Viper Character Introductions: Damien

The next individual I call is someone I wouldn’t even fuck if I was blind. The decrepit motherfucker is some sick combination of everything that could go supernaturally wrong on top of being the result of a fucked up science experiment. Damien. He is a flesh eating vampire, the only one I have ever encountered and one I would have no trouble leaving in the sun to rot. I had heard of horror stories involving victims being allergic to vampire venom and instead of transitioning from human to vampire without losing much of our original physical appearances, these victims transition from human to Igor with fangs and a penchant for human flesh. Not only will they drain a victim dry but they will pick the bones clean of flesh. They are the absolute worse and a threat to vampire survivability and their makers have to control them, otherwise civilization will cease to exist. Damien is an expert at hiding in the shadows, which makes him very difficult to locate considering that his maker was killed ten years ago by another vampire. I am not sure over what, and Damien is not much of a talker so that will always be a mystery to me. He owes me in the sense that since his maker has died, I had made it a point to check on him from time to time to make sure that he is clean with his kills, and by clean I mean that that shit does not hit the news. He will be useful in the event of a confrontation with werewolves and tracking Lucas.

Sin: Daughter of the Grim Reaper WIP #2

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

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

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

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

One by one each of Grim’s warriors dropped to their knees and bowed their heads in allegiance. I nodded my approval once the last entity fell to his knee and bowed in submission. I sent them on their way shortly after and prepared to make my way to the earth realm. Dying humans were calling out to me and to quote dear old dad, time was of essence. With a wave of my hand I find myself in the middle of a hospital room, standing behind a weeping mother whose son had been fatally wounded in gun fight. I am careful not to touch her, as I observe the heartbreaking scene. Her thick mane of greying hair is pulled into a messy bun, and through her thick rimmed glasses I see tear stained and puffy eyes gazing hopelessly at her only son. She wore a nurses uniform, her brown skin ashen from grief and horror and I wish that there was something that I could do. Her son is a handsome devil, looking exactly like her with his high cheek bones and full lips and curly hair cut to a fade. 21 years old and already is having to face me. Pity. He lies in the hospital bed hooked up to monitors and a respirator, but his soul is ready to leave the body. His body is no longer habitable for his spirit and so I lean over him and his eyes open instantly. His mother begins shouting for joy believing that he will live to continue his life, but no…he has awoken because he can see me and he knows it’s time. His brown eyes fill with tears as his mother places kisses all over his face and I allow him to have this moment. I exhale deeply. Unfortunately his decisions has not only led him to a premature death but a place in the most undesirable of realms because there is no angel waiting for him by his bedside. There is only me.

I allow his mother to place one last kiss on his forehead before I reach out and gently touch him on the forehead. He exhales a final breath as I watch his soul, a mirror of his physical image, step away from his now deceased body. His mother screams for help, and we both look on with melancholy as nurses and doctors rush in to assess the situation. A kind elderly nurse escorts his mother out and into the hallway while the intelligent physician examines him. The kid looks at me with pleading eyes. “I am sorry kid,” I say grimly. “But your time has expired. Come with me.” I extend my hand for him to accept and he does so, reluctantly. He takes one last look back at his mother, then at his body and the life that he lived before, and then we are gone.

I leave him in the care of my men to escort him the rest of his journey before having to appear once more to another dying human.

This time, it’s a car accident, caused by none other than the Beast’s minions. They flee the instant that I appear, and unfortunately, the human is irreparable. Her spirit was sitting on the side of the wrecked Honda Accord, staring off at the scene. A drunk driver had side swiped her, forcing her off the road and into a fire hydrant. The airbag failed her and she ended up slamming her face into the steering wheel and she died from the impact. She glanced at me, her eyes widened in fear upon recognition. Her blue eyes filled with sadness until a white light appeared next to her. The angel did not take form, but he surely did not hesitate to send me on my way like I am some bothersome pest before taking the young woman into the heavens.

Well at least that was one soul I did not have to contend with.

I remain close by the accident scene, not even a block away, observing the rescue workers attempt to revive the already dead woman. Several witnesses were being interviewed by television personnel, while the fire department rushed to the scene to cut off the overflow of water spewing from the hydrant. Being that I did not touch her I knew next to nothing about her, and for once, I am glad I did not. It is time to go…

By the end of the day I have collected over one million souls; most of them having gone peacefully without more than a simple debate as to why I should give them a second chance (which isn’t exactly of my control), and then there were the hundred or so souls who actually attempted to escape; and one that had actually slipped out of my grasp and back into the earth realm. Mind you he happened to be a serial killer whom had finally met his doom courtesy of a little human disease called AIDS and just refused to accept the fact that his time had come. I had sent a few of my reapers after the bastard because frankly, the last thing I needed was a bunch of warrior angels pissed off at me because the ghost of a serial killer was haunting humans when I still had yet to find the seal.

I see why daddy o was grumpy all the damn time.

A few of my men returned to me with no insight on the human or the missing soldiers. One million souls from all over the globe and still no sign of the seal. I am not sure if I would be able to identify it if I came across it…father never mentioned it until it was time for me to look for it. I release a frustrated sigh while running my fingers through my locks.

Time to go topside. The human is out there somewhere, and maybe I should spend a little time learning about the Seal’s history before retracing its steps upon abduction; and there is someone there that could help me. Just as I summon the Scythe back into my possession Hell literally breaks out once more. The Harpies were at it again but this time with some scavenger demons. I am so not in the mood for this bullshit, but they are under my charge and so in a flash I materialize to the upper level where all of the commotion is taking place, and send out a black electrical charge from the Scythe and into the bloodied fight taking place. Several harpies (which are bird like creatures with feathers and everything, with human faces) were wounded after being attacked by several of the scavenger demons. I blasted both parties with my Scythe, startling the scavengers and infuriating the Harpies. “I don’t have time for this shit!” I holler at them as the scavengers scamper away into the darkness; their three legs moving with great difficulty, while the Harpies flew down into the deeper pits.

I need to free my dad ASAP.

Hopefully as I prepare to depart this time, there are no more…disturbances. At least not until I return.

Coming July 1, 2015: Viper

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

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

Author Spotlight: Jessica Cage

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

Interview With Jessica Cage

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

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

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

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

How would describe yourself as a writer?

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

Why the indie route instead of the traditional publishing route?

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

What often inspires you to create?

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

What inspired the Alphas Series?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Viper: Final Excerpt

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

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

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

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

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

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

And thank God he wasn’t there.

Author of the Month: Jessica Cage

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

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

Viper: Chapter Excerpt 2

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

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

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

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

I failed you mommy.

I failed you Lindsay.

Daddy you can still kiss my ass.

Kevin, I am sorry.

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

Redemption: New Storyline Following Blind Salvation

Luther

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

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

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

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

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.

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 15^th 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.

Miss Jenkins Books

Where Magic and Melanin are One

Tag: Paranormal