A Review of Siren’s Call

A Review of Siren’s Call

It has been a while since I posted any thing that was not related to my own books, and I figured writing my review of a recently purchased novel would be great way to welcome my come back into the blogging world. Being an independent author is difficult in itself. Just the idea alone of taking on multiple roles (not even including the title “author”) is a sobering experience. It is a reality that even I face, and when I stepped out onto the scene after several unsuccessful attempts at getting published, I realized that this is not a journey any of us should take alone. I support any and every indie author to the fullest, doing any and everything in my power to promote their work. Every little bit of exposure counts, and I had heard great reviews about Jessica Cage’s book, Siren’s Call-hell, it was even granted an award by the Reader’s Favorite- and so I ordered it from her, she personalized the autograph AND sent me a bookmark. I began my journey into Syrinada’s world of mermaids yesterday and my journey came to an end today. Here are my thoughts:

According to Wikipedia, a siren  “In Greek mythology, the Sirens (Greek singular: Σειρήν Seirēn; Greek plural: Σειρῆνες Seirēnes) were dangerous yet beautiful creatures, who lured nearby sailors with their enchanting music and voices to shipwreck on the rocky coast of their island”.

The main character, or heroine is awakened to a new sense of being with powers that she must learn to control. After an unfortunate turn of  events, she discovers she is a siren;that her mother was a siren and her father is a warlock. Due to her mixed breeding, there are two sides of a war that are after her. She is unique to her kind, a variable and highly unpredictable and the one responsible for guiding her through this journey is the ever present, ever watchful, super attractive Malachai. Malachi is what one would consider a “merman” and his family (for undisclosed reasons) were given the duty of watching over her until the time came when she would discover who and what she is. His family are sworn to protect her and as the story unfolds, she will definitely need his help.

There is a particular twist in the novel, which involves Malachi’s older, wiser, and confident brother Demetrius, and I suppose that there will be a lot more of him in the pending sequel. Now, there is a lot to be desired throughout the course of the book. I wanted more from Syrinada. I wanted to eat what she ate, hear what she heard, see what she saw, and feel what she felt. I wanted more strength. I wanted more conflict between her desires, her thoughts and her pain. I wanted to feel every ounce of betrayal, every nuance of gradual acceptance into the world that was thrust upon her. However, aside from that there are elements from the book that I am more than happy to explore and one of the elements being female sexuality.

Upon her awakening, not only are her senses heightened, and she possesses supernatural abilities that I predict will aid her in her continued quest into self discovery, she blossoms from a shy, almost demure girl into a woman with needs-no, scratch that, demands. Throughout the ages, women have been trained to believe that embracing their own sexual thirsts and quenching them would render them as “used”, “unwanted”, “dirty”, and a plethora of other negative labels that women are still being plagued with today. Syrinada embraces her newfound “awakening”, and although she does experience some feelings of shame, she quickly understands and accepts that being “sexual” is a part of who and what she is. She demands to be pleasured and the men she commands all too happily oblige.

I can appreciate the fact that this book is a straight no chaser type of read. I am not one for the slow building of a scene. I can appreciate detail to some degree but not to the point where I am bored out of my mind. The thing that I liked most about the story is the fact that it is original and with each chapter I am motivated by the sheer fact that the plot is interesting. I kept asking myself, “Well damn what the hell is going to happen next?” and before I knew it, I was finishing the last few pages of the book.

In conclusion, I can see Siren’s Call in development for a CW production. I like the concept. I like the authenticity of it. Now granted, I can be a bit of a hard nut to crack when reading a new book. I have a very short list of favorite authors and that is because I have been spoiled beyond repair by the likes of L.A. Banks, J.R. Ward, and Karen Marie Moning. But I will say that I will be purchasing book two of the Siren Series to see where Syrinada will end up and which brother will she choose. I will also suggest if witches and mermaids tickle your fancy, well this is the book for you.

