Category: Self Publishing. Science Fiction

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.

BLACK GIRLS LIKE ROMANCE TOO: F*CK A THUG, GIVE ME A FAERY

Romance novels bring in millions of dollars in sales per year which is big indicator that the need for a little romantic fantasy is alive and well. Within recent years, Paranormal romance has saturated the market, taking the need for romantic fantasy up a notch and onto another level; giving vampires or werewolves the leading man roles and becoming every woman’s sexual fantasy. I was never really a fan of romance until I would say around 2009 when my mother introduced me to J.R. Ward, author of the Black Dagger Brotherhood series, and let me tell you I fell in love after the first page of reading Lover Revealed and now I have the entire series and I am waiting with tremendous anxiety for her release of The Shadows. And then, in September, a close friend of mine introduced me to another author whom has been around longer than what I initially assumed with her Highlander books, Karen Marie Moning, and now I am completely hooked on her stuff and I am desperate to begin her Fever series. So, now I have a deep appreciation for the romance/paranormal romance genres and as a writer, I find myself headed over in that direction. I mean, what woman does not want to read a story that has a great plot, juicy sex scenes and a man that you pray to the stars above to grant you one wish of making him a reality? Which leads me to this:

So far, I have yet to stumble upon a series of romance/paranormal romance novels where the leading lady is black (hell, I will even take Hispanic, Asian, whatever just so I don’t just make it a “black thing”). Do interracial and/or African American romance novels just not appeal to traditional readers? Unfortunately, too many black writers are fascinated on Street Sagas: you know, the stories involving drugs, prison time, death, snitching, promiscuous and scandalous women, and the sex scenes resemble something out of a cheap porn video? Yes, those. Now I will admit in my younger years I was into it because the stories were juicy and intriguing, but now that I am older, my tastes have changed. I want something different. I want love making and not fucking. I want a chivalrous and valiant man to come to my rescue even over something as small as what am I going to eat for dinner. I am a black woman and I like romance too.

What is even worse is that after Googling (is that a word? lol) black authors of romance novels, quite a few of them used white characters. I don’t know if it is just their thing and it’s just easier for them or if they think that is the only way that they can sell their books but I did not like it one bit. Why should anyone of color feel like the only way to sell their stories is to create an all white cast? Or, the leading man is black but the leading lady is white? What is so wrong about creating a strong, sexy, intelligent female character that happens to be black? I am tired of what is labeled as “Urban” fiction. My first novel happens to be of the urban fiction genre but not because that is where I saw myself but because the story simply came to me and I had to write it down, BUT my leading man Trey, was positive. He was romantic and most importantly, he and Danielle had a happy ending. The point is, I have spoken to a number of my friends and associates who happen to be black, and they have shared an interest in reading paranormal romance/romance. White women are not the only ones who want those Fairytale happy endings with a man who is built like stallion and possesses the stamina of a god. Publishers and agents alike should see that there is a market for interracial, and African American romance/paranormal romance. Not all of us are into the street sagas.

I will conclude with this : F*ck a thug and give me a Faery (a vampire or werewolf will do ;)). I want to tap into the wild side of the supernatural and the paranormal. I want to wake up on the other side of reality where the man in the mirror is my destiny or the vampire, desperate for redemption needs only my love to save him. Yes, give it to me please. I hope that this blog simply gives you readers something to think about and I look forward to whatever comments you have to share.

Nubia Rising: The Awakening Sample Chapter

Nubia Rising: The Awakening Sample Chapter

Kitara could feel the energy from Atlantis burning through her veins as she allowed its power to fully engulf her. She was one with the pyramid now, and even as Isis sent out blasts of dark magic from her palms none of it could touch her. It was not long before Isis realized that she had no other alternative. Her plan had failed. Thousands of years of planning, scheming, and killing and it all had went down the drain. But, one thing was for sure even if tonight she and her husband could not harness the powers of the lost city of Atlantis, she was sure as shit going to get her husband back. She could feel the Osirian realms slowly opening up and it was a matter of time before the world was reintroduced to the greatest god ever created. And, Isis couldn’t wait to see Kitara’s face when Osiris came walking out of that hell hole that Naomi sent him to looking as grand as ever. And the best part of it was that even without Atlantis, the two of them together would be unstoppable.

Kitara’s natural golden stare became solid silver as the rest of her body began to illuminate that same glow. Unsheathing Oblivion from her casing she pointed the angelic sword to the sky and sent out an electric blue current that not only lit up the midnight sky with a silvery blue but sent a sonic blast that for a split second caused all of the fighting to cease. Sage gazed into the distance where Kitara  hovered over the ocean  , her thick locks sizzling and crackling with electric blue white light and her sword pointed straight into the sky, appearing to be temporarily frozen in time. And then it happened: Millions of glowing white orbs poured out from the heavens and  instantly began to take form as robed men with swords and gigantic wing spans . Angels of the warrior class had come to join them  in their fight. They scattered across the sky and spread out beyond the far reaches of the horizon. Isis had opened up hell portals with her spell all across the globe, and now evil entities and spirits of the damned are creeping through and wreaking havoc on innocent people. Dark forces are now converging, and as Sage continued to look on in amazement, she could feel the dark, shadowy presence of not one but several ancient entities rising. Isis may have thought that she was resurrecting her husband, but Sage was willing to bet that whatever else was coming, Isis surely did not bank on that being a part of the package deal.  Sage could only hope that was what the warrior angels were after; well that and everything that was coming out of the lower gates of hell.

With the power of Atlantis now fully activated inside of her archenemy there was nothing for Isis to do but flee, as she had always done. She needed just a little more time before she and her true love could be reunited, but something was off. His dimensions had opened up but he still had not manifested yet…and then it hit her: The body!  How the hell could she have missed the most important part of the ceremony? Time, she needed more time.  But it was too late to focus too much more on that because Kitara now charged at her like a missile and plunged into her, sending both of them into a free fall into the depths of the Pacific. Their collision created a tidal wave of monolithic proportions, and  just as Sage thought she was going to be swept away she was pulled through the spiritual veil by Celeste and then pushed out a second  later just as the gigantic wave crashed down and swept away several islands of the Bahamas.

Kitara could hear the cries of drowning innocents even as she and Isis were submerged hundreds of feet beneath the earth surface. She remembered being told by Zedkiel that the animals would respond to her command so she sent out a mental telegraph to every single pod of dolphin and orca and other forms of marine life in the neighboring areas to come and help. Isis began swimming as fast she could towards the surface, while at the same time summoning up her powers and cursed the ocean, causing the water to turn to blood. “NOOOOOO!” Kitara screamed as she could feel the sea life begin to choke and suffocate and struggle to breathe that now toxic waters. Disgusted and infuriated, Kitara spread out her hands and sent a wave of pure white light into the waters, returning it to its natural, watery blue , removing the curse, just before the sea life was permanently destroyed. She could hear the whimsical calls of dolphins and orcas closing in in response to her SOS. Go!! Help the humans, she told them as she jettisoned herself out of the water.

Isis had made it to the top steps of the pyramid. She knew there was a way inside, Osiris had told her. She still needed to retrieve his body, but she had at least four hours before daybreak. But, she needed to create a distraction  to keep Kitara busy while she went to recover her fallen husband’s body, and the best way to do that was to free whatever was inside the pyramid.  Moving quickly, she removed the amulet that she wore around her neck and placed it on top of one of the many Egyptian ankh symbols that decorated the surface of the door.  The amulet turned a bright violet color and she could hear the clicking sounds of the door unlocking itself.

