching the elevator tick off floors. I strode off intent on finding my cube and hiding inside until the clock struck five. I stopped short as the crowd around my workspace registered in my frazzled mind. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">“Great, I’m probably being fired on top of things,” I mumbled and pushed my way past them. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">My purse, work bag, and jaw hit the floor in surprise. There, on MY desk, were two enormous flower arrangements. Not the ‘cheap bought at a gas station’ kind, but the ‘in the vase and I paid a fortune for hand delivery’ kind. From my vantage point, I was sure at least one was authentic crystal. I stared frozen in place for at least ten minutes while my gossiping co-workers took in every nuance of my reaction. Great, I’d be the office tramp by lunch. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">Ignoring them, I moved into my area and mentally slammed the door. Quickly, I grabbed the note cards from each bouquet and shoved them in my bag to read once the drama calmed down. I continued ignoring the questions and whispers while I logged into my workstation and reviewed the stack of messages from the receptionist. Apparently things had been busy while I’d been out on my day off. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">As the clock chimed starting time, the boss cajoled everyone away to their own office pens before heading back to mine. “Daria, I sincerely hope these flowers are not the reason you were out sick yesterday?” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">I merely looked up at her. My eyes were still red and puffy from a day of crying. I was also sure the end of my nose was dry and blotchy. I looked like I’d had the cold I lied about. “Of course not and I apologize I had to call off. I’m not sure where the flowers came from. Oh, and I’m feeling better now.” The ‘thanks for asking, bitch’ was silent. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">The boss nodded and walked away as I breathed a sigh of relief. Pulling the cards free from my bag, I glanced at each quickly. The first was a typed message from Keith, presumably ordered while he was in Europe. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">I tried calling but didn’t get an answer. Wanted to let you know there are no hard feelings and I look forward to talking when I return next week.</span></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">“Nice, thank you broken phone,” I sarcastically grumbled and grabbed for the other. It unexpectedly was from Marcus. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Sorry I missed you the other day. I was out grabbing breakfast. As your representation, I suggest discussing my fee over dinner. Please call to schedule a time.</span></i></span><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">I giggled, swallowing the full out laugh threatening to spill over. To anyone else, it would be a very professional note. Knowing Marcus as I did, it was full of humor and innuendo. It was just the thing to cheer me up. I jotted notes in my planner to attempt to call each after work. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">The rest of work passed in a blur of activity. Not used to me taking a sick day, several clients had panicked when unable to reach me the day before. One in particular had left no less than twelve messages. Toward the end of the stack, the receptionist had stopped writing her number or message all together. It had also taken an hour to convince the woman I was not gravely ill or anywhere near death’s door. Ironically, the woman chastised me for not taking more time to myself after giving me a page long list of items to be taken care of. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">Standing to grab my coat and debating picking up another pint of ice cream, I looked around my office floor and sighed. Some days, I really wanted to chew my way out of our gopher den. Hopefully, my good work would be noticed eventually and I could move up the food chain. I was currently lodged solidly in the bopped-on-the-head department. I chuckled as I pictured a rubber mallet striking each cranium that emerged over the partition walls.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;"><b>Grinning still as I let</b> myself into my home, the flashing message light caught my attention. I had three messages. It was an incredible occurrence, I usually managed one message a week and it was from my parents. Their message usually entailed making sure I was alive, highlighting other people’s successes, and not so casually asking if I’d made any progress in life. I dropped my bags into the chair and raced over to press the button. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">I leaned on the counter as the messages played. The first was from Pat wanting to make sure I had survived okay. I could tell by the whispered tone, he was again hiding from his wife to call me. He quickly added he’d given Keith my home number before the call abruptly disconnected. The second message was from Marcus, wanting to know if I received his professional package and if I had any plans this evening. The third was from Keith, a little fuzzy because of the connection. I could barely make anything out —something about his meetings going well and such. I saved all three just as proof I could receive calls. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">Grabbing the handset free, I called Marcus back and chatted while changing. The rustle of clothes must have transmitted over the line. He mentioned it with a joke of course and sent me into a fit of laughter. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">“It’s so good to hear you laugh at the end of a long day, Daria.” Marcus’ voice drifted across the quiet and I was speechless. “So, what were you thinking for dinner?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">“Pizza and a movie,” I joked, tossing a shirt over my head and zipping up my jeans. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">“Funny, that’s just what I was thinking.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">My response to his odd reply was cut off by the door bell ringing. He had already disconnected the call. Racing back to the front room, I threw open the door and stared at him. Marcus stood on my steps holding a pizza from the best pie shop in town and a six pack of beer. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">I tried to lean casually against my door frame. “Funny, mister, I don’t remember ordering a pizza. I’m afraid I’m not going to pay you for the pie.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">He smiled wide, his perfect teeth showing. “That’s a shame, ma’am. I’m pretty sure there’s a copy of Shaun of the Dead in my jacket.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">“I own it,” I shrugged, holding back laughter. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">He stepped closer. “I think the other pocket has Princess Bride and Hershey caramel Kisses,” he whispered.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">“Why didn’t you say so in the first place?” I moved out of the way and motioned him inside with a frenzied wave. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">We both laughed as we moved toward the kitchen. He sat the goodies out on the counter while I wrangled up plates and glasses. Serving up the pizza, beer, and grabbing the bag of Kisses for later, I motioned him into my living room. My entertainment area wasn’t super high-tech but it was good quality. When you find yourself alone most Saturday nights, it pays to have a great home theatre set-up and forgiving neighbors. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">We ate while watching Shaun of the Dead and quoting lines along with the movie. Once stuffed, I leaned into him while contemplating the bag of Kisses. His arm silently slipped around my shoulders and we sat in silence until the movie ended. He rose, brought out two more beers, and studied the DVD player. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">“So, should I put in Princess Bride?” Marcus asked with a wink.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">“Sure, why not?” I answered with a shrug. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">“As you wish…”His smiled melted my heart faster than Kisses over an open flame. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">My voice was huskier than I ever remembered hearing it before. “Come snuggle and keep me safe from the ROUS’s.” I patted the cushion next to me and eagerly cuddled into his body when he complied. I truly believe it’s the only occasion I didn’t pay any attention to my favorite movie.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">Just when the action in my living room was about to surpass the action on the screen for the first time in recorded history, the phone rang interrupting the moment. I let the machine catch it, forgetting I had turned the volume up earlier. Keith’s voice echoed through my open downstairs floor plan. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">“Should be home tomorrow, would love to see you again. You still owe me a coffee.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Rule number nine: Expect the unexpected, otherwise known as 'unplug the phone with you have a date over' rule. </span></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">I blushed red hot as Marcus lowered my shirt and looked at me oddly. Hell, there went another good date. He’d probably storm out and never return. Worse, he’d probably send me a huge legal bill the next morning. I sat there like a moron waiting to hear the worst. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">Marcus’ expression took on a sexy, dangerous look. “Well, I guess I have twenty four hours to make you hate the thought of coffee…”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Rule number ten: See rule number nine and… </span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">Oh to hell with the rules… </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"> <br />
</span></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Digital Digest is being changed to better serve our readers. But Daria’s mishaps and adventures are far from over! Watch for the full Daria novel to be available in 2012, with glimpses available on my blog and thank you for reading!</span></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">~Jennifer Feuerstein~</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/home.php#%21/pages/Jennifer-L-Feuerstein/268454072555"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Facebook</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;"> * </span><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.wix.com/feuersteinjennifer/main#%21"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Website</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;"> * </span><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://twitter.com/#%21/McFlat29"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Twitter</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;"> * </span><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://jfcrowdedmind.blogspot.com/?zx=6d5a3bf7635f604"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Blog</span></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">Copyright © 2011 Jennifer Feuerstein</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8540815798711152534.post-18277631454358343782011-12-26T00:00:00.000-08:002011-12-25T14:38:02.454-08:00Land of the Blind (Chapter 3)<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 12pt;">Recap: </span></b><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 12pt;">In Chapter 2, General Kober Chiang, the new commanding officer of the reconstituted Praetorians, activated his special plan to bring his beloved Federation back to the top of world affairs, while also destroying Devereaux Marshall Fox, once and for all. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 12pt;"> * * * * * * </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">“Muchos gracias, Senorita,” Fox said as the comely brunette placed a tray of hot rolls before him.<br />
<br />
“De nada, Senor,” the woman replied, her face blushing deeply<br />
<br />
As she walked away to serve other customers in the small, but crowded restaurant, Fox closed his eyes and tried to absorb his surroundings. Immediately, the aroma of the crisp buttery rolls assaulted his olfactory senses. He could hear the clinking of forks and knives on porcelain plates. It seemed a thousand conversations filtered into his ears – wedding news, gossip, opinions, he took it all in. This was real life to him, much better than listening out for intruders and possible ambushes.<br />
<br />
He opened his eyes again, glanced around the eatery and watched an ethnic montage of men and women chatting while they ate their organic food. He had eaten here many times before. He liked that there were still some places in the world where he could eat real food instead of RDA shakes, and not pay an arm and a leg to do it. He needed organic food, if only so the delicious smells could arouse memories of better times, of home-cooked meals or of easygoing dinners with convivial friends.<br />
<br />
He knew </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Cali</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">, </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Colombia</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> wasn’t as exotic as </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Rio de Janeiro</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">, </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Brazil</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> or </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Montevideo</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">, </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Uruguay</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">, but it was quiet. Not as busy or as corrupt as the country’s capital, </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Bogota</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">, it was now a center of technology and information. Despite this, the city had still maintained its character, its mellow tree-lined avenues and the ambience of a citizenry freed of the hectic life that dominated larger population centers.<br />
<br />
It had been decades since the drug trade had died down here and around the world, thanks to a miracle drug that killed addiction and adverse reaction almost instantaneously. The criminal warlords and violent street gangs that had infected society and had once turned </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Cali</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> into the cocaine cartel capital of the world died out along with the crippling addictions and associated brutality of illegal drug use. To this day, no one knew who had discovered and developed the wonder drug made from natural plants found in most of the world’s mountains. At the memory, Fox laughed to himself and took a big bite out of one of his buttery rolls.<br />
<br />
None of this mattered now, though. Fox wasn’t here to interfere in anyone’s business or upset the status quo, if he could help it. He was just assessing the world situation, gathering information to make an accurate report for himself before he made his final departure. The rest of his time was meant to take in the sights, sounds and ultimate beauty of the planet and its people.<br />
<br />
His waitress, Consuela, returned with a large tray. She carefully set a large plate of Brazilian steak and steamed broccoli before him. He inhaled deeply, letting the aroma of the broiled meat assail his senses. He liked nothing better than a well-cooked steak, no matter what the animal rights organizations felt about it. <br />
<br />
“Excuse me, but I heard some congratulations for the couple in the corner by the front window,” Fox mentioned. <br />
<br />
“Si, Senor, they are getting married,” Consuela answered, cocking her head in confusion that he could have discerned a conversation in the front of the restaurant from his table in the rear. “I did not think they were being so loud, Senor. I will ask them to be a little quieter.”<br />
<br />
“People were speaking of it and it kind of came back to me,” Fox said, trying to cover the fact that his aural sensors had picked up the news. “Wish them every happiness, por favor.”<br />
<br />
“Si, Senor, I will,” the comely waitress replied, happily. “She used to be my supervisor and he was her best customer. Oh, don’t they make a beautiful couple? If only they had the money for her dream wedding. She’s always wanted large bouquets of roses, a large church and a reception hall with food for all of her family. Maybe one day.”<br />
<br />
He watched Consuela go over to the couple to relay his wish. He waved quickly at them and then resumed eating. Somehow, the food tasted even better than usual and he wondered if his increased euphoria at the couple’s happiness was to blame. He could certainly afford to extend a little good will. They weren’t responsible for his never marrying. He felt they deserved every happiness possible.<br />
<br />
Consuela returned shortly with a small folder that held his charge. She walked off to check another table and Fox quickly opened the folder. He looked at the bill, but stopped for a moment. He glanced around at each table briefly, returned his gaze to the folder and made a quick calculation. He kept his head low so that no one would see his right eye flicker.<br />
<br />
“Gracias, Senor,” Consuela said as she saw Fox leaving the restaurant.<br />
<br />
She saw the red light flickering on the folder, signaling that full payment had been made and she picked it up. Upon opening it, she immediately felt faint and had to take a seat before she fell. Her manager walked over to her quickly.<br />
<br />
“Are you okay, Consuela?” he asked, concerned.<br />
<br />
She handed him the folder and he looked. He, too, nearly fainted. Somehow, Fox had figured out the costs of all the meals being consumed in the restaurant and had paid for every one of them. He had left Consuela a tip so large she would be able to pay her college tuition and keep a roof over her head for a year. Best of all, he had included a special bill item – full payment for a wedding in a large church, with lots of rose bouquets and enough money for a reception, a honeymoon and a gift to start a new life together.<br />
<br />
The news left both waitress and manager reeling. They rushed outside, but Fox was gone. Consuela went back inside to break the news. Manuel lingered outside for a moment, his eyes focused in on the gray asphalt sidewalks and cobblestone streets. He had realized that such a monumental gift meant that, most likely, he would never see his best customer again and that made him very sad. He sighed heavily and then, putting on his best face, returned inside to join the cheering customers.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Fox was two blocks away</b> when Manuel and Consuela had rushed outside. He hadn’t looked back. He knew it wasn’t good to look back. The engaged couple had only stirred up memories he’d buried. Memories of another time and place, of a happy couple talking merrily at an outdoor eatery in San Diego, California, by the old 32nd Street naval base. Before the Battle of Phuket changed everything, he thought ruefully.<br />
<br />
Fox brought himself back to reality and he chided himself for bringing up memories again. He’d been doing it more and more lately. Maybe I’m just getting old, he told himself.<br />
<br />
To get his mind off the past, he accessed his microcomputer and called up the information he’d amassed since he’d left his house. He had learned of Chiang’s promotion to head of the Praetorian Guard, but that hadn’t been unexpected; he was just surprised that the Federation Joint Chiefs had kept Mavromichalis on as his executive officer. He made a special note of a meeting of the Chiagas Board in </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Montevideo</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">, </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Uruguay</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">. He’d long suspected Dainmon Chiagas of trying to bring all of </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">South America</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">’s criminal gangs under his control, though his moves had been constantly thwarted by a lack of firepower to cow his opponents. <br />
<br />
Fox moved on to the scene in </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Africa</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">, </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Europe</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">, Oceana, the always volatile </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Middle East</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> and the rest of </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Asia</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">. Nothing was amiss from the ordinary behind-the-scenes power grabs, though he made another special note of the increased pirate activity in the waters off </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Somalia</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">. The government in </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Mogadishu</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> had fallen again and the pirates’ main enemy in the Seychelles Coast Guard was preoccupied with reinforcing the island nation’s sea walls to stave off the rising ocean level.<br />
<br />
His ears suddenly picked up sounds of feet scuffling on asphalt and he thought he heard a muffled voice. He turned into a narrow alley and stopped cold. Three burly men in old camouflage green army jackets and new retro black parachute pants were manhandling a girl who didn’t look to be close to eighteen. The largest had a hand over the girl’s mouth and a second man had grabbed her legs to pull her into the shadows.<br />
<br />
“Look at what we got here,” the tallest thug said. “I get to be the first to pop that…”<br />
<br />
He never completed his vulgar assertion, for his head pitched forward sharply, followed by his body. He dropped the girl and actually sailed over her to land face first on the pavement. The man to his left spun around just in time for Fox to slap him hard on his chest. He left his feet, sailed across the alley and smashed so hard into a brick wall that his head left a deep indentation. The girl would later tell police that it was like the man had been hit by a million-volt cattle prod.<br />
<br />
The last thug took a huge roundhouse at Fox’s head, but had it blocked easily. He got a closed fist punch to his throat in reply. He gaggled and gurgled, desperately fighting for air as his body slid to the ground. He was lucky, though, his breathing only interrupted by the purplish bruise beneath his Adam’s Apple.<br />
<br />
The ringleader of the rabble had recovered and he already found the space in his mouth where four of his newly cloned teeth had been. He ignored the girl scrambling out of his way, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out the laser-edged knife he’d stolen just that morning. He thrust it forward and charged at Fox, who just stood there, unmoving and totally oblivious to his immediate danger.<br />
<br />
Fox dodged the knife easily, parrying the thrust and spinning the thug around. He wrapped his right arm around the man’s shoulder and moved his left hand to the right side of his chin. Using the man’s momentum against him, he pulled violently. He didn't need to hear the sickening crack to know the thug was dead from a broken neck, but the girl heard it and she puked even as the man's body toppled to the pavement.<br />
<br />
After a moment, the girl jumped to her feet, wiping her mouth with her shirt and then staring, in shock, the dead body before her. She looked at the two badly injured thugs, breathing hard as she realized just how close she’d come to being violated. She wished she’d never listened to Marcos, the bouncer from the club she should never have been in. She was glad he’d have trouble breathing for the foreseeable future. <br />
<br />
She smiled at his plight and then went to thank her savior. Something stopped her, however – his glowing blue right eye, in fact. She felt a chill run down her spine as she recalled the stories of the blue-eyed bogeyman that her mother had told her as a babe. This was no bedtime story, however. She was looking directly at The Adventurer and, far from being a monster, he’d actually saved her life.<br />
<br />
“You know you’re not supposed to be here,” Fox said, matter-of-factly and with little emotion. “Go home. <i>Now</i>!”<br />
<br />
She nodded readily, turned and ran down the other end of the alley as fast as her little legs could carry her. Behind her, Fox surveyed the damage he’d wrought. Just as quickly, though, his eye returned to its normal blue hue and Fox blinked rapidly as if coming out of a trance. His ears picked up the sounds of passing fusion cars and of a T-180 supersonic transport craft flying high overhead. He became aware of the warmth of the sun and of the coolness of the shadows cast by it into the alley.<br />
</span><br />
<span name="myContent"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“I guess some things never change,” he muttered with a heavy sigh. <br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">And some things never will, right, Devereaux? Maybe we should take your own advice and go home?<br />
<br />
</i>"When I'm ready, okay," Fox snarled at his microcomputer's suggestion. "Now, where was I? Oh, yes, </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Africa</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">.”</span></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia;">To be continued...</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> For more exciting tales, check out the latest issues of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=digital+digest&x=0&y=0">Digital Digest</a> at Amazon.</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Gregory Marshall Smith</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror author</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Hunters-ebook/dp/B005HAA7AQ/ref=sr_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1315210633&sr=1-3">Hunters</a> <a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/81518">They Call the Wind Muryah</a> <a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/81488">DarkTidings</a></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=8540815798711152534&postID=3600575206287657520">Crawl</a> </b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Copyright © 2011 Gregory Marshall Smith</span></b></div><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8540815798711152534.post-88500238750481794992011-12-15T00:05:00.000-08:002011-12-15T00:05:00.838-08:00Sins of the Father<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/> <w:DontVertAlignCellWithSp/> <w:DontBreakConstrainedForcedTables/> <w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/> <w:Word11KerningPairs/> <w:CachedColBalance/> </w:Compatibility> <m:mathPr> <m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/> <m:brkBin m:val="before"/> <m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/> <m:smallFrac m:val="off"/> <m:dispDef/> <m:lMargin m:val="0"/> <m:rMargin m:val="0"/> <m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/> <m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/> <m:intLim m:val="subSup"/> <m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/> </m:mathPr></w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Faxan slipped through the back door on shaking legs. His lower lip was numb and swollen and he tasted blood. His right eye was nearly swollen shut and he hurt in more places than he wanted to count. </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">All he wanted to do was crawl into his room and heal. This time had been worse than usual. He’d been jumped by a half dozen young males and they had beaten him until he couldn’t stand. Only the threat of dawn and burning alive had finally been enough to get him on his feet.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Faxan?” his father bellowed from the front of the house. “Get in here.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Shit. So much for making it upstairs unscathed. Shaking, he trudged down the hall to the living room. His father stood before the window, still dressed in the hated blue Wolf Guard uniform. His father was the reason he had no friends, the reason he was routinely beaten up, the reason everyone in the neighborhood hated him.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">His father’s gaze swept him with open contempt. “Look at you,” his voice held disgust and loathing. “What kind of a worthless piece of shit are you that you can’t even defend yourself?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">It didn’t matter how he answered, it would be the wrong thing. His legs shook harder.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I asked you a question.” His father’s gaze drilled into him.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Faxan looked at the floor. “There were too many of them.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Fucking pussy. Christ, why did your mother have to curse me with you? Seventeen years ago today. Didn’t think I remembered your birthday? How could I forget when you killed my mate? Why couldn’t you have died instead?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Faxan couldn’t meet his father’s eyes. He didn’t need the frequent reminders that his mother had died because of his birth. His father never let him forget it and his father punished him, in one form or another, every day of his life for it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“May I go? Please.” His voice waivered. He just wanted to escape to his room and lick his wounds. </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“No. You may not. I’m not finished with you.” He stalked across the floor and Faxan backed away. His throat clogged shut and his stomach twisted into a tight knot. His father closed the distance fast and his hand lashed out, catching Faxan’s jacket and yanking him up on his toes. “God, I hate you,” his father said. Spittle flew from his lips and sprayed Faxan. His father flung him away.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">He crashed into the wall then collapsed to the floor. He landed badly and pain shot through his ankle. For a moment, he thought it was broken. He moaned quietly and hoped his father was finished. He knew better than to fight back. He’d tried it once and his father had beaten him unconscious. All he could do was take whatever his father decided to dish out.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">His father tromped toward him and Faxan tried to pull himself into the corner.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“You worthless piece of shit. Why do you stay here? I don’t want you. Can’t you get that through your stupid, thick skull?” </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">If he had one place he could go he would gladly pack his meager belongings and leave his father’s house.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I asked you a question, you moron?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">He looked up and brushed his shaggy hair aside so he could meet his father’s eyes. “I know you hate me and don’t want me.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“You just stay here to remind me of what I lost,” his father bellowed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Faxan lowered his head, letting his hair hide his face. God, how he wished he had someplace he could go.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">His father drew back his booted foot and kicked him in the stomach so hard that he vomited. He tried to crawl away from the mess on the polished hardwood. </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“You dirty little fucker,” his father said in a deceptively calm voice. “Clean that shit up. When I come back in, I had better not see or smell anything on this floor. You got me?” Faxan nodded. His father kicked him in the thigh then spun on his heel and left the room.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Faxan curled over and let the tears fall. He couldn’t take any more. He just couldn’t. His father had beaten and degraded him for as long as he could remember. Vampires usually remained with their parents until their mid-twenties. He had no opportunities to leave. On the streets, he would have no choice but to work as a whore—there were no jobs for their kind—and he would rather die than be used like that. He couldn’t stay there any longer and he had nowhere to go.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">There was no riding off into the moonlight for a happily ever after in the future for him. There were beatings, and injuries, and rejection, and humiliation, and pain, and suffering. That was his life. He’d never had a friend. He had no relatives that he knew of and no human would help him.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">He lay on the floor and watched a bug scurry under the refrigerator. To his father, and everyone else for that matter, he didn’t have as much worth as that insect. </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The front door banged closed. His father must be going to the corner store. He didn’t have time to go much further before dawn would break. </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">After a few minutes, Faxan struggled onto his shaky legs. His injured ankle gave out and he fell in a heap. He tried again and stood carefully. His ankle sent spikes of pain up his leg when he took a step but he didn’t care. </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">It was never going to stop. Maybe if he survived his father’s beatings and the neighborhood bullies, maybe he could get past the government’s locked down borders and make a life for himself in some other city where no one knew him. But what were the odds of that happening? </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Slowly, he climbed the stairs and went into his barren bedroom. A threadbare denim jacket hung from a peg on the wall. He rooted through the pockets until he found three small capsules. He stood and held them in his hand.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">He’d bought them two weeks ago. Some days, the days he was beaten extra hard, they were more tempting than others. He’d bought them to fix things, but he’d been afraid of going through with it. He slipped them into his pocket and hobbled back downstairs.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">He limped to the kitchen and took a large glass from the cabinet and filled it with water. Then he measured out a generous helping of lemonade powder from the cheery yellow can. He added a bit more to cover any nasty taste. Then he took out the capsules and lined them up on the counter.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">He stared at them for a moment, then twisted one open and dumped the contents into the glass, then the second one and then the third. He slowly stirred the powder into the lemonade. He gathered up the casings and tossed them in the garbage can.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The front door opened, closed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Faxan’s gut tightened. </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">His father stomped through the house then he came into the kitchen.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Faxan’s gaze locked on the huge blade in his father’s hand. It was the hunting knife he carried at all times when he was on the government clock. Faxan knew exactly how it was used. The blade was serrated and slightly curved, ensuring maximum damage when it was thrust upward and then withdrawn.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">He backed away from the counter. </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Eyes gleaming, his father stalked forward. Light glinted off the blade. “You should have left when you had the chance you stupid little bastard.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Faxan’s back touched cool wallboard. </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">His father lunged and agony tore through Faxan’s mid-section. His father jerked the blade free and stabbed him again and then a third time. His legs turned to numb rubber and he slid to the floor.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">He glanced down at his t-shirt. Three patches of crimson were spreading rapidly. He tasted blood.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">His father stood over him and smirked. “Fixed you, didn’t I? If there’s a hell, I hope you burn there forever.” He bent and wiped the bloody knife on Faxan’s ragged jeans. Then he turned and casually walked to the counter and picked up the glass of lemonade.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Faxan’s vision clouded as he watched his father lift the glass and drain the contents.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Did it taste good?” he croaked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Son, that was the best damn glass of lemonade I ever had.” His father made a show of licking his lips in appreciation.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“That’s good,” Faxan said. His voice, like the rest of him was growing weaker. “Because that’s the last lemonade you’ll ever taste.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">His father choked, his face turned red and he strained to breathe.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“You little son of a bitch,” he gasped. “What was in that?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“It was for me, you know?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“What. . .was in it?”his father gasped.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Poison.” He gave his father a lax smile and closed his eyes. </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
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Copyright © 2011 Nickie Asher<br />
<br />
All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div>Nickie Asherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18418200943104724033noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8540815798711152534.post-45737336429565920622011-12-04T02:00:00.000-08:002011-12-04T02:00:00.477-08:00Story of Sebastian, Chapter Six<div class="MsoNormal"><b><u><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14pt;">Story of Sebastian, Chapter Six</span></u></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Features adult language.</span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">When we last saw Sebastian in November, he’d found Paul’s target and was preparing for his first fight as an angel.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Sebastian checked them into the</span></b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"> motel using the same ruse as before — brother and sister visiting distant relations. The woman at the desk had accommodated by giving them separate rooms connected through a doorway. He’d immediately taken the connecting doors off their hinges and stashed them in his room. No sense in leaving her an opportunity to bolt. Surprisingly, Sorcha had only laughed at the maneuver. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">He’d left their departure date open-ended and paid in cash for a full week. He doubted they would stay the full week, but Sebastian wasn’t worried about the money. He’d discovered he could pull money out of thin air if it was needed. Yet another cool angel power he’d learned about while training with the redhead. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Now came the tricky part. He needed to do reconnaissance, but he couldn’t risk taking her along or leaving her behind. Sebastian was stuck and not sure how to proceed. He needed to learn if Dubhan was still being held in the same dungeon or if he’d been moved. Sebastian prayed the sadistic fucker holding Dubhan was still holed up in the same place. If he wasn’t, well Sebastian would run out of time trying to track him down. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Thankfully, Sorcha solved the problem the morning after their arrival. She looked much improved from their little boat ride after swearing off boats for all eternity. After the kindness of the Captain, she’d slept away the last day and a half of the trip in their cabin. Blissfully unaware of her discomforts, she’d yet to thank him for it and Sebastian wasn’t expecting gratitude any time soon. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“I’m bored,” Sorcha muttered, uncurling from the bed and hurling a book across the room. “Can we go look around?” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Seriously?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Why not? The lady said there are great ruins just up the street. Maybe we could check those out?” She asked it all nonchalantly.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">He knew it was as close to begging as she would get and it did solve his problem. Sorcha had no idea what was inside the ruins up the street— well what Sebastian hoped was still in the ruins. He was also hoping if he got close he could just call for Dubhan the way he did Sorcha and his new gifts would let him know if he was there or not. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Sebastian grabbed his recent purchase, a long black trench coat. “I think you’ve earned a field trip. Especially since you look recovered.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">He quickly ducked the pillow that flew his way. Sebastian had used her sickness as a cover for keeping her inside the previous day. Truth was, his brain had been busy planning and wasn’t up to the added task of babysitting. Now she’d unknowingly set his plan in motion. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Sorcha danced around excited as she threw on her coat and hat. Ireland still had moody weather and the humidity did hilarious things to her red hair. She’d begun hiding it with a hat the second they’d climbed off the ship. Since it helped hide her identity he wasn’t going to comment. Again, Sebastian felt the slightest nudge of guilt. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">He watched as she danced</span></b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"> around from flower to flower, smelling each of the abundant wild blooms. Now she looked like the Fae he sensed her to be. If it wouldn’t have cost him his head, he might have asked how a Fae got mixed up with Tuatha like Dubhan. Sebastian kept quiet as they neared the top of the hill. It was slow going with Sorcha enjoying the scenery, but appearing too eager would raise suspicion. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">He crested the hill with Sorcha close behind. Sebastian tucked his hands in his pockets and just waited. His plan was really just to follow her lead in this. He couldn’t make her doubt his reason for being here. Honestly, he was afraid if he told her the ruins where her ‘first mission’, she run off into them. Usually not a bad plan, but he’d learned his lesson the first time around with Mr. Wizard. This time he would have a definite plan of attack first and surprise on his side. And, Sebastian seriously doubted she’d like the plan he was coming up with. Sorcha didn’t strike him as the type to enjoy playing bait.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Reeling his thoughts in, Sebastian mentally lined up his plan of attack. First things first, he needed to find out if Dubhan was still there. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“WOW! That’s amazing,” Sorcha uttered, taking in the view of the ruined old castle. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“It’s really more of a fort, but those served as castles for the Irish…”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Who cares? It’s incredible!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Sebastian motioned with his hand. “Go ahead, but don’t go into it. The crumbling thing is dangerous. Mind the ropes around it.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be careful, Daaad. What are you going to do?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Hell, what was he going to do? Sebastian smiled. “I’ll check in with the bosses.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">She nodded and took off at a full run. He knew she was armed according to his own instruction, but he still felt a chill. Sebastian’s intentions were two-fold. Get Sorcha off his back so he could concentrate on Dubhan and get Mr. Bad Guy’s attention. Hopefully the bastard was home, because a magical, pretty fairy dancing around his parameter was sure to get his attention. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Sebastian didn’t want to leave her out there too long. He broke his attention away from her and began to concentrate. He wasn’t sure it would work and, if it didn’t, plan B wasn’t going to help much. He finally closed off the sight of Sorcha twirling around the grassy field and let his senses wander. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">There. He felt the tingle announcing the presence of who he was looking for. Dubhan was still inside, but the signal —if he could call it that— was weak at best. They’d have to act fast. Sebastian didn’t know the true name of the person holding him hostage, so his parlor trick wouldn’t work for finding Mr. Evil Magician. He tried to open the rest of his senses. He skimmed over Sorcha’s playful presence, Dubhan’s fading one, and found what he was after. Oh yeah, the sadistic asshole was still in residence and he was moving in on Sorcha. Part A accomplished. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">He whistled loudly to call Sorcha back to him. She surprised him by coming immediately causing him to wonder if she’d sensed the danger stalking her from the ruins. Sebastian remained hidden by the trees, using another angel technique he’d stumbled on. He could become invisible and wasn’t that just a treat. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Where the hell did you go?” Sorcha whispered. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Sebastian reappeared and chuckled as she jumped. