The Hellfire Herald

20,000 hit reward

2012-02-24T13:10:00.000-08:00

Keep an eye on our blog, there is something going on there every weekday. We are at over 19,400 hits. When we hit 20,000, some lucky reader will receive, not just one Hellfire eBook or even two, they will attain an e-copy of every story we have put out to date. The Winner will receive their books in their desired download preference. http://hellfireherald.blogspot.com/

The Damned- Blood and Sacrifice Part One

2012-02-24T00:00:00.003-08:00

The Damned- Blood and Sacrifice

By J. Gunn

Part One

The Damned-Yes I Am

The blood ran gushing down in streams, into the street as I stood there holding in the wound that carried me through the night, trying my hardest to get away from my waking nightmare, the one that followed me.

I took in my breath slowly, gingerly and looked with haste around where I was to see if I might spot anyone coming closer. I saw no one but they didn’t mean they didn’t linger in the dark waiting for me, just to see where I might go, laughing so silently I couldn’t hear them. I tried to focus but the gapping hole they left in my middle was a major distraction. The more I stood, the more blood I lost and the weaker I was becoming by the minute. It was a good thing they couldn’t read my thoughts or they’d know I was cussing them.

I began to feel eyes set upon the back of my head, I was now sure I was being watched by whatever they hell they were, not human, not vampire, not normal paranormal by any stretch of the imagination. But what the hell were they?

I had grown to know many creatures of the dark and they didn’t fit any of the descriptions of any of them. Although being beaten and almost eaten does do things to your mind.

I stood where I was for only a little longer as I started to sway from the blood loss. My eyes, as brown as chocolate tried to close as I stood so I shivered and moved slowly, keeping myself from passing out and falling. Staggering I took a few steps across the narrow road, I almost made it to sanctuary before I heard them, claws dragging the ground and asphalt, they were catching up.

My feet hit the ground heavily stirring bits of dust as I walked as fast as I could to make it to holy ground before they caught up completely. The creatures were at my back in almost an instant. Fear was all I felt, as we were mere inches away from my safety. I inched my way along, feeling the haze of death and the cold of it start to cover me like a blanket. I felt my hair being ripped from my head as I still lobbed on. It was numbing as my body started letting me down. I felt warmness on the back of my head.

I felt the blood gurgle in my throat as claws clamped tightly around my neck and I had made it, for one instant moment I was safe, what life was left in me hit the ground in a known sanctuary. The awful, horrific creatures of a million children’s worst nightmares hadn’t got me, and I believed I would be spared. Days before I had no idea of this horrid night, with such bloody real nightmares.

Where to find J. Gunn

WRITER J GUNN’S TALES OF THE SCARY @ Weebly: http://writerjgunnstalesofthescary.com/

FACEBOOK: http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100001950159165 Author J. Gunn

TWITTER: http://twitter.com/#!/WriterJGunn

TUMBLR: http://jenswritersblog.tumblr.com/

AUTHORS DEN: http://www.authorsden.com/jennifergunn

MYSPACE: http://www.myspace.com/jengunn79

Cover art by J. Gunn

Top 10 TV Shows of all time

2012-02-23T00:01:00.000-08:00

Welcome to anything goes Thursday, new to The Herald in 2012. Last week I did “the five best rock bands” of all time. I have some more versus blogs in the works as well as five things. Stop by every Thursday, you won’t know what you’ll get—or who.

Today I would like to do TV shows. But I have to do ten, because there are many great shows from each era and there have been awesome shows from Comedy to shows about vampires. Please list the ten best Television shows of all time in your opinion.

RULES: Any show goes—no rules

My Top Ten List (not in order)

1. The Shield

2. Supernatural

3. Smallville

4. Big Bang Theory

5. The Walking Dead

6. All in the Family

7. One Tree Hill

8. The Soprano’s

9. Rescue Me

10. Justified

Awwweee, Man I didn’t leave room for the Muppet Show :(

I look forward to discussing the TV Shows listed above and your choices with you today. Have fun. But be warned you will be removed if you pick stupid shows, LOL Just playin, maybe, lol :)

Cheers,

Dawn Binkley aka Keira Kroft

Writer to Writer Wednesday Keira & Tom Phipps

2012-02-22T08:56:00.000-08:00

Interview between Keira Kroft and Tom Phipps

Hello, welcome to Writer to Writer Wednesday, we are so very glad to have you with us. The Hellfire Herald would like to extend a warm welcome to Tom Phipps

How are you doing today?

Tom: Very well, thanks.

Keira: You have a story coming out at the end of March through Hellfire Publishing entitled Good Sister, Bad Sister. What is that about?

Tom: It’s the first book of our epic medieval tale, The Heart of the Staff. Good Sister, Bad Sister centers on the daughters of a court wizard who is something like a medieval version of Elizabeth I’s John Dee.

Keira: What made you choose that title?

Tom: One of the daughters is sincere, thoughtful and modest. The other one is divisive, hateful and self-centered, and eventually quite dangerous.

Keira: Where did the idea for your story come from?

Tom: The Heart of the Staff is about the idyllic Land of Niarg awakening to find itself in a mortal struggle with an evil determined to take over the world. In Good Sister, Bad Sister, the sisters are symbolic representatives of the doom to come, and remain key players as the later books unfold. Niarg is a far away land of wonder that Carol and I have shared from our very beginning. The sisters certainly draw upon the psychopaths and virtuous people we have known.

Keira: Please share a particular detail about one of characters, please.

Tom: Ocker is a raven with a huckster’s conscience, who sells tidbits of news to the powerful for a price and ends up being a very important player in the story before he vanishes.

Keira: Please tell us about any future projects you are planning.

Tom: We want to finish The Heart of the Staff as soon as we can, so that readers of the first four books will not be left waiting too long. It will probably end up being be two more books.

Keira: Are you currently running any contests? What are they?

Tom: Yes. Elf Killers is due out in paperback next month and we will be giving away a copy of it on http://www.landofniarg.com/. Also, we’ve just finished an ebook contest for Elf Killers on Darlene’s Book Nook

Keira: How many books have you written?

Tom: Five. Elf Killers, which is a short one, a novella actually, and then the first four books of The Heart of the Staff: Good Sister, Bad Sister, The Collector Witch, Stone Heart and The Burgeoning.

Keira: We have a special place for unpublished writers in our hearts, here at the Hellfire Herald. So what advice would you give to an unpublished writer?

Tom: Don’t stop. Never stop.

Let’s get personal…

Please choose four of the following red questions or use four of your own, please erase what you don’t use, thank you :)

Keira: Do you work at a job outside the home or is this your only career?

Tom: I look to the heavens with my fingers crossed and hope that I don’t have to teach for more than another year.

Keira: What’s your favorite thing to do?

Tom: Write with Carol. It’s like being off on an adventure.

Keira: Are you a reader?

Tom: Absolutely, though my tastes are decidedly eclectic.

Keira: Do you have a special writing method?

Tom: Writing with Carol is special. Method? Well, merciless weeding, without a doubt. That would have to be the most important element of any sort of writing.

Keira: What do you wear, to write?

Tom: Clothes.

Keira: Do you have children?

Tom: Three girls and a boy.

Keira: Is writing your only talent?

Tom: It’s my favorite, but I play the fiddle, the banjo, the penny whistle and the mouth harp.

Keira: Where in the Hell did you find time to write?

Tom: I don’t find it. I steal it.

Keira: Can you share your blurb with us?

Tom: Minuet Dewin, eldest daughter of the wizard Razzmorten, practically raised her half sister Leeuh, who was abandoned by her mother. For many years, Minuet is Leeuh's passionate champion. As time passes, Leeuh becomes increasingly hard to defend as she grows determined to be awful at every turn. Whilst undoing her dangerous pranks, Minuet finds herself the target of her hatred and jealousy. And when they fall for the same prince, it looks like war.

Suddenly Leeuh vanishes. She returns years later, compliant and sweet as she always should have been. Minuet is stunned. Should she trust her, or will it be the very death of her?

You are free to offer a free copy or download of your book if you wish.

One lucky commenter will win a free e-copy of Elf Killers.

You can find Carol or Tom Phipps or any of their characters at:

http://www.landofniarg.com/

You can find Elf Killers at: Amazon and Smashwords

Elf Killers: http://www.amazon.com/Elf-Killers- ebook/dp/B005D5J0HG/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1312567411&sr=1-1

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/73672

Thanks for stopping by

Keira Kroft

www.keirakroft.com

Teaser Tuesday, When it Leaves

2012-02-21T09:11:00.000-08:00

When it Leaves is a work of fiction. Characters, names, place, incidents, organizations are a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

When it Leaves

Savannah Rayne

Published by Hellfire Publishing, INC. at Smashwords

www.hellfirepublishing.com

All rights reserved. No part of this document or the related files may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, by any means (electronic, photocopying, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Digital ISBN: 978-1-937179-98-4

Cover art by: Dara England

~*~ DEDICATION~*~

For my son Steven, Happy 25^th birthday! You are the best son a mother could hope for. Thank you for always making me laugh. Without you and your craziness, life would be very dull. I love you

To KC, Thank you for being such a good friend to Steven all these years and thank you for always bringing a smile to my face. I hope life is good to you in the future and that you always find the bathroom light switch in time. ☺

When It Leaves

Savannah Rayne

Steven pulled the zipper of his navy-blue sweatshirt jacket up a bit further. The cool breeze of the autumn air made him shiver. Okay, maybe it wasn’t the wind blowing that caused the icy feeling that seemed to reach the inner depths of his bones. If he had to be honest, everything about this time of year gave him a chill.

Walking down Trellis Lane heading for home was something he had done more times than he could count. The large, white, two story home he had lived in all his life was in sight. With each step he took its image became clearer. Autumn colored leaves swirled around his feet and littered the street. They almost seemed to dance in time to an unheard tune as the wind blew, whispering through the branches of the trees. Their mass quantity covered the once lush green lawns of the neighboring yards. Most would marvel at natures painted splendor. Yet each and every autumn reminded him of that life altering day twenty years ago…

~*~

“Mom, please?” K.C. was begging to go outside and play.

“I said supper will be ready soon and…”

“Oh, Tina, let the boys go out and play for a bit. It won’t be long and the snow will fly and you’ll wish you could get them out of your hair,” her husband Randy laughed, looking up from the paperwork he had sprawled across the tiled-top kitchen table. Tina shot him a look over her right shoulder. Her raised eye brow told Randy he should have kept quiet.

“Yeah Mom,” said Steven, K.C.’s twin brother.

“Oh alright, I guess I’m out numbered, once again. But only for a little while.” She turned and made a face at her husband before she continued, “Just make sure you put your jackets on and stay in the yard, it gets dark early now and…” she was cut off by the boys chiming in together.

“Supper will be ready soon,” K.C. and Steven said, laughing in unison. Tina had to chuckle herself. Her five year old twins were becoming such cute little men and made every day an adventure. When the boys were placed in her arms for the first time, she worried about being a good mother. One newborn was quite a responsibility, having two scared her to death. Now she couldn’t imagine life without them.

The boys were fraternal twins, looking nothing alike. K.C. resembled his father, having the same light brown hair and crystal clear, blue eyes. He had been named after Randy’s grandfather Kevin Charles, but with such an adult sounding name, they soon found themselves calling him K.C. for short. Steven seemed to have inherited Tina’s family genes of a naturally tan complexion, darker brown hair and very dark brown—almost black, colored eyes. But that was where their differences ended. Even at their young age, their similarities seemed endless. They shared a wacky sense of humor, loving to laugh, as well as making others laugh with their antics. They also shared a love of the outdoors. Tina had to admit they got that trait from their father.