Kitara, not wanting to be deterred knew that this was the last opportunity to stop Isis from accomplishing whatever it was she was now up to and  using her kinetic abilities sent a ball of white hot energy straight into Isis’ back knocking her off the steps. Isis tumbled, and  rolled, and thrashed and crashed until she bounced off the last step like a hard rock before landing again with a hard thud. Kitara took a flying leap onto the top step of the pyramid and unsheathed Oblivion once again. As Isis struggled to regain her bearings , she clumsily threw a dark energy blast that missed Kitara and chipped off some of the building structure of the pyramid.  Disoriented but nonetheless enraged the goddess summoned all of her strength and energy and out of the nothingness she constructed her own sword that closely resembled Oblivion, from the black charged energy and went racing up the steps to fully engage the waiting Kitara. Blade met blade, causing thunderous sounds of metal meeting metal. Kitara swung Oblivion hard while at the same time landing a round house kick to Isis’ abdomen. Isis’ doubled back and swung her blade, barely missing Kitara’s chest. “I will end you Destroyer!!”Isis seethed between clenched teeth. “I have been around longer than your pathetic lineage. I have witnessed the creations of kingdoms as well as built my own. I have control over the elements and I am the queen of magic and you think that you and your little sword is enough to defeat me?!!” Back flipping into a warriors’ stance, Kitara ignored the angry threat. All she needed was a split second opening…just one little flaw or distraction and this would be over. After a series of kicks, punches, and near misses Kitara finally got her chance when she kicked Isis’ blade clean out of her hands. Isis’ sensing that it was over for her proceeded to do what she did best: bargain. “I can give you your life back,” she began.  Kitara strengthened her grip on Oblivion’s handle and cautiously continued to advance towards her opponent. Beads of sweat dripped down her midnight skin, her eyes still glowing silver and narrowed in a tense gaze as the memories of her very beginnings with this she demon flooded her vision. “I can give you your life back,” she said. “Your mother Aisha and your brother Nayeem I kept safe…” “You may have built kingdoms,” Kitara began, her tone hard but barely audible. “But you were the cause of the fall of many. You may have ruled over an empire that was once noted as the greatest in human history, but you have damned countless souls…souls like my mother and brother…and you still challenge the one who sits on high by even attempting to claim something that is not rightfully yours…you hope to make a perversion of humanity just so that you and  that incestuous husband of yours can be eternally worshipped! No, you cannot give me back what you  have taken from  me you miserable, worthless bitch!!!!!” “NOOO! Please Kitar-“ Kitara plunged Oblivion deep into Isis’s chest cavity. Blue blood began to spew forth as Isis dropped to her knees. With her mouth agape in shock and disbelief, a single tear trickled down her left cheek. Kitara held Oblivion steady, not fully ready to release her, stared down at the entity whose shadow seemed to have loomed over her like a dark cloud for hundreds of years. It was finally over. The amulet that she wore, the same amulet that she used to trap her mother and brother’s spirits shattered, and Kitara could see not just her own family but hundreds of others ascending into the heavens where they belonged. Kitara’s mother, Aisha, drifted toward her as a spirit now. She radiated golden light like Zedkiel and gently touched her daughter’s face and gave a sad smile. “I am so proud of you my daughter,” she said softly. Kitara unsure of what to do, struggled to fight back tears as her mother glanced in Isis’ direction, frowned and then returned her loving gaze back to Kitara. “I love you mother,” Kitara whispered. “I love you too. I will see you on the other side of the light,” Aisha said as she gently kissed Kitara’s cheek and  continued with her ascent. Angels without wings had appeared and were guiding these spirits home with welcoming arms and loving smiles and one of them  turned and  gave Kitara a knowing smile. And in a flash, they were gone. Kitara pulled Oblivion out of Isis’ chest and watched  as the deity collapsed onto the floor in a heap. The remaining life in her still flickered in her eyes as she struggled to speak. “You and I have the same father,” she wheezed.  “He is through that door,” Isis continued  and  raised a trembling hand and pointed in the direction of the entrance to the pyramid. “Well, there won’t be any family reunions today,” Kitara added as she raised Oblivion high into the air before sending her crashing down on Isis’ neck beheading the goddess. As soon as the deity’s head was separated from her frame, her body lit up in blue white fire. The goddess’ spirit cried out as the flames consumed every inch of her until there was nothing left but her ring with her insignia on it. Kitara stared down at  what was left of Isis, not sure how to feel or what to do next. “You did it!” Oblivion shouted with joy. Kitara looked  at the angelic blade and shook her head. “No, WE did it.” Kitara  looked down at the ring and gently picked it up. “I think I will hold onto this for safe keeping. If this finds its way into the wrong hands, the world will most definitely have something to fear.” “Wise choice Kitara,” Oblivion beamed. “But there is still much to do. Osiris is waiting to be released. Naomi is on her way to his body, but she is not alone. And I have received word that Jose is alive and my brother, Raphael is guarding him in the spirit world. Reconvene with your sisters while I shall take refuge in my thoughts. There is a lot to discuss.” Kitara nodded and returned Oblivion to her casing. She sent out a mental telegraph and received an immediate response from Celeste and Sage, whom were located on the other side of the pyramid. Isis was gone and there was still much to do. This was only the beginning.

Lilith cackled with delight as she watched her arch nemesis completely obliterated by Kitara. So her sword was an angel, huh? Daddy-O would be very pleased to know that little tid bit of Intel. Lilith and her protégé had decided that it would have been conducive to their survival that they remain hidden, especially having witnessed  the warrior breeds come out. Fortunately, they were busy fighting demon emissaries and low level entities that simply had wanted to come out and play.  With Isis out of the way she can continue on with her steps in preparing the way for the Anti-Christ. Now she can find another suitor, and by the looks of it Osiris was now a widower…an available bachelor. If Durga could get to his body in time, Lilith had a few ticks in store for him. But if not, men came a dime a dozen and she still had enough time to prepare. She could now unleash her vampires, establish the NOW, the world was literally hers for the taking. And now that humanity was in a state of panick, it was time to implement plan B into action. She and Kitara would meet soon enough…and as for that Sage, what Anastasia had concocted was brilliant. Simply brilliant. Lilith really, really loved Puerto, Rico.

Naomi hated the desert. It reminded her of her mother’s side of the family and their way of life. Even though she was of royal blood, still the desert did not bring back good memories for her. As she bypassed the city areas of modern day Lebanon and into the deserted areas of scattered trees, rocks and sparse amounts of foliage, in this midday sun, this was no walk in the park. She knew exactly where the body had  been hidden, and even after a millennia, due to his godhood and  having not met Oblivion, his body was going to be in a well preserved state.  The only thing that she had to do was retrieve it, take it back to Kitara so she could finish him off and  then they could go on with their lives.

As she approached the encampment of what is believed to be a group of the world’s oldest living trees-having survived the flood-she could sense that something was off. Just beneath the roots of one of the 16 Sisters, Naomi picked up a vaguely familiar and quickly fading trail. It had the signature of someone very old. “Oh God no!” she muttered to herself. Underneath  the root of that tree is where both she and Kitara buried Osiris’ head and it was missing! She ran another twenty five feet away to another one of the 16 Sisters and the trunk of the tree that was supposed to have been sealed was completely torn open, and his body was missing too. “Shit!” she exclaimed. “Who the fuck else would have known about-“ Naomi stopped short instantly remembering who the culprit was…Kalima, The Dark Destroyer.  But how did she get free? Naomi thought to herself.  But, why now? There was no way to answer that question right at this moment. She needed to get back to the others. It was quite clear that Osiris’ body was gone which meant that he was sure as shit about to be resurrected.  She closed her eyes and hoped  like hell that Kitara was not in the middle of fighting Isis but she needed to know immediately. Kitara, this is urgent. Osiris’ body is gone…and I picked up a very familiar energy trail, one that you wouldn’t believe. It’s Kalima, she is free and its bad Kitara…really, really bad.  Naomi didn’t bother waiting for a reply. She simply casted open a shadow and proceeded to shadow walk back to the Bahamas. It was quick and easy and Kalima, wherever she was, was not about to follow behind her.