Remember to support indie authors. And for all of you writers out there both published and unpublished, let us support each other in good will and never forget that there is room on a book shelf for more than one book. 1795597_532084253567230_7038278173835978212_n

New Character Alert: Raphael (Book 1 of the Marked Series) Release Date TBD

Chapter Two A Slave With Two Tongues

1350 A.D.

Nothing but the sound of his own heartbeat flooded his brain as he drove his blade deep into the chest cavity of the entity that had long plagued his village with a war that seemed to be as endless as Time itself. The two clans had been warring for so long that no one really knew how or when it started. But he knew one thing; he was going to finish it one way or the other. He would not bring his children into the world to fight what their father could not, and never know the sweet joy of what true peace felt like. They would never live in fear; know what it takes to the learn the mysteries of the swords they would carry…no. This fight would end before they entered into the world; there is already enough evil and turmoil in the world that they would have to adjust to and dealing with the Lizard clan was not an option.

The sword pierced the black heart of the Lizardman before exiting through his back. The creature’s eyes widened, his red pupils expanding then retracting as he screamed and gurgled before his body finally succumbed to the darkness from which it originated from, and Raphael watched without emotion as the lifeless body collapsed onto the muddy ground. His brothers were busy themselves, fighting back the enemy that had destroyed the hundreds of small villages that surrounded their main stronghold. The Isle of Capsos’ which was just north of Ireland and almost twice its size had become a booming nation in the sea trades, and his family had not only been one of the few ruling class families that dominated the ports, but were also of warrior blood. Training in combat had been one of his family’s specialties, and many generations before him, men of his breeding also took interest in the business of mercenary work; hiring off their skill set in exchange for exorbitant pay by the princes, kings, and men of power and prestige seeking to put an end to their enemies.

He skillfully dodged a swing from behind, and turned to face his enemy: another one of those disgusting soldiers. Red hateful eyes greeted him with a twisted snarl. The human entity that met him with a serrated toothy grin, stood at almost 9 feet in height, and built like one of the many Redwoods that offered a protective refuge to his camp. The Lizard man, as those of his kind were called, wore nothing but tattered rags that barely covered his waist, leaving a great deal of his body exposed and vulnerable. Raphael reacted quickly and lowered a powerful punch into the creature’s jaw, forcing it to stumble back. Despite its lack of protection, the Lizards were a powerfully formidable race. They possessed skills that rendered them almost unstoppable in battle, well except for him and his brothers. They knew exactly how to kill them.

The creature quickly recovered and charged, moving at a speed impossible for the human eye to follow and slammed into Raphael, knocking him to the ground and into a thick puddle of mud. The impact, despite the muddy cushioning not only left him stunned, but left at a disadvantage. The entity, now piled on top of him, layered a series of punches to his face, and had it not been for Micah’s arrow piercing the creature from behind, Raphael knew that today would have been the day he met his fate. He rolled the creature off of him, as his brother emerged from the shadows, cautiously surveying the scene for a potential ambush. When he saw there was none he hurried over to his brother’s side and extended his hand which Raphael gratefully grasped, and helped him to his feet.

“Looks like you almost had it there brother,” Micah mused pointedly.

“Indeed I did…”

“Are you well?”

“Not a scratch.”

“How many?” Micah quizzed  still looking around. The sun had long set, and the surrounding darkness did nothing to ease the sense of dread that begun to fill the pit of his stomach.

“Twelve this time. They attacked the villagers on the eastern side of the lake. It was another ambush. Half of the village is either dead or dying. A few managed to escape and are taking refuge in the church where we have men standing guard.”

“They are becoming much more aggressive in their tactics brother,” Micah said rubbing the stubble that was forming on his narrow chin.

“Indeed. We need to figure out the source of their power; we know very little of their origins and have only within recent centuries have uncovered their vulnerabilities. Father says they may-“

“Enough for now,” Micah exhaled with a slight grin. “Your wife awaits you. She sits by the window  watching the sun rise and set as while the young within her grows. I believe she fears that someday you will not come home. Mother has tried to persuade to come to the gardens with her but she declines…”

“Ah, I will go to her. I had no idea that she awaited me with such longing. I have been too preoccupied with-“

“Winning a war that cannot be won. Our men are dying-“

“Which means our children will have to pick up the fight.”

Micah ran his fingers through his dark shoulder length hair that was  pulled back tightly behind his ears, and lowered his gaze. “It is an unfortunate fate to inherit.”