With gleeful laughter the young boys ran to the back hall to grab their jackets from the row of brass hooks that hung above the pine bench. Tina saw Steven jump up onto the bench and grab the jackets. He then leaped off, tackling his sibling on the way down. K.C. responded by grabbing Steven in a headlock, and the two started to roll around on the floor.

“That’s enough!” Randy yelled from the kitchen. “You boys take it out side, you know there’s no rough housing allowed in here.” He shuffled through the papers in front of him, remembering the tussles he and his brothers got into while growing up.

Heeding their fathers warning the two got up, put on their coats and bolted for the door. The sound of the slamming old, white wooden screen door boomed through the house as they headed for the yard. Both boys jumped off the deck of the large back porch to the ground, rather than waste their time taking the stairs. K.C. landed on his feet and took off running in the direction of the swing set, laughing and kicking at the leaves that covered the ground as he went. Steven’s landing wasn’t quite as smooth. He had lost his footing, twisting his ankle slightly and ended up rolling a few feet. He sat on the ground, waiting for the aching in his left ankle to subside.

“Come on baby, get up,” K.C. laughed, as he reached the slide of the swing set. He climbed the seven, green metal steps of the ladder, stopping when he reached the top of the slide. He stood on the small platform, with his arms straight out like airplane wings. “Look at me Steve—watch this!” Without hesitation, K.C. went under the safety rails, leaning forward on the opposite side before jumping, and landing in the leaf pile down below.

“I’ll show you who’s a baby,” Steven yelled as he got up, the crunchy, autumn debris clinging to his rust-colored wool jacket. He ran towards K.C. and once he reached him, dive-bombed on top of him. The two young boys wrestled, rolling around amongst the leaves, laughing. K.C. pulled out of Steven’s grasp and tried to get up to run away, but was stopped when Steven reached out and grabbed his right foot, sending him sprawling to the ground once more.

“Who’s a baby?” Steven laughed, teasing his sibling.

“Not me,” K.C. said as he scooped up an arm full of leaves, then threw them at his brother. The leaves swirled around Steven as they caught the breeze, before they slowly floated back to the ground. The boys continued their horse-play, taking turns tackling each other and throwing leaves.

“You look like a leaf monster,” K.C. chuckled, when he saw that the leaves were now sticking in Steven’s hair, in addition to his wool jacket.

“I’m a monster,” Steven said in a low pitched voice, trying to sound scary. He stretched his arms out in front of him, walking stiff-legged attempting to imitate a Frankenstein type walk.

“Oh no…help me, help me,” K.C. squealed in a high pitch tone, feigning sounds of a girl. “The baby is after me.” He couldn’t hold back his boisterous laughter as Steven kept coming at him, walking all stiff like. He walked backwards so he could enjoy his brother’s leafy rendition of Frankenstein, calling out the occasional taunt. Without notice Steven broke into a run and in a few short steps, caught up to K.C. then jumped at him and tackled him to the ground once more. They took turns throwing more leaves at each other, along with a push here and a shove there. Their laughter echoed in the silence of the rapidly approaching night.

“I know,” K.C. stated as he got up, “let’s go around to the side of the house where it’s darker. We can hide from mom and then when she comes looking for us we can scare her.”

“I don’t like that idea, mom will be mad.”

“You’re such a baby. Baby, baby, baby,” K.C. taunted his brother yet again.

“I am not!” Steven yelled. “I just…”

“You’re a big fat wa-wa baby,” K.C. said as he started running to the side of the house. He was hoping he could get to the darkened side of their home and hide, then jump out and scare his brother. Looking back, he was glad when he didn’t see Steven following him yet. Acting quickly, K.C. ran to the medium sized pine tree and stood at an angle where he wouldn’t be seen. He figured its fullness would help camouflage him completely even though it was getting darker and harder to see. He wondered if Steven had decided to follow him and would show up soon, he was sure their mom would be calling them in for supper any minute. Now he merely had to wait.

Just as he was about to give up his hiding place, K.C. saw Steven come around the corner of the house. A devilish grin broke across his rosy, cheeks. Like a predator waits silently for its prey, K.C. stood poised, ready to pounce on Steven as he came closer to the pine tree. Barely able to contain his snickering, he watched anxiously as his victim took just three more steps in his direction and….

“Rarrrr,” K.C. yelled as he jumped out from his hiding place. Steven let out a scream and fell backwards. Exactly the reaction K.C. was hoping for.

“I’m telling mom!”

“No you’re not, baby. Come on let’s play some more before we have to go in and eat.”

“I don’t wanna—I hate you,” Steven replied, his eyes damp with un-shed tears.

“Baby, baby, run to momma then,” K.C. teased. “Hey wanna bury me in the leaves? It’ll be fun, like we did to dad with the sand at the beach.” K.C. hoped if he changed the subject, Steven wouldn’t go in and tell on him. He flashed his biggest grin, hoping it would help persuade his brother.

“I don’t think so.”

“You can bury me first. Look…” He laid down on the ground and started pulling leaves onto himself. “Come on ba—. Steve, I need your help.”

Steven hesitated, not fully trusting his brother. He was getting cold and really wanted to go inside the house and warm up. But as he watched his twin scooping the leaves and covering himself, he thought it would be fun to bury his brother and get back at him. Mom would surely be mad, and it was K.C.’s idea after all.

He crawled over to where K.C. was and started to help him. The leaves were thick on the side of the house because of the mature Oaks and Maples that had been there for at least a hundred years.

“I’m gonna lay back, you can do the rest of me okay?” K.C. instructed.

“Then what?” asked Steven.

“Then go get mom and tell her you can’t find me.”

“That’s mean and mom won’t like it.”

“I will jump out and scare her when she comes closer…she’ll think it’s funny.”

“I don’t know…”

“Look baby, just do it or I’ll tell mom you’re the one who ran over her flowers with your bike,” K.C. threatened. “Now hurry up and make me disappear before mom calls us in.”

“I wish you would really disappear,” Steven mumbled, as he reluctantly started to finish covering his brother with the autumn foliage. He scouted around the ground scooping up whatever leaves he could find. He looked down inspecting his work and saw that he could still see K.C.’s gold jacket. As if reading his mind K.C. said, “And make sure I’m all covered up. I don’t want nothing showing.”

“K.C. I’m cold. I wanna go in.”

“You’re almost done…just get some more to cover up my chest and face and then you can go get mom. Make sure you don’t see me, cover me up good, so I disappear.”

Steven did as he was instructed, gathering up several more large armfuls of leaves, throwing them on top of the still form of his sibling. All he wanted was to make K.C. vanish underneath them so he could go inside and warm up. It was really dark now and he didn’t like being out at night. The eerie sounds and blackness had always spooked him. Looking around he spied quite a few leaves about ten steps away. As he started towards them, he hoped there would be enough to finish the job of concealing K.C.’s entire body.

Half way to his destination, the wind began to increase. The gust created a strange buzzing sound. Leaves began to swirl about the ground, adding to the vibrant noise.

“K.C., I wanna go,” Steven turned towards K.C. to try to convince his brother to stop with the idea of being buried, when he saw something that made him stop talking mid-sentence and halt his footsteps. Where K.C. was lying on the ground, the leaves began to swirl in a large spiral. They lifted into the air, picking up in speed and quantity. The buzzing noise became louder, the high pitch was starting to hurt Steven’s ears. He watched spell bound as the vegetation lifted higher and higher, forming what looked like a tornado made of leaves to the five year old. The dead, autumn foliage that was covering K.C. seemed to come to life at the base of the leafy twister. The swirling mass was spinning so fast, just watching it was making him dizzy. Steven wanted to run but was frozen with fear, unable to move or scream for help.

Then he saw something that would give him nightmares for years to come.

STEPHEN KING on Writing, Scary Stories, and More

2012-02-20T00:01:00.000-08:00

This is a very helpful video and inspiring as well.

I hope this helps on your long and winding road to success.

Cheers,

Dawn

Top 5 Rock Bands of all time

2012-02-16T06:11:00.000-08:00

Welcome to anything goes Thursday, new to The Herald in 2012. Last week I did Movie Theatre vs. Home Theatre. I have some more versus blogs in the works. Stop by every Thursday you won’t know what you’ll get—or who.

Today I would like to be interactive. Hubby and I played this game in the car and it was really, really hard. Because there are way more than five. Well…I did it with books and I think that was harder so I can do it with rock bands, right, hmmmm. Please list the five best rock bands of all time in your opinion.

RULES: Must be a rock band. I don’t want to see The Boston Pops listed on here. Or Elvis for that matter, he is not a rock band.

My list in order

1. Metallica

2. The Rolling Stones

3. The Beatles

4. Aerosmith

5.Styx

Foreigner, Journey, Reo… Okay Now I am cheating. But they are so good.:)

I look forward to discussing the Rock Bands listed above and your choices with you today. Have fun.

Cheers,
Dawn Binkley aka Keira Kroft

I am giving away 5 free eCopies of Bad Moon Rising Over Oz to commenters. So pump up that ipod and let the violence commence J

Please don’t forget that the first three chapters of Bloodbreeders: The Revenge is post on the home page. You will be able to purchase it for half price tonight and it officially launches tomorrow. http://hellfireherald.blogspot.com/2012/02/bloodbreeders-revenge-first-three.html

I am having a vampire worshipping day over at carols Blog as well. Where I am giving away a free eCopy of Inamorata and Glow in the Dark. http://www.landofniarg.com/2012/02/its-inamorata-day.html

WTW Keira Kroft and B. Grovner

2012-02-15T00:01:00.000-08:00

Hello, welcome to Writer to Writer Wednesday, we are so very glad to have you with us. The Hellfire Herald would like to extend a warm welcome to B. Grovner.

Keira: You have a story coming out soon entitled COLD CRAZY. What is that about?

It’s a story of a young nurse who is found murdered in the parking garage near her job at a Boston hospital. Her estranged husband is a suspect as well as a few others in her inner circle.

Keira: What made you choose that title?

It is the first in my COLD series featuring Detective Craig Barnes. COLD SERIAL will follow COLD CRAZY which is a story dealing with a characters with mental illnesses.

Keira: Where did the idea for your story come from?

It simply came to me piece by piece. I knew basically that I wanted to write a murder mystery, but the facts and fiction fell into place as I began to write. The story unfolded in a way that surprised me a bit.

Keira: Please share a particular detail about one of the characters, please.

Sandy is a beautiful young woman that admires her best friend, but there is also an extremely jealous streak.

Keira: Please tell us about any future projects you are planning.

I’m planning to have COLD SERIAL follow COLD CRAZY. It’s another murder mystery involving a serial killer who is on the prowl on the streets of Boston, Massachusetts.

Keira: How many books have you written?

I’m working on a fourth one at this time.

Keira: We have a special place for unpublished writers in our hearts, here at the Hellfire Herald. So what advice would you give to an unpublished writer?

I have heard that most authors only regret is that they didn’t start sooner. I advise anyone who has a dream or even a thought of writing a book to get busy and (just do it).

Let’s get personal…

Keira: Do you work at job outside the home or is this only career?

I do not work outside of the home. I haven’t worked in several years after becoming disabled.

Keira: What’s your favorite thing to do?

Besides reading and writing, I love to walk on the beach, watch old B&W movies and work on several different crafts. I also enjoy my family.

Keira: Are you a reader?

Yes, I am an avid reader and have been since childhood.

Keira: Do you have a special writing method?

Yes I handwrite my entire manuscript before typing it. I keep a notebook with me most of the time just in case something inspires me.