****Nubia Rising: The Awakening is now available for download for just .99.***

http://www.amazon.com/Nubia-Rising-Awakening-Delizhia-Jenkins-ebook/dp/B00OY64L38/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1420513850&sr=8-1&keywords=Nubia+Rising%3A+The+Awakening

Blind Salvation: Lucinda

Lucinda

Lucinda could not stop the tears from falling as she recanted the days when she had first taken a sip from the cup of true love; and what a sweet, addicting taste it was. Better than blood. The night that she had met Rothbart had changed her world forever; and despite all that she had been through she would gladly relive those moments again, even for just a short while so that she may remember what it was like to have her own slice of heaven. She had just been crowned future queen; her parents just having concluded one of the grandest balls in her honor featuring the most prestigious vampires from across the globe to offer their tribute. She was the bell of the ball so to speak, the envy of every vampire female and the object of every male vampire hoping to make a name for himself and claim a seat of power. Lucinda, daughter of Hadrian the Great and his darling wife Phaedra of the Draco line, was to be the first and only to be named Queen without a male consort or a king. It was a first of  blooded royals, and Hadrian would have it no other way. She had proved herself fit and capable to rule over the Draco line with fairness and brutality (if needed); she was fearless, strong, intelligent and strikingly beautiful. She was the eldest of her siblings, Damien barely being what humans would consider a teenager at the time and it would centuries before he became the male that the line would need to rule; and she commanded attention in the same manner her father: without effort. Life could have not been any better. She was a true celebrity of her time and it was during this time when she would have to choose what was more important: love or her family.

She had just dined on an aging man of middle class status and was parading down the dark foggy streets of London in one of the sapphire blue, silk gowns that covered the shoulders yet made a V shaped dip deep into her bosom before curving around the rest of her luscious body all the way down to her ankles. It was of course the 15th Century, a time that in her mind remains the highest peak of humanity, and of course she was barefoot, but who would dare notice at such a time in the darkest hour of night? She was sated, excited about her future and the plans she had for the direction she planned on taking her family in. She planned on going on the offensive with the Slayers; they would become the hunted until each and every last one of their heads were mounted on her bedchamber’s wall. She planned on seeking and rooting out the last known remaining werewolf clans and subjecting them back under vampire rule; but not before she successfully aligned her family with the most powerful wizard of the time: Merlin.

She had been frolicking childishly along, lost in her own thoughts and schemes when she noticed a man trailing behind her, and based off of his stealthy and carefully orchestrated movements, she could tell he was a Slayer. How ironic, she remembered thinking to herself as she continued to pretend like she did not notice him.

Her plan was to isolate him in the alley that was coming up ahead, and there she would use the darkness to her advantage and ambush him there. She could take him. He was a young Slayer too. Blond hair. Around Six feet. Bronzed skin, broad shoulders with thick muscular padding wearing nothing but a pair of plain brown trousers, beat up leather shoes that she assumed he robbed from a bum, and a trench coat that more than likely concealed dozens of weapons. He was only a few feet behind her, and she could feel his eyes burning on her. If he thought she would be an easy kill, he was going to be highly disappointed when he was resurrected however many years from now when he realized it was she who killed him.

“Milady,” he called from behind her, his voice raspy and cold…and tingly deep. She stopped and slowly turned to face him, offering her warmest, toothiest smile with a hint of fang. “Yes?” “You should not walk the streets barefoot,” he said coolly as he took his time approaching her. “You might catch fever.” She laughed. “Let us not play this game Slayer,” she said dangerously. “You know that my kind are not subject to fever.” “I am not trying to play a game with you vampire beauty,” he said once they were less than three feet away from each other. “I only said what I said to get your attention.” “And what kind of attention do you seek? Most Slayers only seek one kind of attention and many of them died once it was achieved.” “Only to be brought back to life to finish the job started,” he challenged looking at her straight in her eyes. She raised an eyebrow. “Then what do you want?” “I want to get to know you. You are like the night’s mystery to me and I want to solve it.” “The night’s mystery?” She snorted. “Can you blame a lad for trying? I just want to get to know you. Why would I hunt the very one who makes my heart quicken without a trace of fear or hatred? Listen. I know you can hear it.” She did not want to and told herself that she should kill him and be done with it but she listened anyways. His heart did  beat faster and when she took a moment to closely examine him, she realized that he was strikingly handsome. His features were fine and full of youth and promise. His cheeks lightly flushed, and for a man who was probably older than the city’s oldest senior his face was baby boy soft. Not a trace of hair. He stood there, without a weapon drawn, waiting for her to hear his heart beat and he smiled when she did.  “Why would you want to get to know the very thing that you love to kill?” She asked, unsure of where this was going and where it could potentially go. “Because when I look at you, I see more than the strength of a bloodline that has survived centuries of hunting and killings from Slayers. I see a woman, divinely created in search of the one thing that she has yet to find just I have searched and have been unsuccessful…” “And what is that Slayer?” “That one thing that can stop and restart time and give hope to the hopeless all at the same time: love.” She scoffed  and laughed and dematerialized quickly leaving the Slayer standing in the dark alone, baffled by his obvious sense of buffoonery. Little did she know she would see him again. And again. Always after she had finished her hunt . She knew that he was watching her, studying her, and working desperately to capture her attention…something that she began to find quite endearing.

This went on for months, her parents none the wiser. They trusted in her ability to hunt alone, without being accompanied by an escort or even going as far as to have her prey waiting for her at their castle.  Rothbart seemed to always be waiting in the shadows until one night when she lured him out. Dressed in a petticoat, her red hair free and flowing in the gentle breeze of the night, she sat on a park bench listening for her latest victim. She could sense Rothbart’s presence somewhere in one of the nearby thickets and called out to him, tired of the game. “You can come out Slayer,” she cooed. “There is no point in hiding when we both know that I know you are there.” He slowly emerged from behind the thicket, his hair damp from perhaps showering before stepping out to begin this routine of theirs. Dressed in what she noticed were new breeches with a wine colored tunic, it warmed her to know he dressed to impress her. He did not look so…ratty. As a matter of fact, he looked quite handsome. “Join me as I wait for my meal,” she said with a sly smile.

He cautiously inched his way to the park bench and took a seat, less than a breath of a hair away from Lucinda. The instant that their elbows brushed each other, the connection was breathtaking. She hissed slightly as he jerked. “What is this magic you bring Slayer?” She demanded, rubbing her elbow. “The magic I bring to you princess is that of my heart,” He responded calmly. “How do you know my station?” Rothbart sighed and shook his head. “I tire of these games. Ye be Hadrian’s daughter. How could a Slayer not know that?” When she did not answer immediately, he continued. “Are you mated?” Her eyes narrowed but she answered, “No.” “But you are to be queen and you have found no mate befitting of such station?” “You ask dangerous questions Slayer,” she hissed. “Indeed. Have you a fear of the male species?” She growled. “I fear nothing!” “Then, why do you push me away?” She turned her head, debating on simply dematerializing but then changed her mind. “Do you not find me attractive?” He asked innocently. She tried to maintain the resolve to not look at him but he pressed her again. “Lucinda, tell me you do not find yourself attracted to me and I will leave you alone forever.”  That made her turn her eyes to meet his, and the moment she did her heart began to beat erratically and her breathing slowed. His mouth, lush and pink and full-how she wanted to press her mouth against his and taste the sweet nectar that she knew he had to offer. He stared at her in a way she had never experienced, not even from her own kind that made her body crave something much more carnal than blood. “What do you do to me?” She questioned as she lost herself in his hypnotic stare. “Nothing. Yet.” His last statement shocked and aroused her, and being a virgin vampire she could only imagine the things that he would do to her. “I am a Royal Vampire in all manners. My bite is-“ “I am immune to your bite,” he said. “My father would not approve,” she said, thinking about the punishment she would face if her father found out about their brewing forbidden relationship. “Does your father make the final decision in everything?” If his question was meant to provoke her, he succeeded. Her nostrils flared and her face turned beet red. “No. If I am to be queen then I am free to make my own decisions.” He smiled, displaying a perfect set of white teeth on a strong, chiseled face. “Then are you saying that you are free to choose me vampire?” For the first time in her 200 years of living, she smiled genuinely. “I am. But the question is do I choose you Slayer?” He held his grin, his eyes twinkling at her question. “Then choose me vampire,” he whispered. “Choose me and I can show you what the love of a man is like. You vampires are so cold and calculating. Let me warm you with my love and you will never regret it.”