Raphael said nothing more as he tried to wipe away some of the mud from the back of his leathers, and tried not to think about the growing distance that seemed to have his pregnant wife beyond the edge of his grip. Something was amiss with her, and he had spent many days trying to convince her to open up but to no avail. He figured her moods may have something to do with the pregnancy and hoped by the time the babes were born, she would return to her normal talkative self.

He picked up his sword that had fallen just a few feet or so away from the fallen entity and returned it to its sheath. He took one last look at the creature whose race had plagued this nation’s history since its inception, and made a mental note to return after consorting with his wife, to properly dispose of the body. There was already enough death that haunted the valleys that kept his people awake at night, and the last thing he needed was an epidemic like that of the Black Death that was currently sweeping through Europe at rate that was almost exponential. When he was ready, he allowed his brother to take the lead, so that he may have time to gather his thoughts.

This was life for him and the people of Capsos; when night fell the blossoming economic cities had to take refuge behind monolithic gates made of iron, and the small villages had to hunker down as best they could underneath the protection of the masters of the castles that ruled over them in the areas that extended far beyond the grasp of the cities. And once daylight arrived, what it would reveal would haunt the memories of the people for a lifetime. Small towns burned to the ground, some of its residents left half eaten, or worse: turning into one of those lizard entities just to begin their own reign of terror in the next village.

They continued their walk in silence until they reached their horses on the other side of the bank, safely hidden behind a thicket of trees and bushes that provided the landscape a protective covering that would have been the perfect escape route for a villager on the run from the menacing jaws of Lizard men. Once he mounted his horse, an all-white mare of impeccable breeding, he would only have a few short hours to recover before he was out to battle again. Being a Shadow Warrior was indeed an unfortunate fate to inherit.

Annamarie sat nearest the window facing the gardens inside the stone walled monolith that not only protected her and her family from the rest of the world that is now being terrorized by the race of demonic men whose purpose was unclear. She brushed her hand across her belly, feeling the firm roundness and the tiny indent where one of her young had pressed upon with she assumed to be its foot. She smiled, but only for the minute joy of giving birth to children that are undoubtedly hers. Since the moment her nursemaid informed her that she was with child, while her husband found every moment he could to celebrate, and the entire fortress lit up with excitement, she knew that time had become her prison. Once the children were born certain undeniable truths would be uncovered, and then she would either have to flee for her life or risk being executed by the same man who protected her valiantly.

She blinked twice to shed the huge droplets that were making her eyes blurry at the thought of what may be a part of her fate. She hoped that the children come out looking so much like her that no one would dare to question their paternity, but then that was nothing more than hope. She had seen families where an entire brood of children looked like mini replicas of their mother while the father looked like the odd man out. It made her wonder if Raphael knew about her indiscretions and was simply waiting for the moment of truth before coming to a conclusion, but then again, unlike his brothers, Raphael was always the first to react.

She looked down at the gardens where she and her husband used to stroll hand in hand prior to the wedding. Unbeknownst to him, her heart belonged to another although there wasn’t anything about the warrior that made him difficult to love. It was just her father did not like the man that had stolen her heart, and he wanted her to marry someone that not only could protect her but provide for her as well; and although Raphael took his responsibilities seriously, and nor did he fail in any shape or form, but the one who was meant for the soul is the hardest to release, and that was just it in her case.

She carefully stood up so that she could grab a taste of the moonlight that washed over the acres of land that Raphael had declared as hers. The phantom moonlight caress was all that she needed to return to a semblance of “normal” just in time for her husband to arrive. She could hear him down in the main room with his brother Micah, his voice low in less than audible whispers for reasons she assumed to be so that she may be unaware of his recent battle. She dared not leave their bedroom where she had confined herself for many days because for one she was underdressed in the night gown that now failed to cover her growing assets, and two, because she just wasn’t ready to face her husband. She purposely kept her distance from him, and she hoped to do the same tonight.