Keira: What do you wear, to write?

Usually shorts and a tee.

Keira: Do you have children?

Yes I have three wonderful grown children. One lives in Boston, one in Denver and one in Orlando. All have families of their own and have given me ten beautiful grandchildren.

Keira: Is writing your only talent?

I work on several crafts. I make jewelry, and sew quite a bit. I am also a licensed permanent makeup tech, which is applying makeup using a tattoo gun.

Keira: Where in the Hell did you find time to write?

I have always found time to write. It’s not so much that I have to find the time to do it because it’s a big part of who I am.

Keira: Can you share your blurb with us?

When Kara is found dead in the parking garage at the Boston Hospital where she worked as an oncology nurse, things begin to heat up. When police begin digging around, the truth unfolds and secrets come tumbling out. Lives begin to unravel, revealing jealousy and raw rage, crazy relationships, and most disturbing, pure insanity at its most dangerously evil depth and somehow, someway, justice must be served.

And here is a short synopsis of Even Numbers by B. Grovner:

Who better than a fly on the wall, to tell this narrative tale? After all a fly would have the best seat in the house when it comes to spying on a family, and things aren’t always as they seem, particularly in this home. After Dominga’s first husband abandoned her and their little girl, she met and married James, and she thought she’d be happy again, and for quite awhile, she was. Then things got bad…really bad!

You see, James likes little girls; he really likes little girls. He goes out of his way to pacify and indulge Dominga in her every wish so that he can spend time alone with her precious little girl. He figures Dominga will never notice as long as she has all the things she’s ever wanted. In fact, he counts on it. James loves Saturday mornings. That’s when Dominga has her regular hair appointment, and he is left alone with Olivia. Some nights, when he’s unable to get to her, because Dominga is at home, he ventures out into several different neighborhoods, lurking in the bars, hoping to meet other needy women with little girls. And when he does, he worms his way into their homes armed with drinks, drugs and empty promises; knowing that once he takes care of mother’s needs he’ll be invited in. However, he’ll only stay long enough to get what he wants. These women think he wants them, but their little girls are who he’s really after. He can’t wait to touch them, to smell them, and to use their soft tender bodies, and once he’s finished with them, he disappears from their lives.

Dominga is in denial or maybe she really doesn’t have a clue, but there is no stopping James. That is until someone steps in to make sure James will never again be able to destroy the lives of innocent women, and their little girls.

You can find Even Numbers at Amazon:

http://www.amazon.com/EVEN-NUMBERS-ebook/dp/B004VT3QHK/ref=kinw_dp_ke?ie=UTF8&m=AG56TWVU5XWC2

On Behalf of my Valentine

2012-02-14T00:05:00.000-08:00

On Behalf of my Valentine

By Robin Renee Ray

Jazz ran into the basement of their home, spinning and smiling like a child. “He’s wonderful!” She threw her coat over the back of the couch that set in front of the fireplace and flopped down by her identical twin sister, Zirra. “I knew I would be the one to find him.” She kicked her feet up on the coffee table, laced her fingers together behind her head and leaned back.

“You said the same thing the last time and he was no more than a mere man who fell apart as soon as he found out what he was meant to be used for.”

“Don’t try to blow my excitement by bringing up the past, Zirra. I recall the last few that you found not being any better. I’m telling you, this one is the right one.”

“So when do you meet this mister right again?”

“I don’t. I want you to be sure. You have a date tomorrow night at eight,” Jazz leaned over and kissed her twin on the cheek. “He is the right one, I just know it.”

They left the basement in the fading glow of the fire to go up and ready what they would need when Zirra invited their special find back home. “He has the color of eyes that the spell calls for, and his height couldn’t be more perfect if we created him ourselves.”

“Jazz,” Zirra laughed. “You get so excited over the smallest details. If the things we can’t see don’t match, then we lose out once again.”

“And you always look at the glass being half empty. He’s the right one, I’m telling you.”

“I do hope you’re right, sister. I’m tired of waiting year after year only to be disappointed when they don’t pass the test.”

The next evening, the sisters rushed around preparing for an ordeal they had craved all year to perform, in hopes of finally finding the perfect man that would sate them both. Zirra left Jazz down in the basement where they spent most of the daylight hours, watching movies and talking about the things to come, while she went up to get ready for her date. “Be sure to leave your hair down, we don’t want him to see your birthmark. Just in case he noticed that my neck didn’t have one.” Jazz yelled out as her sister disappeared up the stairs.

Zirra stood in front of the oblong mirror on her dresser, bringing her dark brown hair around to drape her shoulders. She applied red lipstick then stepped back. “Perfection.” She turned one last time to check her tight blue jeans, running her hands down over the silky red shirt then walked out to show her sister.

“Think this will get him back here?” Zirra asked, coming down the basement stairs.

“I think that would get half the bar back here.” Jazz smiled and sat the large tool she held, down on the table at the back of the large open room. “Be sure to bring him through the front. The last one panicked that came through the basement door and almost killed himself trying to get out.”

“That’s because you weren’t finished. You just be sure and be ready this time. I’ll have him back here no later than ten.”

“Zirra?”

“Yes,” she stopped her ascent.

“Please wait for me before you have fun. It’s been so long.”

“I will, I promise.”

The sisters smiled and Zirra was off to meet the man that her sister had met the night before. She knew the man standing out in front of the bar holding a rose was the one she was there to meet. The keen relationship she had with her twin would have told her, even without him stepping out to open the taxi door with a smile of recognition spread across his face.

“You look wonderful,” he handed her the rose.

“It’s beautiful,” she took it and stepped out of the vehicle.

“It is Valentine’s Day.”

“Well, thank you…”

“Samuel, don’t you remember?”

“Of course, Sam. How could I forget?” She grinned on the outside but cursed herself on the inside for not asking her sister his name.

He kissed the back of her hand. “I thought you liked calling me Samuel?”

“I do, in a more private setting.” She fluttered her eye lashes, lifting the rose to her nose, then turned and walked toward the bar entrance.

By nine thirty, they were well acquainted to the point that Sam was rubbing her thigh and trying to kiss her on the mouth. But she had made a promise. “Why won’t you let me kiss you, Jazz?” He leaned in for what seemed like the hundredth time. “I won’t bite, I swear.”

“Wouldn’t you be more comfortable somewhere else?”

“Would you like to go back to my place?” He lifted her hand and pressed his lips to the back a second time, never taking his eyes from hers.

“Why don’t we go to mine? I would feel freer to be myself there.”

Sam looked around at all the people dancing to the overly loud music and gave her one nod. While he went to pay their drink tab, Zirra acted like she had to use the ladies room and called her sister to let her know they would be on their way shortly.

~ῲ~

Jazz saw the headlights through the sheer part of the curtains half an hour after Zirra had called and ran back down into the basement to wait. She heard the front door open and close as she placed the black hood over her head. Five minutes later, the basement door opened and a large figure came tumbling down.

“I hope you didn’t break anything on my half,” Jazz said, running over to inspect the man who was moaning in pain.

“He tried to force himself on me,” Zirra claimed as she ripped the torn shirt from her body.

“He did what? You tried to do what?”

“What’s going on…who are you?”

“Did you try to harm my sister?” Jazz pulled the mask off and dropped down on her knees beside him. “Tell me now!”

“What the hell’s going on here?” Sam looked at Jazz then back to Zirra who was now standing at his feet.

Jazz grabbed him around the throat with both hands and lifted him enough to make sure he could see her eyes while she spoke. “I don’t think I want someone that would attack my sister for pleasures he would have gotten had he just waited more than a few seconds past the front door.” She blinked and her eyes changed from light brown to dark black.

Zirra dropped the rose on the floor by his foot. “Happy Valentine’s, sister. He brought you a flower.”

“Let’s just kill him, he doesn’t deserve to be with women like us.”

“I’m sorry, it was the alcohol. I would never do anything to disrespect either of you.” Sam’s face was red from the pressure that Jazz had on his throat. “Please, I’ll do whatever you want.”

She pushed him back with a forced that slid his body into the wall and knocked him out cold. “They all plead the same.”

“Let’s test his blood before he wakes,” Zirra said moving around his form and over to the far side of the basement where Jazz had prepared the evenings events.

The sisters lifted Sam’s unconscious weight like he was a small child, up and onto the metal table. Jazz then turned the TV on to muffle any sound that they would be making regardless the results of the test. One long slice down Sam’s forearm and the blood was flowing freely into the silver bowl that Zirra held.

“It’s our turn, sister.”

Jazz took the blade and sliced her left palm, repeating the process on her sister’s right. The two held wounded hands over the blood covered bowl, lacing fingers around each other’s as their black fluid trickled down and mingled with Sam’s. Steam rose slowly at first, then it began to boil as if sitting on a flame, causing a white smoke to rise like a thick cloud.

“After all these years.”

“Does this mean he will survive long enough…?” Jazz spoke as her flesh changed to the texture of sandpaper.

“If we cut with steady hands.”

The sister’s hurried, stripping Sam clean of his clothing, admiring what would be their Valentine gift if they operated with pure precision. Once he was held by the shackles that were attached to the table, Zirra administered a drug into his right arm that would assure that he would not wake up during the operation. By this time, both sisters stood nude in their true form and all of its glory. Their human figures remained the same but their flesh had become rough and dark in color. Both had eyes as black as coal and both felt the craving to rush, before the end of the only day of the year that they were allowed to claim their sexual prize.

“Be careful, it could be years before we find another with his healthy blood type.”

“I know Jazz, just spread his legs and be quiet.”

To be a Kok-Lir was not an easy thing, but to be created as a union of twins to always have to share the men that the demons preyed upon was almost an impossibility. The pack they made with the Devil to share that prey on the day of love and good will was a trick to gather souls. Though, the sisters had learned a skill not known to man when they ventured onto the earths realm some three hundred years prior.

“You have to hold the intestine while I cut or it will go everywhere, Jazz!” Zirra reprimanded as her blade sliced through Sam’s abdomen.

“Don’t damage my side of the heart this time. It needs to last longer than two minutes.”

Blood and other bodily fluids flew as Zirra raised her hand. “Would you like to do this?”

“You know I haven’t got the skill. I just want him to last the night. If the heart stops, the main organ…”

“I know, you don’t have to explain.”

Zirra made it to Sam’s neck; his body separated into two halves. “Should we keep the head or just save the brainstem?”

“It’s worthless, and I am ready.”

With that said, Zirra removed his head, leaving just enough of his brain on each half to keep both parts of his body alive. All they needed was to satisfy their needs on this one night that all lovers wanted to fulfill. The twins worked for another hour, sewing the mangled corpse that they would soon use to complete their ritual. What was once a whole man was nothing but a body that now lay split into two parts, all but his head that was discarded in the trash can by the makeshift operating table.

~ῲ~

The next night the twins were back on the couch, reclining in front of the fireplace. “It may take years to find that perfect man, but it sure is worth it, don’t you agree, Jazz?”

She nodded. “It was awful sweet of him to bring us a rose for Valentine’s. Too bad he didn’t bring one of those hearts filled with chocolate candy.”

Zirra leaned over and pulled a heart shaped box out from under the edge of the couch and handed it to Jazz. “Happy Valentine’s, sis.”