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“You HAVE to teach me that trick!” she ordered and turned to start down the hill. “I take it you got instructions?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">He peered over his shoulder and his eyes narrowed. “I sure did.” His voice turned cold, “I hope you’re ready to fight.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Sebastian jumped as her fist connected with his arm. “Of course I’m ready to fight! I kicked your ass last time!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">He groaned; of course she would think he’d been talking to her. “I know you’re ready to fight. I was talking to the guy we’re going after.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Oh… is he here?” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">He shook his head. Sometimes, Sorcha showed moments of the carefree girl she probably used to be. Sebastian fought back the quick thought of leaving Dubhan to rot. She’d done nothing but complain about the guy since he’d met her. Sebastian had learned it was better not to interrupt her tirades. Of course, only he knew how much Dubhan had suffered for it. Not like he could clue her in though, it’d end their relationship in seconds. Sometimes, he had to remind himself why he was rescuing Dubhan though and, one day, he’d punch the guy for it. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“He’s holed up in the ruins. We’ll come back tonight.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“YES!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Sebastian laughed outright as Sorcha did somersaults and flips down the hill. He really should worry about her bloodlust, but it was so damned appealing right now. Mindful of her audience, he went invisible again and floated down the hill next to her. Yeah, so this angel couldn’t fly without his wings, but floating and gliding along weren’t so bad. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Sorcha stared into the fireplace</span></b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">, causing the flames to rise and fall. Sebastian considered it like a nervous twitch even if it was annoying in the extreme. Little flicker, raging inferno, little flicker… ugh, enough to make a guy jump out the window. He’d filled her in on his little plan and, while not completely opposed, she wasn’t very happy with him. The wound closing over his stomach was proof enough of her ire; her curses had just been the icing. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“You could have told me the plan BEFORE you decided. I don’t like playing bait and not knowing it.” Her quiet voice carried over to him.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">He rubbed the now healed spot. “I gathered, but really it was just an on the spot idea.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Her head turned, her eyes burning a hole in him. “You still could have taken five seconds to fill me in.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Well, he had no comeback for that one. He couldn’t tell her that he wouldn’t risk Dubhan’s life on her saying no. Sebastian wasn’t willing to risk saying anything that mentioned the man’s name. Somehow he knew if he did, Dubhan would die and he’d spend a lifetime chasing Sorcha over the continents.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Who exactly are we rescuing?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Bloody hell, could she read his thoughts? She definitely kept him on his toes. “A powerful Warrior is all I know. And I’ll do the rescue, you’re job is the distraction.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Bait.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Distraction,” he growled. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Her eyes narrowed and Sebastian swallowed the growl too late. “You’re Tuatha.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Was Tuatha I guess, but I never knew my parents,” he hedged.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“The growl gives it away.” She stood to check her weapons. “Don’t like the thought of me being bait?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">She was actually teasing him about it? Sebastian wanted to strangle her and change his plan. “Of course not. The guy is dangerous, but it’s the only option we have of getting in. Unfortunately, he knows me.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“How?” He winced in response. “Another can’t tell me bit, huh?” She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll take him out, you get the guy, and everyone is happy.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“And what do you do after?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“I wait for you here,” she answered in a monotone. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Um, Sorcha, I have been assigned to you and I can find you anywhere. If you even think of running off…”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“You can find me?” She interrupted, punching a hole in the antique headboard. “And when were you going to share that?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Sebastian shifted on his feet, ready for another attack. “I just did. It wasn’t important before.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“And just what kind of danger am I in exactly?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">His head shook sadly. “I don’t know, but Gods I wish I did.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">And he meant it. He suddenly could understand why Dubhan loved this woman so much that he’d given her up. It still didn’t explain why Dubhan would actually give her up, but it gave him some understanding into his only friend. Damned if Sebastian would fail him by letting Sorcha get hurt. Keeping her safe would be something he could give Dubhan and maybe one day, Dubhan would be willing to help him in return.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Sun’s almost down,” Sorcha interrupted, dropping the curtain and starting to arm up. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“You don’t have to do this…”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“I think you’ve guaranteed that I do.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Her voice sent chills down his spine. Oh yes, she was resigned to playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse. His guilt grew a little larger and Sebastian itched to do something differently. He couldn’t though, even knowing he was on a dead end road, his only choice was to keep going. He would just do his best to make sure Sorcha didn’t go down with him. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">I have really enjoyed writing out these chapters for our loyal readers at Digital Digest. The group is being reorganized to better deliver stories to you. Never fear, Sebastian’s story is far from over. He will be appearing on my blog and, someday, as his own novel- with quite a large role in the third book of the Tuatha Destiny series. I hope you’ll continue to love and follow his exploits. Again, thank you for all your support. </span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><br />
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</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">~Jennifer Feuerstein~</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/home.php#%21/pages/Jennifer-L-Feuerstein/268454072555"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Facebook</span></a><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"> * </span><a href="http://www.wix.com/feuersteinjennifer/main#%21"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Website</span></a><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"> * </span><a href="http://twitter.com/#%21/McFlat29"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Twitter</span></a><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"> * </span><a href="http://jfcrowdedmind.blogspot.com/?zx=6d5a3bf7635f604"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Blog</span></a><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Copyright © 2011 Jennifer Feuerstein</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><br />
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8540815798711152534.post-54719340432514934162011-11-26T04:00:00.000-08:002011-11-26T04:00:03.272-08:00Daria's Dating Dilemma, Part Five<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwBNqOlhf5C02X5gfnuvxePoqz1dg-VYWs5qZJXGaboyQgtrMmsAGUj3rwnAvfmXhZchUcVB3WpePkmf06-rtKrjxzAkge4MtEmsq4GfjAgSirRPoXazStJ09LEQLSSGwmH_dQ-yshPC4/s1600/DDD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwBNqOlhf5C02X5gfnuvxePoqz1dg-VYWs5qZJXGaboyQgtrMmsAGUj3rwnAvfmXhZchUcVB3WpePkmf06-rtKrjxzAkge4MtEmsq4GfjAgSirRPoXazStJ09LEQLSSGwmH_dQ-yshPC4/s200/DDD.jpg" width="152" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><b><u><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">Daria’s Dating Dilemma, Part Five</span></u></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">When we left Daria on October 26<sup>th</sup>, she was facing arrest and the loss of a potential husband… </span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Marcus made quick work of</span></b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> the charges pending against Keith and I. He also made sure someone took a look at Keith’s injuries. Thankfully, he’d be sore but not permanently brain damaged. My old college buddy was a sight to behold. A few words like co-defendants, counter suits, and departmental inquiries scared the department into dropping all charges and washing their hands of us. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">He also gave my cheeky ex a few words of caution. I probably wouldn’t see Scott for a year at least. Keith’s receptionist picked him up since Marcus had advised us not to leave together. Just in case someone got second thoughts about pressing charges, he’d said. I was surprised to see Keith’s assistant was a sharply dressed man. I shrugged and started walking away after telling him to get better soon. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Shame, I really wanted to show him my full gratitude but all my cop shows told me it was best to follow the advice of your lawyer. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Daria, wait.” I paused as Marcus’ words drifted over to me. “Would you like a ride?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Funny how two people can have parallel trains of thought, but I knew he wasn’t offering the kind of ride I really needed. Then again the thought of walking through town with blood stains on my shirt was embarrassing. I was also sure the handcuffs had given me a lovely rash. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I gripped my handbag and decided. “Sure, Marcus. A ride would be nice.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">He walked with me to his car in the adjacent parking lot. It was a nice sedan, but nothing extravagantly special like I’d expected. I slid carefully into the passenger seat as he held the door open. I remembered my rule about not flashing panties and I also didn’t want to transfer any of the blood on my shirt to the vehicle’s interior. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I buckled up as he slid in beside me and began asking questions. “Are you hungry? Feeling okay? You’ve barely said anything at all.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I don’t know what washed over me at that particular moment, but all my walls broke down and the dam burst free. That’s right—in the middle of the police parking lot, smeared with blood and drool I, Daria, broke down into a tidal wave of tears. Sobbing, body shaking tears. I clutched my handbag so tightly, my nails scratched the leather. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Marcus’ warm hand sat on my shoulder after he handed me a handkerchief. “Let it out and I’ll take you back to my office. You can get cleaned up and we’ll order some food and catch up.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“You’d really want me to stay?” I choked out the question between sobs. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Daria, you are not sitting at home alone tonight. You need a friend now more than ever.” He ignored my tears, my mascara stained cheeks, and all the ugliness that was me as he slid the car into drive and pulled out of the lot. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">The car was a manual and he drove it elegantly. My tears subsided as I watched him maneuver the clutch, gas, and stickshift through downtown traffic. I couldn’t see his feet, but I could watch his knees dance under the designer slacks. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Feeling a little better?” He interrupted my thoughts without taking his eyes off the road. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Yes,” I answered and studied his profile. Marcus was an interesting mix of Scottish and Arabian. I’d always thought he looked like an awkward tanned Scot, but now that he’d grown into the look. Wow! A highlander with a permanent tan was a yummy to the tenth degree combo. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">He turned his intense hazel gaze on me as we sped along the freeway. “What happened with you, Daria? Never saw much of you after college.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I chuckled weakly. “I didn’t like the alumni things. Mostly old people trying to remember their youth, and it creeped me out a little. Then I got busy working on the career and well, here I am.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">He nodded and shifted his attention back to the road. I noticed the smile on his profile, before his lips started moving. “And that’s working out well for you?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Never a dull moment.” The humor of the situation sank in and I chose to laugh. It was either laugh or cry and I’d already done the crying jag. Laughter always made a gal feel better even if she looked like a nutcase. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">He laughed along with me. The deep baritone warmed up the interior of the car and made me feel a little better. Marcus seemed to sense the change as soon as I stopped laughing. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><br />
“I always loved your laugh. And don’t worry, my office has a studio you can clean up in and my take out menus are there. I’ll be a perfect gentleman.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">So why did my head suddenly think <i>Damn</i>? I nodded and lowered the visor, using the mirror to clean up the majority of the makeup mess with a wet wipe from my bag. Marcus was right- I needed a friend most now. I could quell the lust and just have a relaxing take out dinner. Maybe.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">We pulled off the freeway and I was startled to see us nearing my neck of the woods. Was his office out here and I just somehow missed it? The sedan stopped as I looked out at my doorstep, and then I spotted my car in front of the house. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“What, exactly, is going on?” Years of dealing with a stalker added ice to my words. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">He held his hands up. “I peeked at your address in the file. A quick call and a tow company brought your car home while we were at the station. My office is about ten minutes from here and I thought you might like to change into your own clothes. I also thought it would give you a way to turn me down.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">There was something in his voice as he uttered the last words. In his own way, Marcus had made the ultimate gesture for me. While I was busy thinking I was with super-stalker or getting dumped on the curb, he was busy thinking I would turn him down. Interesting. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Rule Number 7: Spend a little less time thinking about me and a little more watching the guy.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I took a deep breath. “I would love to join you, but I’m not inviting you in.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Understandable. I can wait in the car, make a few calls. Do you still like sweet and sour chicken?” I nodded, surprised he remembered, and hopped out of the car. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">This was going to be the fastest wardrobe change ever. And since we were just friends, no sense on going all out with the look. I threw on my old jeans, a t-shirt from our alma mater, and washed the remaining gunk off my face. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Rule Number 8: ALWAYS wear waterproof mascara or skip it.</span></i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I was comfortable and at ease when I settled back into the passenger seat. “So, will we beat the food to your office?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">He revved the engine and grinned, “I love a challenge.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“No, you’re kidding. You were </span></b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">a racecar driver?” I laughed into my glass of wine and then dug another piece of pineapple from the cardboard container. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“For a little bit,” he grinned and grabbed an eggroll. “I wasn’t winning and winning made the money, so I gave it up and went back to finish law school.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“It does explain how easily you shifted gears on the way here.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">He paused and his eyes darkened. “You still have a thing for cars I see.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I lowered my voice, looked around, and whispered dramatically, “It’s our little secret.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">He nodded and poured another glass of wine for each of us. I was laid out on the floor, sprawled on my side with the food on a blanket between us. Not sure how to lay out the room’s furniture to the best eating arrangement, we’d agreed to try the picnic route. The plush of his carpet told me his business was doing well. Thank God the wine was white. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Dinner had mostly been a conversation about college memories, what we were each doing now, and the usual friendly banter. I’d barely noticed as the night crept in. Marcus had been right as usual, the friend route was much better than crying home alone. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“So, what was up with the protest arrest charge in your file?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I almost snorted wine out my nose. Only by the grace of my manners did I manage to swallow before blurting a loud, “WHAT?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">He merely grinned and leaned against his large desk with one leg propped up. It was the same stance he’d used in baseball. Marcus laughed, “I didn’t have time to read the specifics, but apparently you’re used to inciting riots.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“It was not a riot. At least, not intentionally.” I stood carefully and plopped into a chair. “You tried race car driving, I tried activism. As my record proves, I’m not good at it.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Marcus’ rich laughter and the wave of his hand goaded me for more. I sighed and explained how I’d tried to save a forest site home to a bird I liked. The protest I’d arranged had spiraled out of control, mostly owing to the fact that all of the men were there hoping to get laid. When the fight broke out over who would get who, the spectators (IE the foresting companies) thought violence was in the works. I was handcuffed and hauled in before I could cry uncle<i>.</i> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Marcus slapped his hand over his heart in an urge to control his laughter. I snorted unladylike and waved him on. “Go ahead, everyone has a great laugh over it.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Did your forest get saved?” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“What?” Odd, no one had ever asked me that after I told the story. They usually called me silly. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Did your efforts work?” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I grinned and walked up to him, reaching around for the wine bottle before backing away to pour. “In their own way, they did. My efforts made the news and, after the news spread, a more organized and legitimate group took up the cause. The trees are still there.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">He lifted his glass at me with a dangerous look in his eye, one that made my knees weak and my heart pound. His voice was deeper when he spoke, “Then I congratulate your successful protest.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I blinked at him and then eyed the wine bottle in my hand. How much had he drunk? I was merely buzzed by what I’d consumed. No one had ever congratulated me or called my attempt a success. In a round about way, it was. I stood taller. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“I always liked that about you.” I stumbled toward him. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“What’s that?” He asked, standing straight. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Your undying supportiveness…” I promptly crashed into his massive chest. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I would like to say</span></b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> I stumbled over my own feet and maybe I did. The truth being the wine was stronger than I thought. The alcohol winked me out in my moment of glory without robbing me of the memory of my downfall. I winced as I shoved the blanket off me and sat up. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Hangovers, the sign that something either went right the night before or…. I looked down at my fully clothed self before I continued the thought. I raised an unsteady hand to my throbbing head. Or a sign that I overindulged and made a fool of myself. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I gathered my things, swiping a bottle of water from the mini fridge on my trip around the office. I paused long enough to take two aspirin and then quickly made my escape. He was my lawyer, I’d have to see him again. But that particular morning I couldn't face Marcus or how he must now view me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I checked my phone after a few blocks of walking had me feeling better. No messages and it was almost afternoon. As if adding insult to injury, my brain chose that moment to remember poor Keith. The guy had gotten banged up rescuing me and there were no messages on my phone. None. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">When I couldn’t sink any lower, I walked into the street sign while staring at the blank screen on my phone. My phone sailed into the intersection and was promptly run over by the biggest delivery truck I’d ever seen in my neighborhood. Serendipity was a bitch.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I sank to my butt and held my head. Keith hated me, Marcus thought I was an idiot, and my only friend in the world would probably never invite me back to his house again. Hell, even my trusty stalker would probably avoid me for a while… </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">The first raindrop spattered on my nose and I looked skyward. “Really? Really!” I muttered at no one in particular. “The dating Gods hate me…”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Please return for the continuation of Daria’s journey on December 27th, only here on Digital Digest. Want to make the right move with your reading addiction? Check out our ebooks available on the Kindle and Nook or sign up to have each piece delivered straight to your Kindle for hassle-free reading.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">~Jennifer Feuerstein~</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/home.php#%21/pages/Jennifer-L-Feuerstein/268454072555"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Facebook</span></a><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> * </span><a href="http://www.wix.com/feuersteinjennifer/author"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Website</span></a><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> * </span><a href="http://twitter.com/#%21/McFlat29"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Twitter</span></a><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> * </span><a href="http://jfcrowdedmind.blogspot.com/?zx=6d5a3bf7635f604"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Blog</span></a><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Copyright © 2011 Jennifer Feuerstein</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8540815798711152534.post-62014350764216290942011-11-20T23:11:00.000-08:002011-11-20T23:11:33.947-08:00Land of the Blind (Chapter 2 -- Part II)<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 12pt;">Recap: </span></b><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 12pt;">In Chapter 2, General Kober Chiang, the new commanding officer of the reconstituted Praetorians, testifies before Parliament and receives the funds he needs to destroy Devereaux Marshall Fox. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 12pt;"> * * * * * * </span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Maria Red Horse snapped to</span></b><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> attention and executed a textbook salute as Lt. Colonel Anna Velasquez approached the door to the command center. Anna returned the salute promptly. She let her gaze linger a bit, because she shared more with Red Horse than most people. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“Please step up to the bio sensor, ma'am,” Red Horse replied, with little emotion.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Anna waved her hand over the door sensor, waiting for it to admit her to the command center of the Praetorian Force's main operations base in a large compound northeast of </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Jacksonville</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">, </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Florida</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">. A green beam played out over her palm, analyzing her fingerprints, DNA and the diametric pattern of her hand's nerves, veins and bone structure. A smooth-sounding computer voice announced that it had positively identified her and approved entry, letting the thick steel-like door slide open.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Anna started through, noticing that the guard moved crisply to a position of parade rest. She abruptly stopped and stepped partially back out of the doorway. She eyed the guard with some curiosity. It had been some time since she’d last laid eyes on the sergeant and she couldn’t miss the noticeable improvement, especially in the woman’s body. The last time they’d actually talked, Red Horse had still been recovering from the ordeal in </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Fort Worth</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“How long have you been stationed here, Staff Sergeant Red Horse?” she inquired. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“Just reassigned here, ma'am,” Red Horse answered smartly.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“I see that you’ve recovered from your injuries very well.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“Yes, ma’am,” Red Horse replied. “I’m ashamed to admit that I accepted cybernetic augmentation to do so. It’s not something my people would be proud of.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Anna frowned slightly. Red Horse was from the Apache nation, a tribe that espoused the virtues and instincts of warriors. However, cybernetic and bionic augmentation had been accepted for decades and, frankly, Anna was surprised to find some groups still resistant to the idea. After all, without the augmentation, Red Horse almost certainly would have been discharged from the Praetorians on disability.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“Is security so bad they have to put non-commissioned officers on the doors?” Anna asked, curiously, trying to switch the subject, as she moved back into the hallway to let the door close again.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Anna watched Red Horse’s face for any sign of emotion, but found none. This was starkly different from the months they’d spent together in ICU when they’d both been assigned to the same therapy ward. Anna had only survived by sheer force of will, backed up a little by her cybernetics that allowed the microcomputer in her brain to shut down certain body functions to preserve her life force. Red Horse had suffered emotional scars, along with her physical wounds. There had been the very real possibility of being permanently disabled, not the outcome she’d envisioned as befitting a proud warrior.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Anna and Red Horse had both been assigned to the same room and had become fast friends, if only because they’d needed friendship to get through the physical and mental travails. Eventually, Red Horse had been released, but Anna had stayed behind. Her body had healed nicely, thanks to the billions of nanobytes swimming through her blood stream to heal and repair the damage. But, her mental state had been a different matter. Getting herself back from the brink of madness had cost her another five years of her life.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Red Horse said nothing and that made Anna smile. The staff sergeant was good, very disciplined. She wasn't going to venture an opinion that might get her into trouble. The friendship they’d had in the hospital had been in the past; now, they were once again enlisted and officer.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“You can speak freely, Staff Sergeant,” Anna offered, leaning against the doorjamb.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“Ma'am, Major Donat demoted me here,” Red Horse replied, airs of resignation in her voice now, as if a great weight had been lifted, unhappily, off her chest. “I caught him getting favors from one of my people. A greenie.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Anna had figured as much. Being a Praetorian was a high honor and included many privileges. One was getting away with things (unofficially, that is) and Major Peter Donat was one of the unit’s worst offenders. He had purposely kept Red Horse from making rank for what had to be weak reasons. Donat was the weakest link in the Praetorian’s unofficial “Triumvirate of Evil” – a term Anna had coined years earlier. The other two included Capt. Erica Rickholts and Lt. Colonel Alec Paulius, younger brother of Leonard Paulius. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“At the end of your shift, report to my office,” Anna said. “Just ask for me in the command center and they'll direct you. You clearly belong on my staff, not with a jackass like Donat.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“Yes, ma’am,” Red Horse replied, her demeanor improving considerably.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Red Horse waited until Anna was completely inside and the door had closed before breaking out with a broad smile.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“Good afternoon, Colonel Velasquez,” a</span></b><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> young Army corporal in a standard-issue flexible black body armor suit said as Anna walked into the command center. “Colonel Mavromichalis just called in, ma’am. She and the general are on their way back from the budget meeting with Parliament. They should be landing within the hour.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">He stood at attention and handed her a palm tabulator, which, though tiny for its capabilities, showed Anna everything that had occurred on the last eight-hour watch. After Anna finished watching it, she pressed her right thumb against the small screen so that it would recognize her print and record that she had approved the information. She handed the tabulator back to the corporal.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“Thank you, Corporal,” she acknowledged. “Please inform the duty officer to alert me when the transport is fifteen minutes out. Then, have a vehicle ready to get me to the airfield.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“Yes, Colonel,” the corporal acknowledged as Anna moved off towards the main part of the operations center.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Anna stopped in the center of the room and stared at the laser chip view screen that dominated the room. Thousands of tiny lasers projected a nearly flawless three-dimensional holographic image of a Mercator map of the world. In the corners were real-time satellite views of the four interplanetary outposts, though some images were hours old because of the incredible distances they were from Earth. Anna noted that all seemed okay on the colonies on the Moon and Mars and with the numerous space cities orbiting Earth, as well as the still-under-construction Bechetta Space Station near Io, a moon of Jupiter.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“Cristo, it's enough to give you migraines,” Anna murmured as she stared at the massive screen.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The main part of the map was currently filled with hundreds of blue, red, green and yellow dots. Anna knew that the dots represented current operations and missions - civilian, corporate and military - in progress around the world. Green dots meant corporate activities such as trade ports, construction, drilling and exploration. Yellow dots stood for Federation operations, including covert activities, while red covered civilian missions like religious projects, volunteer activities and the like.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Dozens of civilians and military personnel monitored these dots. They each had separate computer consoles where they used the mentally-driven command system, interfaced via the standard cybernetic implants behind one of their ears, to keep track of every aspect of each dot. Weather reporting, news, e-mail, wireless messaging, research & analysis, language translation and, in some cases, covert surveillance could be done at each console. As operations officer, Anna had to keep the center running smoothly and react instantly to any major changes.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Anna couldn't help but notice as several blue dots disappeared off the map. She chafed at the actions, but held her tongue. The blue dots represented sightings of the Adventurer, a nickname she still hated despite its popularity with the media. Most were false, planted by Marshall Fox himself, to the chagrin of most of the Praetorian Force, which wasted valuable man-hours and millions of credits to track each false report. But, Anna also knew that one of the blue dots had to be him, so the watch was always ongoing.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Anna held back her emotions. She hadn't survived years of intense physical and psychological rehab just to lose her grip on reality now. She’d spent the last three years of psych rehab undertaking every dirty job the Praetorians could throw at her to see if her psyche could handle it. She’d not only survived them, but had excelled and come out of it more capable than she’d been before </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Fort Worth</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">. That had earned her a fast-tracked promotion to lieutenant colonel. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Anna had had enough of the map and walked towards her office. At her door, she performed the same identification ritual and waited for the artificial intelligence to open the thick security door. Once in her office and only after the door had closed did she breathe a huge sigh of relief and let her body sag against the door. It took several moments for her to gather herself, push herself upright and make her way over to her desk. She fell into the ergonomically-designed chair and let its automatic massage function work away some of the tension that was giving her a massive headache.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The desk itself was sparse, little more than a metal frame around tempered glass. Set into the desktop was a rectangular screen that served as a computer, television screen and holographic projector. It wasn't much, but it was all Anna needed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“Photos, please,” she said to no one.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The artificial intelligence unit in the office responded by projecting holographic shapes out from tiny points on her desk to form three-dimensional images. Two square picture frames appeared before Anna. One featured a tanned man smiling and hugging a small girl. The other photo showed a woman who bore a striking resemblance to Anna. She’d only known her parents for eight years and had only been really cognizant of them for five years when her mind could actively hold memories. Five years had not been enough time, not enough time at all.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">It took a few moments before she realized she was crying again. She had told herself not to do it, lest the Praetorian psychiatrists think she was on the verge of another breakdown. She couldn't help it, though. The memories stirred up by the photos were still very raw. They also served to help drive the all-consuming passion that kept her going even in the darkest of times.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“You bastard, Fox,” she muttered as she wiped away the tears. “You killed them all. Before I kill you, you are going to tell me why.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Mavromichalis couldn’t understand how</span></b><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> Chiang was still awake. They’d each had their share of steak, potatoes and fresh vegetables and the colonel had found it difficult to hold off sleep on the flight home afterward. Apparently, Chiang had been up and about for the entire trip from </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Ottawa</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">, </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Ontario</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">, home of the Federation Parliament. She’d found out that he had been making constant communications with contacts at the Pentagon in Washington, D.C., as well as calls to allies around the world. The man seemed full of boundless energy and she had to admit that he would need it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Chiang looked up from his computer console station and saw that his adjutant was awake. He motioned for her to join him. As he did so, he turned the computer screen slightly so that she would not be able to see it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“You might as well know that I was not in favor of you staying on as my executive officer,” Chiang said, bluntly, when Mavromichalis plopped herself down into the chair next to him.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Wow, really? I hadn't noticed</span></i><span style="font-family: Georgia;">, Mavromichalis said to herself, while avoiding the obvious bait. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“That said, we might as well strike a truce,” Chiang followed up, as he completed a computer command and cut off communications. “We have a huge job ahead of us if we are to get the Federation back to the top of food chain, so to speak. First and foremost is a show of strength to our allies.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Mavromichalis started to ask about the allies, but cut herself off. She was so poor in the area of politics, she didn’t know if her new boss was referring to friends inside the Federation or outside. She just sat back and listened, pretending to know what Chiang was talking about.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“We both know that most of my first one hundred days will be consumed by administrative functions, training and readiness reports,” Chiang stated, with some chagrin. “But, we also have to be proactive. We need to ramp up our intelligence capabilities, if only to avoid the problems of the past.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“I completely agree, General,” Mavromichalis acknowledged. “I have actually instituted several changes with our verification process that should go a long way toward accomplishing that goal.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“For this reason, I am putting the intel upgrades under the auspices of Lt. Colonel Paulius,” Chiang said, basically ignoring his exec. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Mavromichalis burned at the slight, but even more so at the thought of Alec Paulius heading up something so sensitive. Though it would mean the man would be out in the field more and out of her hair, he would also be in close contact with allies. She knew that might ruffle a lot of feathers. And it would be worse if Paulius’ other two sycophants – Rickholts and Donat – got involved. She was finding even more reasons to rue the selection of Kober Chiang to head the group that she had painstakingly rebuilt.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“Is there anything specifically that we are looking for?” she asked. “Or someone?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Chiang looked at her with stern eyes. He clearly didn’t like her tone, but knew he couldn’t do anything about it. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Yet</i>.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“You know exactly who I’m talking about, Colonel,” the general snapped. “I need a complete workup on someone to lead a special mission.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“Special mission for what, sir?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“Colonel, you’ve done a great job rebuilding the Praetorians into the most effective fighting force in the world,” Chiang stated. “On paper. However, until the unit proves itself, there will always be questions. And we both know exactly who they have to prove themselves against.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Great, just great</span></i><span style="font-family: Georgia;">, Mavromichalis rued. She wanted the chance for her people to prove themselves and she had gotten it. However, she was expected to take on a ghost, a man who had been seen all of five times in the last eight years. She couldn't even vouch for the accuracy of those sightings. She didn't know how she could be expected to handle the logistics of getting an attack force ready to go, to take on a man who defied logic.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“General, we’re preparing our final approaching into the airfield,” the pilot’s voice announced over the intercom.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“I’ll need that list as soon as possible,” Chiang said, before returning to his computer. “At the very least, I will need an extremely capable leader for the attack force. I need a complete workup on Fox, on his past missions, characteristics, tactics. We need to find that one thing that will finally give us an edge on him. Like verifying exactly what he looks like.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">This is how it begins</span></i><span style="font-family: Georgia;">, Mavromichalis fumed. She thought the general sounded as if he wanted to sideline Velasquez and herself. She knew that it would give him free reign to do whatever he wanted. She just hadn’t quite figured what Chiang really wanted.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">She did, however, like the idea of sidelining Velasquez. She liked the woman and admired her tenacity in coming back from physical injuries that would have crippled much stronger people. However, she just wasn't fully convinced that her subordinate had recovered psychologically, which is why she had not endorsed the fast-track promotion. Someone in the Pentagon had, though, and she hoped it didn't come back to sting them all.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">She started to say something, but held her tongue as the transport began to hover, transferring the output from its fusion engines to its landing baffles. The plane descended slowly and gracefully, touching down on the tarmac so softly she didn’t even know the procedure was over until she heard the engines dying out. She glanced to her left, looked through one of the windows and saw Anna Velasquez standing next to several armored fusion vans parked next to the airfield control tower.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“No gripes, Colonel,” Chiang snapped. “Just get it done.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“Yes, sir,” Mavromichalis grumbled as she undid her seat harness and got up. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Chiang glanced up and watched her move forward toward the exit. When he saw her exit the plane, he returned his gaze to his computer console. He knew she’d be talking to Velasquez out on the tarmac. He didn’t care what she did, as long as she carried out his requests and didn’t get in his way.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“Get me Paulius,” Chiang ordered the plane’s pilot. “Paulius? Get your bags packed. You, Rickholts and Donat are taking a trip. The plan is on.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia;">To be continued...</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> For more exciting tales, check out the latest issues of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=digital+digest&x=0&y=0">Digital Digest</a> at Amazon.