Category: Fiction writer

Sin: Daughter of the Grim Reaper (Excerpt)

Sin: Daughter of the Grim Reaper (Excerpt)

Chapter 4

I awake to the familiar smells and sounds of sulfur erupting from the gaseous pits of home sweet home: Hell. I force my eyes to open and there standing beside me in dazzling white robing is the messenger angel Gabriel. Like the rest of his brethren he is surrounded by a blinding gold light, and he extends a glowing hand to help me to my feet. He lifts me with no effort on his part, and once I am steady on my feet, he gazes at me with hopeful eyes. I find his stare to be unnerving, his colorless eyes examining me with a quiet uncertainty.

“Your father has been removed from his duties,” he said sadly. I look at him, the memory of my father’s final words turning my stomach into a tangle of knots.

“Forever?” I ask hoping that there is still some time left for me to find the seal.

His gaze remains focused on mine. “No. Until the seal is found he will remain under heavy guard…but if the seal is not returned in time before it is broken, then…he will be held responsible.”

“Where is he being detained?” I at least needed to know that he was…ok. For all of the misery and extreme punishments he has subjected me to one would think that I would be kicking my heels with joy. And, to a certain extent a part of me did feel slightly vindicated that he may receive a taste of his own brutal medicine, but at the end of the day he was still my father…and he trusted me.

“I cannot reveal that information to you for reasons I am sure you would understand.”

“So why are you here?” Without thinking I summon my father’s Scythe into my possession. Gabriel looks at me alarmed by my sudden offensive act.

“I ask that you do not react in such haste; such actions could further instigate harsher consequences for both you and your father.”

“I have no intentions on threatening you Gabriel,” I say softly. “I just want to know why you are down in the more…baser levels.”

Gabriel studies me once more, his expression changing from alarmed to thoughtful. “You are more like your father than you know,” he says finally after a brief pause. “No one foresaw that he would transfer his powers unto you, a half mortal. But now that he has done it, there are a few things you should know.”

“I’m listening,” I say shifting my weight onto my right foot where I could lean onto the Scythe for support.

“You are to only claim the humans without the mark, and your powers are not meant for you to act on revenge. To do otherwise would result in a punishment worse than what your father may experience. You are the gatekeeper of the afterlife: humans that are allowed entrance into the Heavens will be escorted by one of my brothers. You are never to intervene. Humans that are not allowed entry will be escorted by you to the lower realms where…the fallen will claim ownership….”

He continues on in a speech about what I can and cannot do for what seems like an eternity. Most of the stuff I already knew courtesy of Grim, some of it would take a few practice lessons for me to get it. But what I do not think Gabriel understands is that my new promotion is temporary. I am finding that seal and proving my father’s innocence.

“And last but not least,” He says turning to leave from whatever path he took to get here. “I do not believe your father had something to do with the seal’s disappearance. I believe that my brothers are guided only by their reverence for human life that they see him for what he is not. Grim may be a lot of things that oppose what most of us are designed to do, but ambition is not his motivation. He is nothing like the unnamed one and it saddens me that he is being blamed for such an atrocity.”

“I will find that seal and the human responsible for it,” I declare, now more determined than ever.

“I know you will. That is why I came down to speak to you. But I must leave you be Sin of Sin. Send for me and I shall assist you in any manner that I can…” And with that, he disappeared into a ball of light and was gone.

So even the angels are divided, I think to myself still staring in the direction where the angel had stood. It was then that I realized my father had given me his powers to better aid me in my quest and not so much to prevent a cosmic meltdown. As the Angel of Death, I am now more connected to humanity than ever. I gaze down at my hands, stretching out my palms and I could sense the very vibrations of life right underneath my fingertips. In my mind’s eye I witness human after human whose lives were on the brink of coming to an end ranging from the last few moments of breath after months of battling a terminal illness; the moment their heads make impact through the windshield in a fatal collision; the brush of fear as the really unlucky humans fall victim to a murderous predator and their cries are blotted out by a gun, or a knife, or the overpowering grip of a pair of hands wrapped around their throats choking the life out of them.

So this is why dear old dad is always so damn cranky.