Bloodbreeders: The Revenge First Three Chapter

2012-02-14T00:00:00.000-08:00

BLOODBREEDERS:

The Revenge

Bloodbreeders: The Revenge is a work of fiction. Characters, names, place, incidents, organizations are a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

Bloodbreeders: The Revenge

Robin Renee Ray

Published by Hellfire Publishing

www.hellfirepublishing.com

Digital ISBN: 978-1-937179-94-6

Cover art by: Dara England

※ Dedication ※

With all my heart and soul I dedicate this book to the family members that allowed me to use their first names as characters, Sidney Bruce Slayton, Jacob and Jessie Ray, and both of my dear friends named Tammy. My crew that is as alive to me as they are in the book. But most of all, I am grateful to Dawn Binkley owner of Hellfire Publishing for giving this series a chance to be read and for that reason I dedicate this book and the rest to come to the best company that I am blessed enough to be a part of. And last but not lease, my editor Jen Hart for putting up with all of my mistakes…Many Thanks!

Prologue

I once lived as those who did their biddings during the hours of daylight. I had the love of a large family on a modest farm back in a small town in Texas. Parents that I was so close to. I directed my thoughts away from marriage, so I could help raise my five younger siblings. Then he came, my tall dark nightmare. Was he to blame for their deaths? Or was it those who opened their animalistic mouths and laid their fangs to the innocent throats of my family? My maker would have to wait his turn for me to unleash my anger upon him. There was someone else who was guilty above all others. I would make sure that she paid, even if it meant my own final termination or cost those who have chosen to follow me, with their very lives. Yvette may not have gotten their blood on her hands, but I have heard a great many things, before and after, I escaped her dungeon of torture and perversions. Enough that I felt her death in my palms, like gripping the stems of a rose bush and pulling my tightly closed hand upwards.

I would have my revenge for what was done to my family. I felt the guilt for my part in my beloved family’s demise, and I would walk the night for eternity correcting it. The one thing that I could do was make those who have committed crimes against all who have been unlucky enough to fall prey to the slavers of our kind, pay and pay dearly. I had four young orphans looking up to me as if I had hung the moon, not to mention, two that were waiting for me to save them. I was being asked questions that I had no answers for. Yet, here I sit.

I stared down at the young man that lay dying in my lap and was faced with the most difficult decision that I had ever encountered. In light of recent events, that was saying a lot. During the past few months, my life had consisted of nothing but difficult decisions. I had chosen to accept the love of a stranger. That decision ultimately leading to my death and subsequently, placed me into my new life. I chose to believe that this man had never loved me. That he was using me for some sick and twisted game. A game, in which he would sit back amused as I killed off my family one by one, all being told to me by those who readied a far more sinister plan for my services.

I had chosen to ignore my maker’s warnings about the others of our kind that walked the land that I had called my home, choosing to take their side over his. I had unknowingly betrayed him as well as myself by going with them to Cuba, to their ‘safe-haven’, only to be led into the depths of hell itself – a slave trading ring, where I was caged like an animal, set loose only when it was time for another beating, rape, or rendezvous with some prestigious ‘client’. I had chosen to risk my life and the lives of those dear to me, by trying to escape one last time, and succeeded. I allowed myself to befriend four young orphans, and return to my home in that small town in Texas; regardless of how much I was afraid of what I might find. Despite all of that, this decision, the one that lay before me now, was proving to be the hardest one to make of all.

Chapter One

As I stared down into Brandon’s lifeless face, it was clear to me which choice I was going to make. Both choices would end in the loss of his life, but only one held the possibility of bringing him back. My only problem was I didn’t really have a clue where to begin. I could remember nothing after Martin fed on me until the time I awoke in my coffin, so I had no way of knowing what he did to finalize my change. Nevertheless, his words kept coming to my mind, “We must take in blood to survive.”

I pulled back my sleeve and bit into my wrist, the same way that I remembered Martin doing the first time that I fed. The blood started to flow immediately. I held my torn flesh to Brandon’s mouth, praying that it wasn’t already too late.

At first, the blood ran out the sides of his mouth, but then I could see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. That little sign of life was more than I had expected, and once again my tears started to flow, only this time from joy. “That’s it, Brandon,” I cried past the lump in my throat. “You’re doing great.”

He swallowed a few more times. Within seconds his body was once again completely still, with my blood still running freely down the side of his face. “Brandon?” I whispered, shaking him lightly. “Brandon?” But there was nothing. He was gone, and the only thing that I could do now was, wait.

I lowered his body to the floor, saying a silent prayer. I wrapped my wrist in a piece of cloth, cleaned up the blood as best as I could and headed back upstairs. As I emerged from the basement, the three remaining kids stared at me in wonder, not one saying a word. I walked over to the fireplace and took a seat next to them. Ashley leaned over, resting her head in my lap. I stroked her hair absently. Nobody seemed to notice as the night slipped by in utter silence.

Dawn approached quickly and I knew I needed to get back underground. I asked that the others stay upstairs throughout the day, until I came back up the following night. I didn’t want Derek to see his brother in his stay of death. The sight of one’s dead sibling is not something easily forgotten. I should know.

I made my way downstairs, and lay down next to Brandon’s still body. I kissed him lightly on the head, and whispered, “Come back to me, Brandon.” I then rolled over, not even noticing as my consciousness slipped away.

***

I woke the next night, not remembering what I had done until I moved my arm and felt Brandon’s body lying next to mine. I sprang up, my memory suddenly very clear. I placed my hand on his chest, looking and feeling for any sign of life. But there was absolutely none. His chest was as cold and inanimate as a block of ice. “No!” I screamed. I pounded my fists against the floor, sobbing violently, that’s when I heard a stampede coming down the stairs.

“Renee, what happened?” Derek asked, breathlessly.

“He didn’t wake up.” I shook my head, unable to meet his gaze.

Derek’s eyes widened and he shot toward his brother’s body. “Brandon,” he yelled, bolting forward. Bo grabbed him, swinging around but holding him firm in his arms. Ashley collapsed to the floor, holding her face in her hands, crying uncontrollably. Bo just stood there silently, holding Derek as he mourned for his brother.

“What have I done? I knew better...” I said as I laid my head on Brandon‘s chest.

“Knew better than what?”

I opened my eyes to see Brandon looking up at me, pale and confused, but alive. I gasped in delight, and pulled him into my arms.

“Oh my God, you’re alive,” I yelled, kissing him right smack on the lips. “You scared the hell out of me.”

Derek was so distraught that he never heard his brother, or me speaking.

“Derek,” Bo said, smiling ear to ear as Derek continued to sob against his chest. Bo said his name a little more firmly, “Derek.”

“What?” he asked obviously perturbed.

“Look at your brother.”

“No, I can’t.” He shook his head violently. “He’s dead. I don’t want...” He was interrupted by a sharp slap from Bo.

“Look, at your brother.”

Derek very reluctantly turned toward Brandon, who raised his hand to wave. Before he could completely get his hand in the air, Derek dove on him. They rolled around, laughing and crying at the same time. We were all sobbing, only now it was from pure relief.

After a few minutes Brandon told Derek, laughing, “Hey, you’re getting snot on me.”

“Sorry,” Derek replied letting go of him. “You really scared me, Brandon. I thought I would never see you alive again.” When the sentimental moment had passed, a giddy expression crossed Derek’s face. “Oh, let me see your teeth.”

Brandon put his hand to his mouth, exploring his newest asset in amazement. His eyes widened, as a smile spread across his face. “It really worked,” he said in awe. Then he bared them for the others to see. The room filled with astonished chatter.

Then as always, Derek started rambling on a mile a minute. “Did it hurt? What did it feel like? Is it...”

“Whoa, slow down little brother,” Brandon said with a snicker. “One thing at a time.”

“Yeah, Brandon needs to feed,” I explained. “It’s the only way he’ll build up his strength.”

“Do you want me to go find something for him?” Bo asked, grinning devilishly, “Oh, no wait. I have a better idea. Who’s next?”

I took a deep breath, letting out a little chuckle, knowing without having to ask, what he was insinuating and turned to Brandon. “How do you feel?”

“A little weird,” he said. “But, great at the same time.”

“You’ll get used to the weird,” I reassured him. “Do you feel like you’re ready to try and feed?”

“Yeah, I think so,” he shrugged, dusting off his pants.

“Alright then,” I said, turning to face the others. “Bo, I think it would be best if you went next.”

“What?” Derek’s head spun in my direction. “Why Bo? Why not me?”

“Because I need you here with Brandon tonight,” I replied, knowing it was only partially true, I needed Bo to go next. He and Brandon were the largest of the four and I knew they could help me finish up with Ashley and Derek. My body was only used to taking in three or four cups of blood at a time, and after draining Brandon last night, I was already so full I was on the verge of being sick.

“But...” he started.

“No ‘buts’, Derek. Please, just let me do this my way, okay?”

“Fine, I’ll probably be last as usual,” he sulked.

“No, you won’t, Derek,” Ashley said. “I want to go last.”

“Alright, whatever,” he pouted. “Doesn’t matter what I say anyhow.”

“Brother, I need you tonight,” Brandon reached over, putting his hand on Derek’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t want to see this new world without you by my side.”

“You really mean that?”

“Sure, I do,” he said, patting him on the back. “Now, help me up, would ya?”

Brandon let Derek help him to his feet, although he and I both knew he could have done it on his own. It was simply another small gesture to make Derek feel better. Once on his feet, Brandon seemed to take on a whole new persona. He bent his head from side to side, cracking his neck and then stared at Bo with a slight tilt to his head. Brandon’s long brown hair hid half his face, but you could see the raw hunger in that one grayish eye that meet the not so easy gaze of, Bo’s.

“So, how do I do this Renee?” he asked, circling around Bo like an animal stalking his prey.

Bo, who was almost a foot taller than Brandon, followed him suspiciously with his eyes. “Brandon, don’t go getting all crazy,” he said, a hint of fear tainting his voice.

“Bo, Bo, Bo,” Brandon smiled, walking behind him. “Would I do that to you?”

Before Bo could blink, much less answer, Brandon had leaped on his back and the bloodbreeder in him had taken over. He struck, sinking his fangs into Bo’s carotid artery. Bo grabbed him by the hair, yanking with everything he had trying to throw him off, but Brandon held tight. Bo’s legs began to sway and his skin slowly became an almost bluish in color.

“Brandon, that’s enough,” I placed my hand on his back. “Let him go.”

Brandon didn’t listen, his body heaving as he gnawed on Bo’s throat like a wild beast. That’s when Bo collapsed to his knees, with Brandon still holding tight. I grabbed Brandon by the shoulder and pried him off of Bo, throwing him to the side with more force than I meant to use.

Bo fell onto his backside, blood spraying from the open wound with every beat of his slowing heart. He pressed his hand against his neck, but his life fluid squirted forcefully between his fingers.

“I’m sorry, Bo,” Brandon said, terrified and uncomprehendingly. “I couldn’t stop. I tried, but I, I...” his voice trailing away, as he tried futilely to clean Bo’s blood off of his face.

Bo didn’t respond. He leaned forward, and struggled to get back on his knees. He looked past Brandon and straight up at me. “Finish it,” he whispered, gurgling through the blood that was now seeping out the sides of his mouth. He closed his eyes as he forced his legs to hold his weight and pushed his upper body off the ground to stand on his knees. Bo leaned his head back, rocking from side to side, blinking through tear filled eyes, waiting for this madness to end.

I walked over and knelt beside him. I pulled his head to one side and did as he asked. I drank. His body relaxed more and more, until eventually his back was on the floor. I pulled away, turning to Derek and Ashley, who were standing behind us aghast at what they had just witnessed.

“Straighten his legs,” I instructed them. As they did, I reopened the wound on my wrist from the night before and put it to Bo’s mouth. “Brandon, take them upstairs while I tend to Bo.”