Since that meeting on the park bench they stole whatever moment they could with each other and a few weeks later, Rothbart made love to the virgin vampire; opening her up to all of her secrets and mysteries that came with a female-human or not, and she gave him her heart. He even surprised her with a small cottage that he purchased on one of the more secluded areas of London. Their affair lasted a good five years before its discovery, and once it reached Hadrian’s ears he launched an attack on the Catholic church of London, nearly razing it to the ground. He stripped Lucinda of her title before the courts, humiliating her in the worse possible way and sent her to live across the seas to Romania for a time being. Hadrian almost lost his life to Rothbart, had one of his men not sacrificed his own. Her father had sent her away so quickly that she did not have time to send word to Rothbart her whereabouts and by the time she had discovered the nature of the results of her affair, Rothbart had all but disappeared. She was under close guard for a good decade before she was trusted to be on her own once again, only for her to find herself forced to marry Alexander and what was once her throne handed over to Damien. She lost everything all because of what the man she chose to love was: a Slayer. And now, this same Slayer, sought vengeance against her family because he too suffered a broken heart.

She concluded her story with a sob and once she was done she dematerialized to her room where she could finish morning the loss of something she knew in her heart she would never experience again. A part of her hoped that the saying about vampires only loving once was false; she wanted to love again and she hoped that if such a second chance existed, that it would not end tragically and that she too could look forward to a happily mated life filled with babies and dreams for the future. Damien simply did not understand his blessing.

Blind Salvation: Final Damien Excerpt

Damien

She saw him– that was all he could think about as he carried his woman into the closest room with a bed. His parents were right behind him and when Lucinda had emerged from wherever it was she had been taking refuge and joined them. He kicked down the door and forced himself into one of the servant quarters, which was no bigger than a walk in closet with a single bed, and a sink. The room looked a lot like the prison cells seen on the show Locked Up but he didn’t care. He needed to get her on a hard and flat surface; at least he thought that was what he needed to do. Her scent, that citrusy fragrance of hers had thickened; not the same scent that indicated her arousal but that single identifying smell that separated her from the rest…the Fae. “What happened?” He asked his father, his mind racing with worry. “I don’t know. I have never seen a Fae/Seer mixture before…never seen a Fae mixed with anything combo. I wish I knew son.” “She saw me…” Damien whispered awestruck. “She did. She saw all of us.” Hadrian replied as he leaned his muscled frame against the doorway. “What triggered it?” Damien asked as he gently brushed a stray hair away from her face. Phaedra frowned and glanced up at her husband who simply shrugged,” Fear.” Kennedy moaned and before groggily sitting up. Damien glared at his father who again simply shrugged before turning around and walking away dismissing everyone as if that were in fact a kingly thing to do.

He helped her rise, and she rubbed her eyes and he could tell she was trying to force whatever it was that happened to happen again and when it did not, she hung her head in disappointment.  “Are you alright?” Phaedra said softly, her voice filled with concern. “Yes, I am. Thank you,” Kennedy nodded. “I will have the staff prepare you a meal,” Phaedra continued. “What will you like?” “Uh…” “She doesn’t like fish or anything sea food.” Damien answered. “Ok, well how about a turkey sub on wheat? Rodger makes a sandwich so divine that if I were to allow him he could put Subway out of business.” Phaedra bragged. Lucinda, who had been peaking from the other side of the door way the entire time, chuckled. “What do you know about places like Subway mother? You hardly leave the house.” “Who needs to leave the house when you have cable and a culinary genius at your beck and call?” Phaedra said playfully. “Bring her to the kitchen so that she may eat. Hunger may be the cause for some of the fluctuations that she is experiencing,” Phaedra ordered right before she poofed herself out of the doorway.  “I don’t know what happened Damien,” Kennedy said sadly. “I saw you-“”-I know.”  “What’s wrong with me?” Damien glanced over to where his sister was standing and clearly taking in the moment. Her grey eyes were filled with unshed tears that she quickly wiped her way, her pale cheeks red and her expression sullen. He mouthed, “What’s wrong?” And Lucinda’s response was her disappearing into the nothingness. Damien sighed. “We are trying to figure that out love,” he said cupping Kennedy’s face. “You know what I wish I could see once more?” Kennedy said, her mouth brushing the tips of his fingers, sending an erotic chill throughout his body. “What’s that?” She raised her eyes to meet his. “Your eyes. I love your eyes. The blue is deep and unfathomable, like you.” Well what could he say to that? Nothing. He placed a gentle kiss on her lips before helping her to her feet.

And so the light fell in love with the dark, even though it was the light that could not see and it was the dark that bathed in the sun.

He held her hand in his and once their fingers were intertwined, a sense of peace flooded his senses. And somehow, he knew that this was meant to be.

Blind Salvation: New Character Alert

Rothbart

Using his sword, he sliced the head clean off of the Night Stalker and stepped back to watch it disintegrate onto the floor. The fifteen or saw Night Stalkers that were in his presence looked at each other with unease. “I had her!” He bellowed as he scanned the creatures that stood before him seeking another victim. Instead, he kicked an old woodened table and sent it crashing into a wall. He was back at the abandoned cellar of an old Victorian styled house that had become his home. Stupid Night Stalkers and their aversion for sunlight; sometimes they proved themselves to be nothing more than useless and this moment was one of those times. He should have just broke into the house and grabbed her himself but then he knew he would have had to come face to face with Lucinda and he was not sure if he could steady himself in her presence.  He punched a hole in the wall, the plaster exploded from the impact. That blind woman-no that Seer would have been an excellent bargaining chip to lure that arrogant prince and then his father to their doom.

“We can attack the mansion as soon as the sun sets,” one of the Night Stalkers, the oldest of the bunch who was once a lively man in his late thirties and a promising career in politics from the 18th century suggested.  Rothbart eyed him hatefully but did not say anything. He could attack the mansion tonight and while the Night Stalkers offered a useful distraction he could go inside and retrieve the Seer and ultimately lure the prince to his death. And after the prince, the King…followed by the queen and then… he shook his head. As much as he hated Lucinda for leaving him with a bitter heart he was not sure if he could bring himself to kill her. But, he could make her suffer.  “Leave,” he commanded the Night Stalkers who did not hesitate to relieve themselves of his presence. “Return as soon as the sun sets,” was all that he said as he watched them head into various parts of the house to hide from the last few remaining rays of the sun.

He dropped his sword, a hand- made blade constructed from the fiery embers of the Vatican made from the finest of alloys and then blessed by the Pope himself, and slumped on the ratty green sofa he had purchased over 40 years ago. The thought of Lucinda always sent him down a road of memories he unsuccessfully tried to bury deep into the black box he held under lock and key. But it was too late. He closed his eyes, and trued to distract his thoughts with remembering when the last time was he had taken the time to shower. It had been days-no, weeks maybe? He ran his fingers through his thinning blonde hair and remembered how Lucinda used to do the same. On nights when he could steal her away from the responsibilities of a future queen, they would secret themselves away to foggy streets of London, laughing and joking and headed wherever they pleased, and she would find that moment when he would lose himself in her grey eyes and run her fingers lovingly though his hair to the very tips.

How he missed those beautiful eyes of hers…and that thick mane of red hair. He used to lay it across his chest after several rounds of love making, while she cuddled next to him talking about the burdens of the throne and how demanding her father had been. Damien had been a fledgling then-the equivalent of a teenager, and Rothbart looked forward to those stolen moments with the vampire who had not only stolen his heart but his soul. Making love to her had been an experience that was irreplaceable and since their split he had not lain with another woman since then. She was insatiable and sensual-the perfect mix and it had been he that had taught her what she probably now used to entice her male suitors. It was he, Rothbart, who had been her first.

He grimaced at the memory. How could a love so perfect end so tragically? He was more than willing to leave the Order just so that he could spend his days and nights with her. He would have gladly turned a blind eye to the mess of Night Stalkers that her people carelessly created just so that he could build a relationship with her father, the King. And, then when he died and was reborn a few hundred years or so later, he would have come back to her…their love would have never had to end. But no, she would always be “Daddy’s Perfect Princess”. His blood would never be good enough for her and who he was would never be accepted, even if he did put down his sword. She had to marry a vampire. He wondered if she was married even though she was pretty much dethroned and replaced by her brother. He wondered if she truly loved her mate and if she ever truly loved him. He seriously needed to get it together. He needed more time. He would not attack the mansion tonight. Lucinda was what the Seer was to the prince: his life and his death. He still had plenty of time left to exact his vengeance.