I extend my left arm, summoning the legendary Scythe into my grip. Thank goodness wearing that black hooded robe is not a requirement because I still remain in the leather outfit I purchased. I made a mental note to take Grim shopping as soon as this mess was resolved. He needed a different look, other than his current dreadful appearance. I take one last look at my surroundings. Hellfire, brimstone, lava pits, demons materializing from the physical world in search of a soul to torment; fallen angels lurking about, perhaps on their way to meet with their boss…speaking of boss, now that I am the Angel of Death where are my underlings? Father had a legion of soldiers at his beck and call and here I stand in the middle of Hell alone…. Shouldn’t there have been some sort of ceremony to recognize my promotion? Strange…very strange.

Father mentioned something about being some sort of conspiracy against him, and in Hell, there is always a conspiracy for a power grab. Coups are performed on an almost constant basis, alliances are always formed and agreements made. Everyone down here works for someone, with the exception of my father. He is a sort of free agent, and now that I think of it, that makes him more of a threat than anyone. Someone down here has conspired to remove Grim permanently from his position and used a human to see it through. The question is who? There are millions of demons and most of them work for the Beast. Furthermore, they do not act unless told and I doubt that the Beast has any real interest in destroying Grim considering the fact that he has a war to plan and Grim’s purpose is more beneficial to his cause than not. So that must mean it had to be one or some of Grim’s own soldiers who were responsible.

First things first: find the human. I could terrorize the entire realm and would still find myself unsuccessful. And then I have an idea. Using the Scythe, I send out a telepathic call to every last one of my father’s soldiers to my presence. Instinctively I knew that the one or ones responsible would not make an appearance. They would be somewhere in the earth realm hiding until the time came for the seal to be broken, when my father would meet his end. The caverns vibrated a deep rumbling, creating deep splinters in its wake. Sounds of souls being tormented escalated to a deafening level; cries begging for the Almighty to come and set them free of their eternal torture. Within seconds the first few hundred of my father’s soldiers, now fully under my command are standing in front of me. Some of them sported the black winged/dark angel appearance, while others resembled gargoyles with their clawed hands and feet, stony expressions and grey scaly skin and wings like that of a bat instead of a bird. In just a few minutes I had almost an entire legion standing before me, ready for my command.

All of them stared at me in surprise, and as I mentally counted present heads, I noticed that a good fifty or so were absent-and those that were absent had been my father’s best men. As a matter of fact, those that were missing had accompanied me on several recon missions…just as I thought. They stared at me with curiosity, desperate for answers. As I surveyed these entities, I sensed the vibration of jealousy coming from a few of them, and I knew that if I did not establish myself now as the Angel of Death, I would have to deal with a possible mutiny, and Grim was no longer available for me to run to for obedience issues. I take a deep cleansing breath before speaking.

“As you all may know, Grim has been temporarily removed from his position,” I begin slowly, making eye contact with every one of the warriors that stood in front of me. “For now I will resume as the Angel of Death, fulfilling my father’s duties which is why I felt the need to call this impromptu meeting.” I wait for a response, and when there is none I continue. “Someone or, someones have stolen the Seal of the Apocalypse and somehow my father is being held responsible. When I discover just who the culprits are,” I say, my eyes blazing with rage so dark my unnaturally emerald green eyes turned completely black. “…not only will I skin them alive personally, they will die a second death. Most of you know that I survived the Abaddon Pits, and inside those pits lay a creature that has yet to be unleased onto the earth for a reason. His name is the Devourer and not only does he eat your physical body…he eats your soul. And one more thing,” I add staring beyond the legions and into the deeper pits that made Hell what it was. “I know that this may come as a shock to a lot of you. Some of you even feel that I am not qualified to assume such a prestigious position considering that I am or was half mortal. And I know that some of you feel slighted by Grim after eons of unquestionable allegiance…yet here I stand being given all of the powers of darkness at my disposal… Here is what I present to you: either you stand with me as you had my father or you stand against me and betray my father. You could try to form an alliance with the Unnamed One, but we all know how that goes…betray my father and you die, plain and simple. Have I made myself clear?”

*******Coming Soon***

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.