Bo swallowed weakly a few times, just as Brandon had. He soon took his last breath and I watched the life slip away from yet another set of innocent eyes. When the others were out of sight, I covered Bo’s body. I tried my best to clean up the blood, but the spray had gone everywhere. After a few minutes of wiping up the mess in vain, I went upstairs to join the others.

As I entered the room, I could hear Brandon explaining his experience to the others. When he saw me, he stopped. He got up and walked over to me, with his head a little lower than usual. “Renee, I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I really didn’t plan to...”

“It’s okay, Brandon,” I interrupted. “I think we all react a little different to our hunger, and you just reacted by, well, going a little wild.” I smiled to let him know I was sincere and he grinned back. He put his arms around me, and pulled me into a hug.

“You’re my ma now, sorta,” he affirmed very sentimentally. “And I will never leave you.”

“I love you too, Brandon,” I concurred. “I love each and every one of you, but I want us to feel like equals. I don‘t think any of us need to be the boss.”

“But we do need a leader,” Derek piped in. “And you’re tops on our list.”

“I agree,” Ashley said. “Plus, you’re the oldest.”

“Well,” I said, putting my hands up in surrender. “My ma always told me I’d have a brood of my own one day, and now I guess it’s official.” Then I began laughing and they joined in.

“Come on, let’s go out. I don’t want Brandon to waste his first night stuck in this old house. I want to see his face when he experiences the world the way that I do.”

“I can tell my bodies not the same,” he gestured to his teeth. “But, I don’t even feel like the same person.”

“You’re not,” I said, patting him on the back. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Wait. What about Bo?” Ashley asked, as we were getting to our feet.

“We won’t go far,” I responded. “Besides, he’ll never know we left.”

As we walked to the front door, we passed the fireplace, igniting a spark in Brandon.

“Holy shit,” he exclaimed. “Look at that fire.”

The other two jerked their heads toward the fireplace, expecting to see something amazing.

“What?” Derek asked, perplexed. “It’s just a fire. You sure you’re okay, Brandon?”

“I’ve never been better,” Brandon smiled, unable to turn away from the blaze. “I can’t believe you don’t see all the colors.”

Ashley looked at Brandon, one eyebrow raised, then back at the fire. “Looks like wood burning to me,” she said, unimpressed.

“I think what Brandon means is that everything looks different with his new eyes,” I explained as simply as I could. They would understand in time, but until then, it would be impossible to describe.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Brandon said. “And I can smell things, too. Like Derek and Ashley. They don’t smell like we do.” He looked at me, as if for confirmation.

“You’re right,” I confirmed. “It’s one of the first things that I noticed when I was changed, although I didn’t understand why at first. I think it’s a way to help us identify our own kind from normals.”

“So, what other things can I do?” he asked with intrigue.

“Honestly, I’m not really sure about everything that we can do,” I shrugged. “I have ideas, but I’ve never tried them myself, so I don’t know for sure.”

“Like what?” Derek and Brandon asked in unison.

“Well, like after Martin fed on me before he changed me,” I began, having to clear my throat, at the thought of him. “He was able to call me to him and he took my voice so I couldn’t speak. That makes me think that when we feed on normals we might be able to control them to some extent.”

“So,” Brandon said contemplating. “If I was to take a drink from, say, Derek, he would have to do what I say?”

“Oh, hell no,” Derek frowned, wrapping his hands around his neck to shield it from his brother. “You ain’t using me like no puppet.” He paused, and then added, “Besides, I ain’t no snack for nobody.”

“Derek, you couldn’t stop me if you wanted too,” Brandon sinisterly smiled, inching toward his brother. “Bo couldn’t.”

“Maybe not,” Derek retorted, unfazed. “But when Renee turns me, I’ll kick your ass.”

“Nobody’s going to do anything against your will, Derek,” I said, shooting a warning glance at Brandon.

“Aw, I’m just joshin’ ya,” he told Derek, unable to hide the disappointment in his voice. “But I really wanted to see if it would work though.”

Ashley looked from Brandon to me and then said, “I’ll let you try it on me, if you want.” Brandon perked up, as Ashley narrowed her eyes and then quickly added, “Just as long as you don’t make me do something stupid.”

“Does it work if their willing?” Brandon asked, looking back at me.

I just shrugged my shoulders. He walked over to Ashley, grinning from ear to ear. She must have looked uneasy, because his smile faded. “You sure?” he asked her. “Because it’s okay if you’re not. I was just curious is all.”

“I’m sure,” she said, trying to convince herself as much as she was Brandon. “But, be easy, Brandon, okay? You know I hate pain.”

“I would never hurt you, Ash,” he said. “You know that.”

“Yeah, I know,” she nodded. “So, how do we do this?” Then they both turned to me.

“Just do what comes natural to you, Brandon. Just remember, she’s not, Bo,” I replied with a wink.

He smiled sheepishly in response, blushing a bit as he did. He raised his hand to her face like a lover would do, and Ashley burst out laughing.

“What?” Brandon asked, shocked by the outburst.

“I ain’t your girl, Brandon,” she tried stifling her laugh. “So cut the look, okay?”

“Sorry, this is just somewhat personal, ya know?”

Ashley turned her head to look at Derek, and when she did, Brandon took hold of the opportunity. He struck fast. Ashley didn’t respond with a cry or a scream, like I had anticipated. Her head fell further to the side, and her eyes closed. After a couple of seconds, he pulled away, licking the blood from his lips.

“Wow, it’s sweet,” Brandon said. “Almost like sugar or candy, I sure don’t remember Bo tasting like that.”

“Well,” Ashley slowly opened her eyes. “Did you change your mind or what? Do it, or don’t, doesn’t matter to me.”

“But...” Brandon looked at me, bewildered.

“Wait,” I interrupted. “Ashley, how do you feel?”

“Fine, why?” she replied, looking at me with that same bewilderment.

I waved her question off with my hand, and called Brandon over to me. “Tell her in your mind to put more wood on the fire.” I whispered in his ear to keep her from hearing me. He did as I asked and closed his eyes in concentration. It wasn’t five seconds later that Ashley was walking over and placing another log into the fireplace.

It was at that moment that I realized how we could make our way back to Cuba. It must have been how they used Capie, I thought. It made me wonder just how guilty he had actually been in all of this. Had I taken the lives of men that were innocent, only doing what they were bound to do, under the influence of my kind? How many more would have to die? But more importantly, how many could we save? I thought, as I watched my first creation into this dark world play a few more games. I then took him out to explore, leaving the other two behind, even though Derek was begging to go along. After seeing his reaction, and their reaction to his, I knew it would be better if we went alone. I wanted him to get the most out of this experience and not have to be questioned every other second. There would be time for that later. For now, I watched in awe as he discovered his new world and understood for the first time how Martin must have felt watching me.

Chapter Two

The next night when Brandon and I awoke we went over to Bo, while the other two slept. We watched him closely, not saying a word. Before long, his eyes flew open. He looked from me to Brandon, then back to me. “Am I dead?” he muttered. Brandon and I glanced at each other then back at Bo, trying our best not to crack up laughing at his statement.

“No, sweetie, you’re not,” I softly whispered with a smile.

“This is strange, Renee,” he said as he sat up, looking about. “I feel really weak. I thought I was supposed to be strong.”

“Once you feed, Bo, you’ll feel a whole world different,” Brandon told him.

“And I’m next,” Derek said from behind us. He and Ashley had woken and Derek was already on his feet.

“Come to him, Derek.” I replied nodding toward Bo.

“Okay…Sure,” he said, standing completely still.

“Then you have to move your feet, Hun,” I said.

He laughed nervously, but slowly began to move closer as Bo rose to his feet.

“Don’t worry, Derek,” he said. “I won’t do it to you like Brandon did it to me.” He then turned to look at Brandon, and said glaring, “I owe you one, by the way.”

“Whatever.” Brandon shook his head.

“Close your eyes, kid,” Bo said turning back to Derek.

“I ain’t no...” but before he could finish, Bo was latched on, and within minutes, it was over.

Bo was supporting Derek’s body as the strength it had contained slipped away, then slowly lowered him to the floor. As Bo wiped the blood from Derek’s neck, the rest of us knelt down beside him.

Derek was crying, and with the little strength he had left, he looked up at me. “I’m scared.”

“I know, babe.” I tried to comfort him. “But if we don’t finish this, you could die.”

“You’ll be fine, little brother,” Brandon added, trying to hide the tears that were welling up in his eyes.

Derek looked up at me from the floor, tears running down the sides of his face, and nodded. That night continued on as it had for the others. I fed Derek my blood and then we waited to welcome him to his new family. He woke the next night, and the process began again with Ashley. And as she lay in darkness, the rest of us devised our plan.

“We need a boat, right?” Bo asked.

“Yeah, and weapons,” I said. “We can’t fight them one on one. We’re going to have to be quick to kill. Our lives will depend on it.”

“Bo’s great with blades,” Derek interjected. “He’s showed us all how to use them.”

“And we know how to get them,” Bo added.

“Do you mean steal them?” I asked.

“Not really.” Bo looked over at Brandon. “My dad has collected weapons for as long as I can remember.”

I knew he hadn’t seen his father in quite some time, and that it was best that way.

“That would help a lot, Bo, but are you sure you wanna go back there?”

“He owes me big time,” he nodded firmly. “So yeah, I’ll go back.”

“Where does he live?” I asked.

A cunning smile spread across Bo’s face. “Corpus Christi.”

“Hmm, you don’t say,” I joked. “I guess that means we’re part way there. We’ll leave as soon as Ashley’s been fed.

“Hey, Renee?” Derek grabbed my arm. “Who’s she going to feed from?”

“I should have thought about that. Bo, you and Brandon go out and find a goat or lamb.”

“What about me, why can’t I go?” Derek asked.

“Because, who else will keep me company?” I replied with me best smile. “I don’t wanna be left all alone.”

“Oh, I get it. That’s right, y’all go and I’ll stay and protect the women.” Then everyone, including Derek started laughing.

The next night I had all four of my little ones at my side. We fed Ashley first and then shared the remainder of the goat between the rest of us. After Ashley had a short time to enjoy her new body like the other three had, I decided it was time that we broke things up. They all agreed, so we loaded up and headed for the coast. We drove for hours; the little ones talking about their new world the entire time. I just sit back and enjoyed having them with me.

“Ain’t nobody gonna push us around anymore,” Brandon said.

“Yeah, and we don’t have to worry about going back to that damn orphanage either,” Ashley added. “I hated that place.”

“That’s because we’re a family now. Ain’t that right, Renee?” Derek proclaimed.

“Sure is babe. And we answer to no one but ourselves.”

“Hey guy’s, don’t you think we better be looking for a place before the sun comes up?” Bo interjected.

“You’re right, Bo. Everyone, keep your eyes open for an abandon house or cemetery,” I said as Bo turned down a dirt road.

We drove a few more miles when Derek sat up a little straighter, pressing his face close to the window. “There’s an old house to the right.” He rolled down his window and pointed.

“Don’t stop, Bo. It doesn’t feel right,” Ashley whispered in a fearful tone.

“What do you mean, Ashley?” I asked turning to look at her.

“It’s in my head, Renee. I can see or feel people in that house, bad men.”

“How can you know that?” I asked.

“Ashley sometimes sees things. She’s always done it,” Brandon explained.

“Never once been wrong either…might want to listen to her, Renee,” Derek added.

“My ma use to tell me stories about folks like you that had special gifts.” I remembered her words as if she had just said them to me. “Bo, pull over by those trees.” Once we had come to a stop I turned back to Ashley. “I need you to try really hard, and tell me what you see inside that house. Can you do that for me?”

“Sure, I’ll try.”

