Daria's Dating Dilemma, Part Six

Daria’s Dating Dilemma, Part Six

When we left Daria on November 26^th, she was sitting in the rain wondering if things would ever go right…

I sat in the rain 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?

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.

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.

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.

Two days later and I’d 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. Queen of horror dates strikes again, 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.

“Great, I’m probably being fired on top of things,” I mumbled and pushed my way past them.

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.

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.

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?”

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.

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.

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.

“Nice, thank you broken phone,” I sarcastically grumbled and grabbed for the other. It unexpectedly was from Marcus.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Grinning still as I let 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.

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.

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.

“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?”

“Pizza and a movie,” I joked, tossing a shirt over my head and zipping up my jeans.

“Funny, that’s just what I was thinking.”

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.

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.”

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.”

“I own it,” I shrugged, holding back laughter.

He stepped closer. “I think the other pocket has Princess Bride and Hershey caramel Kisses,” he whispered.

“Why didn’t you say so in the first place?” I moved out of the way and motioned him inside with a frenzied wave.

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.

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.

“So, should I put in Princess Bride?” Marcus asked with a wink.

“Sure, why not?” I answered with a shrug.

“As you wish…”His smiled melted my heart faster than Kisses over an open flame.

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.

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.

“Should be home tomorrow, would love to see you again. You still owe me a coffee.”

Rule number nine: Expect the unexpected, otherwise known as 'unplug the phone with you have a date over' rule.

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.

Marcus’ expression took on a sexy, dangerous look. “Well, I guess I have twenty four hours to make you hate the thought of coffee…”

Rule number ten: See rule number nine and… 
Oh to hell with the rules…

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!

~Jennifer Feuerstein~

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Copyright © 2011 Jennifer Feuerstein

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.

Story of Sebastian, Chapter Six

Story of Sebastian, Chapter Six

Features adult language.

When we last saw Sebastian in November, he’d found Paul’s target and was preparing for his first fight as an angel.

Sebastian checked them into the 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.

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.

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.

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.

“I’m bored,” Sorcha muttered, uncurling from the bed and hurling a book across the room. “Can we go look around?”

“Seriously?”

“Why not? The lady said there are great ruins just up the street. Maybe we could check those out?” She asked it all nonchalantly.

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.

Sebastian grabbed his recent purchase, a long black trench coat. “I think you’ve earned a field trip. Especially since you look recovered.”

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.

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.

He watched as she danced 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.

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.

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.

“WOW! That’s amazing,” Sorcha uttered, taking in the view of the ruined old castle.

“It’s really more of a fort, but those served as castles for the Irish…”

“Who cares? It’s incredible!”

Sebastian motioned with his hand. “Go ahead, but don’t go into it. The crumbling thing is dangerous. Mind the ropes around it.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be careful, Daaad. What are you going to do?”

Hell, what was he going to do? Sebastian smiled. “I’ll check in with the bosses.”

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.

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.

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.

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.

“Where the hell did you go?” Sorcha whispered.

Sebastian reappeared and chuckled as she jumped.

“You HAVE to teach me that trick!” she ordered and turned to start down the hill. “I take it you got instructions?”

He peered over his shoulder and his eyes narrowed. “I sure did.” His voice turned cold, “I hope you’re ready to fight.”

Sebastian jumped as her fist connected with his arm. “Of course I’m ready to fight! I kicked your ass last time!”

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.”

“Oh… is he here?”

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.

“He’s holed up in the ruins. We’ll come back tonight.”

“YES!”

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.

Sorcha stared into the fireplace, 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.

“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.

He rubbed the now healed spot. “I gathered, but really it was just an on the spot idea.”

Her head turned, her eyes burning a hole in him. “You still could have taken five seconds to fill me in.”

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.

“Who exactly are we rescuing?”

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.”

“Bait.”

“Distraction,” he growled.

Her eyes narrowed and Sebastian swallowed the growl too late. “You’re Tuatha.”

“Was Tuatha I guess, but I never knew my parents,” he hedged.

“The growl gives it away.” She stood to check her weapons. “Don’t like the thought of me being bait?”

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.”

“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.”

“And what do you do after?”

“I wait for you here,” she answered in a monotone.

“Um, Sorcha, I have been assigned to you and I can find you anywhere. If you even think of running off…”

“You can find me?” She interrupted, punching a hole in the antique headboard. “And when were you going to share that?”

Sebastian shifted on his feet, ready for another attack. “I just did. It wasn’t important before.”

“And just what kind of danger am I in exactly?”

His head shook sadly. “I don’t know, but Gods I wish I did.”

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.

“Sun’s almost down,” Sorcha interrupted, dropping the curtain and starting to arm up.

“You don’t have to do this…”

“I think you’ve guaranteed that I do.”

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.

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.

~Jennifer Feuerstein~

Facebook * Website * Twitter * Blog

Copyright © 2011 Jennifer Feuerstein

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.

Daria's Dating Dilemma, Part Five

Daria’s Dating Dilemma, Part Five

When we left Daria on October 26^th, she was facing arrest and the loss of a potential husband…

Marcus made quick work of 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.

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.

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. 

“Daria, wait.” I paused as Marcus’ words drifted over to me. “Would you like a ride?”

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.

I gripped my handbag and decided. “Sure, Marcus. A ride would be nice.”

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.

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.”

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.

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.”

