Author: missjenkinsbooks

There is not much to say about me. I wish I could say with honesty that writing was a destiny that simply fell into my lap; that I was meant to do this and in the next year or so my name will be written on the skyline; that I will be sitting on Oprah’s couch on her Next Chapter; and my work will be the next block buster. But I cannot. I will not. I am a 28-no excuse me, 29 year old woman with a long list of dreams and goals that have only been recently introduced to the light. So, what is there to say about me? Well, I used to write poems that eventually turned into song lyrics back in my teen years which led me to believe that I was going to be a ghostwriter for the likes of Destiny’s Child. Clearly that never happened. Just like every other passing whim of a dreamy eyed girl those words disappeared back into the ether perhaps to be syphoned back into the third dimension by some other dreamer with the heart to pursue their vision. And then I unwillingly became an adult: and one can only guess how the cycle went; relationships, a relationship that eventually led to a child and a tumultuous road of ups and downs and disappointment. And then I got over myself and picked myself up. I put away the pen and sought more practical pursuits like giving college a final attempt. I decided to go through the for profit route: Westwood College. There, I was able to receive my Bachelors of Science in Criminal Justice in three years leaving me feeling like my victory in accomplishing something was hollow. Now what? I drifted. I did what adults have to do to take care of their families. I struggled, and in that struggle forgot about my ambitions on changing the world through some sort of activism to just hoping to land that position that would provide me with the stability that I was searching for. Throughout the pursuit of my education I was encouraged to write. “You’re an excellent story teller,” came one instructor. “Help me with my paper,” came a fellow student. I know, I know how does this relate to this particular point in my life? Looking back, I remembered. I remembered how much I enjoyed a good read. I remembered the many nights that my muse would haunt me with visions of vibrant and amazing characters begging me to bring them to life; to give them a story and a name and a purpose. I fought with myself; denying this sudden urge to become my own creator because I did not believe that I could write; and that my writing could affect someone somehow. I jotted down my ideas lest they end up forgotten and kept them safe until I was ready. So, I bought a laptop, and it could not have come at a better time because as I was struggling with a great deal of emotional conflicts, I wrote an urban drama entitled Love At Last. Once that was accomplished, I gave one of the most challenging characters I created her story in Nubia Rising. As a fan of the L.A. Banks Vampire Huntress Legends series, I was inspired after her death in 2011 to create my own heroine. A heroine that would live on long after my time on earth is complete; and in that discovery, and in all of the hours of reading and research and bible studies (yes, Bible studies), I found her path which inevitably is my path. My journey as an author and as an individual rests within that of the supernatural; the paranormal; the abnormal; the shadows behind every single myth and legend and conspiracy one could find. My goal is to blur the lines of the literary world… to challenge its fears of what most would think to be the unaccepted. So, now that I have introduced the first chapter in my life, only God can write the next.

Arian’s Tale: My WIP

Arian’s Tale is the retelling of the Little Mermaid, but instead of a mermaid falling head over heels for a human male, this story is a reversal of the story taking place in a modern setting. Arian’s Tale is the first of a series that I have entitled The Retelling, which will involve my versions of famous fairytales including Snow White, Hansel and Gretel, Sleeping Beauty and Little Red Riding Hood. Arian’s Tale is still in the infancy stages but I am shooting for a September release date. And for those of you who are new to my blogs, check out Viper which will be available July 1, 2015.

Chapter 1

Arian

Arian sat by his father’s side in front of a mass gathering of mermaids vying for his approval. It was time for him to step up to the plate and begin training as co-ruler, since he is King Triton’s only son, and Atlantea’s future king. The throne upon which he sat had been constructed by Atlantea’s finest coral, and adorned with jewels found in the abandoned and sunken ships left behind by humans: jewels ranging from rubies, sapphires and diamonds, encrusted up his throne as an indicator of his power. Any other merman or tritone would have loved to be in his fins: to be considered the most eligible merman in the seas with all of the powers that came with it, and a harem of mermaids at his beck and call should have had him itching for a chance at the trident. But it didn’t. Sitting in front of a bunch of eerily beautiful yet superficial females with heavenly voices; but possessed personalities equivalent to that of a sand box just didn’t do anything for him. He wanted to get away; disappear into much more shallow waters, and practice taking human form so that he may walk among his two legged counterparts.

He smoothed his long, raven dark hair back even though the subtle movements in the water caused it to continue its drift with the current. His tail, a scaly and iridescent green that extended beyond his waist stretched out over seven feet into a pair of fins that spread out in opposing directions measuring two feet across, flinched anxiously as his father prepared to welcome the crowd of at least fifty of Atlantea’s best females. All of them ranging in size and color, these were Atlantea’s most desired mermaids, each one a prize among her clansman, and not one of them stood out to him. He wondered if there were truly such a thing as true love; and if so, did he not meet the requirements for such a wonder?

His father, King Triton is a merman of legend. A god among gods to his kind and the son of Poseidon. Under Triton’s rule, their kind have remained safely hidden underneath the waves of the sea, and it had been centuries since the war with Man, and as long as the Tritone people remained under his care, there would be peace. Arian understood this and desired to maintain and uphold his father’s laws; but he simply did not care for his moment. Triton rose to his full nine foot height, his golden tail shimmering against the current, displaying his role as king. Twenty feet across from them sat the potential brides awaiting their chance at finally being introduced to the one and only Arian, Atlantea’s future king. His thickly muscled chest flexed without his doing, his blonde hair billowing in the current, his emerald green eyes ablaze with hope and excitement for his son’s future, and without glancing in Arian’s direction, he smiled warmly at his private guests before finally speaking.

“It is my pleasure to be in the presence of such exquisite beauty,” he began. “I would like to welcome all of you on behalf of myself and my son Arian. Hopefully tonight he will choose his bride so that he may begin his training by the next full moon; and then it is within even greater hope that we could expect an heir by the next Great Tide to celebrate the continuation of my legacy. Your families have been assured that all of you will receive a private escort home to ensure a safe passage back to your seas.” He paused a moment to take in the view of smiling and hopeful faces before continuing. “Again, welcome to my palace!”