Escape: Coming 12/31/2015

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: Chapter Excerpt

Chapter Six

After several attempts to reach Rio by phone, I run to the guest room where Kevin had taken refuge, phone, wallet and box in hand. The door was locked, no surprise there so I break the knob clean off and push the door open. He jumps off of the bed in shock and disbelief. “Ay man, what the fuck are you doing?” I hand him his wallet, and his phone, and shove the box in his hands. I am not sure if I have enough energy to do this (and I pray that I can bring this man out in one piece), and grab him by his shoulders and dematerialize without a second thought. He screams his lungs as I drag him through the molecules, and because I am traveling with more than just myself I struggle to maintain that form as we move at almost light speed back to California. The fact that this man is nearly twice my size in weight, not to mention the stress of knowing that someone has located us and was bold enough to flex a move, mixed with Kevin just acting like a straight up pussy, I barely manage to poof us to back to Rio’s townhome in Baldwin Hills.

We collapse in a heap on the manicured lawn, and I can feel the slight tingle and burn of the sun’s rays cresting over the horizon. I have less than forty minutes to find Rio and get myself to safety. There was also the slight complication that I need to feed. I tried to be patient and give the man a minute to orient himself, but as he blinked several times at me like a blind man given his sight for the first time, I picked him up the collar and drug him to the front door, where we were greeted by his personal guard. With the sun’s rays less than an hour from burning me to a crisp and knock both men down, and force my way through, dragging Kevin with me. The house goes into an uproar, I find myself and Kevin surrounded with guns drawn, and with the surge of adrenaline building, I eye the thick blue-green vein pulsating in the broad neck of the white body guard that was built like a brick house.  He will definitely do.  Just as the shit is about to get real with every last one of the men (except for Kevin) becoming a part of my breakfast, Rio comes strutting down the stairs, dressed in a black silk robe followed by a woman who was a least ten years his junior following behind in a similar garb. His face is beet red, and his nostrils flare and as I watch every muscle in jaw flinch in anger, I wonder if he will ever have enough nerve to drive a stake through my heart.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” He roars, bypassing his men and leaving his plaything for the night at the base of the stairs. “Are you fucking insane? He is supposed to be In Miami! He has a show tonight and two nights from now, he has a meeting with the press!” “Well if you had not been so concerned with getting your dick sucked you would have answered my calls,” I retort sharply. I turn towards Kevin, whom was standing a little too close for comfort next to me, and ask for the box. “Someone was kind enough to send us not only his cell phone and his wallet, but the eye of his road manager.” Kevin inhales sharply upon receiving word of his manager and what I could assume long time friend’s demise. His sudden grief saturated the air, with a heavy, dewy scent and although not much moves me anymore I motioned for Rio to let Kevin pass and find solace in another area of the house while we discussed what needed to be discussed.

Once Kevin was out of sight, I hand the box over to Rio and he reluctantly accepts it. Once he opens it, the smell of the decaying contents was enough to make him toss it to the side, nearest the stairwell. He smoothed his broad hands over his bald head, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He motioned for his guards to take refuge elsewhere and then beckoned for me to follow. His little play thing decided that she should come too, but was quickly reprimanded and sent right back to where she belonged: the bedroom. He led me to his office where most, if not all of our arguments have taken place, and closing the door behind me, he plopped down on the cream colored sofa, his robe sliding up his thighs and bunching into his more “private regions”. I really wish the man had put some pants on at least. We are close, but we are not that close.