She crawled into their spacious bed blanketed with bear skin, and thought to pretend to be ill so that she could avoid any of his questions, but most importantly his touch. She tied her thick waves of blonde hair high above her head to prevent him from being tempted to run his fingers through it. It had been months since they had joined together as one, and despite his bedroom skills were legendary, the burden that she carried did not allow her to enjoy his touch or his masculine scent the way that she used to. The idea of him touching her was enough to make her vomit.  She snuggled deeper underneath the blankets and closed her eyes and prayed that sleep would find her. As she heard his heavy footsteps in the hallway, his destination clear, a plan began to weave its way into forefront of her mind; and once she heard the door to the room creak open announcing his presence, she wondered if time would permit such betrayal.

Bad Ass Chicks Blog 2: Ruby Iyer

Ok so we are into the second week of the Bad Ass Chicks blog series and the author I am about to introduce has one kick ass character: Ruby Iyer, created by the award winning author Laxmi Hariharan. Set in the city of Bombay, Ruby is thrust into a fate of survival in this young adult action thriller. Check out the synopsis below:

” A girl desperate to rescue her best friend. A cop willing to do anything to save the city he serves. A delusional doctor bent on annihilation. A terrifying encounter propels Ruby Iyer from her everyday commute into a battle for her own survival. Trusting her instincts, she fights for what she believes in, led on a mysterious path between life and death on the crowded roads of Bombay; and when her best friend is kidnapped by the despotic Dr Braganza, she will do anything to rescue him. Anything, including taking the help of the sexy Vikram Roy, a cop-turned-rogue, on a mission to save Bombay. The city needs all the help it can get, and these two are the only thing standing between its total destruction by Dr. Braganza’s teen army. As Bombay falls apart, will Ruby be able to save her friend and the city? Will she finally discover her place in a city where she has never managed to fit in? And what about her growing feelings for Vikram?”

Laxmi gives us readers more of Ruby Iyer in a two book series beginning with TheRuby Iyer Diaries, The Many Lives of Ruby Iyers. Laxmi is also the author of The Destiny of Shaitan: An Epic Fantasy Series (Bombay Chronicles Book 1).

Thank you so much Laxmi for including Ruby Iyer in the Bad Ass Chicks series. Any young woman whose world is dependent on her skill level, and willingness to stop whatever evil that comes her way is definitely a Bad Ass Chick. I wish you the best of luck in your continued success in your literary endeavors. For those of you who interested in picking up your own copy click on the links below and show Ms. Laxmi Hariharan some book love.

The Ruby Iyer Diaries:

http://www.amazon.com/Ruby-Iyer-Diaries-Coming-Novelette-ebook/dp/B00MXSLQFU/ref=la_B007M6E542_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1436384896&sr=1-1

The Many Lives of Ruby Iyer: A Bombay Story

http://www.amazon.com/Many-Lives-Ruby-Iyer-Bombay/dp/1502773775/ref=la_B007M6E542_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1436384896&sr=1-2

The Destiny of Shaitan: An Epic Fantasy Series

http://www.amazon.com/Destiny-Shaitan-Fantasy-Bombay-Chronicles-ebook/dp/B007M2IBH8/ref=la_B007M6E542_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1436384896&sr=1-3

***Stay tuned for next week’s Bad Ass Chicks blog feature***

*****Bad Ass Chicks Blog Series***

*****Bad Ass Chicks Blog Series***

Attention all authors of superhero females:

Throughout the month of July I will be posting blogs dedicated to Bad Ass Chicks of fiction. And that includes all mediums: movies, books, comics, you name it…myths and legends. My book Viper is based around the life of a vampire turned assassin seeking revenge on the man responsible for the life of blood shed and pain she was given, and in celebrating her release I wanted to include other authors interested in joining the fun. So, if your wrote a book and your main character is female, and it does not matter if she is human, werewolf, faery, queen, mermaid, alien…as long as she is fearless, headstrong, loyal, and possesses all of the qualities of a leader please email me at septembershope@gmail.com with the name of the work, a jpeg of your character, an interview with her (or maybe I can conduct the interview but it depends on the response to this blog), any links to your sites (Facebook, Twitter, etc…) and whatever else you want to include in this blog please do so. I will post the blog here on Word Press as well as my personal site, and everywhere else I can think of. So email me at the address provided. The deadline is July 10th.