The mermaids gazed around in wonder and amazement at the exquisite architecture that had been Atlantea’s charm for eons. Hidden far below the deepest depths of the ocean, in the Mariana trench, the kingdom of Atlantea stood proudly. Crafted by none other than Poseidon himself, the entire city had been built from the ocean’s finest of coral, and stone straight from the underwater volcanoes-Obsidian. Atlantea was a complex networking of pyramid structures outlined with the finest of precious metals. The palace itself was a monolithic structure that defined Atlantea: completely made from glass, it shown in the distance as a giant prism, with various portions of the glass palace tinted in varying hues of green, purple and blue. Atlantea was a gem; the ocean’s best kept secret, and for any mermaid to come as an invite is without a doubt the highest honor. The city emitted its own natural light, courtesy of the powers of the King Tridon. All members of his royal line possessed those sacred abilities, otherwise the mer-people of the city would have had to manage to survive in much more shallow waters.

Each of the fifty or so invited guests, eyed their beautiful surroundings with hope in their hearts that they too could somehow become a part of Atlantea’s majesty. Beautiful floral arrangements of coral, sea anemones, lined the 2500 sq. foot main room along with the hallways; pearls strewn together in a whimsical decoration across the glass ceilings like white diamonds against the backdrop of vast and mysterious ocean. Several huge merman, almost as thickly built as the king that they served guarded the entryway, armed with specially made swords, and 10 foot tall spears that they held tied across their backs, and their bluish-green tails swishing about at the ready, the people that inhabited Atlantea had lived very protected lives since its construction. The mermaid guests that sat about anxiously for their introductions to Arian understood that if unsuccessful they were to return to their own parts of the ocean where they belonged and had to pay tribute to King Triton. Atlantea’s residents were all natural born and those that weren’t had to request the king’s clearance to relocate into its protective walls. And so for all of the lovely mermaids in attendance, becoming queen was the only option.

An older merman, the King’s advisor swam out from behind a curtain of kale and introduced himself to the female guests. “Good day ladies,” he began, smoothing away his paling red hair back away from his narrow face. “My name is Dash and I will be sort of like a consultant to the king and the prince in making his decision. Arian has expressed his interest for the time being-“ he said turning to face Arian, his expression smug and condescending. “-in only choosing his main wife. Perhaps later on in the future he would be open to selecting a second wife to guarantee the arrival of an heir by the next Great Tide. Now, I will need for you ladies to follow me down the hallways where all of you will wait to be called individually. It is only when you are called will you have the opportunity to demonstrate to the king and his son your uniqueness and why you should be Atlantea’s future queen. Follow me…” Dash turned quickly and without much warning disappeared down the corridor. After a brief moment of hesitation, the mermaids followed the trail of disappearing bubbles Dash had left behind to a smaller room in the center of the palace, bypassing a variety of sea shelled décor of a multitude of pastel colors. Perched high above their heads on the mantels of proud pillars sat massive clam shells; their jaws open and wide and in the center balls of white light helped to illuminate the palace. The mermaids giggled excitedly amongst one another, for none of them had ever experienced such splendor. Once inside the single room where all fifty of them sat in seats made of coral, sand stone, and lined with rare emerald, Dash disappeared back into the main room where both Arian and his father waited anxiously. As Arian surveyed the expectant faces of both his advisor and his father, he realized that this was going to be a long night.

Coming July 1, 2015: Viper

Turned into a vampire at the age of 19 and forced into a life of darkness and violence , she is the reason why the gangsters, the murderers, and drug dealers fear the night…Working as a hired assassin for drug dealer turned record label founder, Rio Mendez, Viper is on a high stakes mission to bring down one of the biggest music industry moguls in the world-Lucas Barnes, the man responsible for turning her into a vampire and murdering her entire family right before her eyes twenty years ago. Relying on her wit and will power and with the help of some unlikely friends, Viper must uncover some hard truths before facing the entity that stripped away everything that she once loved.

“I have more than nine lives you son of a bitch. I am coming for you.”-Viper

Book Blurb: Viper (Coming July 1, 2015)

She is the reason why the gangsters, the murderers, and drug dealers fear the night…Working as a hired assassin for drug dealer turned record label founder, Rio Mendez, Viper is on a high stakes mission to bring down one of the biggest music industry moguls in the world-Lucas Barnes, the man responsible for turning her into a vampire and murdering her entire family right before her eyes twenty years ago. Relying on her wit and will power and with the help of some unlikely friends, Viper must uncover some hard truths before facing the entity that stripped away everything that she once loved.

“I have more than nine lives you son of a bitch. I am coming for you.”-Viper

I failed you mommy. I failed you Lindsay. Daddy you can still kiss my ass. Kevin, I am sorry. I welcome the darkness that surrounds me, and I hope that I am not awakened to the fiery pits of hell and brimstone. — I failed you mommy.
I failed you Lindsay.
Daddy you can still kiss my ass.
Kevin, I am sorry.
I welcome the darkness that surrounds me, and I hope that I am not awakened to the fiery pits of hell and brimstone.

Author Spotlight: Jessica Cage

Many of you may know her for her hit story about a sort of coming of age telling of a girl who discovers she has a lot more kick to her than what meets the eye in Siren’s Call. Others may have fallen in love with her new werewolves series, The Alphas, the first book entitled Malcolm and just this passed Saturday, the sequel in the series, Jeremiah has been released to the world. I have been following Ms. Jessica Cage for a few months now and I am impressed. She has taken the indie world by storm and has no plans on stopping. Ever. She was kind enough to give me a few moments of her time in an interview. Check her out!

Interview With Jessica Cage

When did you realize that writing was a passion for you?