I watched as Ashley closed her eyes and a few seconds later her head fell back against the seat. At first she was completely calm, then out of nowhere her body began to convulse and foam started running from her mouth. I was over the backseat and had her by the shoulders within seconds. As soon as my hands touched her skin, images began flashing through my mind. Three men eating out of cans by a fireplace, and in a form of slow motion my eyes moved across the room until I saw two little girls covered in filth, crying. They were tied together at the wrists, facing one another. “Shut the fuck up, or you’ll end up just like your ma,” came from one of the men.

All of the sudden my vision flashed to a woman doing the dishes, singing a song. She had no idea that she was being watched from the dark shadows of the night. Then just as fast as that vision came, the next that followed was almost too much to bear. The woman was lying face down in a pool of blood. Her head had been crushed in, she wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing, and the two children watched in horror the entire time. My eyes flew open and I found that Ashley and I were both screaming.

The boys were pulling us apart. Brandon had to pin Ashley down in the seat, because she was thrashing about so bad. “They killed her... they killed her,” I heard Ashley crying over and over. I sat there in utter shock at what my mind had just witnessed. My breath came out as if I had run for miles without stopping, and my heart was racing in my chest to the point of exploding.

“We have to do something, right now,” I said looking up at Bo as he held me against the seat. “Let me go, Bo. I’m fine.”

He slowly removed his hands from my arms as if he wasn’t sure, and as soon as he did I took Ashley in mine. “Shhh...it’s ok now, babe. I’m sorry you had to see that, but honey you just saved two little girls lives. Now wipe those beautiful eyes, we have work to do.” She nodded, gave me one final hug and sobbed as quietly as she could under the circumstance. I told the others what I, what we had just witnessed, but before I could let them in on my plan, they were out the door and headed for the house.

“Shit,” I said out loud. “Ashley, honey, are you going to be okay staying in the car by yourself? I have to go after them.”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine, just get the girls. Renee, those are really bad men. What they did to the little girls...” She started crying all over again.

I gave her a quick hug, and a promise that I would do as she asked, but I had to hurry. My boys were pissed and those men could have guns. As soon as my mind thought on the harm the men could cause them, I ran at full speed. I came to a sudden stop at the tree line next to the yard, searching for any sign of my boys. I almost missed them, because they were hidden so well in the shadows. They moved in perfect unison on their stomachs in the grass, making their way up to the back of the house, moving like cats sneaking up on a juicy mouse. I watched in silence until they reached the back door, then I clapped my hands together one time, causing them to freeze in their tracks.

I held my hand up in a gesture, telling them to wait where they were. I then sprinted across the yard to the front door. I could only hope that they had some idea of what I was doing, and wouldn’t try breaking down the back door before I had a chance to put what little plan I had, into motion. I reached the steps and called out, “Betty, you home? Got them eggs you asked fer.” I slowly made my way up to the door. I was hearing all kinds of movement in the house now, from furniture being shoved around, to shuffling of heavy feet.

I knocked twice on the door and was about to call out for the second time, when the door swung open. A large man with a half grown, straggly beard and so much filth on his face you couldn’t tell what nationality he was, grabbed me by the throat and pulled me inside, shutting the door behind us. “Looks like we got ourselves another round boys.” The other two started walking closer so I played a little more helpless than I really was. One started to grope at my breast.

“Wait, please don’t hurt me,” I cried out loud. As soon as the words left my mouth, my boys made their entrance. The man that held my throat was so shocked by the presence of the boys, that he never saw my hand go through his body.

The man’s hand fell from my throat landing on my arm that now, looked as if it were a deformity attached to his body. His eyes traveled from their gaze at my arm, looking up as if in slow motion to meet mine. Once locked with my glare, they rolled back into his head, as his body slid off my arm and crashed to the floor, leaving me holding parts of his entrails in my hand. I threw the gore to the floor and looked over to the other two men that stood beside me. One went for a weapon he had on his belt, and the other one pulled a gun from the front of his pants.

My boys were on them so fast that they never had a chance to use them. Little Derek was like a wild animal. He jumped on the back of the man closest to him, pulling his head back at a painful looking angle. He opened his mouth wide revealing his new set of long fangs, and the man began to scream. Derek laughed out loud then bit down on the front of the man’s throat before pulling back, ripping his wind pipe completely out. The man fell to his knees, with Derek still on his back saying, “You should have never hurt that woman. I’m the devil and you’re paying your due.”

The other man tried to run for the door, but Bo got there first. He pulled his long blade, as the man pointed his gun. Bo brought the blade up in a movement so fast, that I don’t think the man ever saw it move, and only felt his hand when it left his body. He grabbed his wrist and started screaming. “You cut my fucking hand off.”

“And what did you do to those little girl’s, mother?” Bo asked, raising the blade above his head.

“No! Wait… Please,” the man cried, raising the only hand that he had left.

“I bet that’s the very same thing that she said.”

Bo came down with the blade, slicing the man, starting at the forehead and ending at his mid-stomach. The man blinked, almost as if he thought Bo missed, then he fell forward, pushing Bo’s blade deeper into his body. Bo put a foot on the blood soaked corpse and kicked him backwards, in order to retrieve his blade.

We three Bo, Derek, and myself stood there covered in blood, looking down at our first kill as a family. “They were really bad men, right Renee?” Derek asked. His face was covered with that man’s blood, and yet he still looked so innocent.

“They were very bad men,” I replied. I wasn’t quite sure how I felt about what had just happened, until I looked over and saw the woman on the floor. She was face down, with her legs spread. Her hands were tied behind her back, and nothing covered her body but scrapes and bruises.

Suddenly Derek started kicking the dead man at his feet. “You sick son-of-a-bitch.”

“Derek...Derek,” I yelled, but he never answered.

There was no doubt that he had seen the woman just as I had, just as we all had by now. I walked over to him and pulled him into my arms. “Listen to me. You’re a hero to these little girls, we all are.”

“You did a great job Derek,” Bo said putting his arms around the two of us. “Hell, boy, I didn’t even know you could move like that.”

“I don’t really remember too much. I kind of lost it when I saw Renee with that hand on her throat.”

“Me too, but I saw the woman when we came in,” Bo added.

“What about them?” Brandon called out.

He crouched down in front of what I assumed was the little girls. Brandon covered them with a blanket, and was protecting them from seeing even worse carnage than what they had already witnessed as we took care of the men. “Sorry I didn’t help with that,” he said as he pointed. “But, they’ve seen enough.” Brandon was the true heart of our little group

“I’m really glad you thought about them, and you’re right they’ve seen way too much,” I replied.

“Want me to take them in the other room? I’ll untie them in there. I’m good with kids,” Brandon asked looking up at me.

“You have a good head on your shoulders. Thanks for being the responsible one.” I smiled down at him, grateful that at least one of us had thought of the children.

“No problem, I’m used to it,” he replied with a small smile of his own.

I don’t think Brandon or myself wanted the girls to see the three of us covered in blood. So he took the girls in the next room and closed the door. The three of us looked at the bodies and started the task at hand. I told the boys that I would take care of the woman once we had finished removing the bodies of the men.

“Why don’t we just put all three of them on a blanket and drag them out to the trees and bury them. It would be easier than taking out one at a time,” Derek suggested.

“That’s twice tonight that you’ve fooled me. Good thinking,” Bo replied, slapping him on the back.”

“Ouch, that stung.” Derek made a face, reaching back to touch where Bo had slapped him.

“I agree, as soon as we get these...things out of here, y’all can bury them and I’ll get back in here and start cleaning this up. That way we can bring the girls by the fire. I’m going to put the woman in one of those back rooms, so her family can come and give her a proper burial,” I added as I spread the blanket that Bo found crumpled by the couch.

Once we got the bodies into the middle of the trees behind the house, Bo and Derek started digging a shallow grave. I went back into the house, grabbed another blanket, and laid it next to the woman. I took out my knife and cut her hands free from the tight rope that bound them; her arms didn’t move due to the rigor-mortis, so I moved them down to her side and rolled her over and onto the blanket. I threw myself back so fast that I hit my head on the wall. Neither my eyes nor my mind could believe what they saw. The woman was pregnant; her swollen belly was a deep dark purple. I looked up her nude body, seeing that her breasts were also a dark purple. The only difference in the woman’s breast was one had the nipple horrifically bitten off. Her face was no face at all, her lower jaw was all that was intact and it lay in a frozen, morbid smile. They had crushed the rest in so badly that she was no longer recognizable. As I lowered my gaze down her body I began to heave. What I hadn’t noticed while she was lying on her stomach, I wished I had never seen now. There was a tiny foot protruding from her privates. The men had forced themselves on her with such violence they had caused the baby to start its birthing process. I threw the cover over her and started throwing up, and did not stop until my stomach was empty. I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes.

“No wonder Ashley was so messed up,” I said out loud without thinking.

“I was, and I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you needed me, I just...” Ashley said standing in the door way.

“No, no, Please,” I replied getting up and taking her in my arms. “You can’t think of it like that, after seeing firsthand what you saw, no one’s going to think a thing about you not coming in. You did an amazing job in seeing what was going on, if you hadn’t, those little girls would have ended up just like her.”

“Can I see ’em? The girls?” she timidly asked.

“Of course, there in that room with Brandon. I’m sure he could use your help.”

“Want me to help you with...” she trailed off.

“No Hun, I have this. You just go on in and help Brandon.”

She smiled and turned for the door. “I saw them die in my head. I’m glad, they were evil and deserved what they got,” Ashley claimed then opened the door.

I could hear the children crying for their mommy and saying not to let the bad men hurt them. Brandon was doing his best to reassure them that the bad men were gone, but he said nothing about their mother. Ashley went in and closed the door leaving me to care for the very person they cried for.

I wrapped the woman’s body tightly within the blanket and then lifted her as gently as I dared. I carried her through the kitchen, and into the back bedroom. I laid her on the bed and placed another blanket on the top of her. I said a small prayer for her and the baby, then returned to the living room to start cleaning the bloody mess which was spread from room to room. I was mopping when Bo and Derek returned and started helping. Before long we had it as good as we were going to get it.

“We better get ourselves cleaned up now, so we can bring everybody back in here. It’ll be dawn real soon, and we need to figure out what we’re going to do,” I explained as we headed for the kitchen.

Bo got the fire blazing, while Derek and I cleaned up. When we returned he went into the kitchen to do the same.

“Renee,” Derek said.

“Yeah,” I replied drying my hands in front of the fire.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel. I ain’t ever killed a person before.”

“Don’t think of them as people. You saw what they did, think of them as animals.”

“Yeah, I know, but shouldn’t some part of me feel bad?” he asked looking down at his hands.

“Look, Derek, if that makes you think like this, how are you going to handle what I told you about, Cuba?”

“I can handle it Renee, it’s just not what I thought it would be like.”

“It seems like we all grew up a little tonight.” I looked over at him.

“Hell, I feel great, like superman. I hate bastards like that. The only thing I wish could have done different is,” Bo said then paused. “I would have killed that pig a lot slower, if I had a chance to do it again, that is.”

“I agree with Bo, they’ll never hurt anyone else, and just think what would have happened if Ashley hadn’t seen what she did,” I added glancing at Derek.

“I don’t want to even think about that. So, we’re really like heroes, for real?” Derek asked.

“Just like, and you should be proud of that,” I replied with a wink.

We gave each other a once over, but saw our clothes were stained with evidence of what had occurred. I found one of the woman’s shirts and put it on, and the boys just did their best to cover what they could with their arms. I went to the door and opened it. “Y’all wanna come out and sit by the fire?”