Blind Salvation: Kennedy

Kennedy

Kennedy was not sure what to think. It was common for Marisol to do a drop in but this was a really inconvenient time. She had two vampires in the house and she definitely did not need any more complications. But then, she could not hide the excitement of her best friend being able to meet the man-well vampire- that had pretty much stolen her heart and saved her life in less than a week. Hubert barked in excitement as she opened the door and she could see the shadowy outline of her curvy friend. Marisol wore her hair “big” today: it was a wild, giant mass of dark tightly coiled curls that sat proudly on top of her head and surrounded an oval face, tanned skin, thin lips and a single dimple. Marisol leaned in for a hug and then stooped down to pet and rub the all too eager Hubert who panted and wagged his tail so hard that Kennedy was scarred he was going to tilt over.

“I tried to call you girlie,” Marisol chirped. “But you-who the hell is that you have hiding in your house?” Marisol all but swooned as she took in the full visual magnificence that made Damien, Damien. Kennedy turned to see him standing a few feet behind her, right at the entry of what was the living room. Of course what she saw was a shadowy outline but then, for just a second, she could see in color the most handsomely chiseled face grinning at her. And then there was those midnight blue eyes that stared straight into her, piercing more than just her heart, but the very fabric of her soul. And then it was back to shadows and outlines. She blinked twice.  “Well aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend Kennedy,” came that smooth velvety voice of his interrupting her thoughts. “Oh yes! I’m sorry,” Kennedy chuckled awkwardly. For a second, she could see clearly. She saw his face and lord he was beautiful and he wanted…her. She beckoned for him to come closer and he took her into a full embrace. “Marisol, this is-“ “Her mate” Damien replied before realizing that he used the wrong terminology. What did humans call each other? Marisol chuckled. ”Mate?” “He means uh, boyfriend,” Kennedy said trying to laugh it off. She would definitely have to school him on some common human vernacular and terms.

Marisol offered her hand for a shake, one in which Kennedy could tell Damien was reluctant to accept. “I was just stopping by to invite Kennedy over to my family’s place for dinner. Alejandro-“ Damien frowned and held Kennedy possessively at the mention of another man’s name. “Who is this Alejandro?” He heard himself say. Kennedy laughed. Marisol glanced at Kennedy awkwardly, giving her a puzzled expression. Kennedy simply shrugged. She had no idea why Marisol would bother to mention Alejandro’s name. She had no interest and never had any interest in dating her brother. He was a nice guy but… there was no chemistry there, well at least on her part. “Alejandro is my brother and he had asked me to stop by and see if Kennedy would come by,” Marisol said carefully. “My dad is cooking this time and he said he needs an unbiased connoisseur of his cooking to judge his ‘culinary mastery’-his words. Alejandro thought-“ “Well, she isn’t coming,” Damien said firmly. Kennedy gently released herself from Damien and softly placed her hand on his cheek, a gesture he welcomed wholeheartedly. “It’s ok Damien. I got this.” She turned to her friend who was glaring at Damien as if she wanted to give him a piece of her mind. “You know what Marisol? I can’t tonight. Damien and I were about to take off for the night-“ “Are you ok?” Marisol said, returning her heat seeking glare to Damien who offered her one back and she backed away to the door. “You know what mija? Just call me. I will tell my dad and Alejandro,” she said with more emphasis on the ‘dro,”that you had to do a rain check. I will save you a plate.” Marisol was out of the door before either Damien or Kennedy could reply. “That’s your best friend?” He said skeptically. “Hey, you did come off a little strong…” Kennedy said calmly. “And why would Alejandro-“ “Look, there is and will never be anything between me and Marisol’s brother. The man has always had a soft spot for me but I see him as nothing more than family.” Shaking her head and feeling a mixture of emotions that she was ill prepared to deal with. She needed to go back to why Damien had been in her room packing her things.

She inched her way past Damien and journeyed to her parent’s room to find the shadowy figure of Lucinda resting comfortably on her parent’s bed. “Has dinner left yet?” She said sarcastically. Kennedy just brushed her off. There was no way she was going to deal with that right now. Suddenly she felt overwhelmed and trapped. She could feel Damien’s presence behind her and even though she was annoyed with him, she could not stay upset with him. Spoiled prince. “Please don’t be angry with me,” he said apologetically. “I just don’t like the idea of another man being with you and enjoying your company.” She smiled. ‘It’s ok Damien. But try to chill. I don’t want her thinking that I am in a controlling relationship where I am being abused.” “I would never hurt you!” Damien exclaimed, outraged. “Well in a lot of human relationships, women sometimes find themselves in the presence of men who beat them, control them and just do horrific things to them.” “Damien would hurt himself before he hurts you,” Lucinda interjected. “And now that we have that established, Damien please take note that the sun will be setting soon and Rothbart has been parked outside of this house for God knows how long. We have to go.” “Who is Rothbart?” Kennedy asked. “Kennedy, before your friend rudely interrupted us I was about to inform you that a man, a threat to my kind has been spying on us.” Damien tried to explain. “Why?” “Because he is a Slayer and that is what he does,” Lucinda added, sounding as bored as ever. “I will take care of you. I promise.” Damien swore as he closed her suitcase. “So how do you plan on transporting her out of here?” Lucinda asked getting out of the bed. Damien frowned at Lucinda whom like always, smiled at him pleased with his response. “Damn it Lucinda! Can’t you at least be of some assistance?” Damien spat. “Call father. Have him send an escort. You can’t dematerialize you, her, the dog, or her things… and neither can I .”  Kennedy could feel Damien’s gaze and the subtle realization flooded her senses: Once she left this house, her life would never be the same. “Hubert! Leash!” she called to the retriever. She slipped on a pair of flip flops and Hubert hurried over to her with his leash. “Call whomever you have to call. We are ready to go.”

Blind Salvation: Damien…

Damien

Phaedra had spent the last thirty minutes digging into the family archives. The large room was a spacious as a mid-sized class room and filled with wall to wall volumes of books documenting the family’s history. The Draco Line, the name of his bloodline had been in existences for hundreds of thousands of years, extending well beyond the beginnings of humanity. The 17th century chandelier that hung 20 feet above their heads was the only supplier of light in the room. When she finally found what she was looking for, she glanced at Damien with a smile of victory and motioned for him to join her at the small woodened table that was the focal point of the room. The large, heavy book was thick with pages made from Egyptian papyrus leaves; an indicator of its antiquity and his mother carefully opened the book and gently flipped a few dozen pages before landing on the right page to begin her lesson. “Aha,” she said using her index finger to scan through the wording that was written in the Old Language. “Here we go,” she said. “Seers, the mystical peoples whose origins that tie them to the Neters of Kemet and the lands of Mesopotamia,” She read. “You see, your mate is of African ancestry,” She continued reading. Damien nodded, totally aware that his “mate” was black and had long dismissed what should never be considered an issue. Phaedra continued on: “They are to be approached with caution for their powers are many and great. They can see into the future, into the past and into the mysterious realms that we vampyr have yet to aspire to. Seers are mostly birthed as female, although there have been reports of males. They appear as blind or severely lacking in sight due to their strange colorless eyes, and some may be rendered unable to see into the physical realm with great clarity, which gives them greater power in the mystical and the spiritual. Their abilities rest primarily within the elements, some even able to call forth the weather to do as they please, but the most common element is fire. Seers are notoriously hunted by Slayers and Lycans alike for their gifts and are often deemed as a threat by Faeries whom are also gifted with the elements. Seers are not immortal but are close to it with life spans exceeding that of 1000 years. Seers make formidable opponents in battle when properly trained which is why it is of great importance that vampyr revere instead of fear them. The strongest gift possessed by a Seer is hiding in plain sight.” She closed the book. “So, that is it?” Damien inquired. “That is all the knowledge that we possess. The rest of the documentation focuses on the genealogy of the various Seers that have aided our family since the 2nd century A.D.. I had a Seer once when I was young, and your father’s closest confidante was a Seer. I did not like his confidante at first because I thought she was vying for my husband’s attentions,” Phaedra chuckled. “But, in the end she proved herself loyal until the day that she died.” “How did she die?” “Rothbart.”  Damien froze. “Father said that the Slayer was spotted in the area. Have you any word on that?”  “No, your father has not said anything more.” “Aren’t Slayers only destined to kill Night Stalkers?” “They are destined to destroy what their beliefs tell them to and Rothbart is hell bent on destroying anything that is not human. But enough about that,” Phaedra said quickly. “When do I get to meet your mate?” Damien smiled and rubbed his fingers through his raven colored hair;. “Soon. I have to be sure that father will not make an attempt on her life because of my refusal to marry Guinevere.” Phaedra sighed. “Your father will not kill her but he surely will not make her feel welcomed. Before you came he was working out an agreement with Stefan regarding the arrangements of your marriage to Guinevere.” Damien rolled his eyes at the mention of Stefan and Guinevere’s names. “Guinevere has been sick with grief and worry that you will not wed her because of your love for what she perceived to be human. The entire aristocracy is talking about it.” “I don’t give a rat’s ass about what a bunch of superficial pricks think.” Damien retorted. “I don’t either and neither does your father but he has to do something. But, you were wise in informing us about this particular Seer because now it changes things.” “How so?” “Your father’s law states that no vampire can wed a human; but your Seer is not fully human, which is a slight technicality that happens to work in your favor. You are free to be with this Seer.” Phaedra smiled triumphantly. “The only thing is unless your father replaces you with Lucinda to the throne, your mate will not be accepted as your mate and she will definitely not be accepted as Queen which means that you may still have to marry a vampire at least in writing to maintain your position.” “Fuck!” Damien slammed his fist on the table. “Do not fret my son you  still have time. I will work with your father to absolve the betrothal to Guinevere. Unfortunately this may come off as a snub to Stefan and his family and I am sure we will be met with some retaliation, but then again I do not think Guinevere wants to come face to face with Lucinda again.” For the first time, Damien could smile with relief as he felt the burdens that came with the throne were lifted from his shoulders. Thank the good lord above for his sister, his mother, the technicality in his favor, and the fact that Kennedy’s father was a Fae. He reached across the table and pulled his mother into a heartfelt embrace. She laughed in delight. “I have never seen you this happy,” she said displaying a toothy grin. “Oh you have no idea what this means mother,” he said. He kissed his mother on the cheek before releasing her. “Go to your mate son but the next time you return bring her with you!” Damien had dematerialized into the nothingness before Phaedra could finish her sentence.