“What happened?” He finally said through clenched teeth, and once I gave him the rundown, his expression grew more serious by the minute.  When I was done, he got up and punched a hole in the wall facing the sofa.  “This is all the way around fucked up.” He said with a hint of exhaustion. “I know.” I say nodding my head. “I don’t have many options left Viper.” He adds softly. “I know.” He sighs and moves over to his desk, and reaches into the bottom drawer and pulls out a .45 and several hallow points and took a seat on the leather office chair, and stares at me intently from behind the desk. “This could be the work of C Dollas. I have not spoken to him, haven’t been able to reach him…” “C Dollas works for Lucas,” I anxiously reply as I march over closer to his desk. He looks at me in disbelief, and to be honest, I could not believe it myself. But whatever Lucas was up to, it was something big because C Dollas was no rookie in the industry or in the streets. “I found out that one of the promoters from the Kevin’s former record label invited Kevin and his crew to the mansion. C Dollas doesn’t deal with anybody that he is not in cahoots with.” “Maaaaaaaan Viper…goddamn!” He groans, massaging his temples. “Cancel the press conference,” I say firmly. “Send out a statement stating that it did not work out between you two professionally and you are hereby releasing him from his contract. Therefore, to most of the other record labels would see him as a free agent…or better yet tell the media that Kevin has opted to go independent, and in the mean time we can quickly stage a dummy record label under his name to give the world the impression that he is in fact independent.” I hold my breath as I let my suggestion sink in. “I don’t know Viper,” he said warily. “Neither Lucas nor C Dollas is gonna buy that. When I found Kevin he was completely broke and on the brink of eviction from his landlord.” “For all they know Kevin could have been stashing whatever money he was paid…” “And what exactly is that going to do?” “Buy us, better yet ME some time.” He stares at me with a mixture of defeat, regret, confusion and something else I cannot exactly pinpoint. “You know what Viper,” he begins slowly. “I told you that I wanted to retire. I am tired of all this street shit and even when I was really at the top of my game, I ran my organization with a plan: to leave it for the next man hungry for a come up and start my label and go legit. I think I have done more than my fair share of making good on my word: I gave you Lucas’ brother. I fucking handed him to you on a silver fucking platter and you still bring this bullshit to my door. Look, I tried to convince you to just in some shape or form to move on, but since you insist on embarking on this suicidal plan that is going to not only get you killed, but Kevin killed too, I don’t want any more parts of it.”  The long silence that followed as I processed every single word that this selfish and greedy former Brazilian kingpin had to say and if it wasn’t for the that blasted sun I would have- “I have to go Rio,” I say urgently. “The sun is rising which means you have 12 hours to figure out what the hell you are going to do. You are in this shit as deeply as I am and for all of the bodies that I have drained, murders I have cleaned up, men whose lives I have ended on your behalf, I would have thought that your balls would have been a bit bigger at least on the strength of loyalty. But I see, loyalties like people change. Good day Rio.” With that I dematerialized myself back to my Hollywood apartment, unfortunately leaving Kevin alone with Rio to sort out the mess.

If Rio is thinking what I know he is thinking, then he will have more than one reason to fear the night.

http://septembershope.wix.com/author-delizhia

Happy Valentines Day

Happy Valentines Day

As we all rush out like madmen to purchase cards, chocolates, sexy lingerie, and toys to create magic in our otherwise mundane love lives it should take one day to make the person that you care about feel special. I have never really cared for the commercial holiday; it has always been just another excuse for men to get laid and for women to acquire an often cheap piece of jewelry and a dinner date. And let’s face it, after 50 Shades of Grey, no man alive can compete with a fictional character whose sexual prowess and romance skills are on an unachievable level. So I will keep this blog short and straight to the point: book boyfriends are so much better.

Love At Last is now available starting at its discounted price at .99 on Amazon Kindle. Trey will never disappoint.

http://www.amazon.com/Love-At-Last-Delizhia-Jenkins-ebook/dp/B00QLHC612/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1423928352&sr=8-1&keywords=love+at+last+by+delizhia+jenkins

An excerpt from Redemption, a book from the up coming Dark Royals Series

Chapter Six

Terri

I cannot believe the nerve of that arrogant bastard, Terri continued to fume as she finally slipped her key into the lock and turned the knob to the apartment that had been her permanent residence for the past year. After fighting almost forty minutes of traffic thanks to a three car collision nearest the freeway, all she could think about was ordering a pepperoni pizza, with bread sticks, some fudge brownies and washing it all down with a nice cold glass of Coca Cola before climbing into bed.  She pushed the door open and to her surprise and horror Mr. Thomas was sitting on her couch with a bouquet of red and white roses, a Dior gift bag and she could be wrong but a remorseful expression. She didn’t know if she should attempt to run for her gun or just run period. The bastard had broken and entered into her home and had the nerve to be sitting on her couch waiting for her. He stood up and quickly approached her before she had time to bolt down the hallway and back to her car. He closed the door behind them, forcing her to back into the corner like a cornered animal. “I just wanted to apologize for what I said. My intentions clearly did not match my words and I am truly remorseful for the anger that I caused.” He said, his mouth inches away from hers; his big brawn hunched to her level, both hands pressed against the wall behind her and his eyes intensely fixed on hers. “In order for me to properly accept your apology, I think you should give me some physical space.” She breathed, her heart racing a mile a minute from just being in such dizzying close proximity to so much man.