“Mommy!” the youngest screamed and ran straight at me. I bent and took the child in my arms.

“Their pa died a few months back, but that’s about all that Brandon could get them to say,” Ashley explained as she stepped out of the room.

I took the youngest child as the others followed and we all gathered around the fire. Once I sat down, I sat the smallest girl onto my knee. She held me tightly, shaking so bad that I could see the material of my shirt vibrating.

“You look like my, Ma. We’re gonna to have a baby brother or sister. Is my Ma gonna be okay?” the oldest asked.

I looked at both girls and my heart sank. How does one tell two children that just lost their father that they have now lost their mother too? I brushed the hair back from the youngest one’s face.

“Your mommy’s not going to be okay; she’s gone to be with your pa, in heaven.”

“No,” the youngest started screaming, burying her face into my chest.

“I’m sorry honey, but it’s true.”

“She was crying really hard when those bad men were hitting her,” the oldest said, as two lines of crystal tears started trickling down her cheeks.

“What’s your name, sweetie?” I asked.

“Deanna. My sister’s name is Angela, but everyone calls her Angel.”

“We call her Dee,” the youngest called Angel said, in a voice almost too low to hear.

“My brothers use to call me ‘Sister’, but they’re in heaven with my pa and ma,” I replied past the lump that was threatening to burst in my throat.

“Like our ma and pa?” Deanna asked.

“Yes baby, but we’re here to take care of you until we can find some of your kin. Do you girls have family around, or maybe close by that we can take you to?” I asked.

“Aunt Jeanette lives in Gordon,” Deanna replied looking up at me, showing the first sign of a smile.

“Would y’all like to go visit your auntie?” I asked, smiling at the two.

Little Angela smiled from ear to ear, and it was breath taking, knowing what they had been through.

“Her, and pawpaw Jim have five dogs and I know all of their names.” Angela’s smile grew just a bit.

“Well, why don’t you tell us, so when we meet ’em we can say hello, proper like,” I replied in a very excited manner.

“Okay! Well Nanny...”

“That’s what we call my Aunt,” Deanna interrupted.

“Trey is my Nanny’s old dog, and he bites if you touch him when he’s asleep,” she explained with joy. After what they had been through, it was a welcome site.

“He does? That would scare me pea green,” I responded, acting a bit silly.

“Yep, then she has a real good girl dog named, Molly. She’s so good my Nanny calls her Prissy, but her bestest one ever, is Chochie. We can’t hold him, cause he’s too little and we might drop him on his head, and Nanny said, she would cry real tears if he got hurt.”

“You know Angel, you sure know how to tell good stories about them dogs,” Derek said, scooting a little closer to the girls. “Glad to know that one bites, I get a little scared of them biting dogs.”

“Yeah, but he won’t get ya, if you don’t touch him while he’s sleeping,” Angela explained, causing a smile to spread across all of our faces.

Ashley excused herself to go in and fix the girls something to eat, while Bo also stepped out to inspect the basement. The rest of us sat by the fire and listened to the little four or five year old, that just ten minutes ago wouldn’t say a word. Now she seemed to want to talk as if she had known us forever. It was good to see the young girls come back somewhat, to what might have been their normal personalities.

“My pawpaw has a really small dog, but she is so fat. Her name is Connie,” Angela said and both girls started laughing.

“Hey, what’s so funny, I wanna laugh too?” Derek asked, getting even closer to the three of us.

“My pawpaw calls her, Pooter,” Angela replied and covered her little mouth as if she had said a very bad word, and laughed even harder.

“I was named after my Aunt Dee, that’s my Nanny’s girl, she lives at home with them, because she gots stuff wrong with her. Her dogs name is...” Deanna had begun to tell her own little story, but couldn’t finish.

“I was telling them first Dee,” Angela said, giving her sister a puckered look.

“I was just going to tell them about Aunt Dee’s dog.”

“Can I, please?” Angela asked, with a much softer look.

“Yeah, you go ahead, you ’member more better anyway,” Deanna replied, and then smiled up at me, me giving her a little wink in return.

“Aunt Dee’s dog is named Barbie; she’s a good dog until she’s eating. Know what?”

“No, what?” I asked.

“She bit me, ’cause I tried to love on her while she was eating, you don’t ever want to do that.”

“Thanks, I won’t ever try that for sure, because that must have hurt,” I replied widening my eyes.

She raised her tiny arm to show me where the dog had bitten her. My eyes filled with tears, not from what she had just showed me, but from what covered her arms closer to her hands. Her wrists were bloody and raw from the ropes that had held her and her sister. My eyes moved to her other tiny wrist, then down at her sisters. Both girls had suffered at the hands of those bastards. The young child must have seen the sorrow on my face.

“It’s okay, it didn’t hurt very long and my Nanny spanked, Barbie,” Angela said, putting her tiny hand on the side of my face.

I wanted to bring those bastards back and kill them all over again. Who could hurt anything so innocent, and vulnerable? “It’s not that honey, it just made me remember my old dog back home. By the way, my name is Renee. You know Ashley and Brandon, and this is Derek, and the tall one is, Bo.” I was trying to change the subject.

“It’s okay, Renee. We lost our puppy a long time ago,” Deanna added.

“What ya say we get you girls cleaned up and get some food in them bellies? Then you both can sleep in the basement with us,” I wiggled my brows, while making a goofy face.

“It’s dark down there at night. Will it be night for a long time?” Deanna asked.

“No, the sun will be coming up real soon, but some of us can’t be in the sun, so we sleep down in the basement when it’s bright outside,” I explained.

“Are you sure you won’t leave me down there by myself?” Angela asked. “I’m scared of the dark.”

“I promise. Now let’s go see what Ashley’s up to in the kitchen.” I stood, then both girls took a hand.

It was easy to see that Ashley was way ahead of me. She had water boiling on the stove for their baths and oat meal almost ready to serve. The girls moved closer to my legs as we stepped toward the kitchen, both had one arm wrapped around one of my legs and the other hand in mine.

“Renee, would you grab that wash tub for me?” Ashley asked from the stove.

“Well, sure I will.” I replied looking down. “But one of you is going to have to let go so I can get it.” They both looked at each other from around my sides, neither letting go.

“I’ll get it, Renee,” Brandon said as he entered the room.

“I guess that means we have to go get some clean clothes,” I added, looking back down at the girls.

“Come on, we’ll show you,” Deanna said, releasing my leg, pulling me back toward the front room.

“I’ll show her where mine is, Dee,” Angela demanded.

After we had everything back in the kitchen and the girls had started eating, Bo came back in. “Excuse me, but we have a little problem down in the basement and the sun will be up in less than an hour, maybe sooner.”

“What is it?” Ashley asked.

“Windows—six of them. I think we’re going to need to get on that like, right now,” he explained.

“If you don’t have what you need down there to do it, you boys start taking whatever you need from up here. As soon as Ashley and I are done, we’ll be down to help.”

We hurried as fast as we could, but I had two small hindrances, and both seemed to have the need to touch me at all times. Even when I bathed one, the other held my leg or leaned down onto my back. I knew we had to get them to their aunt in Gordon, and first thing tomorrow night we would do just that. However, right now they seemed to think that I was their link to safety, and I wasn’t going to change that in any way.

Once we had the girls cleaned and fed, we went on down to help the boys, but they already had every window covered. The only thing we needed now was to make a soft bed for the girls. The rest of us could lay just about anywhere. I had Ashley and Derek run back upstairs to get the pillows and blankets just before the first break of dawn hit the side of the house. It was then that we all heard Ashley scream, followed by the two of them crashing down the stairs, making both of the little girls scream with fear. Both were crying.

“Is it the bad men?” Deanna closed her eyes and buried her face in my leg.

“I want my Mommy.” Angela grabbed me from behind.

I stood up moving the girls aside and was just about to yell at both Ashley and Derek, thinking they were joking around. That’s when I saw the reason for their action. They both had a fine haze of smoke coming off their backs. That’s when I rushed to their aid.

“It came through the kitchen window,” Derek explained.

“Are you two okay?” I asked.

“If Derek hadn’t pushed me, I think it would’ve been a lot worse,” Ashley explained.

“Yeah, I saw the smoke on her back before I felt the burn on mine,” Derek continued, “So I grabbed her and knocked us both down the stairs.” Then he yawned.

“That’s quick thinking, Derek.” I couldn’t help but grin.

“And you didn’t even drop your blanket,” Bo laughed. “I don’t know about y’all, but I can’t keep me eyes open.”

After I checked the backs of the two that had crashed down the stairs, I instructed everyone to find a spot to rest. I put the blankets and pillows in the corner and called the girls to my side. I cradled them both in my arms, doing my best to make them comfortable.

“If you wake up before we do, I want you both to stay right here. Do not go upstairs… do you understand?”

“Yes Ma’am,” Deanna replied.

“They scared me. I really want my, Mommy,” Angela cried.

I pulled her to my chest and hummed a tune I used to sing to Johnny and Edna. I couldn’t tell you who fell asleep first. It wasn’t long before they were out, leaving me a short time to move about. I got up and went over to where the others were getting their beds ready.

“Y’all did a great job. I personally think we make one hell of a team.” I said as I sat down on the floor beside them.

“We’re better than a team, we’re a downright bad ass family and Cuba better watch out for the storm that’s coming their way,” Derek said.

“Damn straight little brother,” Brandon added reaching over and rubbing Derek’s head.

“I wish I had as much faith in all this as y’all do, but these were normal’s. Everything we come up against in Cuba will be just like us, or maybe worse,” I replied.

“If we’re together, Renee, we’ll be just fine,” Ashley said sitting up to give me a hug.

I left them, as they too fell into their day slumber and returned to the girls. I laid there for some time thinking about the past and the now uncertain future, before the day took me as well.

Coming this Friday!

Party, today!

2012-02-13T05:57:00.001-08:00

Hey, everybody.

Want to start your week off with a PARTY? It's gonna be a blast and you're not going to want to miss it! Seriously everybody this is the biggest blog giveaway I have ever seen. I’ll see you there. I ♥ Robin. http://www.robinreneeray.blogspot.com/

Novel writing 101: The Five "W's"

2012-02-13T00:01:00.000-08:00

Novel writing 101

The five ‘W’s’. This is a very simple posting. But yet very important. No publisher worth their salt will publish a story without them. This also applies to queries to editors as well. Each one of these elements must be addressed or the story must be written in such a way that the reader still knows the answer to these five questions by the time they have finished your story.

Who- This is an easy one.

What- What is your plot, what is the point of your story.

Why- Why is this happening to this character?

When- Is this now or is this happening at another point in time?

Where- Believe it or not, I find that the ‘where” Is the most overlooked.

I hope this helps you on the long and winding road to success.

Cheers,

Dawn

The Logic of Night- Part 2 of 2

2012-02-10T00:00:00.000-08:00

The Hellfire Herald's, Dark and Twisty Friday's presents...

The Logic of Night

by Bill Robertson

Part two

‘Hellooo, anyone there?’ Roger called out with mock seriousness.

Danny giggled a little despite himself. He was beginning to feel very foolish. He silently jeered himself for being such a big baby: imagine being nearly eight and not knowing a dream from the real world.

Roger’s head popped up once more from under the bed, grinning. ‘Nothing under there, sport,’ he told Danny.

‘I’m sorry daddy.’ Big baby, his inner voice jeered.

‘That’s okay, Dan. Don’t feel bad about it, nobody’s mad at you. Dreams can be very scary. Even grown-ups have nightmares sometimes, don’t they Mum?’ he said, looking at his wife for back-up.

‘That’s right Dan,’ she said soothingly. ‘They can be just as scary when you’re big - trust me.’