For me writing has always been a part of my life. I guess I didn’t realize it was a true passion until later in life when someone else pointed it out. I always just did it, a natural habit that helped me deal with everyday life. When I was in my 20s I decided to do more with it, take it further. I am so glad that I did.

For the readers out there who are just discovering your books, what is the name of the first story you ever written?

First story ever written (that is available to the world) would be Let Me Protect You. Technically I wrote that story when I was in the 7^th/8^th grade… funny how life works as I was told at that time that it was too risky for the Young Authors Program I was in. Instead I submitted a story about a girl wanting a boy to ask her out to prom. It won an award but I never really liked it. First story ever published would be Revitalized (Book 1 of The High Arc Series).

How would describe yourself as a writer?

Random, unconventional, unorganized, unpredictable. I never plan. If it weren’t for having such an awesome team of people in my corner I am sure that this entire author life would be a total mess! I let my characters run free and I never attempt to tame them. That only leads to total devastation and my receiving a silent treatment from the invisible people living inside my head.

Why the indie route instead of the traditional publishing route?

I am a DIY girl who never even attempted to submit to a traditional publisher. I just love having creative control, no deadlines, and being able to cultivate real relationships and learn so much about the industry. My progress may be a bit slow but it is so much more rewarding this way. Now, that isn’t to say I wouldn’t jump on a contract now, but I doubt I would ever be given one as I have never submitted any inquiries.

What often inspires you to create?

Life. My son. My own brain. I have always been a creator. Art has been a part of my life in many mediums and writing just happens to be the one I can never step away from for too long. I took it public for the sake of my son. I wanted to show him that he can chase his dreams, do what really makes him happy. That is the most important thing in life. Living a life that fulfills you. Creating things of beauty, things that will stick with the world after I am long gone, well that fulfills me and makes me so unbelievably happy.

What inspired the Alphas Series?

My brothers. The bond between those two is one that will not be broken. That includes me as well. As I said in my dedication to them on the first pages of the book, No matter how far apart our lives may take us, our bond will remain strong.

I wanted to write a story that focus on the strength of men. I wanted to show that men can be as complex as women. My other stories all focus around the lives of women and show how they come into their own. I grew up with nothing but boys (in my age range anyway) and I was able to witness those parts of them that most females might not get to. They are strong yes, but they are emotional, irrational, just like women. I thought The Alphas was a great way to show that. I just hope I did them justice.

Do you ever place yourself as one of the main characters in any of your stories?

I have not, I am sure bits and pieces of myself live within all of my characters. Writing is after all a form of therapy. To say that any one character is me, well no. I don’t think I am brave enough for that one just yet.

What can readers expect from your newest installment of the Alpha Series: Jeremiah?

They can expect a faster pace than what was in Malcom. Jeremiah’s story is full of adrenaline. There are of course softer sides. There is drama, love, heartache, forgiveness. So much packed into this story.

What can your fans expect from you in the upcoming months? Year?

I will be releasing a few anthologies this year as well as the first High Arc Novella revolving around the life of the villain of the High Arc series, Jocelyn. I will also be release the highly anticipated second book to the Siren Series coming this September.

Where do you see yourself five years from now as a writer?

I see myself writing more and more. I want to be traveling meeting more readers and using that platform to reach out to the youth. There is something missing for them, the connection to the arts. I want to use my writing to be able to help them. Whatever their creative medium is, I want to encourage that to grow.

What advice would you give your younger (beginner writer) self? What have you learned in this journey as a writer that you wished you had known when you first started?

Take your time! I really did a lot of rushing through the first stages of my writing/publishing. I would also tell her to promote more. Don’t hit publish and walk away for 2 years, so much valuable time lost. Most importantly I would tell her to be brave and work on that thick skin because this industry can really get to you.

Is there anything that you want your readers to know about you that they never knew before?

I will be leaving the world of paranormal writing for a bit. I have a few projects that are lingering and I want to explore another genre. I plan to begin this at the end of 2016. I am so nervous about this switch but I know that the witches, demons, vampires, wolves and of course the sirens won’t let me stay away for long!

And last but not least, which book of yours is your personal favorite? And why?

I would definitely have to say Siren’s Call. It is my favorite simply because I felt like with that book I took my writing to an entirely different level. With that book I shook away the safety cord and took that leap. It was like I was tip toeing as a writer until that point and once I started, I knew I had to write Syrinada’s story from a different voice. It was difficult but I am so glad that I did. It continues to be my bestselling book even though I have published several titles since publishing it!

Jeremiah was released this Saturday, April 18th and is available to satisfy your reading cravings. If you love sexy werewolves and kick ass scenes click on the link provided to get your copy of Jeremiah. I wish this author nothing but the best and for more updates follow her Facebook page at: https://www.facebook.com/jessica.cageauthor/about

Another Excerpt of Viper ( 3 More Chapters to go)

We make it to the inside of my warehouse successfully. However, I am drained to the point of exhaustion, leaving Michael responsible for loading her into her tank. She had started to wake up and slowly begun to uncoil herself, when Michael without any real effort tossed her over into the Olympic sized pool, large enough to make Shamu and his friends happy. I peered over into the glass and she seemed a bit confused as she thrashed about and swam in circles, and when she neared the glass, staring at me through the Plexiglass with idle curiosity. Her large black eyes staring straight through me before she opened her mouth to introduce me to a wide set of knifes for teeth. Forty feet of raw muscle is now swimming around in my holding pool. I am not worried about her slithering out, for with push of a button I can seal the top of the pool off.

I remain stretched out on the concrete flooring of the warehouse: 20,000 sq. feet of what used to be a metal processing plant. It cost me damn near a million dollars to renovate this place to my liking: a double level dungeon of pain and suffering and a habitat for my snake babies. Michael stands over me, surveying my version of paradise. “What the hell Viper? How many snakes do you have in here?” In row after row of snake tanks, varying in size and shape and placed on shelves specifically built for that purpose. “I don’t know…like 200 maybe?” I mumble, my brain trying to calculate exactly how many I have in my collection. “What the fuck did I get myself in to?” “Let’s see, I own a couple of King Cobras, a few water Moccasin’s also known as Cotton Mouths, uh.. a dozen diamond backs, a Boom Slang-which was quite difficult to acquire…a spitting cobra, I think three Taipan’s…about five or six Bush Master’s, ten Black Mambas’…” I continue to name what I could remember in my collection all to Michael’s dismay.