It was well into the afternoon when Damien appeared at Kennedy’s door. He was enthusiastically greeted by Hubert when caught the same vague presence of evil close by. He locked the door behind and peered out of the window and noticed the same red Honda that had been parked off and on outside of her house for the last few days. He focused his sight on the driver and recognized him instantly. Rothbart! Using his vampire abilities he extended his senses beyond the interior of the house. Kennedy was upstairs talking to Lucinda. Good. Rothbart was up to something and whatever it was, he was going to have until nightfall to act. He needed to take Kennedy somewhere safe and get his sister back into the safety of the mansion. He could take Kennedy to the mansion too but then again, he would be putting her in possibly more danger-safe house. There was a safe house a few miles east that he could take her for a few days.

He dematerialized into the first level bedroom where Kennedy slept and where they had shared some of their fondest memories and searched her closet for a duffel bag. When he found none, he stumbled upon an old suitcase and made a mental note of how much he hated the color forest green. He popped open the suitcase and left it in the center of the room and went into various drawers of hers grabbing whatever he thought she would need for more than just a few days. Hell, after today she would never live in this house again. He must have been making so much noise that Lucinda called out to him from the doorway, looking completely puzzled. “What are you doing brother?” She asked, her arms folded tightly into her chest. “Look through the peephole of the front door. Rothbart.” He said not breaking his stride as he dumped more clothes into the suitcase. Lucinda’s eyes widened and in an instant she disappeared to the front door.

The suitcase was full.

Damien cursed. “I’ll just buy her whatever else she needs,” he mumbled to himself. Lucinda returned, her expression paled and those grey eyes of hers filled with disbelief and terror. “He is really here,” she whispered with emotion. “How long has been here?” “I have no idea,” Damien sighed. “Probably as long as I have been here…what is Kennedy doing?” “I’m right here Damien,” Kennedy said from behind Lucinda, still dressed in a pair of grey sweats, a white tank and her braids pulled back into a single braid, like his. He smiled at the sight. “Kennedy,” he said carefully. “You have to come with me for a few days…” “Uh, ok but may I ask why?” Kennedy said as she gently eased passed Lucinda who remained where she stood, but this time her eyes were focused and her head tilted as if she was listening for something. Damien heard it too, someone was approaching the door. Lucinda’s hands became like talons: their form extended to long, pointy and sharp; her eyes narrowed and her fangs retracted giving her the appearance of a living nightmare. Damien’s eyes narrowed too, until Hubert barked and Kennedy’s smile lit up and then came the voice that proved itself to be more than just a simple inconvenience. “Kennedy open up! It’s me Marisol!” Lucinda growled, Hubert barked once more and the love of his life chirped with excitement. “Oh my God I finally get to introduce you to my bestie!” Kennedy squealed and hurriedly moved past Lucinda without noticing the violent rage that bubbled through Lucinda’s veins like poison in a hot cauldron. “We do not have time to deal with another human Damien,” Lucinda said between clenched teeth. Damien sighed and shook his head. “I know…but this human just might be useful,” he added rubbing his jawline. “Can I eat her?” Lucinda gave Damien a wicked grin. He frowned. “No.” “You are absolutely no fun.” “Just suck your teeth in and retract your claws. This human is not blind…”

Blind Salvation: Damien

Damien

He made it to the mansion with just a few minutes to spare. He had just enough time to shower and dress and as he entered his version of King Louis XIV luxury suite of indulgence, he found his sister, the ever beautiful red haired beauty and royal princess Lucinda casually sitting on the edge of his 16th century styled poster bed. She glanced at him with a slight smirk on her face, looking as devious as ever. Dressed in a midnight blue strapless Christian Dior gown, she crossed her legs and eyed Damien with a look of suspicion. “You have been with a human,” she said still smiling. “I can smell her all over you. The night of the presentation and you fulfill your carnal desires with a human…” “Get out of my room Lucinda,” Damien seethed as he walked right past her and into his walk in closet that was the size of a one bedroom apartment. “Why are you acting so testy?” She teased as she slithered behind him to antagonize him some more. “I am sure father would be quite proud to know…” “As the future King of this bloodline I can do whatever the hell I want. The only thing I am obligated to do is marry the shrew and eventually give us an heir. Now get out of my room Lucinda!” Baring his fangs at his spitefully wicked sister, he turned his back to her in his continued search for something to wear. Unmoved by his anger Lucinda took a seat on a crimson red ottoman that was situated nearby and regained her composure. She fiddled with her hair which hung down loosely in a side ponytail that was curled at the ends. “My husband would have made a fine king had daddy changed the laws of the monarchy,” she said finally. “Alexander is a fine vampire who values civility and the rightful order of a society…” “Yes, well Alexander should watch himself,” Damien warned. “I have heard of his proclivities and you would have been better off marrying a Lycan than the likes of him. Hell, Rothbart would have been a better choice for you…” Lucinda gasped at the name. “Don’t say that name again in my presence.” She demanded. “Why?” Damien turned to face her. Her demeanor had transitioned from pretentious and snobbish to ghastly pale and frightened at the mention of the Slayer’s name. “You are the reason why I am even in this position. Yes, dear sister did you think I had forgotten your silly little games you played on the Slayer? The same Slayer that hunted our bloodline to damn near extinction and who left his mark on Father? You are fortunate that father did not kill you for the deeds that you have done. So, for you to come in here and taunt me about my personal affairs you should be residing in eternal hope that I do not exile you to destitution and have your precious husband executed on the spot!” Lucinda’s perfectly symmetrical face had turned beet red at the memory. Her wolf grey eyes had glittered with unfallen tears and she placed her face in her hands. “I really did love him Damien. It wasn’t a game.” Damien took a moment to study his sister and based off of her scent he could detect no lie. “Yeah? Well, tell that to Father because Rothbart has returned.” Lucinda wiped her face and stared into Damien’s midnight blue eyes. “I hope you killed whatever human you were with tonight,” she said. “I can tell by your scent that she is more to you than what you are willing to admit.” Lucinda stood up and strengthened her resolve. “If you care about her you would have killed her because now that you are about to meet your future queen I will leave you with this warning. Please consider it a parting gift from me because after tonight Alexander and I are leaving Brigewood forever. Guinevere is not the feeble minded, socially inadequate shrew that most of the members of the aristocracy believe her to be. I met her a few times and she is sadistic and evil and power thirsty. You are a prize to her: a hard earned prize and she will not settle for being second place in your life. She intends to utilize her role as your wife to its fullest capacity. Do not underestimate her.” Lucinda turned then dematerialized to the Great Hall in the house leaving Damien alone with his thoughts. He found the old world suit and tie that he was looking for and made his way to shower off the remainder of Kennedy’s mouth -watering fragrance before heading down to meet his Fate.