</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Gregory Marshall Smith</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror author</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Hunters-ebook/dp/B005HAA7AQ/ref=sr_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1315210633&sr=1-3">Hunters</a> <a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/81518">They Call the Wind Muryah</a> <a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/81488">DarkTidings</a></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=8540815798711152534&postID=3600575206287657520">Crawl</a> </b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Copyright © 2011 Gregory Marshall Smith</span></b></div><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8540815798711152534.post-17747311612203278042011-11-20T06:00:00.000-08:002011-11-20T06:00:01.513-08:00Finders Keepers: Tempted - Chapter Eight<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<b><i><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Content Advisory: sexual intercourse, coarse language<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Recap: </span></b><i><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">In Chapter Seven, disaster strikes for Demonica’s lingerie line and she’s called out of town. Her relationship with Adam is tested when she learns he’s a demon hunter.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Adam stood outside the door</span></b><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"> of Monica’s house. He’d half expected her hounds to knock him over as he entered the yard but they were nowhere to be found. All of her windows were dark and when he’d stopped at the pub on his way over Danny had reported not seeing her once in the last week.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Where are you, Monica?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">He cursed himself for not calling her or at least sending a quick text to let her know why he hadn’t returned as promised. The bastards at Command had sent him right back out into the field after his check-in.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">A rock crunched on the concrete walkway behind him and Adam pulled his guns free as he turned quickly to confront whoever dared approach her door. Blake smiled at the barrel pointed in his face and Adam lowered it slightly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“What the hell are you doing here?” Adam growled.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“So,” Blake’s grin widened. “This is what all the fuss is about. Who’s Monica?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“No one and nothing. You’ll forget all about this.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Blake waved his hand in the air. “These aren’t the droids I’m looking for… Drop the bullshit. No one knows you better than me and something’s definitely off.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">He watched Blake sniff the air and knew the instant his friend picked up the scent clearly broadcasting his reason for being on Monica’s doorstep. Blake glanced knowingly at the door.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Nice. Who is she? She know what you do?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“She thinks I’m a travelling salesman,” Adam announced. “As for the other, she’s a kickass demon.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Blake stumbled back a step and Adam remembered the unfortunate run-in his partner had with a female demon three years before. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Listen Blake,” he chuckled. “She’s the good sort or I wouldn’t be here. How about you run home and tell them everything is hunky dory?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Or…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Adam growled, all pretence gone from his friendly demeanor. “I’ll skin you for being within twelve feet of her door.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Blake held his hand up. “Alright, alright. Anyone asks, the natives know nothing and you’ve found a nice local to show you around.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Adam waited until Blake disappeared before deciding the safest thing to do involved heading home and waiting to see what happened. He ran a hand down the door, wishing he could apologize, before he turned and took the long way home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Two more days passed and</span></b><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"> he had yet to hear from her. Adam worked out, bumped over every trail outside of town on his motorcycle and cleaned out the hangar, twice, to keep from staking out Monica’s house.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">He’d checked the secret cell he carried for any message from her but none came. <i>She’s a big girl</i>, he reminded himself. <i>I’m sure wherever she is, Monica’s fine</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Telling himself the trip by her house was just a surveillance drive by, he slowed his motorcycle as he drew near. Sheoul and Tartarus bounded and barked at him from behind the fence. Their presence in the yard meant the woman who cared for them had come home, finally.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Adam parked his motorcycle in the driveway and hopped the fence. He’d barely lifted his hand to knock on the door when it opened and Monica stood before him in nothing but a lacy pink bra and panties.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Holy hell....”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">She grinned and pulled him in by the shirtfront. “I’ll take that as a sign that you like it. Get in here and kiss me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">He didn’t need to be told twice. Adam dropped his helmet and jacket on the floor, kicked the door shut and hauled her against him as their mouths met in a hot tangle of teeth, lips and tongues. Before he knew it, her hands worked their way up his shirt, the material bunched under his arms as she attempted to remove the garment.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Demonica let out a small frustrated growl, the material tearing as she ripped the shirt apart and flung the shreds aside. The heat of her mouth enveloped his left nipple and he sucked in a breath.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Monica,” he moaned. “Slow down, baby.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Demonica,” she murmured against his skin. “My real name is Demonica, or Demo. Now, shush. I’ve missed you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Adam cocked an eyebrow at the top of her blonde head as she nipped and kissed her way down his torso.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Demo,” he groaned. “Not in the entryway. Please, baby. At least, let me get you to your room before you short circuit my brain with that amazing mouth of yours.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Her mouth continued its delectable path toward his waist band. The soft, wet brush of her tongue over his skin threatening to wipe away any chance he had to ask her where in hell she’d been all week.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Nimble fingers undid the button of his jeans and Adam sprang into motion. He hauled her up, belly to belly and pressed Demonica against the wall.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Stop,” he growled menacingly. “I’ve been out of my mind worrying about you all week. You didn’t call, leave a note, text… nothing. Then, when I discover you’re home, you jump me the second I walk in the door. What the hell is up with you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">She rested her head against the wall and gave him a slow, sexy smile to match the smoldering lust in her gaze. Her hips shifted against him, clearly aware of the raging erection barely contained inside of his jeans.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“An emergency came up at the office,” she admitted. “I also got an interesting email and needed some time to think.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“About?” he bit the word out. The hot and cold attitude changes were giving him whiplash.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Demonica stared at him for a moment; long enough to make him squirm and wonder what thought processes were taking place behind her beautiful blue eyes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“You know I’m a demon, right?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">He nodded and waited to see where she went with it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“The rest of your team is cool with you dating the very thing you guys hunt and kill?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Shit. Adam took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a second and reopened them to focus on her. Somehow she’d found out and denying it wouldn’t do them any good in the long run. They had agreed to give whatever they felt for each other a shot. Lying to her didn’t figure into the equation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Yes, they know. Well, Blake and Danny do. Anyway,” he waved a hand to clear the subject. “I know you’re not the same as the demons we hunt and kill. I’ve explained it to them and they’re cool with us being together.” He took a deep breath and dove in with the explanations. “The Council is in charge of my team. They would prefer I kill whoever they tell me to, but I don't kill innocent people – demon or not. I and all my teammates were born different, advanced. They've never fully explained it. We were stronger, faster, healed better. The scientists approached us and said we'd be making our country proud. They promised to make us super soldiers. Played God is what they did. They mixed our DNA with animal genes. I can't explain the science behind it, I was just a paratrooper. We don't know exactly everything they did, just what we could figure out. A group of us are rogue. We work for them but within our own rules. That's why I'm so careful with you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Most of that I’d already figured out,” she continued with the blank stare. “My source was thorough with their research. Go on…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“I've got some Tiger, wolf and who knows what else inside me.” He gathered her to him and moved them to sit in the living room. The process gave him time to put his thoughts in order. “The Council isn't good and there are members of my team that aren’t either. I'll explain more about that later.” He took her hands in his and continued, “Them messing around with us did something to our chemistry. Do you notice an alluring smell when I'm close?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">She smiled and leaned in, her lips brushing the edge of his jaw. “Is that what it is? I just chalked it up to fabulous cologne. So, what does it mean?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“It's for you. Only people like me know what it is and it indicates something very serious. It means you're the only one I'll ever want. If you can't deal with or live with that, you'll have to tell me. We get dangerous without our,” he paused, searching for the right word. “Mate – I guess you'd call it. I don't want to rush things here. I just want you to know what you're getting into. As for the guys you can trust, they'll call me by one name – Alpha. Anybody doesn't know that, don't trust them and shoot to kill.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Demo nodded as she digested</span></b><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"> the last bit of information. She’d spent all of her free time, and some not so free, thinking of him and the implications of what Kaleth had uncovered about Adam. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“I can deal and live with it,” she grinned and leaned in to kiss him. “I did a lot of thinking in New York and, I don’t want anyone else either. You’re it for me, Adam.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Good,” he murmured against her lips. “If you change your mind, they’ll shoot me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she brushed her fingers over his jaw, the light stubble prickling her fingertips. “I’m yours for as long as you want me. Now, about what I was trying to start when you came in.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">He grinned and spread his arms wide. “Go for it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">She laughed, hands sliding over his chest as she brushed her lips against his. Adam pulled her close, his mouth devouring hers and rolled her slowly beneath him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“I thought,” she panted between kisses. “You wanted me to.” Demo groaned as his mouth moved lower. “Bedroom?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">A small <i>meep</i> of surprise escaped her when he scooped her up into his arms and surged up from the couch. She wrapped herself around him, the opened fly of his jeans bumping her core with each step.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Adam traversed the twenty feet between her couch and bed in record time. He sat her on the end of the mattress and she scooted back to enjoy the show as he stripped bare.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">The thick length of his erection bobbed with each step he took closer to her. She smiled as a thought ran through her mind. His cock seemed to nod at her, silently saying <i>Yes, I’m coming for you and you will enjoy me immensely</i> as he approached. She didn’t doubt it for a second.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">He stalked her on hands and knees across the bed, the primal tiger blue of his eyes daring her to run. She stayed put, chest heaving with anticipation, body primed and ready for him to capture it, claim her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Adam pressed his body to hers. His touched fleetingly between her thighs, hard fingers against damp lace and eager flesh. Need, fierce and hungry blazed through her. His eyes burned a path over her skin, searing down to her soul and branding her his forever.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Demo gave herself up to the dizzying need burning through her. The way he touched her, more amazing than anything she could ever have imagined – until he hesitated.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Adam,” she asked. “What’s wrong?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">He growled, low and primal</span></b><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"> as he shook his head and took a deep breath. Every inhale filled his senses with her until he couldn’t deny the urge any longer. He dove in, kissing her hard as his instincts drove him. There would be no going slow for this claiming. The DNA took over and left him helpless to resist. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">The flimsy fabric of her panties ripped easily away beneath his questing fingers. Blessedly wet, hot and silky flesh parted as he sank two digits inside. She instantly clamped down around him and Adam lost it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">His cock replaced his fingers and pushed deep inside until be bumped the end of her. Buried to his balls, Adam froze, realization of what he’d just done settling in to his lust fogged brain.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Oh, God,” he stared at her, wide eyed. “Baby, I’m sorry.” He kissed her gently, suckling at the pulse on her neck as he waited for her to respond, moan, anything. “You okay?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Perfect,” she purred. Her hips rose up, grinding against him and she smiled. “Don’t be sorry. I’m okay and there’s nowhere else I want to be but right here.” Demo gently caressed the back of his neck and pulled him down for another kiss. Just before their lips touched, she whispered, “I love you. I trust you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Adam kissed her gently at first, then harder. He willed the heat back into her eyes with each sweep of his tongue over hers, each caress of her perfectly shaped breasts. Listening to her heartbeat, her breathing, he stopped thinking and let his senses and instincts take over.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Delicious,” he murmured. His tongue ran across her collarbone as his hips moved slowly between the smooth pillars of her thighs. Pushing himself up, his tongue trailed to her breast and around a nipple. His cock slipped deep as she arched into his mouth and moaned.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">The husky sound kicked his lust into high gear, his hips pumping faster with each sexy whimper. He kissed her again and buried his face in the crook of her shoulder, hips grinding with each and every thrust. Eyes closed, he could hear the racing of her heart, the catch of her breath.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Reaching down, he hooked her legs under the knees and sank deeper as he moaned her name.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Demonica,” he growled and nipped at the sensitive skin of her shoulder. She was his now, always. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Adam,” she pleaded. Her voice held a keening edge and the telltale skip of her heartbeat told him she was close. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">He thrust harder, grinding against her, his own body aching for release. She clamped down, the spasms rocking her wildly against him as she cried out. His orgasm followed on the heels of hers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Adam arched up onto his elbows, planted himself deep inside and roared as the tingle in his spine spread out to take him over. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Demo,” her name slid out on a breathless whisper. He rolled slowly to stretch her out over him and folded his arms over her while catching his breath. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Everything in the room seemed clearer, like his DNA was given an extra vitamin book. Even stroking her back he could almost feel the blood moving under her skin.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Wow, that wasn’t in the tour.” He reached down, pulling the blanket up to cover them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Hmm, what tour?” she asked and he kissed her softly. “Can we stay like this forever?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Anything you want, baby.” He felt his heart skip but ignored it. “I meant the tour about the changes the DNA did to us.” His heart skipped again, darkness encroached on his vision. Suddenly, he realized what it meant but time had run out to explain. “Shit, Demo… I’m sorry.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“So much for cuddling after,”</span></b><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"> Demonica laughed softly as she slid to the mattress beside Adam. His chest rose and fell with each breath confirming he’d fallen asleep and not died on her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Flopping onto her back, she lay beside him with a silly, satisfied grin on her face. He’d claimed her. Sure, it hadn’t gone one hundred percent as she’d expected but, he had done it and now she belonged to him forever. Beelzebub and all the other demons in line behind him could go find another heiress to harass – Lucifer’s daughter was officially off the market, boys.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">A loud bark drew her attention to the bank of windows behind her bed and Demo laughed when she looked over. Sheoul’s muzzle pressed to the glass, tongue lolling out the side as he whined for attention. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Oh, alright,” she huffed and rolled out of bed. “I’ll take you two for a run before you destroy the yard.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">The hound barked again and scrambled away to find his companion. Demonica laughed and pulled out the small notebook she kept in the bedside table. She penned a short note for Adam with her whereabouts in case he woke up before she returned. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><o:p> ~*~</o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Copyright © 2011 Danielle Gavan and Jennifer Feuerstein</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><i>Like to discuss your favorite books but don't have a relevant book club near you? Check out Facebook's <a href="http://clicks.aweber.com/y/ct/?l=J70tV&m=3gTT6BAaUOLkSZw&b=PEKxeMJNdzSCMTmukArznA" style="color: #0658b5;" target="_blank">UF Book Club</a>, complete with monthly meetings in four time zones, live on FB chat!</i></span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-CA" style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif;">Danielle Gavan</span></b><b><span lang="EN-CA" style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><br />
<i><span style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-bottom-style: none; border-bottom-width: 1pt; border-left-color: windowtext; border-left-style: none; border-left-width: 1pt; border-right-color: windowtext; border-right-style: none; border-right-width: 1pt; border-top-color: windowtext; border-top-style: none; border-top-width: 1pt; font-family: Georgia, serif; padding-bottom: 0in; padding-left: 0in; padding-right: 0in; padding-top: 0in;">Urban Fantasy and Erotic Romance Author<o:p></o:p></span></i></span></b><br />
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Ardeur-Abbey-of-Angels-ebook/dp/B005HFK7SI/ref=sr_1_5?ie=UTF8&qid=1314106844&sr=8-5"><b><span lang="EN-US">Ardeur </span></b></a></span><b><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Georgia, serif;">~ </span></b><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Tarnished-Tiaras-ebook/dp/B004NSVIMO/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&m=AZC9TZ4UC9CFC&s=digital-text&qid=1298560827&sr=1-1"><b><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1f497d;">Tarnishes Tiaras</span></b></a></span><b><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Georgia, serif;"> ~ </span></b><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Cursed-Erotic-Adventures-Sidony-ebook/dp/B004OR1S0G/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&m=AZC9TZ4UC9CFC&s=digital-text&qid=1307136361&sr=8-3"><b><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1f497d;">Cursed</span></b></a></span><b><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Georgia, serif;"> ~ </span></b><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/UnWrapped-ebook/dp/B00538M1LU/ref=ntt_at_ep_dpi_11"><b><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1f497d;">Unwrapped</span></b></a></span><b><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif;">All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.</span><span lang="EN-CA" style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">After twenty-seven hours of labor, Gabrielle Anderson delivered a tiny baby boy and then collapsed from exhaustion. </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Moments later, the nurse returned with the infant. “He’s beautiful,” she said as she handed him over.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Gabrielle cuddled the infant close for a few brief minutes before the nurse came back for him. He <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">was</i> perfect, a replica of his father. “I want to keep him with me.” God, she didn’t want to let them take him.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“He’ll be fine. He needs to be checked out and you need to be taken care of,” the nurse scolded. “You’ll have him back in no time at all.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Because she had no choice, she relinquished the little bundle.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Her parents waited somewhere outside the delivery room. She had refused to let them in while she gave birth. The idea of her parents watching her deliver a baby went beyond creeping her out. Strangers seeing her splayed wide and vulnerable were bad enough. Family was intolerable. The only one she wanted with her, Kieran, the baby’s father, wasn’t there.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Kieran had failed to show after she’d called his cell and left six frightened messages. She hadn’t planned to give birth at the hospital. Kieran was supposed to take her to a doctor he knew who would deliver the baby, but Kieran hadn’t shown up. Had he abandoned her at the eleventh hour? Or had something even more sinister taken place? </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">What was going to happen when the hospital staff found out? It didn’t take a genius to know her family would go off the deep end when they learned the truth. But that wasn’t important at the moment.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Okay, honey,” a young intern said. “We need to finish up here.”</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">***</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">By the time the doctor left, Gabrielle was close to panic.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">How long did it take the tests to come back? An hour? A day? She had no idea. And then what? What would they do then? She swallowed hard. She couldn’t just lay there and let things play out.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">A light knock interrupted her worries but didn’t push them away.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Baby,” her mother gushed as she and Gabrielle’s father came into the room. Both wore big smiles despite the way they had treated her during her pregnancy. But then, she had refused to divulge the name of the father. That had resulted in her parents accusing her of being a whore and sleeping with so many boys she didn’t know which of them had sired her bastard child.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“He’s so beautiful. Tiny, but perfect,” her mother said. “Have you decided on a name? He needs a name, darling.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I’m naming him Fale.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“What kind of crazy name is that?” her father asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“It’s his grandfather’s name.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Ah, so you do know the father. He glanced at her mother. “When is he coming to see his child?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I don’t know.” She wished her parents would go home. God, how she wished it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“That figures,” her mother said. “He has no intention of taking care of his obligations. Does he?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Something must have happened. He would have come.” She tried hard to keep her lip from quivering. She was sure he would have come for the birth of his child, though he would have been forced to leave before she delivered.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Please. Do you think your father and I were born yesterday? That bastard has abandoned you and the baby.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“No. He wouldn’t do that.” She didn’t know that for an absolute fact but she had to defend him until she knew there was a reason not to. He’d always been good to her. He’d never lied or sugarcoated anything. Why would he do something like that now? He wouldn’t. </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“You’re a damn fool if you believe that,” her father said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“No. I know him better than that.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Something had almost surely happened to him. With the way things were, his life was in constant danger, even from his own kind. He was young, only twenty years old. Any number of horrible things could have happened. </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Oh God. Please let him be okay</span></i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">. </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Sure you do,” he said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Please go away</span></i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">. “I know him.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">She’d had no idea of the suffering and hardship the vampire community lived under until she’d fallen in love with one. Everything she’d been taught was wrong. Kieran was handsome, kind, and thoughtful. And he loved her.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">He tricked you once</span></i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">. A little voice whispered<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">. He had sex with you so many times you lost count when he </i>knew<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> you were fertile</i>. </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">True. But it had come from the male vampire’s instinctive drive to mate when a female was ready. And she had been ready. Could she blame him for doing what was nothing more than inborn response?</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Regardless of how it had happened, he had impregnated her with a half-vampire. And once Fale’s genetics were uncovered, he would be subject to being taken by the government. They had started pressuring mothers to give up newborn halfbreeds three months into her pregnancy with no outcry whatsoever from the human population.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">What happened to those babies? She shuddered under the blankets. What happened when an infant was taken away? As if there could be any doubt of the outcome. They sure as hell weren’t taking babies because they had nothing better to do.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">They were taking them and killing them. She was sure of it. And once they knew what Fale was, they would kill him, too, because she was exactly one week from her eighteenth birthday. Her parents would be given the choice. Not her. And her parents would not want a half-vampire grandchild.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The door burst open and a flustered looking woman in a suit bustled in. She didn’t even look at Gabrielle. She addressed Gabrielle’s parents instead. “Are you her parents?” she asked with distain in her tone.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“We are,” he father said. To his credit, he at least looked concerned.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Gabrielle’s stomach clenched. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oh, God.</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Are you aware that your daughter has given birth to a half-vampire?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">For a moment, her parents were stunned into silence. Then her mother actually swayed on her feet before her father’s arm shot around her. Their eyes drilled into Gabrielle.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The woman cleared her throat, then ignoring Gabrielle, spoke directly to her father, “As you may be aware, because your daughter is not yet eighteen, you have the legal right to make the decision of whether or not to turn the baby over to the state. It’s highly recommended that halfbreeds not be taken home by human families.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“We weren’t aware of this,” her father said, he glanced at Gabrielle with steel in his eyes.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I’m sure you can imagine the trouble this is inviting if you take the child home,” she said. “Do you want the father becoming part of your lives? I feel it’s only right to make you understand how this can hurt you within your community.” She looked down her nose at Gabrielle. “After all, your daughter has been having relations with a vampire. It won’t go unnoticed.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Her parents looked at each other.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“No!” Gabrielle said. “You’re not taking my baby. He’s mine.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Gabby,” her mother said soothingly. “This is for the best. For everyone. You can get on with your life instead of having it ruined.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I’m not giving up my baby.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Dear,” the social worker said. “This isn’t your decision. You are only seventeen years old. Your parents are your legal guardians and it’s their decision.” She looked expectantly at Gabrielle’s father.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“We don’t want him. Take him and do whatever you do with the little bastards.”</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">***</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Gabrielle awoke several hours later. After becoming hysterical, two male nurses had come and forcibly sedated her. Now her parents were gone and the room was quiet. Her baby. Her precious little baby. What had they done with him?</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Tears leaked from her eyes. God, she needed Kieran. Where was he?</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">A soft knock at the door preceded a gray head poking in. “Miss, are you hungry? You didn’t fill out a menu for dinner.” An older woman stepped into the room.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I don’t want anything,” Gabrielle said in a tear filled voice.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Child, are you the one who gave birth to the halfbreed?” She didn’t look judgmental, only concerned.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Gabrielle nodded.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Didn’t you want to give up your baby?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“No. God no. I want my baby more than anything.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“It’s not too late,” the old woman said. “At least it wasn’t when I came by the holding room.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“What are you talking about?” Ice formed in Gabrielle’s stomach.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Turn left out of here. Go to the elevator and get off in the sub-basement. Your baby is down there. Turn right off the elevator. There’s a little room at the end of the hall. Surrendered halfbreeds and kept there until someone comes for them. You need to hurry.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Heart thudding, she asked, “What happens to them?” She had to know.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“They’re picked up by Wolf Guards.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Gabrielle moaned and thought she might faint.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“The hospital won’t kill them. So they turn them over to someone who will. Your baby won’t make it out of the building. He’ll be killed and incinerated like a piece of garbage.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Gabrielle struggled from her bed and reached for her clothes. Lightheadedness settled over her, threatening to take her down. She fought to steady herself. Now was not the time for weakness. She had to save her baby.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The woman closed the door and left Gabrielle alone. </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">She managed to dress and peeked out into the hall. Would anyone try to stop her? She looked up and down the corridor. A few visitors strolled from a room and went on their way. A doctor studied a chart and an orderly pushed a wheelchair, transporting a woman holding a baby. No nurses were in sight. She found that reassuring. Wouldn’t a nurse be the most likely to question her? Yeah, she was pretty sure of it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">She slipped from the room and hurried as fast as she was able toward the elevators. She made it down the hall without incident and poked the button. The sliver doors slid open silently and she escaped inside. </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Please dear, God, let me be in time.</span></i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"> They prayer ran through her head in a continuous litany as the car slid to a stop in the subbasement. She homed in on the room where her baby had been taken.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">What if someone was in there with him?</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">She stopped, totally at a loss.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Then with a mother’s determination, she began searching for a weapon. Anything. Three large trash bins sat along the wall. She looked into the first one. Nothing but discarded bedding. The second bin contained more promising contents. After a few moments of fishing, she pulled out a broken mop handle. It wasn’t much of a weapon but she was fairly strong. Perhaps she could use it like a baseball bat and clean someone’s clock with it if necessary. She would do anything she had to. It might not work but she would try.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">As she neared the room, her heart almost stopped in her chest. A deep male voice spoke in a one sided, heated conversation. Someone on a phone? As she neared on silent feet, the unseen male bellowed, “As soon as I take care of this brat, I’m coming home for you.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Oh, Jesus, did he mean her baby? Of course he did.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mop handle raised, she charged forward and burst through the door.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">A huge male vampire stood over a little plastic bassinet. Inside, her son waved tiny arms, his little hands curled into tight fists.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The vampire still had the phone stuck to his ear. He wore the uniform of a Wolf Guard. A government vampire toady, traitor to their own kind, they were despised within the vampire community. </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The vampire shoved the phone in his pocket, raked over her with a head to toe stare, then burst out laughing. “You must be momma to this half-bred mongrel. Where’s its father? Leave you high and dry?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Get the hell away from my baby,” she hissed and raised the weapon in a threatening manner.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“You don’t really expect me to be afraid of you?” He took two steps, closing the distance between them before she even registered that he had moved. He grasped her pitiful weapon and wrenched it from her grasp.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">She lurched around him, dodging as he reached for her, and put herself between him and Fale. “Stay away from him.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“You had best remove yourself before you get hurt. I’m not into hurting human females, they’re too fragile, but if you don’t cooperate, you may become collateral damage of your own doing.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">She gaped at him, not quite sure she’d heard him correctly. “You don’t want to hurt a female but you’re more than willing to murder an innocent baby?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Only the males.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">As if that was supposed to make some kind of difference.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Females of your species serve a purpose a male vampire can appreciate.” He gave her a big smirk. “I’ve had dozens of human women and found most of them to my liking.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">She shuddered.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Don’t worry. I’m not interested in a woman in a post-delivery condition. But that brings us back to the job at hand. You want to step aside because I’m taking him.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“You’re not touching my baby.” She crouched slightly.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“He isn’t wanted in the vampire community. His father doesn’t even want him because of his diluted blood. And he sure as fuck isn’t welcome in the human community. I’ll kill him quickly and I’ll be doing him a favor.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">She screeched and charged the mountain sized killer. A second later she found herself sailing through the air. Her flight came to an abrupt halt when she hit the wall and dropped to the cold tile. Pain shot through her forearm and hip but she didn’t think either was broken. Didn’t matter if they were. She had to get up. </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The vampire stood, legs braced, apparently waiting to see if she managed to get on her feet to try again.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">She struggled to get her legs under her. Pain sent bright dots winking off and on before her eyes.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The door slammed inward, banging off the wall and ricocheting only to be shoved out of the way as Kieran launched into the room, bellowing with rage.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The Wolf was taken by surprise but only for a second. He leapt forward and plowed into Kieran. They crashed to the floor in a tangled sprawl.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Gabrielle scooped Fale from the tiny bassinet and turned to flee but she couldn’t leave Kieran. With the baby clutched to her chest, instinct urged her to run. She stood poised, ready to take flight as the combatants struggled.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Kieran was years younger, pounds lighter, and much less experienced, but amazingly, he was holding his own against the Wolf. But for how long? Anger had given him an edge but it wasn’t enough to sustain him for long. She knew this without a doubt. Already Kieran’s shirt was soaked with his blood and he was slowing.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The Wolf would kill him and take her baby and maybe kill her, too. Not that it would matter if she lost the baby and Kieran. Not if she saw them murdered right in front of her. </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">No. She wasn’t going to let it happen. Almost in slow motion she scanned the room, missing nothing. And salvation was right there waiting for her to see it. A heavy doctor’s lamp. She laid Fale back in the bassinet. He sputtered but didn’t burst into wails for which she was thankful.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">She grabbed the heavy lamp with both hands and lifted its surprising weight. She turned it over, and with the base, the business end, held upright, she charged the grappling vampires. The Wolf had Kieran pinned down and as she made her move, the Wolf sank his fangs into Kieran’s throat and ripped.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Kieran let out a yelp of pain and struggled furiously under the bigger vampire. Blood gushed from the wound in his throat. </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Now! Now. She had to strike or Kieran was done. </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Or was he?</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Despite the injury, he tore at the Wolf, ripping a great wound in his chest.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The Wolf bellowed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">She lifted the lamp as high as she could. Then brought it down. The sick thud of the base striking the Wolf’s head was loud. He froze. His eyes lifted to hers then rolled up in his head. Then Kieran’s hands locked on him and with a grunt, he flipped the Wolf off him. The big vampire crashed to the floor and lay motionless.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Kieran and Gabrielle stared at the big body. He wasn’t dead, just knocked senseless. Then they looked at each other. Kieran was covered with blood and bruises. He held a hand to the wound at his throat.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Are you okay?” she whispered.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yes. You?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yeah. I’m okay,” she said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Come on. Get the baby. We have to get out of here.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I can’t go home,” she said even as she scooped up Fale.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“You aren’t going with them. You’re coming with me,” he said. Then he looked uncertain. “I mean, I want you to. Will you come with me? Be my mate? I know I can’t offer you the life a human would, but I love you and I want us to be a family. And I can give you something no human can. I can’t turn you, but I know how to keep you young.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Where were you?” She wailed. “I needed you and you weren’t here?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I went to see about a place for us to live. I couldn’t make it back before dawn. I’m so sorry. I got here as soon as I could.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“You were almost too late,” she said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I would have been if some old lady hadn’t told me where to find you. I’m so sorry.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">He was here now though. He’d come for her and he wanted them to be a family. She wanted that, too. </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Come on, Kieran. Take me and your son home.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Matura MT Script Capitals"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">~ Nickie Asher ~</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: center;"><a href="http://nickieasher.com/"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Website</span></a><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>*** <a href="http://www.facebook.com/nickieasher"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Facebook</span></a> *** <a href="http://twitter.com/#%21/NickieAsher"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Twitter</span></a><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
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Copyright © 2011 Nickie Asher<br />