There is still a lot of daylight left surprisingly, and I have completely worn myself out. Too tired to feed or do much of anything else I pass out right in the middle of my warehouse. I awake to the vibration of my phone a few hours later. Damien had done his job and now I owed him. Michael has 300 years’ experience in warfare, bloodshed, and mayhem. But I can hope that his stomach is strong enough for what is about to take place next.

Michael offers me his vein and I accept it-from his wrist of course- and I do not take long to take what I need. He is always watching me with a quiet yearning, and as I can take him I can taste it in his blood. His blood is powerful, rich and laced with something that fuels every cell in my being. Flashes of memories from a past too distant for record, and in the mix of all of that, I see his face. I cannot wait for this conversation, to know about more about the man who kneels before me, offering me than just his vein, but his life. I owe him more than what he desires, and when all of this is said and done, I can rebuild a life that I had dedicated to darkness, into something guarded by the sun-with him…maybe. I seal his wound and close off all thoughts of a happy ending with Michael. I have work to do.

The sun has set, and after a few silent moments of both of us engaged in our own thoughts, there is a loud bang on the metal door, and of course screams of terror. I can recognize those screams anywhere. It’s Rio’s bitch ass, and he is not happy. I quickly slipped on a pair of black denim that I had brought along for the trip before opening the heavy door. In comes Damien, his mouth dripping with blood and flesh, dragging a very panicked Rio. His arms were tightly bound behind his back, as were his feet. Blood dripped from a huge gash on his forehead, his mouth swollen and his face bruised. His eyes widened when I came into view. “Hello there Rio,” I say calmly. “Long time no see. Did you like the renovations I made to your house?” “You stupid bitch! That is why I ordered you dead-“-“And you see how far that has gotten you. I am still here. So how have you been? Heard from C-Dollas?” He gasped at the realization that it is I whom was responsible. “You’re a muthafuckin’ psycho you know that?” “And you are a lying bitch of a man,” I say without emotion. Damien dumped him in the middle of the concrete floor, directly in front of the holding pool where Rosa swam around anxiously. She approached the side of the glass facing us, staring at Rio whose face grew paler by the minute. “What the fuck is that?” He stammered. “Oh,” I say casually piling my braids into a big bun. “I know how much you miss your homelands in Brazil, so I thought I would bring a little bit of that luster to you…That is Rosa. She is the legendary anaconda of the Amazon that is in fact the largest ever discovered. And guess what? She is all mine.” I smile, flashing my perfect pearly whites and Rio screams again in terror. “You are a sick bitch!” “Yes I am,” I declare proudly. “And you should have known better than to fuck with me Rio. How could you? You have been lying to me for twenty years! I trusted you-you of all people I trusted after everything that happened to me. I trusted you, I did all of your dirty work without question, often times with minimum pay…I killed your enemies, protected you…I am the reason why the streets feared you…and all this time you were under the thumb of the one vampire you pretended to hate so much.” “Vipe-Viper it wasn’t like that,” he stuttererd, struggling against the rope that held him tied. “It wasn’t like that…-“ “Well what was it like? Because your little friend C-Dollas told me everything-“ “C-Dollas was lying!” “Now, the man was many things, especially a liar, but I can smell a lie a million miles away. He didn’t lie. But even as death stares you straight in the face you still lie.” I turn to Damien whom was nervously pulling at what remaining skin he had on his hands and asked him to grab a chair from the back of the warehouse. Michael had disappeared and I could not blame him. This is going to be a long night.

When Rio is strapped in the leather office recliner, facing the holding pool where Rosa remained submerged in, it was time for some unanswered questions. “Rio, you are going to die in some shape or form tonight, “ I say standing in front of him and gazing deep into his eyes. His bald head had become glazed over in sweat, and the purple robe that Damien had drug him in apparently was his only article of clothing. Rio must have been entertaining a female guest when Damien burst in on him. What a surprise. “But how you die, depends on your level of truthfulness. Understand?” He nodded as a single tear slid down his cheek. “Now, let’s begin. I know that you have been working for Lucas for as long as I have been working with you, which means when we met you knew all there was to know about me before I told you. I know all about the Immortal Gene, what it means and now that it is activated, a part of me wishes to use you as a messenger to Lucas….” His eyes widened in surprise at the mention of the gene being activated. “How?” He asks, squirming in his seat. “Not going to tell you, but trust me I have done the research.” I continue. “Why did you leave town when I brought Kevin back after the attack in Miami?” Before he opens his mouth to answer I answer for him, slowly putting together the pieces. “Wait, let me guess: you were supposed to bring Kevin and I on a silver platter to Lucas. But you ended up having to hand only Kevin over, right?” He nods. He is telling the truth, good. “That was the whole purpose of my stint in Miami.” He nods again. “That night when we” (referring to Damien, Michael and myself), “attacked the hotel I had a brief encounter with Kevin and your sorry ass turned him into a werewolf. Why?” Rio took several deep breaths before answering. “Why Rio? If Kevin was supposed to be made vampire to act as Lucas’ second in command and you are under Lucas’ wing, why did you turn him into the one thing that vampires hate?” When he didn’t answer, I beckoned for Damien to come and the zombie-vamp’s eyes lit with excitement. Rio, in a fit of terror, spilled the beans on everything. “Lucas is trying to create a new breed of vampires. Since he couldn’t access the Immortal Gene he went with another option-werewolves. Kevin is to be the first of the experiments being done. He wants the ability to walk in the sun. Vampires can’t turn into werewolves if bitten, but if vampire saliva enters the blood stream of a werewolf, something happens-“ “What happens?” I demand, having some sort of a clue. I instantly remember the white werewolf with the blood dripping from its fangs. “They become vampire wolves, with all of the perks and abilities of both species, including the ability to walk in the sun. He is creating a serum that fuses both to inject in himself.” Now everything made sense. “And with you, C-Dollas, and whatever Lucas had going on with your record labels, it was all a plan to recruit new guinea pigs for this experiment. How successful has he been so far?’ “Viper please, let me walk away,” he pleaded. I can’t stand the sight of traitorous men who think it is fair that they beg for their lives when they have ruined the lives of many. “Let’s not do this Rio. You and I both know that cannot happen. You betrayed me, tried to have me killed in the Everglades by two werewolves, and you sent someone to my house-“ –“I didn’t send anyone to your house! I thought you were dead!” Well if he didn’t send someone, who the fuck did? “Since you won’t tell me how far he is in to his research, tell me this: where does Lucas lay his head?” “Why the fuck do you think I would know something like that?” “Because you know everything about everyone. Every mission you sent me on, you knew the victim’s address, telephone numbers, work numbers, the wife’s cell phone number, where their kids if they had any went to school, how much was in their bank accounts, and even the side bitches they were fucking when their wives or girlfriends were getting their hair and nails done! Don’t fucking play with me Rio! Where does Lucas Barnes lay his head?!” Without thinking I punch Rio hard in the jaw, cracking the bone and snapping his head back.