As always Damien was dressed to impress with his black tux and Prada’s finest leather Oxfords. With one quick glance in the mirror, he could not help but admit to himself that he looked like a living god. His long raven hair was freshly pulled back in his signature braid, the tux fitted his muscled form to perfection. Yes, he was definitely eye candy and Guinevere should feel honored that he was forced to be in her presence. He dematerialized to the Great Hall where his father and everyone in his family’s bloodline were waiting. The Great Hall, the largest room in the house was where his parents hosted many a dinner. The seating amounted to 300 and tonight it was filled to maximum capacity. Decorated in Old World Medieval elegance themes with two banners representing both families (Damien’s being red and Guinevere’s being bright green) mounted on opposite walls facing one another, Damien sighed at the spectacle.  Seated at glass tables with expensive linen’s draped across the top, each of the 300 or so guests represented every well known fashion designer from Christian Louboutin, Christian Dior, Coco Chanel, Giorgio Armani, Versace, and Marc Jacobs just to name a few. The female’s kept their gowns simple, most of them strapless and of varying colors. Most of the males were dressed in a tux and carried themselves with an air of regality that one would have thought they were in the presence of kings-not one king. The servants had worked tirelessly at preparing a feast that was fit for an emperor: serving the finest of fish, chicken, wines and a variety of side dishes that would make the Food Network look like a dish served in the local school cafeteria. Then of course, on each of the dining tables that could seat a total of ten people were helpless and very terrified and nude humans tied down as offerings for the supposed to be special day.

Working his way through the crowd he said his hello’s and performed the appropriate greetings to everyone according to their station before he finally made his way over to where his father and mother sat. His mother, Phaedra looked as divine as ever, an exact replica of her daughter, the only difference was the black mole that sat proudly above the right side of her mouth. His mother was known for uniqueness among the vampire race: she was not bloodthirsty, she did not take pleasure in terrorizing humans and she even held a certain level of respect and sympathy for them…except for tonight. She could not afford to make her husband of 600 years appear weak in front of hundreds of vampires vying for and secretly plotting for his position. He kissed his mother lovingly on the cheek before bowing to his father who gave him a slight nod in acknowledgement. “You made it on time,” Hadrian said feeling pleased with his son’s obedience. “I had no choice,” Damien replied as he took a seat next to his mother who gently patted his hand. The human male that was tied to the table and gagged gave Damien a pleading look, which Damien ignored. After tonight he was definitely going to feed. “Where is the wench?” Damien asked suddenly feeling irritated. His father laughed heartily. “She should be coming down soon, son.” “And then can I go?” His mother gave him a surprised look. “Damien, Guinevere is a lovely female. Why would you be so anxious to leave?” “Because Damien’s loins are calling out to him,” his father chided.  Damien ignored his father’s reproach and focused his attention on the door fifty feet ahead of him. He hated his life at this moment. He honestly did. If his father- and just then the door opened and everyone in the room fell silent. A tall, slender built female with magnificently dark hair and emerald green eyes met his gaze. She wore a forest green gown with thin straps that barely supported the most exquisite set of breasts that Damien had ever laid his eyes on…next to Kennedy’s of course. Her neck was bare and from her ears hung a pair of diamond earrings that illuminated a blinding sparkle. A knowing smile greeted him, as if she knew everything there was to know about Damien’s past, present and future; and she took her time approaching his table. Her father, Stefan, walked proudly behind her, his long blonde hair sprawled out across his shoulders giving him the resemblance of a lion instead of a proud and respected vampire. Her mother was as tall as she with equally magnificent dark hair that kept wrapped in a bun and she wore a simple black gown that gently caressed her small ankles as she walked. Guinevere was definitely excellent eye candy and clearly she found herself a stylist to make her look presentable for this occasion. But, as Damien watched with dread as his future wife proudly approached his table, his chest ached for only one woman: Kennedy.

Once she had finally reached the table where Damien and his parents sat, she bowed respectfully to Hadrian, and then Phaedra and finally to Damien. When her eyes met his, her irises lit up with desire and Damien respectfully smiled at her. Realizing that his enthusiasm was not the same she averted her eyes to the floor and she straightened her stance with her father guiding her over to her seat next to Damien. Hadrian stood up and proudly bellowed to the crowd, “To the future King and Queen of our glorious bloodlines! May they have many heirs and a prosperous existence!” The crowd erupted with cheers as champagne glasses were passed around. Damien was not in the mood to drink anything. He could feel himself being watched and he turned his head to face Guinevere whom had been studying him as she took a sip of her champagne. “Am I not to your liking milord?” She asked plainly. Phaedra turned to look at Guinevere who gave an awkward smile and a raised glass. Phaedra glared at Damien who simply shrugged and returned his attentions to the crowd.

It was a good while before the cheering and clinking of glasses abated and then once Hadrian was finished giving his speech addressing the importance of bloodlines and unity, only to conclude on a high note of praises towards Stefan and his family could they eat. Becoming more frustrated and irritated by the minute, Damien eyed the human hungrily and before the first plate of food was served to his table he savagely bit the frightened human. He tore deeply into the man’s jugular and with vicious pulls he drank the life forced that helped him deal with his irritable mood. Once he was finished, Damien raised his head to notice everyone in the room staring at him, even his father and mother who gave him a look of surprise and horror. Guinevere smiled and followed suit, dropping her fangs, the strike was swift and hard into the man’s thigh. Soon, a feeding frenzy erupted and Damien took this an opportunity to leave.

He dematerialized to his room where he found his phone hidden behind a desk and hooked up to a charger. There were no missed calls and then just as he was about to search for the name of the only woman he could think about came a familiar scent. Guinevere had followed him. He bared his fangs in annoyance as she took form in front of him. “Who is she?” She demanded. “Why are you in here?” He snarled violently. “Who is she?” She demanded again. “I am to be your wife and you have done nothing more than look at me with unfortunate dismay as if I were some human!” She screeched. “I don’t even know you and you are acting as possessive as a fool in love you delusional twit,” he snapped. “I am required to marry you, and if you thought that by acting as an insecure teenaged girl in the throes of a tantrum was going to make me look at you with anything more than dismay you have another thing coming.” Well that got her attention. “I will have you know that this is as much as a sacrifice for me as it is for you.” She retorted. “No it isn’t,” Damien replied coolly. “You and your family are elevated from that lowly station that you were given-for goodness sake Guinevere you get to be a queen with every right and privilege afforded to that title. So what exactly are you sacrificing? And whoever this she is that you keep inquiring about, well there is none. So, with that being said, why don’t you remove yourself from my presence before you embarrass yourself and your family any further than you have already.” Tucking his phone in his pocket, he disappeared out of the room to another, more remote location in the house leaving a furious Guinevere trembling with rage and mumbling a vow of vengeance. “I will find out who this woman is Damien.” She inhaled deeply and smiled. Guinevere’s family was legendary for their ability to track the even faintest of scents, which was how her father had found favor with the king.  Guinevere stalked out of Damien’s room with a twisted smile. “Let the games begin,” she mumbled to herself.