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All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"></span></div>Nickie Asherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18418200943104724033noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8540815798711152534.post-83306775244437503592011-11-14T00:01:00.000-08:002011-11-14T00:01:00.635-08:00Land of the Blind (Chapter 2 -- Part I)<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Recap: </span></b><span style="font-family: Georgia;">In <a href="http://thedigitaldigest.blogspot.com/2011/10/land-of-blind-chapter-1.html">Chapter One,</a> the Praetorians celebrated the death of Devereaux Marshall Fox at their heavily-fortified underground headquarters. In the midst of a toast, Fox waltzed in, seemingly past tight security, and almost completely annihilated one the strongest military special operations forces in the world. </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .3in;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .3in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 14pt;">By Gregory Marshall Smith</span></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .3in;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .3in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 14pt;">Chapter 2</span></u></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .3in;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .3in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Eight years later</span></i></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .3in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Blah, blah, blah, budget limits</b>.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Colonel Nia Mavromichalis sat silently, listening to the Federation parliamentarians drone on about the budget. She’d always hated these meetings because it meant civilians with no idea of what the Praetorians experienced on a daily basis got to scrutinize her budget requests. They didn’t know that it cost a lot to keep them safe and comfortable.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“Why should we fund all of this blah, blah, blah,” another voice seemed to say, as the colonel barely refrained from rolling her eyes and tried to look somewhat interested.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">This time around, however, Mavromichalis was not the one being grilled. Up until the previous week, she had been commanding officer of the Praetorian Guard. Despite her reservations, she'd done an excellent job rebuilding the ranks by recruiting new soldiers out of the ranks of the Federation’s regular Special Forces. She’d accomplished a lot in only five years, vastly increasing the force’s morale and professionalism to the point that other countries began to take notice of it again. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Fortunately, just as the command threatened to put more wrinkles around her eyes and gray hairs in her 43-year old head, she was replaced. The Joint Chiefs had finally found someone to willing to take over and, strangely enough, she was actually glad. She’d wanted to make flag rank, just to have the accomplishment on her record. If, however, making flag rank meant she’d have to continue with such a grueling chore as running the Praetorians, then she wasn’t quite sure she was up to the task anymore.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“I would also like to thank Colonel Mavromichalis for her patience in enduring these budget meetings for the past few years,” one of the parliamentarians announced, forcing the colonel to look up and fake a smile.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">At more than six feet in height, Mavromichalis sported a muscular figure that, coupled with an authoritative demeanor completely foreign to the innocence of her beauty, made her well-respected among her peers. She had many friends among the Federation’s law enforcement and military groups. However, her political skills were about as real as her smiles. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">No, she had to admit to herself, she was actually ready for a change. Too bad her bosses were not. For reasons still not fully explained by the Joint Chiefs, she had been retained within the unit as its executive officer. She couldn't imagine a worse scenario than a new commander having the old one looking over his shoulder. She'd heard plenty of rumors about the man who had replaced her and she knew that, at some levels, internal politics within the Pentagon had played a role in her retention.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“I, too, have acknowledged the valuable contributions Colonel Mavromichalis has made in rebuilding the Praetorians,” a rather professional and stern voice cut in. “Though it was an unusual move for her to stay on, I do believe that she and I can work together for a more effective unit.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Mavromichalis looked to her left for the source of the obvious lie and saw a man in full Praetorian dress uniform sitting behind a table, looking right at the parliamentarians. He was not even six feet tall, but he more than made up for his short stature with an overwhelmingly confident demeanor. His features were Chinese, which was a rarity in a world where mixing of the races was the rule. His hair had only just started to turn gray, but Mavromichalis knew that, just like herself, the gray had come from stress, not age. He was only three months shy of 55.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Mavromichalis had only met Brigadier General Kober Chiang once prior to his appointment as her successor and that had been enough. He had a forceful presence that told everyone, with a single glance, exactly who was in command. He also had mysterious eyes and the colonel shivered slightly at the memory of seeing them for the first time. The man hid a powerful agenda behind those eyes and she didn’t doubt his ability to carry through with that agenda. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Whatever that plan was, the man had begun making immediate changes. He’d brought in many of his own people from outside the force to help him run things. Mavromichalis knew a few of them and she didn’t like what she saw. A part of her said it was beginning to look more like the Praetorians were a special bodyguard for the Federation’s secret forces and not for its citizens. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“So, General Chiang, can you tell us why we need to spend so much of the Federation’s hard-earned credits on your budget?” Parliamentarian chief Annabeth Lawrence inquired. “Do we have enemies you have not yet seen fit to warn us about?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“The budget is needed to keep the Federation safe, Madam Parliamentarian,” Chiang said, after a short pause, his voice strong, deep and purposeful. “We do have many who would wish us either harm or to replace us in the hierarchy of world power.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“I understand that, General,” </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Lawrence</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> countered, but without too much concern. “But, this budget has figures that would seem to say that you’re going on the offensive. And I don’t mean going out after designer drug dealers or trying to be proactive in the espionage arena. You seem to have some grandiose plans.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“Madam Parliamentarian, I only seek to ensure that my…excuse me…<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">our</i> beloved Federation does not fall from the ranks of world power,” Chiang replied, unfazed by Lawrence’s insinuations. “I see many old problems resurfacing because of some huge setbacks we’ve had over the years. This has manifested itself into some possible scenarios.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“Okay, I’ll give you some leeway on this, General,” </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Lawrence</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> stated, leaning back in her ergonomic chair. “What are the scenarios?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“First of all, Madam Parliamentarian,” Chiang began, “let us look at some hard, fast facts of this world and, I may point out, the worlds beyond Earth. In this year of our Lord, 2150, eighty-three percent of the nations are democratic and practice free trade and open markets, although some are now trying to restrict that fact.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“Hunger and poverty are virtually non-existent, have been for decades. Yet, the World Health Organization has warned that these blights are beginning to reappear in some parts of the planet. Innovation drives the world economy, but the seven-percent annual growth of the gross domestic product has slowed to four percent. In the last Federation budget, it was actually suggested that education, which has been free online since 2040, might be taxed to offset deficits. Only a decade ago, ninety-three percent of the nations were democratic, so we have lost 10 percent to anarchy. I won’t belabor the point, but we are in real danger of reversing the trends that have helped run the world successfully for the last 100 or so years.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Mavromichalis was impressed. The general had done his homework. She could see that the Parliamentarians, many of whom had been on the verge of dozing off, were suddenly alert and listening intently to Chiang. Then again, she thought, the way their parliamentary leader was questioning Chiang, it was no wonder that the junior members were bored. Mavromichalis could picture </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Lawrence</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> rubber-stamping the entire budget and wondered if the Parliamentarian chief had had a private conversation with the Joint Chiefs before this meeting. She knew that she’d never had any budget meeting this easy when she found herself before Lawrence and her predecessors.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“In the early years of the 21st century, we had three possible scenarios,” Chiang continued. “They were ‘Prosperity, ‘catch-up’ and ‘nation in decline.’ Right now, we need to maintain prosperous sustainability. Innovation must remain highly integrated into our economy. Our education system must keep producing the men and women necessary to keep our way of life going. We must maintain or re-obtain leadership roles in production, global trade, economic growth, patents, industrial competitiveness, scientific research and development, and low unemployment. We must also continue our highly successful and profitable collaboration with industry.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“In the second scenario, we give up the leadership role and fall back on our heels. We begin funding science less, thus harming ourselves financially and health-wise. The economy slows even more and a trade deficit blossoms. In the 20th century, we experienced massive trade deficits with </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">China</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">, </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Japan</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> and </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Mexico</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">. By 2015, we had let </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">India</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> join that undistinguished group. Half of the fantastic growth we experienced for the first 50 years of this present growth cycle went to pay off those debts and remove the swords from our throat. But, we have had trade deficits for the third time in the last seven years and for the second straight year.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“So, to avoid the third scenario of abject failure, poverty and loss of not only prestige, but real power, we need to become more viable,” Chiang went on, matter-of-factly. “That means we must know what our enemies and our competitors are doing. We must protect ourselves against threats that would destroy us. People must have the time and feeling of safety to take full advantage of education, technology and innovation. Crime and terrorism cannot be allowed to interfere and neither can corruption.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The room was silent for a few moments. If Chiang thought he’d convinced the Parliamentarians, he did not show it on his face. He was always noncommittal with his emotions. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Mavromichalis thought it wise not to challenge him to a game of hi-tech poker. Still, it seemed odd of him to mention the need to root out corruption. She doubted he could have risen through the ranks so fast without accepting that human failing as part of politics.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“Okay, General, I’ll acquiesce on that point,” </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Lawrence</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> agreed. “Wow, look at the time. I think I speak for the entire Parliament when I say I see no problems approving your budget. Unless there are any other questions – oh, the distinguished gentleman from </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Stone Mountain</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> has a question. Go ahead, Mr. Ayodeji.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">An elderly man leaned forward in his seat and fixed his eyes upon </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Lawrence</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">. He seemed more than a bit annoyed that she was going to dismiss the rest of her compatriots and approve the budget without asking for any input. After a few seconds, he moved his gaze over to Chiang.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“While I appreciate my colleague’s zeal to get a budget in place,” Astin Ayodeji began, “there is one thing that has been bothering me. It has been the so-called eight-hundred pound gorilla in the room. If we give you this increased budget, what guarantees can you give me that you will be able to finally put an end to Devereaux Marshall Fox?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">At the mention of Fox’s name, Chiang became visibly moved. It was little better for Mavromichalis, whose one glaring failure had been Fox. Still, the colonel had only been fighting Fox for a decade, not thirty years as Chiang had been, thus far. His fight had begun shortly after the massacre of a village in </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Mexico</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">. She could only wonder what Chiang would do, now that he had gained control of a force that, on paper, was more than capable of dealing with the Fox.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“Devereaux Marshall Fox or, as the media refer to him, the ‘Adventurer,’ is really the main reason for the budget increase,” Chiang replied, trying to maintain a calm visage. “He is an anarchist of the worst order. Yet, to believe he is merely some crackpot with an inferiority complex would be to commit a grave blunder, much as some of my Praetorian forebears once did. He is one of the most capable, most technologically savvy and most dangerous men alive today. And I don’t think I would be out of line by saying that he may be one of the most dangerous men who ever lived.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Mavromichalis couldn’t argue against Chiang’s assertions. She’d gone up against Fox on two occasions, springing what should have been textbook ambushes on him. But, it appeared Fox had the same textbook for he managed to spring the traps early and shoot his way clear. For reasons not even the Federation's best intelligence and scientific minds could figure, Fox had taken a lot of punishment and had given nothing but grief in return.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">She had made locating Fox a major priority during her time in command, though finding him was one thing. Stopping him was an entirely different ball of wax. She still shivered at the memories of all those funerals she'd attended back in </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Fort Worth</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> when the Praetorians' greatest achievement had come smashing back in their faces.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“Does this man hate his own country so much?” Ayodeji asked. “I know that he has helped many in my mother continent, but my people have paid a high price for it. What exactly does he hope to gain by his actions?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“Despite all of our best intelligence and our best psychological profiling, we really do not know that much about the man and what his motivations truly are,” Chiang replied, coolly. “Even after thirty years, I feel that he is still a complete stranger to me.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Mavromichalis cringed at her new boss’ use of the word “intelligence.” Intelligence had failed miserably in just about every action to hunt down Fox. It had failed abysmally eight years when Anna Velasquez had gunned down a former Federation Marine named Charles Bedard, having mistaken the man for Fox. That he had been secretly working in </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Africa</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> in some of the same areas as Fox was what put Anna on to him, but, as an investigatory committee had later learned, the man had been helping deliver badly needed food and medicinal aid to villagers affected by a civil war. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Mavromichalis realized that glitch had been bad enough. What happened afterward was worse, for Marshall Fox had simply walked right past the main gate of the naval air station in </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Fort Worth</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> without anyone even sensing something was out of place. He'd used some unknown device to knock out mansion security, allowing him free access to more than 200 unarmed men and women. She still hadn't figured out how to guard against someone who could do all that.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“Well, General,” </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Lawrence</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> concluded, “it seems that this will be all. We thank you for your cooperation. We will discuss the budget, but I think I would not be showing favoritism by saying that I foresee no special obstructions. Now, I’m sure we’re all starving and, if you and your staff will join us in the dining room, I can promise you something much more delicious and filling than RDA shakes.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.3in;"><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia;">To be continued Nov. 21, 2011. For more exciting tales, check out the latest issues of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=digital+digest&x=0&y=0">Digital Digest</a> at Amazon.</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Gregory Marshall Smith</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror author</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Hunters-ebook/dp/B005HAA7AQ/ref=sr_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1315210633&sr=1-3">Hunters</a> <a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/81518">They Call the Wind Muryah</a> <a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/81488">DarkTidings</a></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=8540815798711152534&postID=3600575206287657520">Crawl</a> </b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Copyright © 2011 Gregory Marshall Smith</span></b></div><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.</span><br />
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8540815798711152534.post-53696250717459755402011-11-13T06:00:00.000-08:002012-10-13T12:32:10.873-07:00Karen Marie Moning's Fever Series, the Review:<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUZWi3I40gY1sc7ksL73T1D3_NEpWwBcZMku6sA2XGMQh4-1CUKzKNFqTUi445dDAa_A91RmzYYXs2epzOvQiHGTAFefxSdHnJok7sqSjL_Z5M-V-9kAZOdBqAZ5xkXkjsygGCt6Fd2-4/s1600/feverseries.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="145" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUZWi3I40gY1sc7ksL73T1D3_NEpWwBcZMku6sA2XGMQh4-1CUKzKNFqTUi445dDAa_A91RmzYYXs2epzOvQiHGTAFefxSdHnJok7sqSjL_Z5M-V-9kAZOdBqAZ5xkXkjsygGCt6Fd2-4/s400/feverseries.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b><u><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">A Review of <i>Karen Marie Moning’s Fever Series</i></span></u></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">Jennifer Feuerstein</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">The books on <a href="http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=Fever+Series&x=0&y=0">Amazon</a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">Okay, so this Jester Review is going to be a little different. I know there’s a lot of rave attention for this series out there and I had a few people ask me to review it. Honestly, in my humble opinion, it just cannot be done on an individual book basis. If you’re going to read one, you’re going to read them all. Therefore, this review will be a little longer than the average. That being said, let’s jump in…</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;"><a href="http://www.karenmoning.com/kmm/novels/fever-series.html">The Fever Website</a> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">Darkfever</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">Bloodfever</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">Faefever</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">Dreamfever</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">Shadowfever</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">The Fever Series is a departure from Ms Moning’s usual material. It currently consists of five novels and I’ll talk about each a little bit later. This story line is dark and twisted, definitely not your average paranormal romance. The romance part is more an undercurrent pulling you in without realizing the shore is drifting further away. It is also a first person narrative, which is an interesting spin for a series so dark. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">The books’ highlight is the transformation of the title character MacKayla Lane. Certainly not the typical heroine, she has flaws that the books readily use to sweep the rug from under you. I did notice some of her introspections could get a little lengthy or repetitive at times. Did that stop me, hell no! The entire cast of characters is worth mentioning as well-developed. I’ll leave the interesting journey of learning about them up to you. –I’m a stinker that way- The Fever series has a few little stumbles in the beginning, but the ride is definitely worth overlooking those. It’s a rollercoaster of emotions that will have you jumping, crying, and pacing the room like Barrons in a temper. At one point, I called a friend in a panic I had reacted so vividly to what I’d read. For me, this is the mark of a good book. I can forget everything around me and become engrossed in the world the author has painted… and boy was I ever engrossed!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;"> A few words of wisdom: Have all the books ready. Trust me; you’re not going to want to run around finding the books once you start. The second thing I can tell you- If you need to get to bed, do not read the last chapter of <i>Dreamfever</i>. It will only suck you in to reading the first three chapters of <i>Shadowfever</i>. Not like that’s a bad thing… unless you have to work in 5 hours.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">Darkfever</span></i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">: The first book wastes no time at getting you hooked on the series. Poor MacKayla is tossed into confusion so fast, it’ll give you whiplash. Her humor and way of coping will keep you laughing and the plot twists will keep you guessing. All while the darkness stalks you…</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">Bloodfever</span></i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">: For me this book was more interesting because it kept me guessing about the side characters. Seeing them from MacKayla’s ever-changing point of view kept me wondering just who was who. Like those mystery movies where you keep changing your mind about “who done it”. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">Faefever</span></i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">: Just when things get kind of predictable and you’re screaming “the Butler did it”, Ms Moning gives us this book. In essence, it’ll flip everything you <i>thought</i> you knew on its head and turn the tables on MacKayla. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">Dreamfever:</span></i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;"> Definitely the darkest and most erotic of the five novels, this one will have you questioning just what you’ve gotten yourself into. As I said before, if you have something to do or somewhere to be, stop before the last chapter. To be on the safe side, stop before the last two. Once you start those, you’re not going anywhere.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">Shadowfever:</span></i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;"> This one was not my favorite of the group. It tries to bring everything together and a lot of it ends up being very confusing and almost too much to learn. I did enjoy Mac’s walk on the dark side… but that would require too many spoilers to explain. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">Overall, for the entire series: Five out of Five Jester Hats! Yes, this is a “run people over and toss them out of your way to own every one of these books” series. And once hooked, you’re probably not going to be doing much besides reading them. The week it took me is pretty much a blur in my memory… as witnessed in the five hat rating. And the fact that I won’t loan them out… </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">There is much more I could say about this series, but I don’t want to take up the space especially since I could do a week long review… If you have questions or would like a more detailed review/opinion, please feel free to comment or email me. I’m always happy to discuss the exploits of my bookworm addiction. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">~Jennifer Feuerstein~</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/home.php#%21/pages/Jennifer-L-Feuerstein/268454072555"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Facebook</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;"> * </span><span style="line-height: 150%;"><a href="http://www.wix.com/feuersteinjennifer/author"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Website</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;"> * </span><span style="line-height: 150%;"><a href="http://twitter.com/#%21/McFlat29"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Twitter</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;"> * </span><span style="line-height: 150%;"><a href="http://jfcrowdedmind.blogspot.com/?zx=6d5a3bf7635f604"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Blog</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;"></span></span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8540815798711152534.post-72968352539295758042011-11-06T04:00:00.000-08:002011-11-06T04:00:05.423-08:00Story of Sebastian, Chapter Five<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVuvmdg1F4nYOZsN2H0etP8lp43P3dIJeb3NGMjFf7Oh7A2lSLyz84t9Ah2LbZStq5AunvXJX4qx5S5jgMxZANW1puHv00BL01kys1BU4rxB4yVv5Do3NiP6mGcK5GTf94HHuGwDX4Vb8/s1600/Sebastian+art.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVuvmdg1F4nYOZsN2H0etP8lp43P3dIJeb3NGMjFf7Oh7A2lSLyz84t9Ah2LbZStq5AunvXJX4qx5S5jgMxZANW1puHv00BL01kys1BU4rxB4yVv5Do3NiP6mGcK5GTf94HHuGwDX4Vb8/s200/Sebastian+art.jpg" width="133" /></a></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><b><u><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14pt;">Story of Sebastian, Chapter Five</span></u></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Features adult language.</span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">When we last saw Sebastian on October 2<sup>nd</sup>, he’d found Paul’s target and was preparing for his first fight as an angel.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Sebastian found a quiet spot</span></b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">, out of sight of his new companion. He didn’t want to scare her or make her think he was inept. He had a feeling she’d be more bothered by the latter. He wondered how to find out about his powers and settled for testing his old skills first.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">He concentrated on trying to do all the things he could before his death. Thankfully, they all seemed to work. Not so thankfully, they only worked as well as they had in his first life. Sebastian rolled his shoulders and shook out his hands. Since he’d never bothered to practice them, they weren’t his best option. He wasn’t going to be much help this way.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Gods, he wished he had a sword. Sebastian choked back a startled cry as his sword appeared in his hand. He twirled it around, comforted by the familiar motions. He concentrated again and it disappeared. He took a calming breath and puzzled over this new development. Maybe the thought had triggered it?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Sword,</span></i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"> the word rattled in Sebastian’s brain and he watched as it appeared to grow out of his hand. So, the weapon was tied to his essence somehow, meaning he’d always be armed. The thought was reassuring. He practiced a few more times until darkness began to close in. Even though magic wasn’t his strong skill, he was able to summon the sword quickly when he’d finished practicing. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Sebastian marched back toward the fire and the girl next to it. Sorcha looked up as he approached. “You okay?” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Just getting prepared,” he hedged as he sat again.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“For what?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“You seriously think I’m just going to watch you battle who knows how many of those things?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Maybe you should watch and learn,” she grinned. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Damn, she was really looking forward to the coming fight. Sebastian wondered what made her eager as he watched Sorcha stoke the fire. When she smiled wider something rang out in his head, begging to be acknowledged. He pushed the memory aside, wanting to focus on the fight ahead. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Sure enough, the shadows moved in around them. So intent on tracking them, he barely heard her whispered order not to move. Right, they were supposed to be clueless humans. His sword hand itched and Sebastian found himself wanting to do battle as much as she did. Old yearnings for blood and battle welled up and demanded release. Judging the movements around them, there were definitely a lot out of dark ones to unleash his frustration on. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Careful to use only his gaze to track them, he watched the shadows creep closer and tighter around them. Sebastian’s focus returned to the woman across from him, noticing she observed them with the same skill. One moved close to smell her and he wondered exactly how long the bloody woman would wait to strike out.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Sebastian’s eyes narrowed as a claw sifted through Sorcha’s long red hair. The woman was definitely crazy. Before the thought finished, her short sword snaked around and the clawed hand fell to the ground. Unearthly screams lit the air—the dark ones’ battle cry—and Sebastian stood to pounce. The sword’s appearance at his side was instinctual and immediate. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">He needn’t have worried. Sorcha held her own against five enemies as he was attacked. Sebastian fought like a madman, ignoring the knowledge that he couldn’t be killed. Dark one’s claws were poisonous and he couldn’t run the risk of being incapacitated. Not when Sorcha’s life hung in the balance. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Sebastian dropped a dark one with a thrust of his sword, kicking the pieces into the fire. The flames rose with the addition and the shadows shrank from it. He quickly killed another one and added it to the fire. Even the small light would be enough to create a safe zone. Who knew Grylocks were so flammable? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Sorcha’s yell cut off his smirk. “You’re scaring them off, you idiot!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">He watched as the fire died suddenly, under her influence no doubt. The woman really was nuts, a walking death wish. His eyes adjusted to the light of the semi-full moon above them. Sebastian scrutinized the battle as her form disappeared and reappeared among the remaining shadows. She had raw talent and senseless luck on her side, but she needed some more practice. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">After dispatching his last opponent, he admired her drive. Sorcha never surrendered and never seemed to tire. Sebastian finally broke through and started fighting at her back. They mirrored each other’s movements, the dance continuing until the shadows stopped attacking. Then the fire flared back to life, a bonfire in the desert. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Sebastian took in her smiling face and shaking arms. Sorcha’s panting proved she was winded, but still she moved methodically to study their perimeter before resting. Abruptly, she jumped up and let out a shout of triumph. Sebastian’s eyebrows rose as she danced a victory lap around the fire. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Happy much?” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">He hadn’t realized he’d spoken until she stopped and blushed. “Sorry, I’m not used to an audience. I’ve been doing this alone for so long.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Sebastian felt like he’d been slapped in the face. The memories he’d ignored earlier rose unbidden and uncontrollable. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Meeting Dubhan, fighting beside him, and Dubhan saying he’d been alone a long time. Dubhan drunkenly rambling about a woman with red hair and green eyes. Dubhan staring up at him from a dungeon. “Just get yourself out of here and find Sorcha…Sorcha, tell her—shit— tell her I messed up okay. Tell her I’m a rotten fucking person and she deserves a whole lot better…”</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Sebastian’s head rolled on his shoulders. He moved to a spot clear of bodies and dropped his ass into the dust. His last few minutes of life were still foggy, but why hadn’t he put two and two together when Paul had ordered him to find Sorcha? He groaned—because Dubhan had only used her name twice in all their years together. Maybe it was a different girl?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Sebastian thought over everything he knew about both of them. Her fighting style was almost identical to Dubhan’s and she used similar weapons and tactics. Dubhan must have noticed her real talent and trained her. She’d settled into cleaning her weapons, completely ignoring him, and even that routine reminded Sebastian of his only friend. She had to be Dubhan’s Sorcha—there were too many coincidences.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">An idea formed in his mind and Sebastian smiled at her. She might be the damnation of him, but maybe, just maybe, she could be Dubhan’s salvation. Sebastian knew he had to move quickly before Paul chimed in with orders. The plan was sound but missing a timeline. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">First up, Sorcha needed more training. Raw talent and a few tricks wouldn’t defeat the dark sorcerer holding Dubhan captive. Sebastian acknowledged he still had to learn about his new gifts. Not to mention, figure out the rules of the game he was playing. Good thing rules always had loop holes. The trick would be finding them in time. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Sebastian felt a shiver of awareness and glanced up to see her looming over him. “Headache?” she asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">He shook his head, trying to avoid the choice between lying and explaining.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Message from the Gods?” she asked sarcastically.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">A slow grin spread as his plan got a jumpstart. “Hard to get anything by you.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Really?” She quickly hid the excitement. “I wasn’t sure how it worked.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Yep. We need to get a move on. How do you prefer to travel?” Sebastian looked around. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Sorcha began moving and motioned for him. Sebastian followed her over to an old jeep on the edge of camp. As she patted the seat, he groaned. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“What, no love for antiques?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Has this thing run since WW2?” Sebastian thought it came right out of a warzone.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Have some faith.” She tied a bag down in the back and pointed to the passenger seat. “Hop in and tell me where to go.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Sebastian held on for dear life as the thing bounced over the rough trails when she broke the silence again. He asked her to repeat it because he wasn’t sure he heard right. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Sorry, I was talking out loud,” she answered. “I like to spend my driving cussing out the son of bitch that got me in this predicament.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“What son of a bitch? What’d he do?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">She shrugged and turned hard to avoid a boulder. Sebastian was pretty sure he left his stomach behind, the simple lap belt digging into his gut as the jeep righted itself. He silently prayed they hit roads soon. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Sorcha swerved again. “Men are fucking bastards! Love you, leave you, and tell you it’s for the best. How the hell is a broken heart better?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Sebastian wisely kept his mouth shut and let her carry on with her tirade. There was certainly no love lost for Dubhan. He’d have to be careful to leave his friend’s name out of the discussion. At times though he wondered if Sorcha was trying to convince herself of everything she ranted. Maybe all wasn’t lost. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“So what’s your story?” She turned her attention to him. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Not much to tell. This is a recent change for me, still learning. I do know I need your help.” He answered as honestly as he could. “I’m just kind of doing this as I go.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“So where exactly are we headed?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“We have to work our way to Ireland. Your first mission is there.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Why do I feel a ‘but’ coming?” She asked. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“You need training.” Her icy stare would have killed him cold if someone hadn’t beaten her to it. “You’re good, but you’ll need to be better.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Fuck. Off.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Sebastian went back to being quiet, thankful when the tires slid onto asphalt. This was going to be a barrel of fun. It was obvious she would be super accommodating and help him out of the goodness of her heart. He kicked the rusty floorboard as his inner sarcasm burned, but Sebastian remained silent. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Don’t kick the jeep. It likes to kick back…” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Sebastian barely held on as she sent the jeep into a series of swerves and donuts. Somehow he knew she wanted to launch him out of her rust bucket and he refused to get airborne. He fought the urge to leap from the vehicle and kiss the ground when the tires finally stopped squealing.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"> Instead he smiled calmly back at her. “Feel better? You still need more training.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“You’re going to be hard to get rid of, aren’t you?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“You’ll grow to like me.” He winked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Great.” She snorted as she slid the jeep back into drive and slammed the gas.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">It’d been weeks since</span></b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"> <b>he’d</b> first found Sorcha and Sebastian was worried. He hadn’t heard back from Paul yet and he knew the fucker wasn’t dead. All the rules of servitude still applied and he was pretty sure they would have lifted if Paul died. Sorcha had greatly improved on her fighting and he knew it was more to spite him. He didn’t care the reason, he wanted her progress. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Are we done on this boat ride from hell yet?” Sorcha’s head popped back up over the railing. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">He hid a smile. Sorcha, it turned out, was not very seaworthy. “We’re almost there.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Her head nodded once before it disappeared again. The sound made Sebastian’s own stomach churn and he stepped back a few paces to stare into the horizon. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Don’t worry, we’re coming,” he mumbled under his breath. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Can’t we just shimmer the rest of the way?” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Shimmering was what her people called moving through space. Sebastian almost took pity on her. Almost. It was sort of karmic retribution for the trouble she’d been. Every time they’d trained, she’d tried at least once to kill him. Shamefully, he liked her resolve.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Please,” she pleaded.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Sebastian sighed and explained it again. “Then we’d be missed on the boat. This was your idea after all.” His reminder earned him another dirty look, comical with the green cast to her skin. “I’ll see if I can find you some crackers.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">The mere mention of food had her lurching over the side again. Sebastian went to look for something she might be able to keep down. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">The captain bumped him and stopped. “Sorry. Your sister still not on her sea legs?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Sebastian grinned at the ruse. Being siblings gave them the excuse to bicker constantly. “Only if her sea legs have a permanent place at the boat’s rails.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">The captain nodded. “Tell the cook I sent you to the kitchens. Get the poor girl some ginger ale and crackers. I’ll see if the medical staff can send something to her room.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">He knew the captain meant sedatives or anti-nausea medication. Usually Sebastian would have turned it down with the danger they faced, but he was willing to knock her out with a hammer at this point. Sebastian shook the man’s hand and thanked him, turning to retrieve Sorcha from the edge. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">He looked around and didn’t spot her. If she shimmered or disappeared off the side of the boat, he was going to strangle her. Thankfully, Sebastian hadn’t informed her that by thinking of her he could find her. He hurried to the location, worried she wasn’t on the move. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Sorcha was passed out in a deck chair, her skin a blue-green shade. The poor girl was probably freezing and dehydrated. Sebastian shook his shoulders out and picked her up carefully, nervous when she didn’t stir. Noticing her chapped, dry lips for the first time, he felt like a bastard. He was really just using her in this little side trip and he didn’t like the new feeling of guilt. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Afraid to leave her alone too long, he carried her back to their little room and phoned the kitchens instead. As he studied her breathing, he began to wonder if Paul was leaving them alone long enough for Sebastian to form an attachment to the little chit. It would be diabolical enough. Let the hunter start liking the prey and then order him to kill her. The worst part—Sebastian knew he couldn’t disobey a direct order. Gods, this was a new kind of hell.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Return for the continuation of Sebastian’s story on December4th, here on Digital Digest. For more fantastic reads, check out our ebooks from <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Digital-Digest-Issue-II-ebook/dp/B005F7INH0/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1316395256&sr=1-2">Amazon </a>and <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/digital-digest-volume-i-issue-ii-danielle-gavan/1104564993?ean=2940013154322&itm=7&usri=digital%2bdigest">B&N</a>! </span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">~Jennifer Feuerstein~</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/home.php#%21/pages/Jennifer-L-Feuerstein/268454072555"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Facebook</span></a><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"> * </span><a href="http://www.wix.com/feuersteinjennifer/author"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Website</span></a><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"> * </span><a href="http://twitter.com/#%21/McFlat29"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Twitter</span></a><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"> * </span><a href="http://jfcrowdedmind.blogspot.com/?zx=6d5a3bf7635f604"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Blog</span></a><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Copyright © 2011 Jennifer Feuerstein</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8540815798711152534.post-994883689210537022011-10-28T06:14:00.000-07:002011-10-28T06:14:01.080-07:00<span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:georgia;">Hunt or Be Hunted</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">By</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Rachel Lynne<br /><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Ray Henderson accepted his beer from the bartender and rolled his eyes at the tour guide’s spiel. What kind of moron bought that load of bull shit? He smirked as his gaze fell on Chrissie’s enthralled face. Apparently, morons like his wife, and, judging by the enthusiastic crowd, she wasn’t alone in her obsession with all things paranormal.