His head bobbles around in a daze, his mouth swelling even more. Michael appears out of nowhere looking like a million bucks as always and I really could do without his presence right now. Rio mumbles something unintelligible and I grab him by the shoulders and force him to look at me. “Rio, tell me where Lucas’ lair is.” “Lucas…Louisiana,” he struggles to spit out from a useless jaw. Louisiana! That makes sense. The fucker has a soft spot for the state and that is where my adoptive family’s originates and where all of this bullshit started. “Where in Louisiana?” I demand. “He has a mansion, near the swamps and the mausoleum. That is all I know.” I know exactly where that is. My father used to visit Louisiana quite often and he often spoke of one his private client’s estates-the mansion, and now I know which client and why.

I take once last look at Rio, and regret ever thinking for one second that he was my friend-or something close enough to it. His head slumps to the side, his mouth agape and drooling uncontrollably. “You have two options,” I say stooping down to his eye level. “Option number one: I feed you to Ms. Rosa over there. She is starving and let’s just say she had a rough travel.” He struggled against the rope in a desperate attempt to escape, and Damien and I look on in amused delight. “Option number two,” I continue, “You have already met Damien.” I point to Damien, whom is standing next to me with a huge toothy grin, fangs fully extended and dripping with saliva. “Damien has been quite lonely for some time now since his maker met his unfortunate demise, and upon meeting you at the Hotel in Miami, Damien has taken an extreme liking to you.” Rio takes one look at Damien and releases an ear piercing scream. “Well that is no way to treat someone who has a crush on you,” I scold making it clear that I am enjoying every second of this. “Viper please!” He begins to sob. Huge drops of tears stream down his faces as he begin praying in his foreign tongue. “Prayer is not going to save you Rio. So what will it be? You can spend the rest of your life as his bitch –“ I say pointing to Damien whom is rubbing his hands together greedily. “Or you can find yourself in Rosa’s starving belly. Now what will it be?” Rio continued to sob, and I almost felt bad for him. Almost. “You have ten seconds Rio otherwise I will decide for you…10, 9…” “You said you would give me the mate of my choosing and I choose him!” Damien exclaimed excitedly. Fuck it. I will have to find Rosa something else to eat before I send her back home. “Well, Rio consider this your lucky night. You will not find yourself in the pit of Rosa’s stomach, although personally that would have been my first choice. However, do not get too excited. When I turn you and you don’t transition into a zombie-vamp as Damien had become, you will still find yourself as Rosa’s date and Damien will be out of luck.” I turn to face Damien whom is prancing around with joy. “I cannot wait to taste your sweet dick in my mouth,” he coos, forcing Rio to dry heave over the side of where he was strapped. “Seriously Damien, I do not need to know about your plans. Whatever goes on between you two love birds is none of my business.” “Well before you turn him,” Damien said stroking himself through his torn scrubs. Michael frowns with disgust. “Fuck dude, take that shit elsewhere.” Rio fights against the robe to no avail. “You know what?” I say stretching. “I will leave you two alone. Hopefully, Damien doesn’t forget about how badly he wants you as a mate and kills you in the process.” I motion for Michael to follow me. “No! Wait!! Viper!! Nooooo!” Rio shrieks; his eye wide with terror as Damien continues to pleasure himself in front of him. Michael pushes the metal door, holding it open for me to walk through like the gentleman he is. I don’t even bother to face Rio. I simply call out behind me, “It won’t hurt so much if you actually allow yourself to enjoy it.” With that, Michael closes the door behind us, and thankfully my warehouse is sound proof. I had grown tired of listening to Rio scream.

What Happened to Your Imagination?

I have come to the conclusion that this new generation of writers from television and film writers to the run of the mill novelist, are disappointingly non-creative. Within the last decade television shows have decreased in quality, there has been an increase in rebooting classic television shows such as Wonder Woman, Hawaii 5-0 and the like; Classic movies such as Indiana Jones… You know what I am talking about. Authors plagerizing other authors or even simply using another author’s idea that had proved to be successful and then tweaking it to make it appear original…. What happened to taking risks and developing new stories, new concepts, new characters instead of taking an old and very used idea and totally destroying its original plot by killing off main characters or creating new unnecessary characters? What happened to the thrill of imagining something that is authentic to you as the creator and giving that character life? What happened to stepping outside of the box and trusting ones own abilities rather than relying on the success of someone else to determine your own? Has it all really been done and the only thing to do is redo it? *shrugs shoulders*

Writers should not write if they cannot create; if they are not imaginative; if they are afraid to trust themselves; and if they’re talents rests only in the potential dollar amount. I like to read new things. Shock me. Amaze me. Teach me. Persuade me. Hell, seduce me. Make me beg for more.