He straightened his posture, and only backed away just enough to give her some breathing room…but not much. He had made it painstakingly clear that he was not allowing her room to get away from him, and Terri reasoned that if he really wanted to hurt her, he could have easily done so. But, he needed to know that annoying the hell out of her would be the quickest way for him to get his feelings hurt.  “So do you?” He asked, or better yet demanded. “Do I what?” She asked, finding herself once again annoyed by his demeanor. “Accept my apology?” “For being a pompous ass? Sure. Now could you please leave?” She stepped around him, and dropped her purse on the dining room table and then kicked her shoes off leaving them right by the table and chairs as if totally unbothered by his presence. “I annoy you don’t I?” He asked following her to the living room and watching her take a seat by her answering machine and pressing play to gather today’s unanswered messages. “Yes, you do. Why? No one has ever told you that you ‘oh great one’ have an annoying presence?” She almost laughed at the sight of his jaw actually dropping at her comment. He looked downright astounded. “No woman has ever told me that I annoyed them. They have always enjoyed my presence.” “Well there is a first time for everything,” she mumbled as she hit the play button to her answering machine. He went to say something as she motioned for him to be quiet as she listened in on the dozen or so messages that were waiting for her. The first five were from Lee: “Terri, I know I wasn’t always a good man to you but we can work it out.” She didn’t bother to finish listening to them, she just erased his pathetic pleas for second chances, all the while reaping the benefits of a heat seeking gaze coming from Luther. If she hadn’t known better she would have sworn the man was jealous. But that was ludicrous, they just met. The rest of the messages came from her attorney explaining to her that the court date had been moved up and basically all she needed to do was sign and then she was free, and then of course there were bill collectors demanding payment. When she was done, she realized Luther had taken a seat on the couch, clearly demonstrating the fact that he was going nowhere.

“I came all the way down here to apologize, just for you to tell me that I annoy you,” he said with a hint of sarcasm. “Well that is your problem. You have this way about yourself that irks the hell out of me. I am done dealing with men who are assholes.” She retorted. “And how am I an asshole?” He demanded with his nostrils flaring, and his jaw set so tight she thought he would break a tooth. “It is your demeanor,” she replied coolly. “You act as if the world owes you something and everyone in it is born to worship you. You know that money talks and therefore provides you with great amounts of power over people that you carelessly flex and I refuse to be a part of it. I have enough issues of my own and I don’t have to deal with a man who would treat me any less than what I demand and what I deserve. You can’t buy everyone. At least not me.” “I don’t want to buy you,” he said appearing somewhat defeated. “You challenge me and I like it. At least let me buy you dinner and to prove to you that I am not always such an arrogant prick, I will bring you safely back home, see you to your door and leave like a perfect gentleman. Please.” “Dinner?” She mocked with a raised eyebrow. From her limited experiences with men, she had concluded many a time that when men typically bought a woman dinner, there was an expectation of a returned favor that did not involve food. “Yes, dinner. That is why I came over.” “You broke into my house-“ “I entered the same way that I did last night, so technically I did not break and enter.” The stared at each other in a sort of silent stand-off until Terri relented with an “Ok.” It took Luther a second to comprehend that she actually agreed without much of a fight when she said, “But only one these conditions: you stick to your word-no funny business. You asked me, I did not ask you and so I owe you nothing. And, you have to honestly explain to me how the hell you ended up on my couch last night.” He smiled, flashing those dazzling bright whites that could light up a room. “Fair enough.”

Redemption: New Storyline Following Blind Salvation

Luther

Luther awoke to the blurry vision of the chamber of a gun pointed millimeters away from his face. The last thing he remembered was the cave of Kinatara collapsing around him after he was zapped by a werewolf before he jettisoned himself to where he is now: on the couch. The woman that glared at him with her gun pointed directly in his face made it clear that he was an unwelcomed guest in her home and one wrong move would be the end of his life. As his vision cleared, he waited for her to speak but she said nothing. She just gave him a hard stare, her perfectly arched eyebrows burrowed in a deep frown, lines perhaps from stress and countless  nights of lack of sleep became more defined when she all but snarled at him for blinking. I am going to have to change that, he thought before quickly changing his mind on that lustful thought. She was a human and whatever female that he allowed into his heart would be of Fae origins, even though at the rate his life was falling apart the latter may never happen. But still. He needed to get out of her cramped and horribly decorated place before he lost his mind.