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">Ray shook his head. He was surrounded by a bunch of losers. What a great way to spend Halloween. He tuned out the tour guide and examined the bar. With its rough brick walls and scarred floors, the Crescent River Brewing Company delivered on the historic and slightly creepy atmosphere conducive to ghost tours. He took a sip of beer and grimaced. Too bad they couldn’t claim the same with their microbrews; though in fairness he hated even the regular stuff so one imbued with the essence of rosemary was probably not destined to change his opinion.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">Chrissie caught his gaze and grinned, her face glowing with happiness. So much for trying to convince her that the tour was lame and they should go home. It was going to be a long night. Ray sighed and looked around for an empty seat. Judging by the capacity crowd, he was the only one who felt the beer left a lot to be desired and ghost hunting was a crock of crap. The joint was a sea of crazy costumes. The raucous crowd seemed to have been celebrating all day; in hindsight, taking a haunted pub tour on Halloween night was not such a great idea.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">Ray shoved his way through the throng as a woman dressed like a happy hooker vacated a bar stool. He planted himself in front of the big screen and tried to tune out the bat shit crazy chatter of the ghost obsessed group.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">Chrissie could take the tour without him. He snorted and took another swig of the swill masquerading as beer. Damn tour had cost him sixty big ones. She should be grateful he’d forked over the blunt because God knew he could have found a better way to spend his hard earned money.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">The sweater he’d seen at Marc Jacobs flashed in his mind. He would look great in pumpkin colored cashmere; chic and successful. Not everyone could afford cashmere, especially from Marc Jacobs, and wearing something like that would surely get him noticed. He should be manager of the WFI telecom store. Hadn’t he gone to college? An associate degree from Savannah Business University should have counted for something.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> He gritted his teeth. Damn Chrissie and her whining. He should have told her to get a job if she wanted to go on the damn tour. It wasn’t like he didn’t provide for her. Hell, she had a roof over her head, food on the table, and enough bus fare to get to the store once a week. She should be grateful.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">He blinked as a bevy of camera flashes blinded him. Ah, what the hell … he turned to see a cluster of nut jobs, his wife prominent among them, madly snapping pictures of something behind him. He scowled at Chrissie and opened his mouth, but the tour guide’s words halted the rebuke forming on his lips.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">“The area behind the bar has been the site of frequent visitations. Many of our servers and bar staff have experienced cold spots and several have reported items disappearing. One staff member, closing the bar for the night, saw a shadowy outline of a man smoking a pipe. When she moved closer to investigate, the shadow emitted a piercing scream and rushed toward her before evaporating.” The guide’s lips twisted into a faint smile. “I’m sorry to say that server gave notice that night and left the employ of Crescent River.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">Oohs, ahs, and nervous laughter erupted from the crowd. Chrissie sidled closer to Ray and squeezed his hand.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">Ray snorted. “Ya’ll believe that and I’ve got ocean front property in Iowa with your name on it.” The guide and several tour members scowled at him. Ray sneered. Bunch of idiots and gullible fools.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">He shook off his wife’s hand and tried to turn back toward the TV, but Chrissie grabbed his elbow and tugged. “Come on, Ray. They’re gonna take us upstairs!”</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">“Go on. I’m gonna watch the game.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">Chrissie’s lip trembled and tears welled in her big blue eyes. “But, you promised! It’s my birthday present …” Her voice rose with her distress, drawing the gaze of two well-dressed men sitting close by.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">Ray gritted his teeth and slid off of the stool. He could have cared less about disappointing Chrissie, but the reproach he saw in the eyes of the business men – he couldn’t risk marring his public image. You never could tell who was watching or how they might be useful someday.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">He joined the throng of ghost hunters, staying well to the back, but the guide’s words still reached his ears. </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">“Crescent River Brewing Company is located in what used to be the City Hotel. The first place to offer rented rooms in Savannah, it also functioned as the city’s post office, bank, and bar.” The thin young man adjusted his Confederate cap and grinned. “A lot of interesting characters have called this place home, which explains the lively paranormal activity we see today.” He motioned for the group to follow and walked toward the pool table area.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">Ray smirked and wondered what ‘activity’ would be produced for their benefit. From what he’d heard, the brewing company tour rarely failed to deliver thrills. A woman shrieked. Ray made his way to the front of the line in time to see a cue ball rolling back and forth across the green felt, apparently of its own volition.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">“As you can imagine, the City Hotel was a popular place for Savannahians to imbibe and that was often accompanied by a desire to gamble. The hotel became a hangout for professional card sharps.” Their guide nodded toward the pool table. “On several occasions, people sensitive to paranormal entities have reported a ‘heavy’ or menacing presence in this area and even regular patrons have confessed to seeing the shadowy outline of a human head and torso near the stairs. We’re in luck tonight because our spirit seems to be offering us a game of pool,” he grinned. “Anyone care to take him up on the offer?”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">Ray laughed. “Come on, that’s your idea of a ghost? More like an unbalanced table.” He scowled at Chrissie. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into wasting sixty bucks on this!”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">“Hey man, some of us want to be here. Why don’t you shut up?”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">Ray whirled around. “Why don’t you –“ The smart ass retort died on his lips in the face of his opponent’s size. Ray gulped. The guy could play defense for the Steelers! No fool, Ray backed down and slunk to the back of the group.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">He grabbed Chrissie’s arm, squeezing the soft flesh until it turned white beneath his fingers. “This is all your fault and don’t think I won’t make you pay for it.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">Tears formed in Chrissie’s eyes. She mouthed ‘I’m sorry’, and hung her head. </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Ray shoved her. “Get your camera out, dumb ass. If I have to be here, I want my money’s worth."<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">The woman in front of them gasped and turned around, glaring at Ray.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">“What are you lookin’ at?”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">The woman huffed and let her friends pull her away.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">Ray snorted. “That’s what I thought.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">He pushed Chrissie toward the stairs as the guide suggested they move on to explore the upper levels. Bringing up the rear, Ray was still on the steps as the guide began to point out the places of reputed spiritual phenomenon. He paused on the last step to hear another tall tale being spun for the entertainment of the gullible masses.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">“The upper floors remain unfinished after a fire in … death below—“ Ray frowned. The guide’s location, combined with the din from the bar made it impossible to make out more than a few disjointed sentences. He stepped onto the landing in time to hear the remainder of the tale.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">“According to legend, a woman was ‘sold’ as part of a gambling debt. The card sharp who won her saw the potential to earn extra income and prostituted her. From all accounts, he was a bastard who beat and verbally abused the poor woman.” The guide met Ray’s eyes. “One day he went too far and the woman snapped and fought back. In the struggle, the man fell from the balcony, killing him instantly. Several members of the staff have had encounters--”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">Ray rolled his eyes. “Great. I shelled out my hard earned dough for the ghost of a slut—“<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">“Ray, please, let the man talk!” Chrissie tugged on his arm as everyone on the tour stared at Ray, open mouthed.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">“What? I’m just sayin’ what everyone else is thinking. Everyone with a brain that is!” He shouldered past his wife and the cluster of ghost hunters, coming to a stop in the darkened hallway that overlooked the bar. He smirked at the guide and motioned for him to continue. “Let me guess, employees claim to see the ghost of the dead bimbo –“<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">“Sir, I think you should choose your words more carefully –“<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">“Or what?” He threw his head back and laughed. “Let me guess, the so-called lady will take offen—oomph!”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">Ray gasped as something struck him in the chest, knocking him back on his heels. He opened his mouth to complain, but the air around him turned frigid, turning his breaths into visible plumes and robbing him of speech.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">He squinted as a blinding ball of light filled the hall. The hair on the back of his neck rose as the light slowly glided toward him. He swallowed around the lump that formed in his throat and found his voice. “Wha …what kind of trick is this?”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">The whirl of camera motors was his only answer. His mind reeled, searching for an explanation. It was all a hoax. He’d complained about the tour being a rip-off. The staff was just getting even.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Ray attempted to move away; the response was immediate, and terrifying.</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">The freezing air began to churn, as if gale force winds were somehow whipping through the building though nothing, not even his hair, moved. Heart pounding, Ray looked across the room for help. His jaw dropped. The tour members clearly saw what was happening; and they were busy snapping pictures!<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">His limbs shook. His chest rose and fell as he panted for breath. A low moan filled his ears as the strange light encircled him. He shivered as a feeling of intense hate and rage rose within the cold air swirling around him. His teeth chattered and his stomach rolled.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">The moan turned into a wail and out of the frosty fog emerged the hazy outline of a woman. She glared at him and then rushed forward, her arms extended, hands curled into fists.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Ray scrambled backwards, hands raised to protect himself. The backs of his legs slammed against the wooden balcony rail. The spindles vibrated and then gave way. Arms flaying, he struggled to regain his balance as his feet encountered nothing but air.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">Exultant laughter filled his ears as he plummeted through the air. Eyes wide, Ray watched as his wife leaned over the rail, the bulb from her camera’s flash lighting up the night.</span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8540815798711152534.post-48960450119246391372011-10-26T06:00:00.000-07:002011-10-26T06:00:07.206-07:00Daria's Dating Dilemma, Part Four<span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeSd44wA-yZpZ-lpJHqbgqse2b68RQJFzC8OY1fj_0fQNmqL2azfSusSFNI-usGPKfp7JuSoo6qXw6WcC5ee_UVF0CBOfYhFw3LyexhphKsIj8u8fu8feHPjB-i7eYNNOmGzHf90PnRYo/s1600/DDD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeSd44wA-yZpZ-lpJHqbgqse2b68RQJFzC8OY1fj_0fQNmqL2azfSusSFNI-usGPKfp7JuSoo6qXw6WcC5ee_UVF0CBOfYhFw3LyexhphKsIj8u8fu8feHPjB-i7eYNNOmGzHf90PnRYo/s200/DDD.jpg" width="152" /></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><u><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Daria’s Dating Dilemma, Part Four</span></u></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">When we left Daria on September 26<sup>th</sup>, her first worthwhile date had been interrupted by the arrival of her ex… But will it be a total loss? </span></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Keith stared at me and I felt miserable. Frankly, I desired nothing more than to walk over to my ex-fiancé and stab him with a hundred of those cheese toothpicks. How dare Scott destroy me years after we “mutually” called it quits! </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Well, the mutual part involved finding him pumping away at another girl and me blurting out the relationship was over. Since then, he’d taken every opportunity to cross my path and try to win me back. Even telling the jerk hell would freeze before I’d rescue him from a fire had no effect. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">I took a deep breath to calm the rising anger. Losing control would only cause an explosion of my infamous temper. One flash inferno and Keith would definitely go running. I shook out my hands and gritted my teeth until calm, or a semblance of it, took over. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“I broke it off with him two years ago. After I found him in bed with another woman.” I explained for Keith and then turned. “Funny, Sam, wasn’t she a friend of yours?”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">The other woman was Sam’s little sister, and she clearly remembered her part when she turned white and hightailed it for the kitchen. She was now blocking the only other means of escape unless I jumped out an open window. I rolled my shoulders and tried to breathe while the introductions of my ex continued around the room. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">A hand grabbed mine and squeezed. “He still works you up?” </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">I frowned. “I have no feelings for Scott, except annoyance at him for not leaving me alone. Two years and he still can’t take a hint.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“You must be special then.” He squeezed my hand again and I wanted to kiss him silly. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">I don’t know why I said what I said next. I do know I’d come to regret my choice of words. “Just keep him away from me and everything will go splendid.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Everything did go well, except</span></b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"> for the occasional rumor or baited glance. I was used to those and shrugged them off as par for the course when hanging around this crowd. I counted down the moments until I could make my escape and something told me Keith knew it. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Maybe we could skip out and get some coffee?” He offered from next to me, causing me to grin widely. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“I would love to. Say after this round?” He nodded and we went back to playing the game. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">I was excited to leave. Playing the perfect guest while everyone talks about you was exhausting as hell. Didn’t help when every one of Maggie’s friends took Scott’s side in the equation. I remembered overhearing her tell Pat how I should have sucked it up and stuck it out since Scott was the best thing I’d ever find. I’d run crying to Pat, upset since—in a way—Scott had betrayed both of us. We’d known Scott for almost as long as each other. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Mental Rule Number 6: Do NOT date childhood friends.</span></i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Remembering her heated words brought my temper to a head and I bolted off the sofa uncontrollably. I looked down at Keith and pasted on a fake smile. “Coffee sounds great. What do you say we blow this popsicle stand?”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Lucky for me, he laughed and joined me in walking away from everyone. I didn’t bother telling them bye—it would have been a wasted effort. I did stop to thank Pat and that’s when it happened. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Apparently, Scott had snuck up on us while I was hugging Pat. When the tap touched my shoulder I thought it’d been Keith. Imagine my surprise when I turned to tuck my arm around him and my ex was standing there… with my purse and jacket no less! </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Okay, I admit it wholeheartedly. I overreacted and my exaggerated response was the trigger on the atomic explosion that went down in the record books as Maggie’s Game Night. If I could go back in time, I would have shoved us out a window. And, in hindsight, I’m pretty sure Keith would have happily dove for it with me. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Scott standing close with my things lit my fuse and my temper exploded. I grabbed my belongings from him, slapped him, and called him every nasty word in the book. Not that I recall exactly what I said, but I’m guessing it was shocking by the remembered expressions on Pat and Keith’s faces. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">When I went to storm out, of course the dumbass tried to follow. Then things got really ugly. In his defense, Keith was trying to help. He grabbed Scott and told him to leave me alone. After that, it was a barrage of fists in every direction. Even Pat took a hit, from Scott of all people. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">I sat with Keith in</span></b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"> a police station waiting to give my statement. Maggie had called the police and Scott wanted to press charges. I wasn’t sure exactly what to tell the police since it was all an angry blur, but I would do my best to get Keith out of trouble. I owed him. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Well, it <i>was</i> a fun date,” I whispered, blushing fiercely. “I’m sorry you got dragged into this.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Just tell me his face looks worse than mine,” Keith answered.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">I nodded, still feeling incredibly guilty. “You did a bang up job, that’s for sure. Listen, I’ll do my best to keep you out of trouble.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“It’s nothing. I’m sure the cops see this kind of thing all the time.” He tried to smile and winced. “Look at the bright side. We won’t be invited to any more of Maggie’s game nights for awhile.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">My laughter earned me a few cold stares from the officers around us and I choked on it. “Still, I owe you one.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Yes, you certainly do. You can repay me by going out to dinner when I get back.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Look, you’re not going to prison.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">He leaned forward and pressed the tissue into his nose again. “No, I have to go to London in two days. Arrange a consolidation of businesses.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">I leaned back, staring at the stained ceiling tiles and the glow of florescent lights. “So you’re a negotiator?”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“In a way. I make sure acquisitions for the company transition smoothly and help iron out the details.” </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">I reached over and patted his knee. “I’m sorry you’ll be bruised for it.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“It’ll give me some macho man credit,” he chuckled and fell silent. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Let me see if I can sweet talk someone into an ice bag for you.” I stood and marched over to a desk. The lady took one look at me and asked if I was hurt. I looked down and, sure enough, found blood on my clean skirt. “Damn. I’m fine, but my friend is hurt and needs an ice pack for his face.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“He should have thought of that before the fight.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Serve and protect my ass. “Look, he was defending me. The guy deserves an ice pack.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">She shrugged and went back to her computer. A random stranger whistled and I turned. He pointed at a vending machine. “The pop cans come out really cold.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Thank you,” I nodded and walked over, popping seventy five cents into the machine and getting a root beer. The guy was right, it was freezing. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">I carried it back over to Keith and gingerly held it to his face. “I’m so, so sorry. Just so you know, I am the Queen of disaster dates…”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Pat told me.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“He what?” I would kill him next time I saw him.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“He told me you have awful luck with dates. I just forgot to wear my suit of armor.” Keith mumbled. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">I eyed him carefully. “Are you okay? Concussion? You hit the wall pretty hard.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Maybe, but I’ll be fine.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">An officer called my name and I let Keith take over holding the can. I rose, and walked over to the room. Scott was marching out to a desk at the same time. He started to say something, but I ignored him. The officer told him it was in his best interests to leave me alone—smart officer. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">I sat at the lone metal table and gave my statement as honestly as I could, all while trying not to think about the police shows I watched. I calmly detailed the rough time I’d had with Scott, the history we had, and how Keith had only been trying to protect me. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Let me get this straight. You told that man to keep Scott away from you.” The officer jotted something down. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Well, yes, but I wasn’t suggesting violence…” my voice dropped off as the officer stood. Was he reaching for his cuffs? “Look, I just didn’t want to deal with my lying, cheating ex-fiancé. I did not ask for anyone to exchange fists.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“That may be, but for now I’ll need to arrest you as an accessory to assault.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Don’t you dare! I want my phone call. If anything we should be pressing charges against Scott. I’ve told him how many times to leave me alone. And your office was no help…” I slammed my mouth shut, realizing the officer was taking notes and I was digging myself a deeper hole. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">He slid the cuffs on and led me out. Keith was whistling some tune and looking awful. The bruising on his jaw was starting to swell and I really worried about an unseen injury. There was an officer checking over Scott’s injuries a few desks away. Why did he get the gold-star treatment? Because he’d cried victim first?</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Hey, hey! I think my friend here has a concussion. He needs medical treatment.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Sure, lady, we’ll get a paramedic over to look at him… eventually.” A round of laughter followed as I tried to get comfortable on my bench seat. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">I kept an eye on Keith while pondering who to call first. I didn’t know any lawyers. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">I mean, I talked to a few in the company on occasion, but those were business attorneys. Weren’t lawyers supposed to know other lawyers?</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">The tears started and I couldn’t help it. Everything had gone horribly wrong, and now I was stuck with cops who didn’t care. Police who couldn’t be bothered to see things from my point of view and a date that most likely had brain damage – it was all highly depressing. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Daria?” </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">I looked up at the sound of my name, mascara stinging my eyes. I blinked as a handkerchief was blotted against them. My blurry vision cleared and I gasped in shock. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Marcus? Is that you?” I looked him over in his suit. It was a far cry from the baseball uniform he’d worn in college. “What are you doing here?”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“I'm a defense lawyer. What’s going on?”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">I poured out the whole story while Keith whistled and chuckled at himself beside me. A few times more, Marcus had to blot my eyes. “And that’s all of it. They’re calling me an accessory.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Do you have representation yet?” I shook my head. “You do now. Let me find out about your case.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Thank you, oh thank you!” I would have hugged him if my hands hadn’t been cuffed behind my back. After he walked away, I leaned against Keith. “We’re going to be okay.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">I took Keith drooling on my shoulder as a sign of his shared relief. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Please return for the continuation of Daria’s journey on November 26<sup>th</sup>, only here on Digital Digest. If you'd like to catch up on Digital Digest stories, check out our ebooks available on <a href="http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Ddigital-text&field-keywords=Digital+Digest&x=0&y=0">Kindle </a>and <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/digital-digest-volume-i-issue-ii-danielle-gavan/1104564993?ean=2940013154322&itm=7&usri=digital%2bdigest">Nook</a>!</span></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"><br />
</span></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">~Jennifer Feuerstein~</span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/home.php#%21/pages/Jennifer-L-Feuerstein/268454072555"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Facebook</span></a><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"> * </span><a href="http://www.wix.com/feuersteinjennifer/author"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Website</span></a><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"> * </span><a href="http://twitter.com/#%21/McFlat29"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Twitter</span></a><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"> * </span><a href="http://jfcrowdedmind.blogspot.com/?zx=6d5a3bf7635f604"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Blog</span></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Copyright © 2011 Jennifer Feuerstein</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8540815798711152534.post-67942291990505911162011-10-23T06:00:00.000-07:002011-10-23T06:00:00.431-07:00A Review of Cassandra Clare's City of Fallen Angels<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><u><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">A Review of <i>City of Fallen Angels</i></span></u></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">Jennifer Feuerstein</span></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG_MMxo8oszsi9Z4NBpF1mV_sKlzYl9MPn30bnlOg4fosksGUy90cuSCO0qfOrw6DX2nbW9z7kLQyl0f9TH2KN9XbLMs3riaohZnx3yrF8jWb42rIBHjmkvXtQAYgmSZMSIXy1qcXqKDI/s1600/City+of+Fallen+Angels.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG_MMxo8oszsi9Z4NBpF1mV_sKlzYl9MPn30bnlOg4fosksGUy90cuSCO0qfOrw6DX2nbW9z7kLQyl0f9TH2KN9XbLMs3riaohZnx3yrF8jWb42rIBHjmkvXtQAYgmSZMSIXy1qcXqKDI/s200/City+of+Fallen+Angels.jpg" width="132" /></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;"> </span></b></span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/City-Fallen-Angels-Mortal-Instruments/dp/1442403543/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1309621611&sr=8-1"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">City of Fallen Angels, Amazon</span></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjenp22Js_QQzb1K84kIlpwtw-oG2Pk1EFO0r7UAQa0czLSK13yPMlvBQJgAFYa9kzDW3ooa-nG4MBLLuv1kkaGx1gZH7QAcX1I5m1JS33rWB0VphaqnXrrHLKP7DERa3b7BUXxeAfKF8o/s1600/Jester+Hat+Border.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="37" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjenp22Js_QQzb1K84kIlpwtw-oG2Pk1EFO0r7UAQa0czLSK13yPMlvBQJgAFYa9kzDW3ooa-nG4MBLLuv1kkaGx1gZH7QAcX1I5m1JS33rWB0VphaqnXrrHLKP7DERa3b7BUXxeAfKF8o/s200/Jester+Hat+Border.png" width="200" /></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 150%;"> </span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 150%;">As always let’s go over a little background information. City of Fallen Angels is Cassandra Clare’s fourth book in the Mortal Instrument series. Just when you thought the Shadowhunters had won, a new battle emerges.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 150%;">Quick recap. City of Bones 3 Jester hats, City of Ashes 4 Jester hats, and City of Glass 4 Jester hats. This one, blows them all away in my opinion. It starts up a little after City of Glass ended and Ms. Clare writes it like a brand new series. The book was meant to be told more by Simon’s point of view, but the rest of the cast is still highly present and accounted for. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 150%;">The character development is great and the plot is amazing. The conflicts, oh the conflicts are so juicy I wish I could let you in on the secrets. But, the Jester promised you no spoilers in her reviews so there will be no giveaways. The only downside to this book is having to wait until May 2012 for the next one!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 150%;">And here’s where the previously mentioned WARNING comes in. If you’re the type who can’t stand cliffhangers, wait to read this until the next book is available and have it close at hand. Cassandra Clare leaves us with a whopper of a cliffhanger. I personally screamed out “WHAT!” in the middle of work and then cursed when an internet search informed me I had to wait until next year. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 150%;">So, to sum up this little review, I give City of Fallen Angels 5 out of 5 jester hats. I really enjoyed this book the most in the series so far. It had me riveted to the point where sleep was not an option. Ask my boyfriend, I even read while eating. I could not put it down and I love a great cliffhanger. Is it May yet?!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 150%;">In November, I’ll review the adult Fever series by Karen Marie Moning and you won’t want to miss it! Never fear, I’ll continue to review the new Cassandra Clare books as they’re released. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 150%;">As always, I welcome suggestions for books to review. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 150%;">~Jennifer Feuerstein~</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/home.php#%21/pages/Jennifer-L-Feuerstein/268454072555"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">Facebook</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 150%;"> * </span><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.wix.com/feuersteinjennifer/author"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">Website</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 150%;"> * </span><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://twitter.com/#%21/McFlat29"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">Twitter</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 150%;"> * </span><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://jfcrowdedmind.blogspot.com/?zx=6d5a3bf7635f604"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">Blog</span></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 150%;"></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8540815798711152534.post-41901841862660112702011-10-20T06:00:00.000-07:002011-10-20T06:00:01.838-07:00Finders Keepers: Tempted - Chapter Seven<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<b><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Recap: </span></b><i><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">In Chapter Six, Adam wraps up his mission and seeks out Demonica. The undeniable attraction between them is acknowledged and accepted.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Adam ran the distance to</span></b><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"> the pickup spot, not noticing the familiar sights around him. Blake waited with the chopper and he hopped in. This was going to be the fastest debriefing he’d ever gone through and hell would be paid to anyone who slowed him down. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“You’re late,” the pilot barked a sharp reprimand. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Adam answered coolly, “Simmer. I thought I was being followed so I doubled around a few times.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Blake laughed. “I call bullshit.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">He whipped off his shades and stared into his friend’s eyes. He knew they could both see perfectly well in the dark interior. “Try me,” he growled, his eyes never wavering from the perfect animalistic pupil revealing the killer instinct behind them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">After a minute Blake calmed down and chuckled. “So the mission was successful?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Damn it Remy, you ask me that every fucking time this chopper picks me up. Has it ever picked me up if I failed?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Once...” Blake looked back at him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Adam leaned back in his seat and smiled. “That does not count.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Their banter continued until they reached Command. Then they were fully professional, back to the killers they were created to be. Both also aware they were surrounded by enemies in their own headquarters, nothing could slip. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">He jumped out before the chopper landed at base. First up, walking in to record his mission. He didn’t have to hide anything on this one. He’d followed his instructions to the letter. They might be pissed the only evidence he had was the recording from his scope, but tough shit. The guy practically had an army guarding him and Adam wouldn’t have risked wandering into the middle of that for anything. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">His weapons were checked and he made it through his physical in short time. He walked back out as Blake finished refuelling his black beauty. Adam climbed in and waited, checking his phone for any messages. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Blake climbed in and took his seat, sweet talking his chopper before turning to his passenger. “That’s the fastest debriefing you’ve ever delivered. What’s up?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">He closed off the growl by biting his lip. “I’m tired. I just spent weeks chasing a bastard all over the world. I barely had time to shower, let alone relax.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“So I take it you want a ride home?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">He smiled and nodded. “Make it fast. I want to catch the morning news.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Blake dropped him on the</span></b><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"> roof, as usual, and Adam ran for it the minute his feet were on solid ground. He hadn’t been home two hours before the orders for another mission came through and that had been a week ago. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">He’d sent Danny a quick message to inquire about Monica and the reply worried him. She’d been to the pub every night for the first few days and then stopped coming in. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Adam ran the five blocks to Monica’s house. He stopped outside her gate and quickly scanned the yard to make sure the hounds weren’t on the loose before vaulting over and sprinting to the door.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Monica?” he called out. “It’s Adam. You home?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">His heart pounded in his chest as the seconds ticked painfully by. The sound of light footsteps preceded the door opening and he grinned as she blinked up at him sleepily. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Adam?” she squinted and pushed a clump of curls from her face.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Hauling her into his arms, Adam kissed her senseless. The warm, sweet smell of her enveloped him with a sense of home and he pulled from the kiss with a moan.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Thank, God. Are you okay? Danny said you haven’t been to the pub in a couple of days.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“I’m fine,” she yawned against the back of her hand. “I’ve just been working like crazy to get my summer line out. Come inside, please?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">He frowned and followed her in. “Summer line?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Monica nodded, “Demonica Lingerie. Ever heard of it?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Lingerie?” he grinned and watched the sway of her ass while she walked. Figured. A woman who oozed sex the way she did wouldn’t have an ordinary job like secretary or accountant. Nope, he’d found himself a lingerie designer and if memory served – the lacy stuff her company sold ran toward the expensive. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Yes,” she yawned again. “Come cuddle with me? It’s too early for decent people to be awake.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“I thought you’d never ask,” he chuckled. “I’m gonna kill Danny later. Well, maybe maim him. His mistake did buy me some cuddle time with you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">They reached her bedroom door and he scooped her into his arms. He opened the door and carried her in, closing it with a slight kick. “Bed time, sugar.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">He set her down on the edge of the bed. “Do you have a preferred side?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“No,” she fidgeted with a curl. “But, I usually sleep naked. There’s nothing but me under the wrap I’ve got on. I can wear something if it would make you feel more comfortable?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Adam tugged off his shirt and laid it on the end of the bed. “Considering I’m about twenty degrees warmer than the average man, you should probably just sleep naked but I’d hate to have you uncomfortable.” He stretched out on the bed and held his arms open for her, “Come here, Monica. Let me show you how a real man takes care of a woman.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">She plucked his shirt up and slid it over her head before dropping the thin silk on the floor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">He smiled at the sight of her in his shirt as she crawled up and stretched out against him. His clothes covering her skin seemed perfect somehow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“You smell amazing,” she purred. “Like home.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“I know the feeling,” he chuckled. His hands traveled lightly over her back in soothing circles. “Sleep well, baby.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Thank you,” she covered a yawn and snuggled closer. One of her arms slid over his chest and he stifled a groan at the delicious feel of her skin on him. “For coming over, and staying. I’m glad you’re here. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since you left.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Anytime,” he whispered against the top of her head. Secretly, he wondered if the unrest Danny had sensed on her last visit to the pub related to her lack of sleep. Of course, not knowing Monica well, he’d misinterpret the signs. “Shush, sleep. I’m here and this is perfect.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Happy for the first time in ages, Adam smiled as she relaxed and her breathing evened out. His body and senses took in his surroundings with practiced skill. Once he felt everything was safe and secure, Adam willed the lock to turn on Monica’s bedroom door and drifted to sleep.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">A cold muzzle pressed into</span></b><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"> Demo’s outstretched hand and her eyes fluttered open to the sight of Sheoul snuffling her fingers. Smiling, she scratched her pets and stretched luxuriantly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Good morning, boys.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Sheoul’s soft growl and yip fully woke her up and she spotted the note on the pillow beside her. A rose lay tucked between the folded paper and she brought it to her nose while she read. <i>Sorry I had to run to check in with command and didn't want to do it from here. I'll be back later. Until then, sleep well and keep the shirt. It looks way better on you. Adam</i> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Adam,” she sighed. Tartarus whimpered softly at the word lovingly whispered by his mistress and she reached out to pet the hound’s head. “I know, but he’ll be back. You boys want another treat before you go outside?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"> Both hounds yipped and barked as she made a quick trip to the dresser to slide on a pair of lacy boy shorts. She padded barefoot out to find the bag of treats and gave them each one before setting them loose in the backyard. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Alright,” she addressed the kitchen. “Now to figure out what he might like for breakfast.” She glanced at the clock and laughed, “Or lunch.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">A loud chime from her office rerouted her and she raced to answer the video call. A select number of people contacted her through video conference, and they only ever did so if it was an emergency.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">She plopped down into her chair, accepted the call and pasted on a smile as the entire staff of her New York office appeared on the screen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Guys,” she greeted them. “What’s going on?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Cecily fidgeted while the others spent a few seconds desperately trying to avoid Demo’s gaze. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Um, I don’t know how to tell you this,” Cecily began. “The, uh, building for your new boutique burned to the ground last night.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Demo’s heart sank. She sat back in her chair, stunned. “How?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“We don’t know. They’re still looking into it but we’re going to need to find a new location.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Another of her team, Paul if she recalled correctly, leaned closer to the camera. “How fast can you get to New York? We need to move on this if we’re going to be open for fashion week, honey.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Her gaze skimmed over the clock in the bottom right side of the screen. “Crap. Okay. Give me an hour to get some things together and I’ll call you back with details.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Let me know what time your flight is scheduled to arrive,” Cecily spoke up. “I’ll come pick you up.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Demo shook her head. “No thanks. I’m a big girl. I can get to the office on my own. See you guys in a bit.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Clicking off the video screen, Demonica leaned back in her chair and cursed until she ran out of breath. They had been working on the newest Demonica Lingerie boutique for almost a year with every detail planned down to even the minutest thing. Now, it laid a charred ruin and she’d have to hustle to complete another one before the big fashion show they planned to put on in September. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“This would be so much easier if I could just poof in to the office,” she grumbled. “But no, the humans can’t know demons exist. Stupid rules.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Two hours later her bags</span></b><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"> were packed for a week-long trip and Demo sat in a coffee shop down the street from her New York offices. The staff didn’t expect her for another two hours which gave her plenty of time to relax, enjoy a latte and think.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Marco’s email had come in as she landed in the alley a few blocks over and the news of Beelzebub’s change in tactics worried her. Instead of sending out the usual goof troop of made demons, he now relied on the best tracker in the supernatural world. Finder’s success rate boasted more captures than any other demon mercenary and she sat firmly in his crosshairs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">The message also made mention of a demon hunter team he’d discovered living in her sleepy little village. Details of their identities were sketchy at best, but Marco could confirm they were all military of some sort. Like Adam. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Dozens of questions swirled through her mind. He had to know she was a demon. Why hadn’t he tried to kill her if he did? Would he take her out when he discovered her true nature? Round and round the list of what ifs went on. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Demo shook her head. She didn’t know anything for certain and therein laid the problem. The list of things she knew about Adam weighed heavily toward him being a demon assassin and the thought of him using their relationship as a ruse to get close scared the hell out of her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Innocent until proven guilty,” she reminded herself. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">~*~</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Finders Keepers: Tempted will continue on November 20th, 2011.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Copyright © 2011 Danielle Gavan and Jennifer Feuerstein</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<strong><span lang="EN-CA" style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif;">Danielle Gavan</span></strong><b><span lang="EN-CA" style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><br />