Indie Life and my Journey

I thought I should take a moment to reflect on my progress thus far as an independent author, and let me tell you it is not easy. Each day is filled with an internal conflict to keep pressing forward. It is a daily struggle to remain motivated and focused and that each day is one step closer to my goals. But it is…hard. Some days are better than others. I have days where I am filled with so much self doubt and procrastination that I type less than two pages and give it up for the day. Or two… Some days I feel like there is just not enough time in the day to finish what I am working on. I have the vision; I see where I want to go, but some days this engine of mine runs out of gas.

Will I ever quit?

No. Writing has always been a passion of mine and anyone that knows me can testify to that. Creativity flows through me like a  river to an open ocean and I know there is no way that I will ever quit doing what I love to do. But this journey of mine does get tiring. For those that do not understand what you do a great deal of time is spent trying to convince them to share your vision; and then more time is wasted trying to make those same people understand that the life of an author is a slow grind. Success is not overnight. A lot of work goes into self publishing starting with finishing the manuscript, and then it is on to revisions and editing, and formatting…designing the covers for the book…and then the business/marketing side of the deal.

But the biggest struggle that I have encountered in this journey is trying to forge relationships with other people who do what you do; who understand your pain and struggle: other authors. All of my networking with other authors is done on Facebook and other social media platforms. I try to offer my support by promoting their work on my website and blogs, tagging and liking and posting their work on pages and what I have come to conclude is that each author is their own island. As an author myself I have found it difficult finding that balance between helping someone else fulfill their dream and accomplishing my own. As much as I would like to I cannot read everyone’s manuscript, post a review on Amazon and then share their links on all of my social media accounts…only for the favor to never be returned.

Am I relying on other authors to help me get to where I want to be? Hell no. I do everything on my own and I am working hard to build my own audience and I know most of that comes from word of mouth, but there is something to be learned from authors who are more experienced and have an idea of where they are going. I just barely figured out my direction and I know that with consistency and great deal of hard work I will have my own audience begging me to hurry up and release a work of mine. But until then, I guess the life of an indie author is a solitary one-meaning, no more networking (or attempts to network) but focusing on building my own brand.

My stories are original 100% and the day my work is no longer authentic is the day I will quit writing. Yes I have favorite authors whose work I admire and inspired me to pick up the pen but never do I read someone else’s work and then try to duplicate that same story by changing the names and faces of the characters. I see a lot of that going on…but hey to each his own….

To those who stumble across this blog, understand that I am not complaining, just voicing my opinion and expressing my struggles as an indie author. Most of us are blessed with reaping very little benefit other than the personal satisfaction of bringing what we have in our hearts and minds to life and receiving a few good reviews. I love what I do and I guess that is all of the fuel that I need to keep going.

Coming July 1, 2015: Viper

Coming July 1, 2015: Viper

Preorders are now set and in review. Viper will be available July 1, 2015

missjenkinsbooks's avatarMiss Jenkins Books

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

Viper_Cover_for_Kindle

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

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What Happened to Your Imagination?

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

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

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

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

NEW WIP: VIPER

NEW WIP: VIPER

I only have one rule: don’t touch me.

There is only one man I have and will ever listen to, and that is my boss Rio. And for the record, he is only my boss because I allow him to be. He promised me he would help me get revenge on the CEO and founder of Drug Money Records/mob boss Lucas Barnes, in exchange for my services as his body guard and hired assassin. I have no problems with death. As a matter of fact I thrive in it: it is in that cloud of darkness that I find myself at my best. I have not only tasted death, I have devoured it, bathed in it and now I am one with it. I am the Grim Reaper.

Once I have accomplished my mission of watching Lucas choke on his own innards after impaling him on a nine foot stake surrounded by my infamous pitt vipers, I am exiting stage left of this cursed life that was forced upon me 20 years ago, and maybe, God will have mercy on me and grant me the peace that I desperately need and deserve. Lucas Barnes is my end game.