So to all the writers out there whose imagination is lacking, maybe the craft just is not for you and that is ok. But stop biting off of what other people have done, even creating a new version of something isn’t totally authentic because there is always the original to go back to. Reboots are ok to an extent but now there are far too many to keep track of.

And this is my rant for the day. My story Viper is just about complete so stay tuned…

Escape: Coming 12/31/2015

I awoke with a start to the sounds of an engine roaring to life. I shivered in the chill of the early morning, the sky had not yet been greeted by the first rays of light, and though every muscle and bone ached with a vengeance, I knew I had to get up, otherwise it would have been well into the afternoon before I would have returned to my bleak reality, and I definitely did not want to miss my opportunity to shower and regain a sense of normalcy. My eyes burn with fatigue and my corneas feel as if they are being scratched by sand paper, and as I stretched and yawned and tried to regain my bearings I cannot figure out how I managed to sleep for so long in such uncomfortable conditions.

I am begging my aunt to let me stay with her, even if I have to drop to my knees to do it.

I folded my ratty blanket and double check that my only three outfits which included two pairs of faded blue jeans, two bras, three pairs of colorful panties that my former social worker bought for me three years ago, a couple of pair of black socks, two hoodies, a matted ball of Scrunchies, half a bar of soap, an old tooth brush and a comb that was missing half of its teeth, a couple of sanitary napkins (thank goodness my cycle is irregular), my ID, my social and birth certificate, and three crew necks. That was all that I had to my name. Tying my hair back and smoothing my edges down as best I could, I pull my dingy hot pink hoodie over my head, slip on my beat up grey and white Nikes, hook my duffle bag over my shoulder and prepare to walk the fifteen or so blocks to the mission and I send up a silent prayer that all will go as planned. I believe that someone upstairs owes me for the life of pain that I have had to unfairly deal with; and just maybe, today, my life was going to turn around for the better.

I made it to the mission in less than 45 minutes. The local vagabonds that walked the city streets nodded in my direction before returning to their daily routines towards survival. A man whose path I have crossed many a time since I opted to remain in the downtown area screamed violently at the invisible offender; cursing and flailing his skinny and frail arms about, while blank black eyes stared in my direction. He looked as if he had not had a bath in years, and judging by the yellow and thick callous that covered his bare feet, he had not. I used to wonder if he had a family that was somewhere out there looking for him, but then, I remembered that I once had a family and they stopped caring to look for me. I reckon that is what happened to him too.

Bums, vagabonds, homeless folk, society’s failures, whatever you want to call us make up our own society-our own community. One would never understand the struggle to simply achieve the basic of necessities unless one walked in those shoes. And what wearisome shoes they become. The crazy thing about me being homeless is that I often have felt like I was right where I needed to be: I could disappear into the shadows of the streets, away from…

A nun greets me at the door, and welcomes me with a warm smile. She is familiar with me and my situation and has offered several times to let me stay in the nunnery, but I quickly got the impression that she was hoping to recruit, and I have to face it, my situation is too fucked up to even want to dedicate my life to a being that never showed He cared about me in the first place. No, I am not an atheist; I do believe in God, but I think the Lord and I have some unresolved issues that we have to work out before I give one prayer of thanksgiving.

The nun goes by the name Sister Mary; she is barely five feet tall, with peachy toned aging skin, stringy blonde hair and welcoming brown eyes. Dressed in the typical head to toe black and white nun garb with a gold cross hanging from her neck, she guided me inside the Cathedral where row after row of sporadically filled pews of sinful parishioners sought penance for whatever sins they committed. The colored glass windows with varying depictions of the Madonna and her child graced the walls of the massive church. The melodious melancholy hum of the organ playing in the background reminded me of my mother’s funeral, and as the nun quickly guided me into the hallway that led past the cafeteria where they fed what they could to the starving masses of people that greeted them day in and day out, I fought back the surge of emotions threatening to break free. I did not cry for neither of my parents…not even my mother when I found her lying in a pool of her own wastes, and I was not about to start now.

Sister Mary and I engaged in the usual small talk. You know, the “how are ya’s”, and “Why wont you come stay in the Mission” to “God is merciful and forgiving”, etc… I don’t see why I need to be forgiven for dead parents who happened to be drug addicts, but I let her go on with her attempt at laying on the guilt trip on me in hopes that I will see that my sinful nature is the reason why I am living on the streets. I suppose she is under the impression that I am involved in some sort of prostitution ring, which is the only reason in the world why a young woman such as myself would be destitute and living on the streets. For someone who claimed to love God and took pride in doing God’s work, she never once asked me why and what led me up to this point. She already had in mind my history and everything was my fault. Typical.

We bypassed a row of occupied rooms and continued down the stretch of the corridor until we finally reached the last door in which she removed a heavy bundle of assorted keys and opened the door. Flipping on the light, inside the tiny space was a cot with several blankets laid on top of it, a full length mirror that leaned against the plastered wall, and there was a single window that overlooked the parking lot that was saturated with last night’s festivities: used needles, used condoms, and shattered glass. What a view. “I just need a shower, some food and I promise I will be out of the way,” I say, struggling to find that balance between sounding grateful yet firmly against what was being offered to me at the same time. “And where will you go?” Sister Mary pushed with a frown that deepened the lines in her face. “Back to your pimp?” “Um excuse me?” I say feeling slightly offended. “You are too young to throw your life away to the streets,” she scolded. “Stay here. If anyone comes looking for you trust me you will be safe.” “I don’t have a pimp Sister Mary,” I say dropping my duffle on the ground. “I am not a prostitute. I am more of a runaway than anything, and like I said I just need food and a shower and then I will be on my way.” “A run away? Good heavens child! What could you possibly be running away from?” Her normally even toned voice hit a higher pitch and before could say or do anything more she ushered me out of the room and into the room next door where I was greeted by several shower stalls and a couple of unoccupied toilets. “In the long cabinet to your left is soap, clean towels and some shampoo. When You are done I need for you to head to the cafeteria where a hot meal will be waiting for you.” “But-“ “But nothing young lady! It has been placed in my spirit that I am supposed to look after you. Do you know how many times I have thought about you since our last few encounters and I swore to the Almighty that the next time you walk through those door I was not letting you go on in the manner that you are. No woman should be on the street. So shower, and please do something with your hair. I know dread locks are a form of cultural expression but you do need to wash them!” And with that she slammed the door behind her.