“You’d really want me to stay?” I choked out the question between sobs.

“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.

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.

“Feeling a little better?” He interrupted my thoughts without taking his eyes off the road.

“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.

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.”

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.”

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?”

“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.

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.

“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.”

So why did my head suddenly think Damn? 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.

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.

“What, exactly, is going on?” Years of dealing with a stalker added ice to my words.

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.”

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.

Rule Number 7: Spend a little less time thinking about me and a little more watching the guy.

I took a deep breath. “I would love to join you, but I’m not inviting you in.”

“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.

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.

Rule Number 8: ALWAYS wear waterproof mascara or skip it.

I was comfortable and at ease when I settled back into the passenger seat. “So, will we beat the food to your office?”

He revved the engine and grinned, “I love a challenge.”

“No, you’re kidding. You were a racecar driver?” I laughed into my glass of wine and then dug another piece of pineapple from the cardboard container.

“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.”

“It does explain how easily you shifted gears on the way here.”

He paused and his eyes darkened. “You still have a thing for cars I see.”

I lowered my voice, looked around, and whispered dramatically, “It’s our little secret.”

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.

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.

“So, what was up with the protest arrest charge in your file?”

I almost snorted wine out my nose. Only by the grace of my manners did I manage to swallow before blurting a loud, “WHAT?”

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.”

“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.”

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.

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.”

“Did your forest get saved?”

“What?” Odd, no one had ever asked me that after I told the story. They usually called me silly.

“Did your efforts work?”

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.”

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.”

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.

“I always liked that about you.” I stumbled toward him.

“What’s that?” He asked, standing straight.

“Your undying supportiveness…” I promptly crashed into his massive chest.

I would like to say 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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…

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…”

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.

~Jennifer Feuerstein~

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Copyright © 2011 Jennifer Feuerstein

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.

Karen Marie Moning's Fever Series, the Review:

A Review of Karen Marie Moning’s Fever Series

Jennifer Feuerstein

The books on Amazon

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…

The Fever Website

Darkfever

Bloodfever

Faefever

Dreamfever

Shadowfever

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.

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!

 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 Dreamfever. It will only suck you in to reading the first three chapters of Shadowfever. Not like that’s a bad thing… unless you have to work in 5 hours.

Darkfever: 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…

Bloodfever: 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”.

Faefever: 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 thought you knew on its head and turn the tables on MacKayla.

Dreamfever: 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.

Shadowfever: 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.

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…

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.

~Jennifer Feuerstein~

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Story of Sebastian, Chapter Five

Story of Sebastian, Chapter Five

Features adult language.

When we last saw Sebastian on October 2^nd, he’d found Paul’s target and was preparing for his first fight as an angel.

Sebastian found a quiet spot, 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.

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.

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?

Sword, 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.

Sebastian marched back toward the fire and the girl next to it. Sorcha looked up as he approached. “You okay?”

“Just getting prepared,” he hedged as he sat again.

“For what?”

“You seriously think I’m just going to watch you battle who knows how many of those things?”

“Maybe you should watch and learn,” she grinned.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

Sorcha’s yell cut off his smirk. “You’re scaring them off, you idiot!”

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.

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.

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.

“Happy much?”

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.”

Sebastian felt like he’d been slapped in the face. The memories he’d ignored earlier rose unbidden and uncontrollable.

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…”

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?

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.

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.

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.

Sebastian felt a shiver of awareness and glanced up to see her looming over him. “Headache?” she asked.

He shook his head, trying to avoid the choice between lying and explaining.

“Message from the Gods?” she asked sarcastically.

A slow grin spread as his plan got a jumpstart. “Hard to get anything by you.”

“Really?” She quickly hid the excitement. “I wasn’t sure how it worked.”

“Yep. We need to get a move on. How do you prefer to travel?” Sebastian looked around.

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.

“What, no love for antiques?”

“Has this thing run since WW2?” Sebastian thought it came right out of a warzone.

“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.”

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.

“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.”

“What son of a bitch? What’d he do?”

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.

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?”

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.

“So what’s your story?” She turned her attention to him.

“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.”

“So where exactly are we headed?”

“We have to work our way to Ireland. Your first mission is there.”

“Why do I feel a ‘but’ coming?” She asked.

“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.”

“Fuck. Off.”

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.

“Don’t kick the jeep. It likes to kick back…”

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.

 Instead he smiled calmly back at her. “Feel better? You still need more training.”

“You’re going to be hard to get rid of, aren’t you?”

“You’ll grow to like me.” He winked.

“Great.” She snorted as she slid the jeep back into drive and slammed the gas.

It’d been weeks since he’d 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.

“Are we done on this boat ride from hell yet?” Sorcha’s head popped back up over the railing.

He hid a smile. Sorcha, it turned out, was not very seaworthy. “We’re almost there.”

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.

“Don’t worry, we’re coming,” he mumbled under his breath.

“Can’t we just shimmer the rest of the way?”

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.

“Please,” she pleaded.

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.”

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.

The captain bumped him and stopped. “Sorry. Your sister still not on her sea legs?”

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.”

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.”

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.

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.

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.

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.

Return for the continuation of Sebastian’s story on December4th, here on Digital Digest. For more fantastic reads, check out our ebooks from Amazon and B&N!

~Jennifer Feuerstein~

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Copyright © 2011 Jennifer Feuerstein

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.