They call me Viper, but in the shadows I am recognized as the Pitt Assassin for reasons that you will come to understand in due time. I am a goddamn myth in these streets. I am the reasons why hustlers and gangsters alike fear the silence of the dead of the night, why the slightest bristle in the wind forces them to shoot their own body guards in a nervous panic. I hunt them just like they hunt those that they prey on: the weak and the desperate. I do what I will with them and then I feed them to my pet vipers.

I hate what I do, the reasons why I do what I do; I hate what I am and most importantly, I hate the man who did this to me. So let me reintroduce myself to you: They call me Viper. I am an assassin. And I am a vampire. My maker: Lucas Barnes. My mission: kill Lucas and everyone he has ties with and put an end to a tragic story that should have ended 20 years ago.

He raped my mother.

He killed my father.

He killed my sister.

He killed my mother.

He made me watch.

And then he turned me into a monster.

If it is a monster he wants, then it is a monster he gets. And whatever you do, don’t get in my way.

For more excerpts please check out my website at: http://septembershope.wix.com/author-delizhia

Nubia Rising: Black Moon Excerpt

Nubia Rising: Black Moon Excerpt

Chapter 1

Kitara ran her hands through her thick locks as she struggled to work the laptop Naomi had bought for her. It was strange this world, though she had never physically left it.  It was supposed to be a mental thing. Just a few days of nothing; not using her powers; no sword; no communication with her sisters. Not 500 years. How did she manage to roam every corner of the earth, and not acclimate herself to the ever changing times? She was a stranger still in old lands like she was in Nubia. Her sisters had managed to do it; and they did it well, except…Sage was going to have to explain what “twerking” meant, even though she somewhat got the gist of it. She pushed the control key on the laptop. Nothing. Why did anyone need to “surf the web” when there was so much more to do? Syrene was still trapped in the Osirian realms. It had been over a month since the showdown in Bermuda. Isis was dead, after several millennia it finally came to an end. Osiris had risen, and Kalima was out there somewhere plotting her revenge and then soon, Lilith would have to be addressed. Kitara had never had a run in with the she-demon considering there were other entities out there much more problematic to contend with. But, now that the dust had settled, Lilith had proved to be a bigger problem than she had initially thought.

Kitara gently folded the black HP and placed it on the mahogany coffee table and lolled back into the love seat.  It was early in the day, 11 a.m. to be exact and she was alone. Again. Everyone else had lives outside of that of a Destroyer. Sage was back in Los Angeles doing some private detective work for one of her clients; something about a strange death. Celeste said she needed a break from everyone for a little while and took off to Mexico to perhaps unwind at one of the many sandy beaches to escape the mental drain that came with being a Destroyer. On top of that, Kitara had to assume that part of it was due to unresolved issues with Naomi. And, speaking of Naomi, she thought that no one would figure out that she was secretly visiting Jose periodically. Kitara shook her head at the thought. It was none of her business but then again, yes it was. That poor boy had been through enough: he had barely escaped Isis’ grips with his life intact. He was finally free of the spiritual bondage that he and his family had suffered from for generations. He was free: free to live his life to the fullest and just…live. Naomi was going to do nothing more than endanger his life once again just because of who and what she was. Kitara understood that it was his choice and it was not like he didn’t know what she was and what he would face by being with her. But, Naomi should be more responsible. She knew and understood the risks firsthand and it would not be fair to purposely put this young man’s life at risk just to satisfy the longings of the heart. Still, it’s their lives. They have the right to do and say and whatever they please and Kitara had her own issues to concern herself with.