I hope that my aunt forgives me. I do not think that my destiny begins and ends in this Cathedral.

I lock the door even though the room was meant to accommodate multiple people, but even on sacred ground one could never be too careful. I choose the larger shower stall which was built to accommodate the handicapped, turn the water on to as hot as I could stand it, grabbed the soap and shampoo and let the hot water transform me into a new person with a new beginning. But, even with a shower, freshly washed hair and a new attitude, nothing was going to change the fact that Fate definitely played a hand in what I was to become: and most importantly, what I am to remember.

Viper: Final Excerpt

Molecular travel gives me an interesting advantage. I get to see shit that I don’t want to see, and I get to see shit that is beneficial to me, and not one of the humans that bypass is none the wiser. Somewhere in these walls Michael was on lock down with two or three other criminals awaiting trial. I bypass several other officers underneath the bright lighting of the hospital sterile hallway and on the elevator. I can sense the presence of a non-human entity, and the most I can do is remain hopeful that it is Michael and not something else. Werewolves had the most advantage when it comes to blending in with humans because they are human-until they shift, but for the most part they can live pretty normal lives without having their jobs or relationships impacted. It would not surprise me if I came across a werewolf who happened to be a cop or some other jail house worker. My main concern is though I remain undetected in this state of invisibility, a wolf can sense me without ever having to see me, and I do not need a physical encounter with a known enemy.

I continue moving through the airwaves, navigating the second and third floors, eavesdropping on what was supposed to be private but non work related conversations, and ignoring the various combinations of blood scents and my increasing thirst. How I would love to sink my teeth into the neck on one of these hot blooded and self righteous cops…as soon as my thoughts shift to my more basic needs, I catch Michael’s scent just down the hall in one of the many locked cells that contained men awaiting their day in court. A custody assistant is locking the cell containing an inmate clearly high off of some sort of hallucinogen. I can smell the toxin coursing its way through his veins, pumping straight into his heart and forcing its way to his brain. He reeks of a sour, musty odor, evidence of his lack of personal hygiene; his eyes are wide and wild with confusion and panic; and he glanced over in my direction, where I hovered in molecular form and screamed in terror. The officer, a white man in his early thirties with a receding hair line, looking slightly unnerved shoved the inmate inside and locked the door, before hurrying off to put in some much needed space between himself and the drug addict. In the room next to him sat Michael, along with two other roommates who seem to be more concerned with their personal issues rather than the excitement that had taken place right outside of their door.

Michael senses my presence because he glances up from the cot on which he sat, solemnly with his hands folded in his lap. He looks across from him on the bunk beds, where a wannabe hardened thug lay spread eagled on the top bunk, in his oversized orange jump suit and unkempt afro, and then on the bottom bunk sat a preppy looking white kid, no older than 22 with that Justin Bieber styled hair and scrawny body. I hope that Michael has sense enough to not alert his two best friends that there was another presence close by, and thankfully he doesn’t as he returns his gaze back to his folded hands. Just outside his door is an air vent. Perfect. I can slip in through the vent and into his cell, feed and then dematerialize both of us out of this shit hole without a second thought.

Once inside the vent, for dramatic purposes I filter myself out as a mist, and creating a set of bewildered looks from the two wannabe’s. I only do this when I have a particular man of wealth and power and who is use to extending his hands as if he is a living persona of godhood, and I need him to know that he is not in control: I am. It is a perfect method in creating an atmosphere of terror, and I love the kick that adrenaline gives me. I filter out of the vent in a cool white mist, like the morning fog that blankets the busy city streets into my solid form and then as usual…all hell breaks loose. Why can’t things just run smoothly for me?

The wannabe thug screams like a little bitch, and in a flash I silence him with a snap to his neck. The prep turns a ghostly white, his blue eyes wide like a deer caught in some headlights, and without thinking I snatch him in a vicelike grip and sink my fangs into his throat in a cobra like strike. Michael watches with an amused sort of curiosity, yet I am too consumed in the richness of this young man’s warm blood as it fills my belly and calms my thirst. The fire in my throat is gone, and the muscle cramps in my gut have eased. Now I can focus.

Several officers obviously heard the commotion and came rounding the corner like a heard of buffalo. I break the handle to the door and motion for Michael to follow me. I don’t have time to clean up after myself so I grab Preppy’s body and sling it over my shoulder for future disposal. In my twenty years of living my life in the shadows, I have yet to create any progeny of my own and I am not about to now. We are greeted by at least five officers, two of which are on their walkies demanding back up, the other three with their guns drawn. Michael, who happens to be standing to my left takes a fighter’s stance, which instantly pissed me off. He should have done that shit prior to his arrest. “Freeze! Don’t move!” An older, more seasoned officer commands; his knees bent and his heart rate steady. I glare at him, and use my will to force him into submission. The other officers glance at each other uneasily and one even takes a step back. “Don’t move!” Another commands boldly. I maintain my focus on the seasoned officer, my will crushing his psyche, twisting the very confounds of his mind until he buckles from the mental pressure. I tighten my hold, bending his will until it snaps and he cries out in agony. I crack his cranium without having to move anything but my will. He drops to the floor sobbing, his ears bleeding, his peers rush to his aid, and another one shoots. I step to the side, barely dodging the bullet that had my name on it, and in a blur too quick for the human eye, I decapitate all five officers. The inmates scream in terror, their cries echoing throughout the halls in a chorus of fear. I gotta get out of here before more reinforcements come, and I can hear their heavy hurried and desperate movements scattering about the halls. I grab hold of Michael and dematerialize all three of us (if you count Preppy’s dead and drained body) to the one room dungeon where Damien had stood guard over my unconscious body.