Blind Salvation Excerpt Post 3

Kennedy

It was almost noon when Kennedy stretched and yawned and proceeded to drag herself out of bed. What a night. Hubert was already in the living room as if he had been waiting for years for her to awaken. “Morning, Hubert,” she said as cautiously made her way into the kitchen. There was enough light for her to see into the kitchen and her stomach let her know immediately it was time for her to put something in it. Cereal would suffice and thank the Heavens she still had half of a box of Frosted Flakes waiting for her at the top of the fridge. Hubert had snuck up behind and barked, causing her to nearly drop the cereal, letting her know that his bowl was empty. So before she grabbed herself a plastic bowl that she kept in one of the many cabinets that made up the kitchen, she went to the cabinet underneath the sink and reached for a can of Purina and opened it and dumped the contents into his food bowl. She then grabbed his second food bowl which she filled with some of his dry food and last but not least she grabbed a water bottle out of the fridge and gave him some fresh water. “There ya go Hubert,” she said. “Sorry about that…”  It was then that she realized that Marisol was not there and being that her friend knew better than to leave a note, Kennedy thought best to give her a call. She didn’t mean to interrupt Hubert’s feast but she could not settle herself enough to eat without finding out what happened to Marisol. “Hubert,” she commanded. “Phone.”  Slightly disgruntled but obedient Hubert went into parent’s bedroom and retrieved her IPhone 6 and after she took it out of his mouth she patted his head lovingly and said “Good boy. Now go eat.” Hubert wagged his tail happily and then greedily went back to his food. “Siri, dial Marisol.” Kennedy spoke into the receiver of Apple’s best -selling product. “Calling Marisol,” the operating system responded. Marisol picked up on the first ring. “Hey girlie,” she said cheerfully. “Hey Mari, I was just calling to check on you,” Kennedy said as she grabbed a bowl and poured the contents of the cereal box into it. “I know my friend and thank you. I left early this morning because my pops wanted me to handle some business for him. Are you ok?” “Yeah sure, fine I just wanted to make sure you were ok. We had quite a bit of wine last night,” Kennedy chuckled. “Girl I know…I was knocked out cold. I didn’t want to wake you but if it makes you feel any better Hubert escorted me to the door this morning.” Marisol said laughing. “Always the gentlemen,” Kennedy chuckled. “But anyways, Kennedy I won’t be back for another couple of days. My parents have quite a bit of work cut out for me and I need some time to get everything sorted. But call me if you need anything or if you just want to talk.” “Thank you and same to you. I am so glad you are back Mari,” Kennedy said with a sad smile. “Me too. But look I gotta go mamacita. Talk to you later.” “Later,” Kennedy said as she ended the call. “Well Hubert it’s just me and you again today,” She said to the golden retriever who was too busy indulging himself in his food.

It was evening by the time Kennedy had found the resolve needed to head to the market which was a few blocks away. With Hubert leading the way, and her trusty cane, she was not all too concerned with the journey. All that she needed was a few things: some milk, bread, body wash and a couple of T.V. dinners and snacks and then she would be good to go. Dressed in some DKNY skinny jeans, a pair of black UGGS, and matching turtleneck and leather jacket she was good to go. She allowed her braids to hang loosely and she covered her eyes with a pair of dark sunglasses she bought at the mall a few years ago. She did not feel like “looking into the souls” of passerby’s along the way. She just wanted to get in and get out without any hassles-not that she was anticipating anything in particular but the point it she wanted to be inside before it was too late.

Of course Hubert was the center of attention in the local Safeway. All of the clerks knew him and random customers could not help being drawn to the laid back retriever. Hubert took all of the attention in stride and Kennedy could not be more proud. Once her groceries were paid for, she was out the door with Hubert leading the way. She was minutes away from her house when the catcalls started, and it was not long before she could sense the presence of more than one man looming behind her. “Hey baby, looking good tonight,” one shouted loud enough for the world to hear but close enough for her body to tense up. Hubert could sense her uneasiness and stopped where he was and turned around and growled and snarled at the assailants who simply laughed in devious glee. “Awww wook at da widdle doggee,” A man with a deep voice teased. “Baby girl wanna have some fun tonight?” Came another deep voice. Kennedy began to nervously tug at Hubert’s leash hoping for an easy retreat. “Its ok,” she said nervously. “We don’t want any problems.” Hubert’s barking became more incessant as she could sense the perpetrators move in closer. “Man fuck that dog,” one of the men snapped. “Get her!” Before she knew it she dropped her bags as one of the men kicked Hubert sending him whimpering. “Hubert!” She cried as she used her cane to swipe at the men. They laughed when they realized she couldn’t see where she was going. “This is going to be easy,” one man said as he grabbed ahold of her cane and snatched it out of her grip. Another came from behind and grabbed her by the waist when she heard the violent scream of another and sounds of flesh being torn from flesh. The man who grabbed her cane knocked her to the ground and she hit the pavement with a hard thud. “Hubert!” she called completely terrified and only slightly dazed. She cursed herself for being blind and she felt the familiar nuzzle of her wounded pet letting her know she was ok. “Hubert we have to get out of here.” But the dog wouldn’t move and when she tried to get up he used his 150 pound weight to sit on top of her to keep her down. She knew instinctively that Hubert was protecting her but she couldn’t help but wonder what made him do that. She could hear more screams and the crack and snap of bones being broken and she covered her ears.  It felt like an eternity before Hubert got off of her and as she remained crouched low on the ground she felt another presence staring down at her. “Please don’t hurt me,” she whimpered. “I won’t,” came the silky deep voice of a man that sounded nothing like the perverts that attacked her. “My name is Damien,” he said. “Take my hand.” She reached up to the dark shadowy figure’s outstretched hand and he hoisted her up with no effort on his part. “Do you need medical assistance?” He asked with concern. “I-I-I-I’m ok,” she stammered. “Some punks attacked me and my dog and-“ “They shall hurt you no more. They are gone. Are these your groceries?” It took her a second to process that question. “Yes, yes they are. But could you hand them to me please? I am blind and-““ No need to explain. I can see that. I will gather them for you. Here,” Damien said handing her her cane and Hubert’s leash. “Here is your cane and your dog’s leash. You have a good dog. He is very brave. He risked his life for yours.” She gladly took the cane and his leash. “I owe him my life,” she said reverently. “How injured is he? I heard the bastard kick him.” She started to cry.  Hubert nuzzled her, communicating that he was as shaken as she was but otherwise ok. “He is just fine. No visible injuries. I think he is just a little shaken but he is fine. Let me walk you guys home.” “No! That is fine,” she stammered. “We can take it from here…” “I can understand your apprehension but believe me if I wanted to hurt you I would have. I cannot walk away without making sure that you and Mr. Hubert are ok.” Damien gave her a minute to allow what he said to sink in and when it did, Hubert barked in agreement and she meekly gave him the ok with a slight nod. He grabbed both of her bags and motioned for Hubert to lead the way, in which of course of he did.

“By the way what is your name lovely lady?” Damien said as he walked side by side Kennedy the rest of the way to her home. “My name is Kennedy. Thank you so much for doing this.” “Where is your husband Kennedy?” “I am not married.” “Then where is your boyfriend?” “I don’t have one.” “Girlfriend?” Kennedy had to laugh at that one. “I’m not gay.” “Well lover?” “Uh no.” “Escort?” Kennedy laughed again. “Uh-uh.” “Confidante?” “It’s just me and Hubert in the world.” She said softly. “Oh, do you have any friends that could comfort you in this moment of crisis?” What an odd question, she thought. “Yes, but they are busy.” “I don’t think you should be alone.” Damien said plainly. “Yeah well, sometimes a person doesn’t have much of a choice.” “Well do you want me to call your family?” He said with increasing concern. Kennedy sighed. “My parents are dead. I have no one.” Hubert came to a stop right in front of her two story home. “Well this is it,” she said with a sigh. My parents are dead… Damien could not let that last statement go. She was really alone in the world. “This is your home? It looks quite lovely. I love brownstone houses…” Damien said unsure of what else to say. “Thank you. I guess the appropriate thing to do is to invite you in for some coffee. Hubert seems to have taken a liking to you. I guess he is as grateful as I am,” she smiled. And that is when he noticed her perfection: her smile. It was so big and welcoming and made him feel…whole. Strange. “I would love too,” he said with an all too big grin. “In exchange for your coffee I could help you put away your groceries.” Damien gently patted Hubert on the head. “Good boy,” he said to the dog who barked in acknowledgement. “You don’t have to do that. Once inside I know my way around and Hubert helps me. But, come in and have a seat.” Kennedy said as she dug for her keys and opened the door. Damien smiled brightly as he was thankful that she could not see blood stains on his powder blue top.  He followed them inside and shut the door.