Feeling slightly agitated and restless she got up and made her way to the fridge for another bite of those snack wings Naomi introduced her to. There were still quite a bit of leftovers from last night and Kitara found herself addicted. Lemon pepper and honey barbeque were now her favorite-with some ranch dressing of course. Is this where life would lead her to? A modern contraption that froze large amounts of food just for her to eat away her problems? No wonder people of today were so…obese. The decadence and the availability of a surplus of fattening foods that exploded in one’s mouth with so much… flavor.  She grabbed a wing out of the oversized box that held over 30 something wings and drumsticks, biscuits and the like and took a big bite. There was no need in her using the microwave; she had spent centuries eating unheated food so this was nothing to her. It was still juicy, flavorful and…delicious! She grabbed another one and another one and shamelessly stood in the kitchen gobbling down wing after wing when she heard the soft pattering of footsteps. Tossing the remains of her last piece of chicken in the Hefty bag that was tied to the one of the long cabinet doors, Kitara turned to face the one person she could always turn to for support. Oblivion stood in her true  angelic form; standing at almost ten feet tall, her waist length hair a platinum white; silver irises illuminating a brilliant light. It was strange seeing her like this; her normal earthly form was a sword, and one that Kitara kept closely guarded at her hip unless it was summoned back to the last Atlantean pyramid or back to the heavens for safe keeping. And the first time that Kitara witnessed her in her true form, Oblivion’s light burned almost as brightly as the sun; so much so that at the time Kitara almost had to shield her eyes. But now, the only light that shown was through her irises. Oblivion had managed to maintain a healthy peachy skin tone. She looked almost completely human. “Did I wake you Oblivion?” Kitara asked with concern. “No,” her voice was still as soft as an echo in the wind. “I awoke on my own. I feel as if I have slumbered for much too long. It has been an adjustment being in this form. I didn’t know how important sleep was for mortals…” “I think the density of the earth plane is taking a toll on you dear friend. Michael and Zedkiel said you would adjust soon enough.”  Oblivion sighed. “I know…” Oblivion focused her gaze on the Hefty bag that had splashes of barbeque sauce around its edges and chuckled. “I see you have been indulging your senses again.” Kitara glanced over at the bag and smiled slightly. “Uh, yes. I have enjoyed those snack wings entirely too much. If I keep on I will be as big as a house!” Oblivion laughs heartily and takes a seat on the section in front of the television. “They leave us alone to fend for ourselves like toddlers,” Oblivion sighs. “They do,” Kitara agreed as she takes a seat across from her on the love seat. “What ails you Oblivion. Share your wounds with me as I with you. Let me help you at least this once.” Oblivion hesitated before answering. She did not want to burden Kitara with her troubles. She was sent to be of help to the Destroyer and not the other way around. However, what they shared transcended friendship; they were spiritually tied to one another like the stars to the universe. The universe in all its magnificence and wonder would be silent and dark without the twinkle and dance of the multitudes of stars and that was their relationship. They needed each other. “Kitara, my purpose has changed as did yours. I myself am a weapon, and the first and last of my kind. Instead of aiding you in your battles as a sword, Michael said I am to fight by your side now. I feel…concerned that my lack of skill may jeopardize future battles. I don’t believe that I can live up to the expectations that my brothers in Heaven seem to have for me. I am so ashamed!” Silver tears began to streak down her creamy smooth face as she buried her face in her hands. Her white wings slowly unfolded as she covered herself in her own feathery down. Kitara got up and was by her side in an instant, embracing the angel and sharing her pain. “You know that I know what it is like to doubt one’s own abilities,” Kitara said softly. “You know that I have questioned my purpose and the reasons for my seemingly endless existence. But a warrior is not always fighting technique and skill…most of the time the warrior is from within. And, you have to trust that God did not create you to be a burden and there was a reason you were secreted away in the heavens; not because you are weak but because you are a force. The Darkness fears you. Why do you think your name is Oblivion? You just don’t have the ability to destroy gods; you were created to destroy something stronger than that. I think that right now Michael just wanted you to have time to adjust to living on earth in a human form.” Kitara continued to stroke Oblivion’s back with hopes of sending comfort into the wounded soul of this ethereal being. “Things have changed…for the Almighty to send you down here so close to the Armageddon it must mean that something great is at stake.” “That is why I love you dearest friend,” Oblivion sniffled while wiping her tearstained face and slowly unwrapping herself from the soft feathery embrace of her magnificent wings. “Not only are you courageous but your heart is pure and kind. And I agree, something has changed and I should not allow such frivolous thoughts make stronghold in my thoughts. Surely all will be revealed and our purposes defined. I should stop doubting myself. Our Father never leaves us ill equipped when we have a destiny to fulfill.” “No, He does not,” Kitara agreed. They shared a smile. It was during moments like this that solidified their bond. Oblivion may have been a Destroyer angel, but to Kitara, she was her Guardian Angel.