<em><span style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-bottom-style: none; border-bottom-width: 1pt; border-left-color: windowtext; border-left-style: none; border-left-width: 1pt; border-right-color: windowtext; border-right-style: none; border-right-width: 1pt; border-top-color: windowtext; border-top-style: none; border-top-width: 1pt; font-family: Georgia, serif; padding-bottom: 0in; padding-left: 0in; padding-right: 0in; padding-top: 0in;">Urban Fantasy and Erotic Romance Author<o:p></o:p></span></em></span></b><br />
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Ardeur-Abbey-of-Angels-ebook/dp/B005HFK7SI/ref=sr_1_5?ie=UTF8&qid=1314106844&sr=8-5"><b><span lang="EN-US">Ardeur </span></b></a></span><b><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Georgia, serif;">~ </span></b><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Tarnished-Tiaras-ebook/dp/B004NSVIMO/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&m=AZC9TZ4UC9CFC&s=digital-text&qid=1298560827&sr=1-1"><b><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1f497d;">Tarnishes Tiaras</span></b></a></span><b><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Georgia, serif;"> ~ </span></b><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Cursed-Erotic-Adventures-Sidony-ebook/dp/B004OR1S0G/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&m=AZC9TZ4UC9CFC&s=digital-text&qid=1307136361&sr=8-3"><b><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1f497d;">Cursed</span></b></a></span><b><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Georgia, serif;"> ~ </span></b><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/UnWrapped-ebook/dp/B00538M1LU/ref=ntt_at_ep_dpi_11"><b><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1f497d;">Unwrapped</span></b></a></span><b><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif;">All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.</span><span lang="EN-CA" style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8540815798711152534.post-24488236260634357162011-10-19T00:01:00.000-07:002011-10-19T00:01:04.347-07:00Power Play: Chapter Eight<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVDYNM4zbtTeRz3JnX108DCE9IJvi-ynjN8BLMLwW-hmEkPRA0Q4YoLhoNjelCLXz2RgUmdgSXhftaoCux8qjRqJb_9RXUJWUEqMk-LsAH3FWZehLfipxB0uTPGO9JsuY42qBpOVAC_cg/s1600/PowerPlay_72dpi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVDYNM4zbtTeRz3JnX108DCE9IJvi-ynjN8BLMLwW-hmEkPRA0Q4YoLhoNjelCLXz2RgUmdgSXhftaoCux8qjRqJb_9RXUJWUEqMk-LsAH3FWZehLfipxB0uTPGO9JsuY42qBpOVAC_cg/s320/PowerPlay_72dpi.jpg" width="226" /></a></div><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Cassie’s not having a good week. She’s tired of dealing with the mixed signals from her boyfriend and she’s attacked by a large dog. Then it gets worse. Said boyfriend is keeping secrets and possibly using her for his own ends and the dog that attacked her? Yeah, that was a werewolf and now she’s going to be howling at the next full moon. </i></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Not only does she have to deal with a deranged werewolf, intent on killing her but she’s got her boyfriend’s father pushing them to mate. Did she mention her boyfriend was a werewolf too? It’s going to take all she’s got to handle these alpha men and get what she wants too. Things can only get better. Right?</i></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><b>If you missed Chapter Seven, you can find it here.</b></i></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>Almost a week had passed</b> since she’d left Alex’s house. Cassie had walked miles in the river, hoping to mask her scent. She must have hidden her departure well because she knew that regardless of her asking him not to follow, he would have. The longer she lived with this wolf inside her, growing stronger each night the full moon drew closer, she knew that his instinct to protect her would override everything.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The upside was that the rogue couldn’t find her either. The camp owned by the orphanage she grew up in stood empty, too early in the season for the next batch of young kids. She knew this place inside out after spending many summers here. No one that knew her, not even Alex, would associate this place with her. She hadn’t been here in over ten years.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It hadn’t changed much, though. The buildings were still sturdy and airtight, keeping out the cool night air so she didn’t have to light a fire for warmth. She’d set booby traps around the perimeter of the camp, not complacent with her safety.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The time away had been good for her. She’d done a lot of thinking and realized several things. The most important, that she wanted, no needed, to change was her habit of running away. She’d always prided herself on being a strong woman, a survivor, yet since her attack, she’d done nothing but run. It was time to face both her fears – the biggest being her feelings for Alex and whether they were reciprocated, the other her first shift.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The second would be over soon. Cassie moved through the forest on silent feet, thanks in part to her new DNA and hours of practicing her new abilities. The late day sun peeked through the canopy of trees surrounding Alex’s compound. Tonight, the full moon would shine bright and she would shift for the first time. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Her skin itched from the inside and ripples rolled along her body. When it had first started two days ago, she’d freaked until she realized it was her wolf. When she stopped fighting it, the pain at the beginning dissipated, leaving a general discomfort.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A rustle to her right brought her out of her thoughts. Cassie stopped and crouched low, waiting. Arms like steel bands encircled her from behind, catching her unaware.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Well, well. What do we have here?” An amused voice chuckled behind her.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">She kicked her legs and tried to head-butt him with the back of her head, but her struggles were useless. Even with all her new strength, she was no match for him. Obviously another werewolf. She prayed he wasn’t the rogue.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The branches that had originally caught her attention parted, and she stared at a familiar face. She almost cried with relief and wondered at the animosity present.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Let her go. That’s Alex’s mate.” Disgust lined Mace’s voice and at his terse command, the arms let go.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">She fell to the ground in a pile as the guard spoke into a radio. Gathering her feet beneath her, she stood. She imagined the burly wolf wasn’t happy about her sneaking away under his watch. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Come on.” </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He grabbed her elbow, firm but not painful, and trudged toward the house. As they broke through the trees as the edge of the clearing, Alex rushed toward her. His appearance shocked her. Gone was the urban, well-groomed man.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A scruffy beard and hair that looked as if it hadn’t been washed in several days jarred her, but it was the feral gleam in his eyes that sent her heart into spasms. Cassie hung back, but Mace’s grip wouldn’t allow her to go too far. Alex snatched her up and hugged tight, rocking from side to side.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Had she done this to him? She’d guessed that he would worry, but nothing of this magnitude. After all, he didn’t care about her. Did he?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">After several minutes, he finally set her back on her feet. The two guards that had accompanied her to the house had melted away. It was only the two of them.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“You scared me, Cass. I was terrified that he’d gotten you.” Alex’s voice cracked and fresh guilt surged through her.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">She laid her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A short bark of laughter escaped him and he turned away, stalking toward the house. “Worry doesn’t begin to cover how I felt.”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Trailing behind him, feeling lower than a slug, she hurried to catch up with him. “I’m sorry, Alex. I needed space.”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He whirled on her at the door. “You could talk to me about your concerns. Listen to me when I try to talk to you instead of running off like a scared little girl. I’m not an ogre. I’ve never raised a hand to you, yet you ran. From me.”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The hurt in his eyes, in his voice, undid her. “You’re right. I did run. But not from you. I ran from my thoughts and my feelings, but they just followed me. I did a lot of thinking while I was gone and I do want to talk to you. About everything. But can we wait until tomorrow? After my shift?”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Alex stared into her eyes. After a long moment of silence, he crossed his arms over his chest. “You stay here tonight and we talk tomorrow. In the morning.”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Relief swept through her. “Agreed.”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Fine. My sister will be here soon to help you prepare for your shift.”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">With that, he pivoted on his heel and vanished into the house. The slamming of his office door reverberated throughout the downstairs and all the way to her on the porch.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Perhaps she’d been too hasty in her relief.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>A soft knock preceded Meg’s</b> entry into her room. As soon as the other woman saw her, she ran to Cassie and hugged her. Hard.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“We were all so worried. Thank goodness you’re all right.” The younger woman pulled back and gave her a stern stare. “You shouldn’t have run off like that.”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Cassie, unused to so many people caring about what happened to her, swallowed back tears. “I know. I’m sorry. I was scared and confused. I just needed time to think and didn’t feel like I could do it here.”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">With a brisk nod, Megan straightened. “In the future, remember that you can stay with me. Now, let’s get you ready to shift.”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Several hours later, freshly washed, buffed, and primped, Meg led Cassie to the area where the rest of the pack waited. Meg had explained that on the full moon, the whole pack shifted together. Since this was her first shift, they would wait until she’d completed the change. Acid gurgled in her stomach at the thought of being the center of attention.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">As they approached, everyone turned to watch. Alex stood in the center with his father. He’d cleaned up since this afternoon, once again looking like the suave man she’d dated. A pathway cleared for her as she moved to join him. Meg gave her a quick hug before melding into the crowd. Alex smiled down at her and took her hand. Gone was the feral gleam and her heart picked up its pace, this time from being near him again.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Jackson raised his arms and the murmuring stopped. “Tonight, our new packmate becomes one with her wolf for the first time.” </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A chorus of howls rose in the air, startling her at first, but curiously, helped to calm the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. After a short serenade, silence once more fell.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Alex turned her to face him. As he untied the knot of her silky white robe, he stared into her eyes, somehow reassuring her. She remembered that he’d said it wouldn’t hurt. His gaze, his touch, made her forget everyone else. She thought she’d be embarrassed to be nude in front of the others, but now, she could only see him.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“It’s time. Don’t fight it, okay?” </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A shiver rippled down her spine, due more to his soft whisper than the slide of her robe to the ground. He brushed his knuckles across her cheek before helping her to all fours in a shaft of moonlight. After a few moments, the rippling in her body increased, not really hurting, but not comfortable either.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A bright light enveloped her as her bones moved inside her skin, seemingly absorbing any pain she might have felt. Fur burst through her skin in a wave, from head to toe. As the light faded, she looked around the clearing. Through the eyes of her wolf, all color disappeared, the shades of gray sharp and detailed.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A sense of freedom flowed through her and the need to run, to hunt, to play overwhelmed her. Somehow, Human Cassie gave way to Wolf Cassie and primal instincts took over. The relief of letting go of everything that had happened in the last two weeks sent a jolt of happiness through the wolf.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Another round of howls broke through the crowd and Cassie joined in, the sound rolling up her throat to blend in harmony with the others. Next to her, Alex shifted, followed by Jackson and the rest of the pack.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Alex nudged her hind-quarters with his snout, urging her into the trees. With a yelp of pleasure, she took off at a run, quickly learning the way her new body worked. The exhilaration of the cool night air rustling over her back sent her racing faster, free in a way she’d never been before.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Then she stopped thinking altogether and joined her pack in the hunt.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>The pull of the moon</b> called to his wolf, but he refused to yield. It’d been over a week since he’d gotten his last shot at Alex’s little bitch. If he didn’t take care of her soon, they would perform the mating ritual, making it harder to kill his enemy.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Tonight, she would transform for the first time. If he’d been successful that first night, she’d be dead rather than growing stronger. He punched the wall, angry at himself, enraged at his inability to wreak revenge on those that had destroyed his life.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">They’d pay one way or another, whether he took out the bitch or fought both Alex and his father. After all these years, he wouldn’t let this last chance pass him by.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>****</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>Please return on November 2nd for Chapter 9 of Power Play.</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>~~Riley Quinn~~</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><a href="http://www.riley-quinn.com/">Website</a> * <a href="http://www.facebook.com/AuthorRileyQuinn">Facebook</a> * <a href="http://twitter.com/#!/RileyQuinn">Twitter</a></b></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">If you missed any of our previous posts and would like to catch up, you can purchase the <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Digital-Digest-Issue-ebook/dp/B0058IZAGS/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1317633507&sr=1-2">Digital Digest Volume I Issue I</a>, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Digital-Digest-Issue-II-ebook/dp/B005F7INH0/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1317633507&sr=1-1">Digital Digest Volume I Issue II</a></i> and <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Digital-Digest-Issue-III-ebook/dp/B005PYIM4W/ref=sr_1_3?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1317633507&sr=1-3">Digital Digest Volume I Issue III</a></i> anthologies as ebooks for only $.99!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Copyright © 2011 Riley Quinn</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.</span>Riley Quinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02363595230073330154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8540815798711152534.post-23779862740014699242011-10-16T06:00:00.000-07:002011-10-16T06:00:06.564-07:00Evil Cupid, Part Three<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><u><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Evil Cupid, Part Three</span></u></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Content Advisory: Includes m/f sex, graphic language. </span></i></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">Continued from October 15, 2011. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 115%;">Pixie is fighting her Cupid for control… little does she know how much is at stake. Read on for the conclusion.</span></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">He begged me to surrender, to admit defeat. I refused and his fingers found the answer instead. I cried out as they plunged within me, and then buried my head into my bicep, biting myself to keep from giving in as his fingers danced within me. I teetered on the edge of another orgasm as my hips joined in the battle, grinding against his hand.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">Suddenly his hand withdrew and he pulled away. I looked down my body to find him kneeling back on his ankles, watching me. I cursed and bucked against my restraints, my legs flailed but missed. His erection bobbed telling me how hard he fought his desire. The vision of it painfully amped up my own need. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">A cry burst past my lips and he looked relieved. His body covered mine again, delicious against my skin. My tongue raced along a collarbone, inhaling and tasting that wonderful cinnamon aroma that was all Adam. I battled for control of my own body, murmurs escaping between tastes.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">“What was that?” he asked, tugging on my nipples. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">“Go to hell,” I spat out, arching into him again. My body now burned with need, the flames racing along my bloodstream. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">“Now, now… you have to ask, nicely.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">Mr. Sweet and Loveable Cupid disappeared, replaced by something mortals would find foreign. He attracted me like a lightening rod in a storm. He became the conqueror, the alpha, the warrior. Everything a pixie finds irresistibly hot and I couldn’t hold out any longer. The flames racing through my body had converged at my center, taking away all hope of holding out. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">“Pleease,” I whimpered and cried out, bucking against him. “I need you, now. Please, Adam. God please!” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">Those words unlocked a floodgate of emotion. The flames pooled in my center raced outward, lighting my soul on fire. A pixie only gave in once in a hundred years or so, depending on how long the conqueror survived. My cry made an oath in a way, but it held such sweet rewards. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">My nerves sparked to life with passion and everything around me became clearer, crisper, and more vibrant. I felt every taste bud of Adam’s tongue rasp over the skin at my neck. The frantic rhythm of his heartbeat echoed in my own chest. And, very soon, I’d experience the best orgasm since the year 1523 AD. I rarely gave in, but a Cupid made an interesting choice. At least I’d only need to deal with him on Valentine’s Day and Sweetest Day.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">Adam’s mouth closed over my nipple and pulled with a long, wet suck. Effectively shutting off all my thoughts and lighting my passion further. I heard another slide of metal and realized the handcuffs were gone. It didn’t matter - I fought no more. Instead my hands ran over his body in excited strokes, pulling him closer and urging him on without words. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">My need rose to a fever pitch and my core throbbed from wanting to be filled. I parted my legs farther and arched my hips. His erection slid across the wet core of me and I moaned low in my throat. I’m robbed of speech so I used my body to demand what I want. My hands glided over his hips and between us to his erection. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">I used my own moisture on the soft, hardened skin to ease my trail up and down his cock. I only managed three strokes before his groan stopped me. Adam’s hand moved mine away as his hips pressed against me. My eyes closed, anticipating the moment he slammed home. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">They opened in wonder to the slow glide of his cock into my core. My wetness created an easy entry, but he still moved slowly. I felt every tiny adjustment of my body to him. As if the submission of my soul wasn’t enough- he needed my body to surrender too. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">I wrapped my legs around his hips trying to force him deeper but his hands pinned my hips to the floor. The squeeze of his fingers into my sensitive flesh increased the feeling of capture and I loved it. I moaned to protest the slow slide of him, wanting it hard and fast, needing that elusive release. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">Finally his slide completed, my every crevice filled to capacity and I whimpered with joy. That is, until he began to withdraw. My body rose against his, trying to draw out the delicious contact, and then he slammed home. His head rammed my sensitive spot and I cried out in pleasure, my nails scoring trails onto his back. Again and again he repeated the maneuver until I writhed on the carpet, dying a slow death as my fever grew within. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">He pulled me up into the safety of his arms. I allowed the manhandling, part of the agreement of my earlier submission. I was completely in his power and thankful for a second I was treated with care. Gratitude flew out the window as the change in position forced him deeper within me. I leaned forward and bit his shoulder, suckling at the red welts. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">Adam climbed onto the bed with me, oddly fixing me in a position of power. I stared down at him in confusion from my perch on his hips. A lift of his hips wrenched another groan of ecstasy from my lips. I ran my hands down his chiseled chest, digging in around his pecs. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">“Dance, Anna... take control,” he moaned, gripping my hips and directing me. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">Never in this ritual have I been in control and it excited me. My body took over, riding him in a rhythm set by instinct, feeling, and need. A shot of electricity sizzled up my core as his thumb rubbed over my sensitive clit, rocketing my bliss into overdrive. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">Tendrils of the coming orgasm whispered through my muscles as the room faded to black in my vision. Still my hips pumped and ground against him, his hips rose to match me, and his thumb continued its persistent slide. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">The room disappeared into stars and darkness as the orgasm ripped through my body. I sensed every muscle fiber contract and release in a spasm of pure heaven. My own loud screams barely registered in my mind as my body was thrown taut over Adam’s. His hips continued to grind into me, lengthening my own pleasure. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">His roar joined my own as his hot seed spilled deep within me. My body lapped it up eagerly and greedily before falling limp against him. My heart rate erratic against his chest, I gulped for breath. His muscled arms encircled me protectively and I fell into a peaceful, satisfied slumber. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">Sunshine leaked across my face, sending rays of light shooting behind my eyelids. My body was completely sated and, for once, all my hungers were satisfied. My arm lifted weakly to counter the sunlight as I thought about my situation. And I was in one hell of a bind. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">On one hand, the night was full of glorious sex and I climaxed multiple times, leading to my current weak state. On the other hand, my submission was given as a free pixie. I hadn’t minded my last bonding. It’d been a pleasant but short experience, since I’d been released upon my captor’s death. Of course, nothing in our mating rules said anything against killing the man when you grew tired of him. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">I felt no guilt about that deed, he died a pleasant and fast death… rare for a pixie to deliver, even to someone she cared for. Although, I reminded myself, Adam proved a very exciting surprise. Even though he had won the right to do whatever he wanted to me or with me, his every action had spoken of care and respect. Besides, I reminded myself, Cupids only ran amuck on Valentine’s and Sweetest Day. A twice a year commitment was easily handled.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">Curiously, my eyes peeked open to study my bedroom. It lay in a serious state of disarray, especially after Adam found my treasure chest of goodies last night. My mouth froze in a smirk at the plethora of items strewn about my once tidy retreat. When I get the energy to rise, I’ll clean it all up. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">My eyes detected no trace of my Mr. Cupid and there was no sound of running water from the connecting bathroom. My body lacked the strength to stand and do a thorough sweep of my apartment, but I thought I was right about the twice a year commitment. Not a bad gig for a pixie like me since we were only exclusive when forced to be. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">I closed my eyes to slide back into sleep and regain my strength, smiling at the rumble of hunger in my belly. When all other needs are met, we pixies can enjoy the foods of the mortal world and I really did. The different tastes, aromas, and combinations... It’d been too long since I’d enjoyed them. I could almost smell a delicious hot coffee and bacon I was so starved. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">The door to my room slammed open, startling me, and I stared. Adam stood clad in only his pants. I hated how my mouth instantly watered, not at the sight of the food on the tray but at the sight of his muscled chest. He sat carefully on the bed, arranging the tray over his legs. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">“Hungry?” he asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">“So you plan on feeding me?” I dryly quipped. “The food is in your lap.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">“As if you could lift the fork,” he chuckled. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">“How are you even still here? Sweetest Day is over…” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">The evil smirk on his face caught my attention before my words were cut off by food in front of my mouth. I devoured everything he fed me, powerless to stop. His actions demanded, my body submitted – the oath called for this trade.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">I no longer minded when he held the cup of coffee to my lips. I sipped eagerly, having missed the wonderful taste of the brew for many years. I brewed pots in the past just for the smell and now it flowed over my taste buds. I sighed in delight. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">Adam carefully moved the tray to my night stand and stood again. I watched spellbound as he cleaned up bits of things around my room. That’s right, I told myself- MY room. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">“What are you doing? And again, how are you here?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">He turned and again the evil smile flashed over his features. “Oh, I’m not your average Cupid…”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">Knowledge dawned dark and deadly and my eyes widened then narrowed. I should have known with his knowledge of pixies. Hell, I should have known when he’d paid me any attention at the bar. No Cupid in his right mind would get mixed up with a damn pixie like me, unless…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">“A Fallen Cupid… son of a bitch,” I muttered. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">Adam continued to clean. “Get cozy and I’ll take good care of you.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">He hummed a tune and stopped every few moments to feed me more sips of coffee. But the taste went bitter on my tongue. My mind raced at how to save myself. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">His humming stopped and his eyes pinned me. “Just so you know it’s impossible to kill a Cupid.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">I didn’t doubt him, but I prayed he was wrong. It certainly explained the Mr. Perfect routine. The problem was, especially for a pixie, it was possible to be loved to death. Sure, the sex would be great but it became a question of who would free who first by their death… </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">“Fucking evil cupids,” I groaned under my breath as his humming vibrated along my nerves.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">~*~*~</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">Jennifer writes fiction for Digital Digest and Red Hot Publishing. Look for her other series: Finders Keepers with Danielle Gavan and Story of Sebastian. Each posted monthly on Digital Digest. Here’s hoping your Sweetest Day weekend ended well! </span> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="color: #484848; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">If you missed any of our previous posts and would like to catch up, you can purchase the <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Digital-Digest-Volume-I-ebook/dp/B0058IZAGS/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1309732850&sr=8-1" target="_blank"><span style="color: #249dc9; text-decoration: none;">Digital Digest Volume I</span></a> anthology as an ebook for only $.99.</span></div></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 150%;">~Jennifer Feuerstein~</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/home.php#%21/pages/Jennifer-L-Feuerstein/268454072555"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">Facebook</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 150%;"> * </span><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.wix.com/feuersteinjennifer/author"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">Website</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 150%;"> * </span><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://twitter.com/#%21/McFlat29"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">Twitter</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 150%;"> * </span><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://jfcrowdedmind.blogspot.com/?zx=6d5a3bf7635f604"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">Blog</span></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">Copyright © 2011 Jennifer Feuerstein</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8540815798711152534.post-46113405022257364412011-10-15T06:00:00.000-07:002011-10-15T06:00:05.729-07:00Evil Cupid, Part Two<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><u><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Evil Cupid, Part Two</span></u></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Content Advisory: Includes m/f sex, graphic language. </span></i></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">Continued from October 14, 2011. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Pixie met Cupid while out trying to destroy Sweetest Day and sparks began to fly. Let’s see whose left burning. </span></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">His voice dropped to a whisper, “I think we should take you some place safer. You can call me Adam.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">“Adam?” His name tripping over my lips was as hot as a brand to my skin. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">“Ironic considering my line of work, but yes it’s Adam.” He held his large hand out to me and I almost melted. “To safer grounds?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">My hand slid into his and he helped me off my perch, my body melting into his as he led me from the restaurant. I didn’t regain my senses until the cold air hit my overheated, exposed skin. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">“My apartment is a few blocks up. Would you like to walk or take the easy way?” I question him coyly referring to our supernatural means of traveling. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">“I think I’ll enjoy the walk.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">He pulls me in and I’m struck by the solidness of him. Oh this night is going to be so much fun. I don’t even glance down the alley where I had my earlier fun, even though tangible traces of those events remain in the location. My attention is solely focused on my own lovely Cupid as my body alternates between hot and cold. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">“Isn’t this sort of illegal for you?” I inquire of him out of honest curiosity. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">He’s not the first cupid I’ve ever encountered, but he’s definitely the first to ever show an interest in little ole’ Pixie me. Most would find my ways of getting off disturbing since they’re all about securing love and peace and blah blah blah…. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">My thoughts trail away as his hand slips down from my lower back to caress my backside. I stop walking and find myself grinding against his hand before I can stop myself. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">His breath warms my chilled neck as he leans in close to whisper, “I think you need my services more tonight.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">I couldn’t deny him even if I’d wanted to try. His mouth covers mine in a hot kiss as he shoves me up against a storefront. From the shift in the air, I know passing mortals won’t observe us. Good thing since we’re plastered up against the glass of a family style diner. The thought sent another wave of lust straight between my legs and they shook from the desire.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">“Fast way,” he mumbles and we disappear. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">My body instinctively rockets us towards my place and I hope I have enough common sense left to make it inside my apartment. I didn’t want to fumble with my magical locks and taking the time to try would end with us writhing on the floor; wasting my wonderful playground-esque bedroom.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">My feet touch solid ground and my eyes open slowly. Adam’s mouth travels its way down my neck as I glance around carefully registering my surroundings. I’d landed us in my kitchen. Shit, I’d been aiming for bedroom. I wasn’t being particular; I just kept all my fun stuff in there. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">“Nice place,” his voice rumbled his chest against mine and I realize I’m without my corset. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">“Mmmm,” I moan as his lips close over a hardened nipple. “Would you like a tour?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">“Later,” he grumbles and works on exploring my heated body. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">“Holy hell, angel boy,” I breathe out as his hands slip under my skirt. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">“Someone’s an excited little pixie,” he chuckles back. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">I moan and arch against his hands, wanting more but unable to ask for it. I cry out in startled surprise as he lifts me up onto my counter. The place settings are shoved aside to make room, but I miss the caress of his hands on me. I make use of the time to slide my skirt off my hips before launching it through the air with a careful kick. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">“Those are beautiful legs, Anna,” he moans as his hands slide down them. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">“Enough small talk, Adam,” I command, pulling him in as my legs wrap around his waist. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">The experience of his jeans on my bare, fevered skin is delicious but not quite what I have in mind. My hands reach out and tear his shirt off. Adam’s head lowers to my breasts again and I wrap my hands in his soft dirty blonde hair. I’m assaulted by the delicious differences in textures - soft hair, hard hands, and rough jeans. And, one incredibly wet, hot mouth skirting trails across my skin. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">“Oh fuck,” I moan as his mouth dips to my core, my legs adjusted to drape over his shoulders. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">I wanted to try the human buffet of emotions tonight, but now I’m the main course on display. And I don’t mind the change in plans at all. His tongue laps at me in smooth circles and my wiggling increases. I suffer the tightened shuddering of my muscles as an orgasm builds within. I’m about to stop him when the slow slide of fingers joins the smooth rasping of tongue. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">“SHIT!” I cry out as I cum hard, falling back against the hard, cold granite of my counter. Breakfasts will never be the same. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">Again I am lifted, not caring about the reason or where I’ll end up. I’m too busy riding the wave of ecstasy to give a shit. Swiftly soft, warm micro suede plays across the skin at my back. I recognize it as my sofa. So, we’ve moved play to the living room. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">I try to pull myself together and become the sexy pixie I can be, but I’m stopped by his body moving over mine. Adam flips me easily so my burning face presses into the sofa cushion. I turn my head to allow for easier breathing. Choking won’t kill me, but passing out would interrupt the fun. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">His hot mouth rains kisses all over my shoulders and back as the muscles of his chest and stomach are pressed against me. Evidence of a sizable erection rubs my thighs and I melt. My core turns to hot liquid again and I’m stunned by my own reaction to this cupid. If all cupids are like this, I’m going to develop a dangerous new obsession. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">I arch my back and press backward, trying to demand what I need. An image of his erection slamming home causes me to shiver and moan. I wonder if it’s my own imagination or if cupid Adam is feeding me the thoughts. Either way I don’t care, we’re curious creatures us pixies. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">A finger slides down my clit and I cry out as my legs give way. Again I’m lifted into the air, but I recover faster this time evaporating my molecules across the room. I watch as Adam looks around for the woman he’d been holding just a second ago. I use the moment to pounce, shoving him back into a seated position on the sofa. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">“My turn,” I playfully purr. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">I rake my nails down the hard muscles of his chest, being sure to rasp them over his taut nipples. My fingers play delicately across the planes of his stomach where the muscles jump to greet me. Adam’s breathing hitches as my hands slide over his thighs, just out of reach of his engorged erection. I rest my hands there, letting the nails of my thumbs barely brush his sack. My mouth repeats the trail of my hands and slides slowly south. Adam’s breathing increases and his heart beats a tempo even my ears can make out. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">“You don’t have to…” he starts, my tongue cutting the sentence into an incomprehensible moan with a small sample of his cock. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">Apparently, my little cupid has never been on the receiving end and I love being the one to enlighten him. His mixed emotions race down my spine, feeding my other ravenous desire. Keeping my hands on his thighs, I slide my mouth down his entire delicious length and back again. Adam’s hands wrap into my hair, keeping it out of my way and giving him one hell of a peep show. My supernatural strength keeps him pinned while my mouth works its magic, one delicious suck after another. The guy even tastes like cinnamon and sex. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">His hips arch up against my mouth as I suck down the pre-cum leaking from the beautiful head. My hands slide inward to cup his sack and he finds the perfect moment to pull me upright. Adam lifts me into the air and growls. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">“Bedroom, now!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">I point him in the right direction, giggling as I’m thrown over a shoulder. My hands inch down his back to playfully swat at his tight buttocks. Everything about this guy is beautifully perfect. A wonderful specimen of cupid, to be sure. My patience for the game is wearing thin though. As he moves to toss me onto my own bed, I surprise him by flipping gracefully in the air and landing on my feet. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">Instead of surprise or fear, I register relief and excitement. His reaction triggers the question I shouldn’t ask. “Have you been with Pixies before?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">His head shakes no, but I see his legs brace his weight for my attack. “I’ve heard stories.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">“Then you’re going to love the real deal,” I vow before launching myself at him. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">Pixies are wild by nature. We feed off the emotions of those around us, living for chaos and danger. Our sex lives are no different. Mortal men cannot feed our desire because they simply can’t survive it. Over generations we’ve adapted so mortal men don’t even incite lust within us. A fresh cupid begging for it sent my lust to dangerous heights. The thought of stories piquing his curiosity made me want to prove a point. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">Adam let out a sexy laugh as he caught me and we tumbled to the floor. We were a mix of limbs, mouths, and moans as we wrestled for supremacy. To sleep with a pixie is a battle of skills; the tumult of emotions as we wrestled spiked my need higher and higher. I’d never lost in this little mating ritual. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">Imagine my surprise as the soft carpet presses into my back with Adam looming over me. He pins my wrists above my head and pries my legs open with his hips. I snarl, the fight not having been broken inside me yet. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">My snarl quickly changes as his erection probes the sensitive opening to my core. I moan and arch my back, my legs spreading under their own direction. I needed him inside me, riding and controlling me. I needed the mind altering supernatural orgasm only he can deliver. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">My eyes jerk open as a bite burns on my shoulder, the pain adding to my pleasure. If he waited much longer, I’d start begging. Oh I prayed he’d wait, I prayed the stories hadn’t left out the important bits. Another bite stung my skin and I moan and writhe under the sensation. I take notice of a click of metal and peek up to find my hands fitted inside my own cuffs. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">“Found those under the bed. They’ll come in handy,” he laughs against my skin as his hands slide from my wrists. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">I try to pull my arms down, to resume the fight, but the chain of the cuffs was locked around the foot of my bed. My heavy, anchored bed. My eyes narrow at the cupid who knows more than he is letting on. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">“Those must have been some detailed stories,” I pant. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">His eyes narrow for a moment before another bite registers on my breast. I cry out as he answers in a sinful bass. “Oh, they were, Anna. And aren’t you glad?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">There it was, the asking me to beg, the trying to force my submission. I felt liquid warmth flood and pool at my center. I bit my own tongue rather than moan out what I wanted, what I needed. The fight continuing to rage inside me, I would not succumb just yet.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">~*~*~</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">Please return tomorrow for the conclusion of this Sweetest Day Surprise… </span> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="color: #484848; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small;">If you missed any of our previous posts and would like to catch up, you can purchase the <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Digital-Digest-Volume-I-ebook/dp/B0058IZAGS/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1309732850&sr=8-1" target="_blank"><span style="color: #249dc9; text-decoration: none;">Digital Digest Volume I</span></a> anthology as an ebook for only $.99.</span></div></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 150%;">~Jennifer Feuerstein~</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/home.php#%21/pages/Jennifer-L-Feuerstein/268454072555"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">Facebook</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 150%;"> * </span><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.wix.com/feuersteinjennifer/author"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">Website</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 150%;"> * </span><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://twitter.com/#%21/McFlat29"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">Twitter</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 150%;"> * </span><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://jfcrowdedmind.blogspot.com/?zx=6d5a3bf7635f604"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">Blog</span></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">Copyright © 2011 Jennifer Feuerstein</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8540815798711152534.post-68478297486588991242011-10-14T06:00:00.000-07:002011-10-14T06:00:06.372-07:00Evil Cupid, Part One<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><u><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; line-height: 115%;">Evil Cupid, Part One</span></u></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; line-height: 115%;">Content Advisory: Includes heterosexual and homosexual behavior, graphic language. </span></i></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">This is my favorite time of the year, well one of them anyway. Expectations run high making disappointments richer. Emotions in turmoil are what I long for and I dress the part. I skim my hands across the different outfit choices in my well-appointed closet and pick out the right combination for tonight’s entertainment. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">The black leather skirt fits my curves like second skin and the red corset top does amazing things to my chest. The high heels add height to my frame and I look as deadly and delicious as I am. I received a hot tip on where tonight’s best action will be found. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">I check my long brown hair in the mirror to make sure the waves are just right and my lipstick hasn’t smudged. Doesn’t take much to add to the illusion of sex, it’s what I was made for. Strutting into the night, I can hear and feel the excitement of Sweetest Day all around me. It brings a smile to my lips knowing I will ruin it for so many. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">I skip the idea of a taxi and walk the several blocks to the hot new bar and restaurant. The swivel of my hips adds friction to my already hot core. It also gives me the chance to operate in my version of foreplay. Fights break out in my wake and I sigh as the turmoil of emotions ravages my senses. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">I can skip almost any velvet rope and this bouncer is no different. Reservation, no. Table, no. Partner, double no. With my sexiest voice I tell him I’ll take a seat at the bar and I won’t be in anyone’s way. Lying is easy after millennia perfecting the art. I won’t be in anyone’s way, but I will interfere tonight. Plans will be ruined, moments destroyed, and I will enjoy all the tears like a kid licking an ice cream cone. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">Once inside the hopes of everyone present hit my senses like a Mack truck and I lick my lips in anticipation. Thank God and Revlon for stay proof lipstick. I take a seat at the bar and order a Cosmo. I refuse to drink the awful thing, I just like the appearance of it. Human food has nothing to offer in comparison to the buffet of emotions around me. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">My dark eyes scan the crowd covertly until I spot my first target. Two boys sit with two girls, a double date seemingly going well. My compulsion wafts through the crowd to their table like a siren song until both boys stare back. I smile wickedly, delighted at the eye contact. It’s the eye contact that lets me read them. College boys, friends, both were looking to get lucky. Perfect. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">College boys are so much fun- no inhibitions and their ideas almost always surprise me. These two are no different and the fact they’re friends works in my favor. I’m aware of their female companions only through their disappointed emotions. Brilliant, the night is starting off well. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">I smile to myself and chuckle as if I remembered something funny. The motion does wondrous things to my ample breasts, sending them threateningly close to the edge of the corset. Another compulsion brings both boys wandering closer to the bar, the girls left to stare at each other in confusion. I drink it in and force myself not to moan out loud. By now, other women are noticing me and I’m feeding off their worry. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">“Hello boys, can I help you?” I ask, in a voice designed to lure. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">“We’re men,” Blondie points out, nudging his friend.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">“I can see that,” I answer, looking behind them. “You’re also taken.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">At this point the two girls in question wander over to confront the woman attracting their men. Of course, I’m not a typical woman. I smile, humans are so predictable. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">The brunette male actually pushes his date to the side. “We’re not attached.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">The full assault of the woman’s pain hits my nostrils like the smell of food to a starving man. I drink the aroma in, letting it linger across my taste buds. Now, Blondie is nodding his agreement and trying to shove off his date and I get an encore of rapture. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">“Don’t worry, ladies, it’s probably for the best,” I shrug, sending them each a compulsion to return to their table. Too large a scene would end my fun before the games even begin. My voice lowers, liquid sex to their ears. “You guys looking for some fun?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">“How much do you charge?” the brunette asks. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">“Oh, I’m free to the right person,” I purr, hopping down easily from my stool. “Follow me.” I turn to wink over my shoulder. “Both of you,” I add as they fall in step behind me. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">I lead them out a side delivery door into an alley. Not the best of areas I know, but it’s easier than arranging a hotel room. Especially when I don’t exist in their world. Reserving a room in the modern age is a disaster with fake names and information. Alleys are quick, easy, and plentiful. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">I turn and shove Blondie against the brick of the building. My body pulses with energy as I gyrate into him. My tongue finds its way down his neck as I feel Brunette push up behind me. A nice little sandwich of horny hidden by a stinking dumpster. I love the city life. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">I let Brunette lift my hair and suckle at my neck, their combined lust washing over my sensitive nerves more than their physical affections. Blondie lifts my breasts easily from their binding and I let him. Brunette works my skirt up to my waist, no simple task, and I enjoy his surprise at finding no panties in his way. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">I enjoy the little threesome up to a point; up until my body begins screaming in hunger for more. I pull back and smile at them both, breaking past their easy boundaries and planting the scene in their minds. I step back and fix my outfit as the boys tear into each other. The sounds of kissing, sucking, and moaning serenade the emotional high I’m getting. They both think they’re taking turns with me, but I’m standing to the side drinking it in. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">I watch, turned on as Brunette spins Blondie and pulls his pants down. Odd, I guessed it would go the other way around. I sigh with contentment as my own needs are satisfied… for the moment. I walk to the door leading back into the crowded place and drop my compulsions just as Blondie is penetrated. I smile as they both register shock, confusion, and pleasure. I don’t think they’ll be coming back inside for a little bit. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">I walk in and head for my next targets- the girls they left behind. They stare at me with the evil eye as I approach, but that’s easily remedied and the anger feeds my desire for more. I lean over the table, giving the men behind me a little show. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">“You’re both better off,” I comfort. “Your dates are in the alley enjoying each other.” My compulsion snakes out, ensnaring them both. “Say, you two would make a cute couple…”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">I let the idea hang as I walk away smoothly back to my seat. A few gasps break out behind me as the two girls proceed to make out like porn stars. I love it - their actions and everyone’s reactions. I slide back onto my stool, the pressure adding friction to heat. My night has started out with a bang.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">I glance around covertly trying to find my next victims. You would think it’d be easy, but I do follow a few rules. I don’t interfere with people in true love or married couples. Some vows even I cannot break and why would I want to. Tangling with those bonds puts me in the target of the Enforcers and calls my immortality into question. Even immortals can find their lives cut short by violent means.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">My attention is distracted by a man standing next to a candlelit table. Something about him doesn’t fit in and no one notices as he leans forward to whisper into a man’s ear. His eyes rise up to meet mine and I cross my legs to stop the trembling through my core.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">Another supernatural, has to be, only another supernatural could trigger true lust within me. And I’m definitely experiencing true lust; my eyes are glued to his green ones as he moves. I wiggle on my chair trying to relieve some of the tension.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">I’m tuned in with amazed curiosity as he walks forward and the man he just whispered to drops down onto one knee. A brush of his hand across another woman’s shoulder and she’s admitting her true feelings for the man next to her. My brows shoot up as realization begins to dawn. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">He walks past a waiter who bursts into some terrific rendition of an operatic love song I remember as Italian. Ah, the language of love, now I know for sure who is in my company tonight and the room full of mortals won’t be enough for both of us. Oddly, the thought of a battle amps my temperature into the volcanic range.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">Still his eyes are locked with mine and he’s moving toward me. The temperature continues to rise within me. I move in shock as a woman next to me tosses a drink at the bartender and I audibly moan in my excitement. I’m losing control of my own compulsions, dangerous in these tight spaces.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">I glance back to find the cause of my problems standing in front of me. I force my brows out of my hairline as my eyes take their time tracing across the muscle clearly defined by the tight t-shirt. Apparently I wasn’t the only one who had dressed to impress. I peek around cautiously to see if anyone else is aware of him. Many times in my younger years I was almost burnt at the stake for talking to invisible supernaturals. Being crispified a few times taught me my lesson. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">He leans forward and the scent of cinnamon and sex hits my nostrils, causing them to flare and my wiggling to increase. I vaguely hear him ask the bartender for a drink although my attention is focused on the biceps beside me. I lock my ankles around the legs of my chair to keep from taking him on the bar. Not impossible, but a little tacky for my many years. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">I tried hard to ignore him, I truly did, but then the heat of his body raced along my sensitive nerve endings and I sighed. A picture formed in my mind of him moving naked over my body and the once fighting couple to my right began making out. I should be enjoying the spectacle of it, but I couldn’t take my attention off the gorgeous man to my left. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">His green eyes turned to mine and did a slow sweep over my body. I arched against the back of the stool. Damn it’d been too long. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">“Hello, Pixie,” his voice rumbled over my body like I’d been hotwired. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">I smirked and lowered my lashes, making my voice equally disarming. “Hello, Cupid. Call me Anna.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">He chuckles, the warmness increasing the reminder of cinnamon. I swore to buy a gallon of the spice and bathe in it. “Anna is your mortal name?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">“For tonight,” I winked, surprised my voice wasn’t shaking. “Busy weekend for you, huh?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">Oh God, I was throwing out shop talk?! What had happened to me? A man slipped carrying a tray of drinks to a table and dumped them over its occupants. I grimaced and rolled my eyes, but inside the emotions shot through my core and added to the intensity of my need. I tried to smile for the angel of love, but couldn’t manage. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">~*~*~</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">Please return tomorrow for the continuation of this Sweetest Day Surprise…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #484848; font-family: "Georgia","serif";">If you missed any of our previous posts and would like to catch up, you can purchase the <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Digital-Digest-Volume-I-ebook/dp/B0058IZAGS/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1309732850&sr=8-1" target="_blank"><span style="color: #249dc9; text-decoration: none;">Digital Digest Volume I</span></a> anthology as an ebook for only $.99.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 150%;">~Jennifer Feuerstein~</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/home.php#%21/pages/Jennifer-L-Feuerstein/268454072555"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">Facebook</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 150%;"> * </span><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.wix.com/feuersteinjennifer/author"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">Website</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 150%;"> * </span><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://twitter.com/#%21/McFlat29"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">Twitter</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 150%;"> * </span><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://jfcrowdedmind.blogspot.com/?zx=6d5a3bf7635f604"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">Blog</span></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small;">Copyright © 2011 Jennifer Feuerstein</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: small;">All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8540815798711152534.post-49987074318435120582011-10-13T00:01:00.000-07:002011-10-13T00:01:01.188-07:00Land of the Blind (Chapter 1)<div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Recap: </span></b><span style="font-family: Georgia;">In <a href="http://thedigitaldigest.blogspot.com/2011/09/land-of-blind-prologue.html"><b><i>Land of Blind (Prologue)</i></b></a>, Anna Velasquez and her elite Praetorian Guard killed Devereaux Marshall Fox, the world's most wanted man and also the one who single-handedly massacred Anna's entire family when she was a child. Now, Anna and her people return to their main base for a well-deserved rest.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Content advisory:</span></b><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Contains violence</i></b>.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><img src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/video_object.png" style="background-color: #b2b2b2; " class="BLOGGER-object-element tr_noresize tr_placeholder" id="ieooui" data-original-id="ieooui" /> <style>
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</style> <![endif]--><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia;">A few hours later, the</span></b><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> emotionally spent but triumphant Praetorians walked into the underground parking garage of their headquarters at the Fort Worth Naval Air Station. General Amicus Dyre, acting commander for the Praetorian Guard, waited on the fourth sublevel, at the bottom of a long well-lit staircase, to meet them.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The success of the mission meant he could go back into the retirement he so desperately wanted. His recently graying hair now belied his 112 years. He’d already served the North American Federation for six decades.</span></div><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"The world owes your people a big thanks," he said to Anna as he guided her people down a long gray hallway. </span></div><b><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> </span></b> <div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Dyre arrived at another set of stairs where two guards snapped to attention. He used his eyes and left hand on the electronic reader. The thick steel security door opened and the general stepped onto a motion sensor-activated escalator. At the bottom of the escalator, he walked down a brightly lit hallway and identified himself to the electronic biometric scanner at the end. Stepping aside, he let a very tentative Anna step through to the main operations room first.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Unlike the well-preserved mansion on the surface camouflaging the Praetorians’ operations center, the lower levels were the most modern and high-tech money could buy. Computers or work stations took up almost every inch of wall space and most of the floor. Military and civilian workers occupied about two-thirds of the stations. Upon Anna’s entrance, the workers stood, clapping and cheering in an almost deafening din. Anna turned beet red in embarrassment.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The Praetorians took one look at the remaining unoccupied work stations and were taken aback at all the natural foods and beverages laid out for them. But, they quickly realized they shouldn’t have been. Amicus Dyre rewarded good work. He got the best out of them and gave the best in return. They would dine on real food and not the nutrient rich DNA-enriched RDA shakes that provided sustenance to most of the civilized world.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"I know this may seem like overkill, but you deserve it," Dyre said as he entered the room and joined in the wild applause. "Our resident security expert, Major Paulius, and Staff Sergeant Red Horse put it all together, so don't forget to thank them. Tomorrow, it's back to RDA shakes."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Leonard Paulius, a short, squat man who obviously worked out, stood near the largest food table and beamed. Next to him, Maria Red Horse also blushed with pride.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“Attention ladies and gentlemen!” Dyre called out. “I don’t mean to interrupt the festivities, but since all is peaceful and tranquil above, I don’t want all this celebration to make the guards on duty jealous.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">He smiled broadly, a glass of champagne in one hand and his eyes scanning the 200 or so Praetorian elite Special Operations and support personnel on the floor or up on the mezzanine level on the far side of the room. Though small in number, they represented the best the Federation and its allies had. To Dyre, they were like family.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“I want to toast our success,” Dyre said once he had everyone’s attention. “This was, perhaps, our finest moment today. The man we’ve hunted for so long is finally dead. For many of us, he’s been a demon haunting our every action for a decade. For some, it’s been even longer.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Anna barely managed to keep her emotions in check at the mention.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“I’ve never been one for flowery speeches,” Dyre continued. “So, let’s cut to the chase. Here’s to the Praetorian Guard and its fine collection of men and women. May we live forever.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“May we live forever,” the crowd repeated in unison with champagne glasses raised high.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">As Anna held her glass</span></b><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> high, joining the toast, the elevator door on the mini-mezzanine level opened. Anna looked up but the elevator was empty. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Must be a malfunction within the elevator system</i>, she thought. She started to turn back around but stopped when she caught sight of her general staring up at the mezzanine. Looking back, she gasped. Upon the upper level now stood a tall, slender black man wearing a form-fitting black pullover, black boots and old-fashioned battle dress uniform trousers. Anna gawked; how had the man appeared seemingly out of thin air?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Anna recognized neither his face nor his uniform. He turned to face her. His right eye glowed bright blue and suddenly Anna knew. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Something had gone horribly wrong. The Praetorian Guard’s moment of shining glory had become a tragedy of mistaken identity. She had killed the wrong man, for the man with the glowing blue eye up on the mini-mezzanine was the same man she’d cowered before in her village 25 years earlier. He’d only been a shadow to her then, but there was no mistaking that eye. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Devereaux Marshall Fox!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Her mind refused to believe what her eyes saw, even as the man drew something from behind his back. Now, her feet declined to cooperate and all moisture sapped from her throat as her brain recognized, with abject horror, that the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">something </i>was an old-fashioned M-134 mini-gun, one of the deadliest personal weapons ever created. How Fox had gotten the weapon – or himself for that matter – past the building’s intense security apparatus was a moot point.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span> </span>"Gun!" Anna cried out. "Get down!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia;"></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Fox opened fire like a</span></b><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> lawn mower scything down blades of grass. Bodies fell left and right, collapsing to the floor or on top of computer consoles and food-stocked tables. Screams filled the air as fear and emotion replaced skilled training. The targets had no way to fight back, cut down before they could even contemplate activating cybernetic defenses. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Paulius revealed his true colors by using Red Horse as a human shield. Fox shot her down and then, after she slumped to the floor, made sure DNA would be the only way to identify Paulius.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Anna threw her body in front of Dyre’s. The attempt was futile. Bullets punched right through her and struck Dyre in the heart.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span></span>Fox flipped the now empty gun over the railing and stormed out of the room. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">“…and the horse you rode in on!” he screamed as he walked away.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The gun clattered to the floor, its barrel warping from overheating. A small stream of blood hit the weapon and sizzled, throwing up an acrid wisp of smoke and an awful stench to anyone still alive to smell it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Down below, a small moan</span></b><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> rose up from the pile of bodies. With grim determination, Anna Velasquez moved her hand. Driven by some urgent, invisible need to survive, she grimaced as unimaginable pain seared through her body. She managed to pull herself along the floor, using control consoles slick with blood to help her ravaged limbs. Finally, with one last burst of energy, she reached up and hit a red button. As she collapsed, alarms began sounding. She curled up into the fetal position and whimpered, much like that awful day back in </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Mexico</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia;">To be continued Nov. 14, 2011. For more exciting tales, check out the latest issues of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=digital+digest&x=0&y=0">Digital Digest</a> at Amazon.</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Gregory Marshall Smith</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror author</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Hunters-ebook/dp/B005HAA7AQ/ref=sr_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1315210633&sr=1-3">Hunters</a> <a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/81518">They Call the Wind Muryah</a> <a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/81488">DarkTidings</a></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=8540815798711152534&postID=3600575206287657520">Crawl</a> </b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">Copyright © 2011 Gregory Marshall Smith</span></b></div><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;">All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.</span></div><br />
<span style="color: windowtext; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%;"></span><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> </span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8540815798711152534.post-44980441095568896232011-10-11T04:00:00.001-07:002011-10-11T04:00:16.346-07:00The Telephone<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><b><u><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">The Telephone</span></u></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">I’ve worked at this diner for twenty some years and our counter phone has only worked a few times. At first, I thought it was faulty wiring. Then I figured it was coincidence. Finally I became a believer and tried to steer people away from the phone. Eventually, I learned to accept it as fate. The phone is your warning and it rang for me tonight… </span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">I was alarmed when I</span></b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> pulled up to the diner to see everyone gathered outside. Thankfully, it wasn’t raining and it always rained in this God forsaken town. I parked in my usual spot and walked up, digging through my purse for keys I hadn’t used in five years. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“Betty’s not inside already?” I asked the obvious question. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">A few grumbles and head shakes from the small crowd. Betty had a warm heart—she’d promptly hired every scumbag looking for a job. Oddly enough, they’d all stuck around… even me. Betty had a way of making us feel wanted and useful, I guess.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“She probably just forgot to unlock the door.” I finally worked the lock loose and shoved the door open, holding it as they passed. Everyone knew old Betty was crazy as a loon on top of being sweet. We also knew she liked working late and frequently fell asleep at her desk.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">I walked into the office and dropped my stuff into the same worn leather chair, once again bemoaning the lack of hooks or lockers. Then, I noticed Betty’s stuff spread over her ancient desk, but no Betty with it. In all the years I’d worked here, Betty had been the first one in and the last one gone. It wasn’t like her to disappear. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">I took a breath and told myself not to worry. If the old lady wanted a day off, she was definitely due. Betty didn’t owe us an explanation or a warning after all. I held the place together thinking she’d stop in anytime. When the busy lunch rush rolled around and she still hadn’t showed or called, I got worried. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">When I decided to call her, I stared at the phone on the counter. The ugly, bright red phone I’d laughed at a few years ago. Betty had caught me cracking jokes and lectured me on the significance of <i>that</i> phone. I’d called her crazy until the first time it’d happened for me. My line of vision shifted through the glass and across the street.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">The Corner Diner was located across from a rowdy bar that never served food. We were always getting drunken riffraff coming in for a bite. Danny Thompson was a notorious bully and self-proclaimed badass. He and his crew were also regulars at the diner. When his friends had dared him to pick up the red phone, he’d agreed. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Most of the time, people intending to touch the thing always chickened out before picking it up. An urban myth nicknamed it the phone of death. Dramatic, I know. Anyway, Danny had turned white as a sheet when he’d held the phone to his ear and subsequently raced out of the diner. His mad dash was stopped by a train on the other end of town. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">People always called it coincidence. The townspeople said to each other, “<i>Danny had just been too drunk to notice all the warning signs and the track was rarely used.</i>” For awhile I agreed with them, able to reason it away until it kept happening. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">I looked out the diner window to the charred remains of the gas station diagonal to us. Mr. Schaffer used to own the place and he’d been a notorious scam artist. Always overcharging for auto repairs, fuel, and—hell—even the candy bars. All his tricks had ended a couple days back when he’d accidentally grabbed the phone instead of his glass of milk.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Later that same night, the truck Mr. Schaffer was working on fell on him without killing him. He’d also been notoriously cheap about buying equipment. The truck lift collapse was easy to explain away, the faulty wiring going up in smoke and burning Mr. Schaffer to death as his gas line had exploded—not so easy. At least not for me. Not anymore. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Turning back to the red phone, my heart raced and I prayed for Betty to answer her phone. I dialed with an odd mix of trepidation and speed, sure she’d pick up and laugh about forgetting work. By the time her answering machine kicked on, my palms were sweaty. My next call to the police didn’t help. They told me to call back if she didn’t show up by tomorrow. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Didn’t matter, I was fairly certain what had happened to our crazy Betty. I pasted on a smile and ran the place like I secretly had been for a year. I laughed with the regulars and said Betty was having a spa day. It was the best I could come up with on short notice. I even lied to the staff mentioning, she had checked in and there were no problems. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">The dinner rush was so hectic, I forgot about old Betty until I was locking up the doors and heading to my car. The police cruiser sitting in the parking lot didn’t bother me until the cop climbed out and scared me silly. At first, I looked around expecting a bar brawl to have drawn the officer out. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“Ms. Winters, I need to speak with you regarding Betty.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">I leaned against my car. “Did you track her down yet?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“In a manner of speaking, but folks mentioned you saying she was having a spa day?” He stared me down under the florescent parking lights and I shuffled. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“I may have lied to keep things calm at the diner. I didn’t want people to worry. Please tell me she’s safe.” One thing I’d learned from my experiences with the cops—honesty with a reason was better than avoidance, but best change the subject real fast.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“Afraid not. We’re going to need you to identify the body. She listed you as next of kin.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">I nodded. “I’ll follow you.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">The whole way I forced my grip to lessen on the steering wheel and my dinner to stay down. Next of kin to police usually screamed suspect and I didn’t have the best history with them. My mind worked its way through being made suspect number one and then, being admitted to a psych ward in the next town over for mentioning the phone. Thankfully, I pulled in behind the cruiser before my imagination could start playing all the possible scenarios surrounding Betty’s death. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Identifying the body ended up being more gruesome than even my mind could create. Apparently Betty had been working on her rooftop garden and taken a header into a dumpster. Unfortunately, the dumpster had just been filled with construction debris from another apartment’s remodel. She’d have been a goner either way; the sharp debris just destroyed her body and added insult to her death.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">My stomach had lost its</span></b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> battle against the dinner revolt and a police officer passed me a soda while I answered questions. Obviously, tossing meatloaf had won me a pity card. I told them everything I knew, which wasn’t much. Betty was secretive for the most part. Hell, I was shocked to learn she’d left the diner to me. I did, however, leave out my thoughts on the stupid red diner phone.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“She scribbled some words in the dirt of the flowerbed she was working on.” The officer checked his notes, but I knew what it would say. “<i>It rang</i>. Any idea what she meant?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“No idea, everyone knew she was crazy. Who knows what she meant.” Losing my dinner and seeing Betty’s decimated body had left me pale so the lie was even more convincing. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">There were a few more questions, mostly variations of the same ones over and over. Did they suspect I knew more? Hell yes. Could they prove a thing? Hell no. Thank God for worthless roommates to verify my whereabouts until I’d left for work and then all the diner witnesses. Not to mention I had called the police worried about her. They brought up her last words a few more times, but I shrugged it off each time. Trick with lying to the cops—keep it short and simple, easier to remember. I signed some paperwork and an official statement, and then was finally released.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">I’d made up my mind</span></b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> to sell the dive as soon as I’d left the police department. I didn’t want to sit around waiting for the damn death phone to ring that my time was up. I also didn’t want to watch it lure more people to it. In the past, it’d seemed to target bad guys, bullies, and drunks. Poor old Betty had been as sweet as they come though, and it bothered me. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">The diner was profitable and popular; it hadn’t taken long for someone to snatch it up. Took even less time for me to cash in the check and hit the road. I wanted as far away from the place as possible and I’d made enough to head south to fun and sun. The few things I owned were stashed in the backseat and trunk of my little car.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">The drive had been uneventful until I hit the mountain range. I swerved around a meandering deer, wondering if its eyes hadn’t just glowed red, when my cell phone rang. I fished it out and hit speaker, not wanting to spare a hand on the curvy, narrow roads. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“Hello?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“So glad we reached you, been trying all day…” The new owner’s voice echoed in my car. “Someone keeps calling saying your name and then hanging up.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“I apologize for that, probably just pranksters.” I moved into a narrow area, a recent rockslide cutting off traffic in the other lane. Wait… deer… rocks… narrow mountain road. “Which phone was ringing again?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“That pretty red one on the counter. Someone just breathes your name and hangs up. It’s kind of chilling.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">I headed around the curve and realized there was no way to avoid the semi-truck barreling toward me or my fate. “You don’t say…”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Watch for my next short horror piece on November 18<sup>th</sup>, here on Digital Digest. Like your chills on the cheap? Check out our ebooks available now and don’t forget to sign up to have our works delivered to your Kindle or email! Hassle free reading at its finest.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">~Jennifer Feuerstein~</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/home.php#%21/pages/Jennifer-L-Feuerstein/268454072555"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Facebook</span></a><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> * </span><a href="http://www.wix.com/feuersteinjennifer/author"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Website</span></a><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> * </span><a href="http://twitter.com/#%21/McFlat29"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Twitter</span></a><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> * </span><a href="http://jfcrowdedmind.blogspot.com/?zx=6d5a3bf7635f604"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Blog</span></a><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Copyright © 2011 Jennifer Feuerstein</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8540815798711152534.post-27282017085873260312011-10-09T06:00:00.000-07:002011-10-09T06:00:03.108-07:00A Review of Cassandra Clare's Clockwork Angel<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><u><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">A Review of <i>Clockwork Angel</i></span></u></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">Jennifer Feuerstein</span></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUSa5W1OiOwMInrRLaScFKXcZ3iyxgn80LkbQqz6d74_LuZkA3sK_RRTCxfxRn1H9UROCTgH6EPJKvs8YZZ7NLBBMg4MIxCi2bGYY6YAPuYF02D6umdsFQZV0NFcorsOWcDUh3u0DQWW8/s1600/Clockwork+Angel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUSa5W1OiOwMInrRLaScFKXcZ3iyxgn80LkbQqz6d74_LuZkA3sK_RRTCxfxRn1H9UROCTgH6EPJKvs8YZZ7NLBBMg4MIxCi2bGYY6YAPuYF02D6umdsFQZV0NFcorsOWcDUh3u0DQWW8/s320/Clockwork+Angel.jpg" width="212" /></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;"> </span></b></span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 150%;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Clockwork-Angel-Infernal-Devices-Book/dp/1416975861/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1309619703&sr=8-1"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">Clockwork Angel, Amazon</span></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvH9si5820QquaVotioTtdbyoFm69iB992dzi5h6lRz3ie7Rv9GNH7enbRbfKBrabYRlqJOI3d24XG7HLPhWxdIzFExuQWy3fS0TV3tuCl8IkurstKGLcASLOC82VMmB1YLy1e8NGhj9k/s1600/Jester+Hat+Border.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="37" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvH9si5820QquaVotioTtdbyoFm69iB992dzi5h6lRz3ie7Rv9GNH7enbRbfKBrabYRlqJOI3d24XG7HLPhWxdIzFExuQWy3fS0TV3tuCl8IkurstKGLcASLOC82VMmB1YLy1e8NGhj9k/s200/Jester+Hat+Border.png" width="200" /></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 150%;">As always let’s go over a little background information. The book is the first in Cassandra Clare’s second series Infernal Devices. We’re still following Shadowhunters, but it’s a prequel to the Mortal Instruments series. Read on to find out what I thought of Cassandra Clare’s Clockwork Angel.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 150%;">Well, if you’ve read City of Bones you pretty much know where Clockwork Angel will go. There aren’t many surprises in store as far as plot and the characters are pretty similar to those in the Mortal Instruments. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 150%;">As you may have noticed in my last review, a lot of people will tell you this has to be read before City of Fallen Angels from Mortal Instruments. Not necessarily true. A few characters from Clockwork will be seen in Fallen Angels, but nothing in Clockwork Angel is important for enjoying or understanding Fallen Angels. Just wanted to dispel the notation it had to be read.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 150%;">All in all, I was very disappointed with this installment. It’s interesting to learn about the past of the Shadowhunters, but it isn’t very well developed. The characters and plot mirroring City of Bones is redundant and boring. Taken by itself, it’s an interesting read but it just doesn’t work with her writings overall. I mean, most people will read it because they liked Mortal Instruments and they’re going to be disappointed by the lack of a new plot.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 150%;">Clockwork Prince will be the next book in the Infernal Devices series and is due out December 6, 2011. I can only hope it won’t mirror City of Ashes, but I think I’ll check it out from the library instead of buying it… just in case. (The blurb from her <a href="http://www.theinfernaldevices.com/books.php">website</a> seems oddly reminiscent of City of Ashes –sigh-)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 150%;">So, to sum up this little review, I give Clockwork Angel 2 out of 5 jester hats. It’s an okay read, but with a redundant plot and character development it feels like déjà vu. If you’re going to read this one, rent it or borrow it from a friend. I, personally, was disappointed. Hey, copy for sale anyone?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 150%;">Up Next: the review of City of Fallen Angels… and it comes with a WARNING sticker. In November, I’ll review the adult Fever series by Karen Marie Moning and you won’t want to miss it!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 150%;">As always, I welcome suggestions for books to review. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 150%;">~Jennifer Feuerstein~</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/home.php#%21/pages/Jennifer-L-Feuerstein/268454072555"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">Facebook</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 150%;"> * </span><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.wix.com/feuersteinjennifer/author"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">Website</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 150%;"> * </span><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://twitter.com/#%21/McFlat29"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">Twitter</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 150%;"> * </span><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://jfcrowdedmind.blogspot.com/?zx=6d5a3bf7635f604"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 150%;">Blog</span></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8540815798711152534.post-82929943072080471152011-10-08T04:00:00.000-07:002011-10-08T04:00:00.701-07:00The Body Farm: Conclusion<div class="MsoNormal"><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"><b><i>Content Advisory: The series contains scenes of zombie horror that some may find disturbing. The series started on 22nd August.