And thank God he wasn’t there.

Author of the Month: Jessica Cage

It takes a lot to impress a reader such as myself. It takes a lot to convince me to try something new; to give an author whom I have yet to discover a chance at becoming a permanent fixture on my bookshelf. But Ms. Cage is something different. She is fearless; she takes her readers on a journey, and once that journey is complete, she leaves you begging for more. From mermaids to vampires, to werewolves, she is unstoppable and I am anxious to see what else she has up her sleeve. So with that being said, Jessica Cage is my Author of the Month. And please check out her books that are posted below and dont be afraid to stop by her Facebook page to say hello.

https://www.facebook.com/jessica.cageauthor?fref=tl_fr_box&pnref=lhc.friends

Viper: Chapter Excerpt 2

Panic erupted the instant the entire building was left in darkness. Humans were scrambling to get the lights back on, running, and within seconds screams of terror echoed throughout the hotel. The sound of bones crunching, and the gurgling sounds from a victim choking on their own blood was a sign that Damien had materialized and begun feasting. The tension in the air exploded into full- fledged violence as werewolves transitioned, and vampires took full advantage of the confusion and snatched random humans from their seats and fed mercilessly. Rio surrounded himself with his bodyguards whom ushered him into a hasty retreat to the elevator, while Kevin was left unattended by his pack who were busy seeking and destroying feeding vampires. And through it all, Lucas and his entourage sat completely unbothered, seeming to enjoy the spectacle that this event had become…that is until a snarling werewolf charged in their direction, taking the head of one of Luca’s men, and disemboweling his female companion. The werewolf charged again, this time at Lucas, and with a movement to fast for a human eye, he dodged the advance and then without missing a beat snapped the wolf’s neck.

I reach for my specially calibrated 9mm once I have Lucas in my sight. Perfect. And without a second thought, I open fire on the very being that I hated with every ounce of my existence. The Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. I shoot three times, each bullet whizzing past the unintended at the speed of light toward their intended target. Like everyone else he heard the explosion of the gun, and turns in my direction, his eyes widening in recognition, a subtle slip in vulnerability, and one that I am going to take full advantage of. He flips out of the way, successfully avoiding the silver nitrate that fills the hollow points, sending my hallowed missles in the direction of another vampire consumed in bloodlust, and turning him into ash upon contact. I don’t bother to fire again because I cannot afford to lose another bullet, and Lucas leads me into a chase. I know that I just may be being led into a trap, but vengeance consumes me, and I follow in pursuit.

Gunshots ring out behind me as I follow Lucas up the emergency stairway. I hear Blondie call out my name as police sirens echo in the background. The snarls, howls, the tearing of flesh, the heightened and desperate pleas for help that fill the lobby are deafening. I should turn around. I should leave all of this alone….but as the memory of this sick son of bitch forcing himself into my mother’s body flooded my vision; vengeance reminds me of my purpose. Lucas Barnes was going to die by my hand one way or the other….even if I have to blow the whole goddamn hotel up just to make it happen.

The fucker dematerializes when I am all but a few feet behind him, and I abruptly come to a halt. Somewhere off in the distance, closing in is the sound of a helicopter. The roof! The motherfucker is on the goddamn roof! I dematerialize to the roof, where I find him boarding the helicopter without a care in the world. I wish I had a rocket launcher to blow that bitch clean out of the sky. He turns to face me as the copter ascends and blows me a kiss. “It has been years Nicole! My haven’t you changed? Well, it was great but I have some other businesses to attend, oh and one more thing…” One of his men pulled an unconscious body from the backseat and dangled the very familiar young man out so that I may see him. “I don’t know how you fit into any of this, but from what I have heard you have been a very busy vampire. You should come work for me.” “How about I just ram a spear up your ass and watch you choke on the handle?” I spit. He laughs heartily as if that was the best laugh he had in a long time. “You know you have changed?! You’re no longer that pathetic little girl I met that day your bitch ass father tried to run off with what was mine. And did I tell you that your mother’s pussy was the best I ever had?” I wish I could recall what happens next but I cannot. I black out. The last thing I remember is lunging onto the helicopter, and forcing my way inside. I suppose that is what he wanted to happen because I was punched square in the face by one of his henchmen. There is not much room in a four seater copter to do much damage, and I could hear his maniacal laughter in the background as I fought two of his men, werewolves with a vengeance. I managed to pull out my 9mm and shoot one in the face at point blank range, and it was a disgusting sight to watch his face literally melt off. “As much as I would like to catch up on old times, I have an empire to run. Tell Rio I will be seeing him soon,” Lucas says in the background as I bite a chunk out the neck of his second minion. I didn’t notice that he had been looming behind me until he grabbed me by my collar and yanked me out of the helicopter and into the air sending me on a 20,000 foot drop to what was likely a very painful death. As I began my plummet I realize that the young man was none other than Kevin. Fear, and something else I had not felt in over 20 years: remorse. As Kevin’s unconscious body continued to dangle outside of the helicopter’s doorway while the pilot guides it off into the horizon, I continue my descent. I don’t even have time to poof myself out of midair because I hit the ground hard, like a meteor. I am instantly consumed with the agonizing pain of every bone in my body shattering on impact.

I failed you mommy.

I failed you Lindsay.

Daddy you can still kiss my ass.

Kevin, I am sorry.

I welcome the darkness that surrounds me, and I hope that I am not awakened to the fiery pits of hell and brimstone.

Miss Jenkins Books

Where Magic and Melanin are One