“Are you actually going to shoot me or are you just going to continue to pretend that you are,” he finally sighed.  She lowered the gun just below his eye level and growled, “So you speak more than just two barely audible words. I wasn’t sure what to expect from a man who popped out of thin air into my living room and onto my couch.”  He almost laughed. “Put the gun away so that I may be on my way. I promise I will disturb you no further than what I already have.”  He nonchalantly pushed the gun away from his face and quickly sat up, the comforter that she used to cover him as he slept came tumbling off as he stood to his full 6’8” height. She took a few steps back, alerting him to the fact that he had overwhelmed her with his height.

He eyed her carefully, the way any man would appreciate the vision of an attractive woman, and the woman that stood before him made him…remember things he thought he had long forgotten. It was definitely time for him to depart.  “So you’re just going to pop in my house like a rabbit out of a hat and then leave? Don’t you think I deserve some sort of explanation?” She demanded as she marched right up to him and even going as far as to poke him in the ribs with her index finger. He glared at her but then once again found himself slightly amused by her response. “None of what you witnessed concerns you woman,” he stated firmly as if he were addressing one of his soldiers. “Uh yes the hell it does! And besides, how far do you think you are gonna go barefooted?” She pressed, jabbing him again with her index finger and increasing his already high level of irritation even higher. He gently grabbed both of her hands and held them in place. He fought the urge to caress the smooth texture of her dark and delicately supple skin, and when she  gasped in shock at his sudden move, he wanted to hear more of it as he pleasured her with his body. “I can get pretty far in the nude if I have to,” he said again surprising her. “So don’t you worry about that.” He released her and then walked passed her to the door, unlocked it and said nothing more before he was gone. He heard the fast pace of her footsteps behind him when in a quick wave of his palms, he opened The Veil and disappeared through it, landing right in the center of his secluded penthouse.

And strangely enough, just as quickly as he left the demanding woman in her apartment, he longed to return and fall slave to every last one of her demands.

Three Months Time

Three months ago I said I was not going to submit to anymore agents or publishers. I said I “was not going to wait for someone to tell me that I am good enough”, but three months ago I had just barely stepped into the ring, joining the legions of self-published authors swimming against the tide to claim the title for “Best Seller”. I had no idea that there was more than agreeing to the terms and conditions that Amazon required before one’s book was live and ready for purchase. Writing the book was easy. The hard part is marketing and building a platform. I am a part of Lord knows how many Facebook author/writer/blogger/editor groups my news feed is a long list of confusion. And, in each and every one of those groups that claim to offer support and advice to authors is just another place for authors to saturate news feeds with their latest works, and it makes it difficult for anyone to make any sense of it all.

Then, there are the authors who consider themselves established because they are selling more than $1.50 a week, and their noses are so up their own behinds they hardly want to offer any advice to a newbie author for reasons that are more than obvious. Self-publishing has become a cut throat swamp of authors who only think about themselves-which they should to some degree because the hard work as well as the costs fall on their shoulders, but still. Authors should support each other because who is better suited to understand the highs and lows of writing? So unless one can quit their day jobs and live lavishly off of their work, there is still much more ground to cover and it doesn’t hurt to at least throw someone who is new to the game a bone.

Three months ago I did not have anything else in completion that I could believe in again that would capture the attention of an agent or a publisher. Now I do. I finished Blind Salvation two weeks ago, spent hours working on my queries, synopsis, outline and researching potential agents and publishers that might spend less than 15 seconds on my submission and I decided to give it another go. Self-publishing is fine…its perfect for those who want 100% control over their work but I could not go another year writing something that I am in love with without trying to see if an agent would love what I had I had devoted a great portion of myself too. 11 agents and 13 publishers later, so far I have been declined by four, which is fine and I am waiting to see what the others will have to say. In three months I will know if I will be offered a contract, or if I should go back to the drawing board or just focus on developing my career in self publishing.

In the mean time I am working on four additional works to keep my mind off of sitting around checking my email every 15 seconds for a reply. In the mean time I have also created a personal website, an author page, and I have been offering my services to other independent authors to help promote their newest releases. I have also scored a book on self publishing to help me further understand what I am up against and in three months time when I reflect on this blog, I will be much more in tuned with myself as writer, as a business person (because let’s face it, the books that we authors create are our brands), and should a newbie author ask for a bone, I will give him or her a whole dinner plate. I guess I should use the quarter system to evaluate my personal growth: all I need is three months time.