</i></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"><b><u>The Body Farm</u></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"><b><u>Conclusion</u></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"><b>Eleanor sat on her haunches</b>, her whole body trembling, trying to her catch breath. She glanced over to see Jimmy folded into two, his face in his hand, his shoulders heaving. She reached out and lightly touched his shoulder, making him look up. His face was wet with tears.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“I’ve been bitten,” Jimmy sobbed. “One of the fuckers got me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Seeing tears on a grown man unnerved Eleanor, but she rubbed his back, trying to offer some comfort.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">None of them spoke about Kyle; the gaping hole that had suddenly appeared between and beneath them. Yet each of them wondered, ‘could they have done anything to save him? Had they made mistakes?’<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Eleanor checked Jimmy’s injury. Teeth marks penetrated the flesh of his leg, a chunk of skin hanging like an open door from his calf. She tore off part of her shirt and wrapped his wound.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“It’s okay,” she said. “You’ll live. But we’ve got to keep moving. I don’t know if those things will figure out a way to get in here but I don’t plan on hanging around to find out.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“She’s right,” said Robert. “We need to get to the roof. We’ll be able to get a better assessment of the situation from there.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Assessment of the situation?” Jimmy’s tone was too high. “The situation is we’re surrounded by fucking zombies. That’s the fucking situation!”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Well we need to do something,” Robert said. “Sitting around in a pipe like a bunch of hamsters in a Rotastak isn’t exactly going to save us.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“This isn’t helping anyone, gentlemen,” she hissed. “Let’s just move!”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">In the confined space, they hunched on their hands and knees, heads lowered. Robert led the way, with Eleanor in the middle and Jimmy bringing up the rear. Being the largest of the depleted group, Robert struggled most, his shoulders almost wedging when they needed to take a turning, the vents crossing in a, ‘t’.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“I’m not feeling well,” Jimmy moaned from behind. Sweat poured from his brow.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Just keep going, Jimmy,” said Eleanor, trying to sound more confident than she felt. She didn’t like having him crawling along behind her. They had no idea what happened to someone who had been bitten by one of the dead things and the thought of him suddenly attacking her and sinking his own teeth into her leg stayed at the front of her mind. “We can take a look at you as soon as we reach the roof,” she continued. “We’re bound to come across the vent to the outside world soon.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">She was right. Within five minutes they hit a solid silver wall. The only option was to head up the square, vertical shaft. Another grate blocked the way about six feet overhead, but beyond the metal they saw an indigo blue sky with stars that were quickly being put out, one by one.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Eleanor thanked the gods the research center was only single story. If the vent rose up several stories, they’d be fucked.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Relieved she’d thought to pocket the scalpel—it was a weapon after all—she reached into the back pocket of her pants and pulled out the slim, cool metal. She passed the scalpel to Robert, careful to slide between him and the vent, not wanted to accidently cut him in the confined space.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Here,” she said. “Work your magic.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Robert took the blade and squeezed himself into the cramped space, wriggling shoulders and arms to reach over his head, standing to his full height. The metal walls pressed in on every side except one and he reached up, up toward the stars, and put the scalpel to work.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">The time dragged by painful slowly as Eleanor waited for Robert to loosen the screws and pop the grate. Jimmy’s presence behind her made her whole body tighten with nerves. His heavy breathing filled the tight space and his body odor had taken on the rank, stifling smell of rotting meat. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Finally, the small screws pinged to the bottom of the vent and Robert was able to push the grate out of its home. He hooked his fingers over the edge and hauled himself up and onto the roof. Within moments, his face reappeared, blocking out the sky. Eleanor wriggled herself into the vent—an easier job than Robert had because of her size—and lifted her arms up toward him. He reached down, his warm strong palms catching around both of hers, and he hauled her up. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Eleanor tumbled onto the roof, gasping in a lungful of relatively clean air. To have the new day’s fresh breeze against her face felt better than anything she could remember.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Guys…” The weak call echoed up the vent and Eleanor and Robert shared a glance.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Is he okay?” asked Robert under his voice.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“I don’t think so, but we can’t leave him down there.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Robert nodded and leaned back over the shaft, reaching down to hoist Jimmy up to join them.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">The three of them sat on the flat, asphalt roof. Above, the sky was beginning to lighten. Hard to believe they’d been trapped in the building all night. In the increasing light, they saw more of the dead, many of them now seeming to stumble around without purpose, a contrast to the fast, driven creatures they’d witnessed before.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Why the change?” whispered Eleanor, not wanting to be heard.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“I don’t know,” said Robert, frowning. “Do you think the worms only have a certain life-span? Perhaps they die quickly.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Hmmm,” she said, her mind whirring. “The only organisms I know that have such a short life cycle are one’s who’ve spawned.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Robert rolled his eyes, “Great.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Jimmy’s face was white, a sheen of sweat coating his skin. “I don’t feel well,” he said again, only this time his voice was faint.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Eleanor and Robert exchanged a worried glance.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Past the stumbling dead rose the high, solid metal security gates, allowing access to and from the facility. Beyond the high, barbed wire tipped walls, beyond the locked gates, was freedom.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Jimmy twisted to all fours and vomited on the asphalt roofing, his whole body straining like a cat with a fur ball. As he sat up, he began to cry again.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“I kicked him off me,” he said. “Kyle was only a kid and he begged for my help and I just kicked him off.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Eleanor and Robert shared another glance. Eleanor patted Jimmy’s shoulder, trying not to grimace at feel of his cold, sweat-soaked clothing. The stench coming off him now was almost unbearable, making her want to cover her face with her hand.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“It’s not your fault,” she said. “The only things to blame are those fucking things down there.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“I should have let him go first. He’d have been faster than me. He would have got up without being bitten.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“You don’t know that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“He was young. He had his whole life ahead of him. Now both of us are goners.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“You’ll be fine,” Eleanor said. “We just need to get you some medical attention.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Jimmy gave a sound half-way between and cry and a laugh. “I don’t think there are many medics up here.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“We’ll figure out a way to get down. All we’ve got to do is create some kind of distraction, get the dead things away from the main gates, and then we make a run for it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Her comment hung over them like a cloud. They knew Jimmy wasn’t running anywhere.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">The dead milled around below them, as yet unaware of the live humans above. The gates seemed so far away; an almost impossible distance.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Jimmy climbed to his feet. “I think I’ve got an idea for a distraction,” he said, his voice grating and weak. “You two take care of each other.” And with that, he broke into a run, heading to the back of the roof.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Jimmy!” Eleanor yelled, but he’d caught them by surprise and before they’d even managed to leap to their feet, Jimmy plummeted off the edge.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Eleanor and Robert stared after him in shock. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">The feasting below began, a shrieking of both rage and pleasure. As far as they could see, all of the dead ran toward the sound, fleeing from the space between the roof and freedom.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Robert seized their chance. “Go!” he yelled, pushing Eleanor toward the edge. The drop looked like a frighteningly long way, but they had no choice. Robert went first, backing off the side until he hung by his fingers, and then dropped the rest of the way as silently as possible.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Come on,” he hissed. “I’ll catch you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Eleanor copied Robert’s actions, skirting backward until her feet hung over the edge. With her heart pounding, she hooked her fingers onto the edge of the flat roof. The muscles in her back and arms trembled as they took her body weight and she dangled in mid-air.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Let go!” Robert hissed. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Eleanor took a deep breath, released her grip and dropped into his arms. Pressed against his chest, she looked up at him. Their eyes locked for the briefest of seconds before they remembered where they were.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">He grabbed her hand and they took off toward the gates, Robert pulling her along.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Behind them came the sound of pounding feet, followed by more screams.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">The dead were coming.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">The scientists’ feet hit the ground, breath gasping in and out of their lungs. They hit the big metal gates at a run, slamming up against them. The same card pinned to their belts allowed access to and from the facility.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Eleanor swiped her card. The dead were getting closer—things with decayed faces and rotten fingers, reaching for them. She tried to swipe the gate, her fingers fumbling the card, almost dropping it. Too fast, she tried again, and the lock didn’t register.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“Hurry,” urged Robert.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“God damn it,” she swore, but tried again and the gates buzzed green.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Eleanor and Robert burst from the facility, out into the real world. They slammed the gate behind them and the barrier automatically locked, the light showing red. Bodies hit the other side like flies hitting a windshield, their groans and screeches filling the early morning. Eleanor wondered if Jimmy was among them.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Robert’s hand found Eleanor’s, their fingers entwining.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“What now?” he said, as they stood on the side of a deserted, narrow road.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">“I don’t know. But whatever this thing is, I think the authorities will need my help. There are only thirty forensic entomologists in the whole of the United States and I’m one of them.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Robert set his jaw. “I’d better do my best to make sure you don’t get killed then.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Eleanor smiled and squeezed his hand.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">For the moment, the area they were in remained quiet but they had no idea what to expect as they headed toward the city. The horrifying world they’d found themselves in contained unimaginable terrors but they’d found a new strength.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Each other.</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><i>~*~</i></div></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span lang="EN-US"><span lang="EN-US">Like what you've read? Marissa Farrar's short story collection, <em>Where the Dead Live</em>, is available to buy from <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Where-Collection-Paranormal-Stories-ebook/dp/B004WOW076/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1311594212&sr=1-1">Amazon</a> for only $0.99.</span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-US"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><strong><em>Marissa Farrar</em></strong></span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US"><strong><em><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0066cc; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">~</span><span lang="EN-US"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/marissa.farrar.author" target="_blank"><span style="color: #0066cc; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Facebook </span></a></span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">~</span><span lang="EN-US"><a href="https://twitter.com/MarissaFarrar" target="_blank"><span style="color: #0066cc; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Twitter</span></a></span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">~ </span><u><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0066cc; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> Blog~</span></u></em></strong></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><u><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0066cc;"><br />
</span></u><strong><em><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif;">Copyright © 2011 Marissa Farrar. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.</span></em></strong></span><br />
<div><span lang="EN-US"><strong><em><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><br />
</span></em></strong></span></div></div></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8540815798711152534.post-54113526989387930272011-10-07T04:00:00.000-07:002011-10-07T04:00:02.525-07:00The Body Farm; Part Four<div class="MsoNormal"><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><i>Content Advisory: Contains scenes of zombie horror. This series started on 22nd August</i>.</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><br />
</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><u>The Body Farm</u></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><u>Part Four</u></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><br />
</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><br />
</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">As though the flat, white</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"> worms sensed the approaching dead, they squirmed, twisted and flipped—unraveling from the body on the slab. They slipped away from the still jerking flesh, across the table, dropping on the floor.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Oh, shit,” swore Robert, dancing away from the worms as they slithered like a swarm of tiny snakes toward the door.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“If you’ve got any open wounds,” said Eleanor stepping away from one heading in her direction. “For God’s sake, don’t let them get near you. I’m guessing they can’t infect the living, but best we don’t take any chances.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Damn right,” said Jimmy, skipping out of the way of a squirming length, surprisingly fast for a man of his age.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Robert growled in disgust and brought his heel down on one of the worms. The creature crushed beneath his sole, leaving a white gooey smear.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">The screams and shrieks of the dead grew closer and each of the room’s inhabitants glanced uneasily at the door.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“It’s locked, right?” Kyle asked. “They can’t get in?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Robert grimaced, “Yeah the door’s locked, but if Lenny is with them, they might be able to open it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“What the hell are we standing around for then?” said Jimmy.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">With her still gloved hands, Eleanor went to push the corpse off the slab. The cold body jerked beneath her palms and she instinctively pulled back. She’d touched plenty of cadavers in her career, but never ones that had continued to move long after dissection. Swallowing her revulsion, she placed on hand against its shoulder and another on its hip and gave the body a shove. It slid from the table and hit the floor with a sickening thud. Even on the floor, the body continued in its strange uncoordinated spasms, its arms and legs twitching. More worms unraveled from the body as jerked on the floor.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Help me move this,” she said, gripping the edge of the table.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">The men each took a corner and, dodging the worms still squirming around their feet, they pushed the table beneath the metal grilled vent in the ceiling.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">The dead rounded the corner like a swarm of rats in a sewer tunnel. A recently deceased, bloated man led the hoard. His eyes were glassy, his stomach distended like a seven months pregnant woman. With outstretch arms and fingers hooked into claws, his purpose took no guessing. Another flanked him—a woman—her hair flapping around the sides of her sunken face in coils of dirty rope. Close behind, another corpse followed, this one undistinguishable in sex. Dried skin hung from its face in flaps, white bone peeking through the decomposed flesh.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Go! Go! Go,” Robert shouted, pushing Eleanor up on the table.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Eleanor reached up but her fingertips barely scraped the vent. “I can’t reach it!”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Robert scrambled up beside her. He placed his palms flat against the vent and shoved. The metal grill didn’t budge.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Hurry up, Robert,” yelled Jimmy. “They’re at the door.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Eleanor swung her head around to see at least twenty faces of the dead pressed up against the glass. Their hands clawed and battered at the door and windows, leaving smears of rotten flesh and pus across the glass. Their shrieks of fury, though muffled, filled the room. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Find something to bash it in with,” yelled Robert.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Eleanor searched the make-up of the grill for something that might allow them access. Screws held down the cover.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">She motioned with her hand to the tray of instruments she’d used to dissect the body. “Quick, pass me the scalpel.” <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Kyle grabbed the instrument and handed it up to her.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">The added length of the handle meant she could now reach. She fitted the blade into one of the screws and turned. The screw resisted for a moment and then gave way, winding undone.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Find me one,” demanded Robert.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Beyond the glass, the hoards of dead things piled upon one another, crushing into the narrow space of the corridor, several bodies deep.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">With Robert working as well, the screws popped from their threads, pinging to the ground, and the grate became loose in its casting.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">With a high-pitched creak, the glass of the door began to split.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Robert shoved the grate out of the way. “Come on,” he motioned to Eleanor. “I’ll push you up.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“No, you need to go first. You can pull the rest of us up. If you’re down here by yourself, we’ll never be able to pull you up.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">It was true. At six-foot-two, he outweighed Kyle by at least fifty pounds, and Jimmy was too old to pull Robert up. Eleanor would never have the upper body strength. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Shit,” he swore, but there wasn’t time to argue. He hooked his fingers over the edge of the shaft and allowed both Eleanor and Kyle to boost him up. As soon as he was up, he leaned back down the hole and grabbed Eleanor, pulling her up with him.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">The glass creaked once again.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Hurry!” Jimmy called.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">With the awkward motion of a man whose joints had seen better days, Jimmy climbed on the table.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“They’re coming!” Kyle screamed, his eyes bulging in fear. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">The gap in the ceiling was only big enough for one person to reach down, so Eleanor had to sit back, allowing Robert to lean through. He grabbed Jimmy’s wiry wrist just as the glass of the door burst inward, the windows quickly following. Glass tinkled like fallen shards of ice.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Kyle shrieked, clambering at the table. Robert pulled, lifting Jimmy off the table, Jimmy’s legs dangling in mid-air. The dead swarmed in, barging past each other in their eagerness to get to them.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Help!” screamed Kyle. “Fucking help me!”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">The younger man grabbed hold of Jimmy’s leg, trying to drag him away, to clear the space.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Hey!” Robert yelled as Jimmy was yanked back down, pulling on Robert’s arms as though he were deep sea fishing and had hooked something big. “Get the fuck off him!”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">But Kyle’s terror had him in its grip and he was too far gone to pay any attention. The dead swarmed over him like ants on a candy bar.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">The young man’s shrieks of panic turned to screams of pain.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Jimmy kicked and yelled even as Robert tried to pull him up, but the older man’s weight had doubled.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“One of them has got me!” the older man yelled. “Oh, shit…”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Eleanor grabbed the top of Robert’s arm and helped him pull. Together they yanked while Jimmy thrashed and yelled in their grip.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“For fuck’s sake, hold still!” Robert shouted.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“One of them has got me! One of them has fucking got me”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Eleanor pulled, trying not to hear Kyle’s horrified screams. There was nothing they could do for the boy now. The room was filled with the living dead.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Jimmy’s weight suddenly lightened and they pulled him up, all falling backward in the confines of the chute.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">“Kyle!” Jimmy cried, clambering to his hands and knees and peering back down. But the boy was gone. Below them, a sea of dead arms and legs flailed, teeth gnashing. The enraged shrieks of the dead drowned out the boy’s screams—if he were even still alive to make such a sound.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">They sat back. The dead things would never be able to climb up to the vent. For the moment, at least, they were safe.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">~*~</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span lang="EN-US"><span lang="EN-US"><em>The Body Farm</em> concludes tomorrow!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span lang="EN-US"><span lang="EN-US">Like what you've read? Marissa Farrar's short story collection, <em>Where the Dead Live</em>, is available to buy from <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Where-Collection-Paranormal-Stories-ebook/dp/B004WOW076/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1311594212&sr=1-1">Amazon</a> for only $0.99.</span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">If you would like to catch up on any of our posts or get a preview of the rest of this month's stories, you can purchase the eBook, Digital Digest, Volume 1, from <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Digital-Digest-Volume-I-ebook/dp/B0058IZAGS/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1310472562&sr=8-1">Amazon</a> and <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/digital-digest-volume-i-danielle-gavan/1104038438?ean=2940012776365&itm=2&usri=digital%2bdigest">Barnes & Noble</a> for only $0.99!</span><br />
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</span></u><strong><em><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif;">Copyright © 2011 Marissa Farrar. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.</span></em></strong></span><br />
<div><span lang="EN-US"><strong><em><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><br />
</span></em></strong></span></div></div></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8540815798711152534.post-34666981992335771242011-10-05T00:01:00.000-07:002011-10-05T00:01:02.199-07:00Power Play: Chapter Seven<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuZ-xpxr_AH-FNgdXnL2uOPkNE3lROSMVScWgIFetejBo9eBdUuqOS0uUKWFSuftwFL7MONoimGYqSdq7HIl8hslLhi4m9HzII6mxAY4Hkk_G9KkqIZDYBtwZczsfLNcZLeg3ibKy6iko/s1600/PowerPlay_72dpi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuZ-xpxr_AH-FNgdXnL2uOPkNE3lROSMVScWgIFetejBo9eBdUuqOS0uUKWFSuftwFL7MONoimGYqSdq7HIl8hslLhi4m9HzII6mxAY4Hkk_G9KkqIZDYBtwZczsfLNcZLeg3ibKy6iko/s320/PowerPlay_72dpi.jpg" width="226" /></a></div><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Cassie’s not having a good week. She’s tired of dealing with the mixed signals from her boyfriend and she’s attacked by a large dog. Then it gets worse. Said boyfriend is keeping secrets and possibly using her for his own ends and the dog that attacked her? Yeah, that was a werewolf and now she’s going to be howling at the next full moon. </i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><br />
</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Not only does she have to deal with a deranged werewolf, intent on killing her but she’s got her boyfriend’s father pushing them to mate. Did she mention her boyfriend was a werewolf too? It’s going to take all she’s got to handle these alpha men and get what she wants too. Things can only get better. Right?</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><br />
</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><b>If you missed Chapter Six, you can find it <a href="http://thedigitaldigest.blogspot.com/2011/09/power-play-chapter-6.html">here</a>.</b></i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>Alex was gone the next</b> morning when she woke up. A weight lifted off her chest, and she breathed for the first time in days, even though she was alone. Or because she was alone. As much as she hated that Alex had used her, she still found him attractive, the chemistry between them as explosive as ever. The back and forth between her head and her heart had her stomach tied in knots. If this continued, she’d have an ulcer before long.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">After a leisurely shower, Cassie headed down to rummage for breakfast. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, the doorbell rang. Her heart pounded and she tensed to run until a sudden thought sprang forward. Indecision warred inside her. Should she answer? Alex swore there were guards watching over her so it should be someone friendly. Would the guy trying to kill her really ring the doorbell? Still….</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A couple of hard knocks on the heavy door startled her. “Cassidy March? I’m Megan, Alex’s sister.”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Relief at hearing a friendly voice flooded through her. She eased the door open and found an attractive woman standing on the porch. Megan resembled her brother with long dark brown hair the same shade as Alex’s, but lighter colored eyes.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A man walked up behind Alex’s sister. Fear skittered through her and she backed away from the door. Was this the man that had hurt her? Megan turned to look behind her.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Mace, don’t sneak up like that. You know what Cassidy’s been through.” </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The chagrined man stopped in his tracks and offered up an apologetic smile. “Sorry, ladies.”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The improbability of the situation, a pint-size woman reprimanding a man twice her size, struck Cassie funny and a nervous laugh escaped. Both Mace and Megan turned their attention to her. The confusion on the big man’s face just made her laugh louder. Alex’s sister must have realized the joke and joined in with her own chuckles. The shared laughter broke the ice between them better than anything else could have. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Obviously deciding they were both crazy, Mace cocked his head. “Do either of you need anything?”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Still giggling, they both shook their heads. Cassie opened the door wider and Megan stepped through. The burly guard shook his head as he headed back to his post.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Sorry to drop in on you. I thought you might like some company since Alex is gone today.”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A new kind of warmth washed over her, collecting in her chest, touched that someone who didn’t even know her would take the time to make sure she was okay. “Thank you for thinking of me. Have you had breakfast yet?” </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Breakfast sounds great. Shall I help?” Megan moved through the hall toward the kitchen.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Nope, but I’d love to pick your brain. This werewolf stuff is pretty new to me.”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Yeah, I know. Another reason I came over. There are just some questions that a woman wants to ask another woman.”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The warm, fuzzy feeling in her tummy was back. Before she could stop herself, she gave Megan a quick hug. Then embarrassment at her forwardness sent a new shaft of fire to her cheeks and she stiffened, pulled away.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Megan snatched up Cass’ hand before she could put distance between them. “You’re not alone anymore. You’re part of a pack and that means you have an instant family, including the good and bad.”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Tears welled in her eyes and a ball of emotion stuck in her throat. “Thanks.”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Pulling away and wiping her eyes, Cassie moved over to the refrigerator. “Let’s see what we can find to eat.”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">During a quick but filling breakfast, Cassie peppered Megan with questions. Most of the information was general stuff, things that Alex had already told her. She yearned to ask the question that burned inside her heart.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">As though she had a direct line to her brain, Megan looked into her eyes. “Go ahead. There’s something you want to know. Ask.”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">With a gulp, Cassie plunged ahead. “Can I still have children?”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Of course you can. Alex and I are both born wolves. Your children will be shifters, but that’s to be expected between two full wolf shifters.”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Elation at the news that her dream was not dead sprang up inside her. Then, the other woman’s words registered. Who did Megan think the father would be? “How do you know that the father will be a full werewolf? Is there a rule that says I can only be with a werewolf?”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Confusion wrinkled Megan’s forehead. “Uh…no…but wolf shifters only have children with their true mates.”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“So how do you know who my true mate will be?” Why was Alex’s sister acting so strange?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Cassie, you and Alex are true mates.”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A lump of what felt like stone dropped into Cassie’s stomach and feeling light-headed, she laid her head down on the table. How could Alex be her true mate? Why was her only chance of having children dependent on a man who didn’t love her? A surreal feeling hovered around her as if this were a dream. Maybe she’d wake up in the hospital and find out everything was a coma-induced fantasy.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Are you all right?” Megan squeezed her arm, infusing some warmth back into her cold extremities.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Cassie raised her head. “How do you know Alex and I are true mates?”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Arching her brow, Megan watched Cassie, concern radiating from her warm gaze. “All wolves know their true mate – by smell and by the strong physical chemistry.”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“So it’s a biological thing?”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“At first. Love always comes from a true mate pairing. I think because of the soul-joining.”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The what? Soul-joining? Alex had left out a lot during their discussion. She ignored the whisper in the back of her mind telling her that he wanted to tell her everything and she’d refused to listen.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“I’m sorry. I thought Alex had explained all this.” Megan’s face was now a mask of worry.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Tamping down her thoughts and emotions, Cassie took a deep breath. She needed to remain calm so she could make sense of all this new information. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“No, not yet. Please. Tell me about this soul-joining.”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Indecision lined Megan’s face. Cassie reached out and grasped the other woman’s hand.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Please.”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">With a squeeze, Megan nodded. “It’s believed that each werewolf is born with half a soul. Their true mate has the other half, so when they find each other, they go through a mating ritual. This joins the soul halves together, which binds the couple forever. Until a wolf finds his true mate and they perform the binding ceremony, they don’t reach their full strength.”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Is that why your father pushed at Alex to have this ceremony with me?”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Yes. Dad is the current Alpha and Alex is his successor, but he can’t take over until he’s mated. Until he has his full strength, a lesser wolf that is mated could challenge him and win.”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“You’re saying that Alex can’t be Alpha unless he’s mated and because we’re supposedly true mates, it has to be with me?” A numbness invaded her limbs, her heart, her head. How did she handle this? If Alex needed her specifically to be the Alpha, then he had no intention of ever backing down. Yesterday had been about him placating her, biding his time until he could convince her to do this ceremony thing. She didn’t know whether to be thrilled or angry. Her emotions swung from one extreme to the other.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Cassidy, are you okay?” Megan’s worried voice broke through the deep freeze overrunning her.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">She rubbed her temples as a headache started behind her eyes. “I appreciate you stopping by and explaining this stuff, but could I be alone for awhile? I think I need some time to process everything.”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Instantly solicitous, Megan jumped up. “Of course. I’m sorry for laying all of this on you. I thought Alex had already explained about your mating.”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Don’t worry about it. It’s just a lot to take in.” Cassie forced a smile to reassure Megan.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">When she’d finally shut the door behind the friendly woman, Cassie staggered to the couch. The numbness had worn off and anger built steadily as she went over the conversation in her head.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The exchange she’d overheard between Alex and his father the first day now took on greater significance. Somehow, she and Alex were true mates and only by binding with her, could he take his place as the pack leader. He’d never felt anything for her outside the biological clues that told him she was the one that could help him.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A sharp pain pierced her chest. She’d thought he couldn’t hurt her any more than he already had, but she’d been wrong. Distance. That’s what she needed. She knew once Alex returned, he’d start his charade again to seduce her. Another kiss like the one they’d shared last night would likely make her forget her conviction and condemn her to a loveless life.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Decision in place, she ran for the stairs. It was still early in the day. She’d take a backpack of essentials and get some space for a while. With her new senses, she could figure out where the guards were and look out for the rogue herself. As long as she was vigilant, she should be fine.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The full moon was only a week away. She’d come back for her first shift, because God knew it scared her silly. A week with no outward influence would help her think clearly enough to decide what to do.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Hopefully.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>Today had been a lesson</b> in frustration. Alex released a heavy sigh and ran a hand through his hair as he walked up the drive to his house. If luck was with him tonight, he’d make more headway with Cassie.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">His mind wandered to the kiss last night as it’d done all day. He’d heard the chemistry between true mates was off-the-charts hot, but since he’d been cautious during their courtship, he hadn’t experienced it. Until last night.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Cassie had run. Again. Because she was scared of the feelings between them? He needed to explain true mates to her. How would she take it? Not well, he’d venture. His wolf strained inside him to take her, but the man knew she had a lot to contend with and that patience was a better plan. What he’d give to be able to go home and lose himself in his mate.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">At his front door, he detected his sister’s scent and smiled. He’d hoped that Meg would stop by and spend some time with Cassie. Leaving her alone when there was still a huge threat went against everything in him, but if he could find the rogue and neutralize him, it would be worth it.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Cassie’s scent overlaid Meg’s, but both were faint. He frowned. If Cassie were inside, her scent should be stronger. Fear shot through him, and he slammed through the door.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Cass!”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Silence greeted him. He tore through the house, but found it empty. Ending at the kitchen, he saw a white rectangle on the table that he’d missed on his first frantic pass through. He opened the paper. The words blurred and he had to take a deep breath to calm the shaking in his hand enough to read the note.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Alex,</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>I know I said I’d stay until the rogue was caught, but after talking with your sister today, I need something I can’t get at your place. Space. I’ll be careful while I’m gone and I’ll be back next week for the full moon. Please don’t try to follow me.</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Cassie</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He crumpled the paper into a tight ball. What the hell had his sister told her? Crossing the room to the phone, he punched in the number. As soon as it lifted on the other end, he exploded.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“What the hell did you tell her, Meg? She’s gone.”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“What? What are you talking about?”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“I came home to an empty house and a note saying she needed space after your conversation. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">What. Did. You. Tell. Her?”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Oh, no. I’m sorry, Alex. I thought she already knew. When I realized she didn’t, it was too late.”</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“What?” Adrenaline spiked inside him, urging him to go find her now, but he needed to know why she ran. He needed to know what was so bad that she felt the need to run away after being attacked twice already.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“I told her about true mates and the binding ritual.”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Alex closed his eyes and dropped his head back. An ache settled in his chest. He should have been the one to tell her. It was his fault that she’d found out this way. As much as he wanted to give her the space she’d requested, he couldn’t do it. She wasn’t safe with the rogue still running wild, and whether she accepted him or not, she was his mate and he would protect her.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Meg’s voice cut through his thoughts. “I’ll be right over to help look for her. We’ll find her.”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The confidence in his sister’s voice replayed in his head while he called the guards to report. He had to think the best. If anything happened to her…he couldn’t even think that way. In the short time since he’d found her, she’d burrowed her way into his heart. He couldn’t live without her now and he’d do whatever it took so he wouldn’t have to.</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>****</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>Please return on October 19th for Chapter 8 of Power Play.</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>~~Riley Quinn~~</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><a href="http://www.riley-quinn.com/">Website</a> * <a href="http://www.facebook.com/AuthorRileyQuinn">Facebook</a> * <a href="http://twitter.com/#!/RileyQuinn">Twitter</a></b></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">If you missed any of our previous posts and would like to catch up, you can purchase the <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Digital-Digest-Issue-ebook/dp/B0058IZAGS/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1317633507&sr=1-2">Digital Digest Volume I Issue I</a>, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Digital-Digest-Issue-II-ebook/dp/B005F7INH0/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1317633507&sr=1-1">Digital Digest Volume I Issue II</a></i> and <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Digital-Digest-Issue-III-ebook/dp/B005PYIM4W/ref=sr_1_3?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1317633507&sr=1-3">Digital Digest Volume I Issue III</a></i> anthologies as ebooks for only $.99!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Copyright © 2011 Riley Quinn</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.</span>Riley Quinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02363595230073330154noreply@blogger.com0