‘Okay dad.’

‘Want me to stay here a while?’

Danny nodded, grateful to have the hideous, nameless terror he had felt only a few minutes ago finally banished by his parent’s presence.

‘Can I go to the toilet please? I need to pee,’ he asked them brightly. Roger and Wendy looked at each other and laughed.

An hour passed and Danny drifted back to sleep once more. Roger tiptoed back to his own room satisfied that the crisis was over.

‘I’m baaack, Danny-boy. Did you think I’d forgotten about you?’ the voice from the darkness said.

You’re not real, Danny thought. Daddy looked and there was nothing under my bed - so go away, beat it: YOU’RE JUST MY IMAGINATION.

‘Oh I’m real all right,’ said the voice, almost as if it had read Danny’s thoughts. ‘I’m as real as the nose on your little face. I meant what I said, Dan. I’m comin’ for yoooouuu...’

Danny could hear the awful scratching sound again. It sounded a lot closer than before.

Not real, he thought. Not real. Not real.

A cold hand suddenly clutched at his ankle. A scream locked in the centre of his chest: unable to escape. He could smell the thing now, a corrupt ancient odour of old dirt and rotted meat that filled his nostrils and made him gag.

‘Got you now, you little rat.’ The voice was right next to his ear now, the hot, sour breath swept over him in a sick cloud. For a second it seemed like the scream was finally going to escape - but it was too late. A hand covered in dry, cracked skin, clamped firmly over his mouth, sealing it forever behind a curtain of withered flesh.

You lied to me Daddy, he thought as the creature dragged him under the bed. You said there weren’t any monsters. But there are Dad. There are!

Roger Cousins awoke the next morning to find a cold, empty space in the bed beside him and the sound of his wife’s hysterical screaming coming from his son’s room. A memory of another scream passed through his mind as he stumbled into the other room to see what was going on.

He found Wendy standing with her fingers jammed into her mouth, as if to catch the sound spilling from it. Her eyes were bulging, crazed with shock. Roger thought it looked like she was going to have a seizure of some kind any moment. He followed her stare over to Danny’s bed - and then he began screaming himself.

Danny was gone. If that had been all then perhaps, Roger Cousins might have been able to keep his emotions in check. But the bed wasn’t entirely empty... there was fresh soil strewn across the blood soaked sheets and one single scrap of what might have once been a small boy’s pyjamas.

The End

You can find Bill at http://billrobertson55.wordpress.com/
http://www.mearnsfmlive.org.uk/listen%20again/smith%20on%20sunday

Home Theatre vs. Movie Theatre

2012-02-09T05:15:00.000-08:00

Home Theatre vs. Movie Theatre

Last time we talked about my overwhelming love for books. But I do love movies too. I love curling up with my sweetie, some popcorn and a great movie. We have a popcorn vender right across the street, it’s awesome! Popcorn and books, not so cool.

So what’s better, the movie theatre or DVD’s? We use to go to the theatre every weekend and I miss it!

Like last time, we will break it down. Would these movies have been sufficient for only home viewing?

Star Wars—no way, that is a movie theatre experience you can’t miss.

Avatar—definitely worth seeing in the theatre.

Any romantic comedy—is fine at home.

Home Theatre

You can booze it up. Your friends can enjoy it too without paying $10.00 to $15.00, a pop. Hmmm, maybe you could charge them $5.00, and then you would be ahead, lol.

Most people don’t have a vender across the street and microwave popcorn is not as awesome as MT popcorn. And your kids can run around all they want.

Movie Theatre

No booze in most cases. Some do but I can’t imagine paying the restaurant type prices on them.

Popcorn,--so delicious, so expensive.

It’s a vicious cycle, because we complain about high prices at movie theatres. Well, it’s piracy and it’s home viewing that has increased those prices. So we will continue to think it’s too expensive to go to the theatre and the prices will continue to increase.

It comes down to this, without the movies first going to the big screen, they will die. So weather you’re a big fan or not, theatres must remain intact.

Personally, I love the drive-in, it’s the best of both worlds and nobody’s toe is in my ear and hopefully no one is kicking my seat and no crying babies after I just spent $70.00 dollars for a family of three to enjoy the movie. God I would love to own one those. Could you see it? The Hellfire Theatre. Yeah baby!

My opinion— Movie Theatre.

Keira Kroft

www.keirakroft.com

Writer to Writer Wednesday: Keira Kroft and J.S. Wilsoncroft

2012-02-08T00:23:00.000-08:00

Hello, welcome to Writer to Writer Wednesday, we are so very glad to have you with us. The Hellfire Herald would like to extend a warm welcome to Jamie Wilsoncroft (author name J.S.Wilsoncroft).

How are you doing today? Well….I’m vertical, so I’m doing great. *laughs*

Keira: You have a story coming out soon through Firefly and Wisp Publishing entitled The Unfaithful Widow. What is that about?

JSW: The Unfaithful Widow is a fictional romance about a widow name Tess Malone. While she is mourning over the loss of her husband, she learns some devastating news about him. Her BFF, Dawn talks her into going out to a club in New York for a few drinks. That’s when she falls into the arms of a younger handsome man. She finds herself falling in love and is tormented by her feelings because she still loves her deceased husband, therefore feeling like an unfaithful widow.

Synopsis: After almost twenty years of marriage to her high school sweetheart, Tess Malone thought she had the perfect husband. When Darren dies in a horrific accident, Tess soon learns that their marriage had been a sham. She discovers that he had been leading a double life with another lover.

Bitter and heartbroken, her best friend talks her into hitting the clubs in New York City, that’s where she literally falls into the arms of a young prince charmer, Greg Thomas. Smitten by his French quotes and dazzling blue eyes, Tess soon finds herself falling for this handsome stranger. But will Greg be able to mend her broken heart or will he too shatter what’s left of it?

Keira: What made you choose the title?

JSW: Honestly, I didn’t have a title right away when I was thinking about writing this story. I just had this woman (Tess) in my mind. She was devastated over the loss of her husband and when she falls in love so soon after his death, she felt like she was being unfaithful to him. That’s when the title popped into my head. I laugh when people ask me. “How can you be an unfaithful widow?” That’s when I explain a little bit of the story and then they say “Oh, now I get it.” *laughs

Keira: Where did the idea of the story come from?

JSW: *laughs* From a dog! *laughing* No, seriously. Nothing really, my brain is always working in overdrive, especially when I am grooming dogs. That’s when all my story ideas pop into my head. I can honestly say that I will never quit my day job. *laughs.*

Keira: Please share a particular detail about one of the characters, please.

JSW: Okay, but it might be a *SPOILER ALERT* hehehehe Greg Thomas, the young prince charmer. Hmmmm…he is tall with midnight dark eyes and light brown hair. He speaks fluently in French, Italian and English because he comes from a very powerful Italian family. He treats women, especially Tess like a queen and he is not afraid to show his affection, especially in elevators. *raising eyebrows up and down* hehehehehe

Keira: Please tell us about any future projects you are planning.

JSW: Hmmm…did I mention that my brain is always working? *laughs. I have two stories in mind that I am planning on writing. Possibly as novellas, but who knows once I start writing them. One of the stories is called, “For the Love of Moonshine” I also have a paranormal/romance coming out in the fall. It’s called My Haunting Love. It’s about a deaf girl name Calista and she falls in love with a ghost name John, who lives in her house.

Keira: How many books have you written?

JSW: Published? I have 3 short stories published in anthologies. “Toothless” is in the anthology 13 Tales of the Paranormal. “Jingle Bells and Puppy Dog Tails” is in the anthology A Home for the Holidays. “Dorothy” is in the book A Cuppa and an Armchair. My first novella, Remembering Zane just came out on January 6^th.

Keira: We have a special place for unpublished writers in our hearts, here at the Hellfire Herald. So what advice would you give to an unpublished writer?

JSW: Never give up!!!!!! Keep your chin up and keep writing and be persistent. It only takes one agent or publisher to appreciate your talent.

Personal questions:

Keira: Do you have children?

JSW: Yes, I have a handsome prince charmer name James and a beautiful daughter name Kimberly. Do dogs count too? Hehehehe I have a 13 year old cocker spaniel name Lily (Lily lily picka dily and 2 yappy Chihuahuas name, Sophie (the rat) and Lola (the mouse or dumb dumb) hehehehe

Keira: Is writing your only talent?

JSW: Well….my hubby says that I have the gift to gab. Hehehehe Even though I groom dogs for a living, I guess it takes talent and patience to handle dogs, especially the lively ones.

Keira: What do you wear to write? You have a fetish with clothes, don’t you?

JSW: *laughing* Well…it depends on what time of day it is. I don’t set any particular time of the day to write. I write when the ideas strikes me, even while I am grooming. So I would be wearing my work clothes under my hot pink smock. *snickers* Other times, I may be in my pajamas and fuzzy socks. But the ONE thing that I am always wearing is my glasses.

Keira: Where in the HELL do you find time to write?

JSW: Bahahaha….I get that question A LOT!!! Honestly, I don’t know. Between grooming dogs, kids, house work, chasing my yappy dogs and everything else in between, I am surprised myself. I do know when an idea for a story sets in my mind…I am very good at blocking everyone out so that I can write. It does help that I can turn off my hearing aids. Hehehehe

Thank you Jamie for joining us today. I hope everyone had as much fun as I did. Jamie is as *nuts* as us Hellfire ‘people’, lol :)

You can find J.S. at www.jswilsoncroft.com

Cheers,

Keira Kroft

www.keirakroft.com

Teaser Tuesday, Bloodbreeder's Living in Darkness

2012-02-07T00:11:00.000-08:00

BLOODBREEDERS:

Living in Darkness

By Robin Renee Ray

I am honored to give thanks to several people who are dear to me. To my firstborn grandchild, Akasha Leigh, whom without the sight of I may have never sat down with a pencil and tablet. To her baby sister, Shya Rayne, my second muse who has driven me further in my desire to create. To Edna Jeanette Miller, my beautiful mother, for starting this tale by being born in the setting that fed my mind with the life of living in the darkness. To my sister, Deanna Earlene Slayton, who explored more cemeteries and abandoned homes with me than one can even imagine. We will miss her dearly. To my brother, Sydney Bruce Slayton, for lending me his home when the need to write another book in this series arises. And finally to my daughter, Kysha Rockell McBee, the other half of my heart, without her this would not be possible. Thanks for sharing your time with me, Robby!

Living in Darkness

Book one in the Bloodbreeders series

By: Robin Renee Ray

Published by: Hellfire Publishing, Inc for Smashwords

www.hellfirepublishing.com

Digital ISBN: 978-1-937179-73-1

Cover art by: Dara England

Edited by: Jen Hart

This book is work of fiction. Characters, names, place, incidents, or organizations are a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

..ooO<>Ooo..

Bloodbreeders:

Living in Darkness

Prologue

I lie in the cold silent darkness with no way of knowing how much time has passed, for what seemed like an eternity. Saturated in the putrid demise of others, I feel the absurdities terrorize what is left of my mind. All that I have to keep me lucid are my memories of home, and my ever present wish that someone will save me from the unimaginable nightmare that is now my unthinkable reality. The pain that’s throbbing with every beat of my heart, coursing its way up from my badly broken ankles is just one of the many obstacles standing in my way of escape. I know now that he never lied to me. I’ve known it for quite some time, but I had allowed my vulnerability to sway me into the deceitful arms of my creator’s long time enemy, and her evil plot for revenge.

Even as I lay broken, both in body and spirit, I know that somehow, I will one day find my way back home—back to the place from which all this madness manifested. I know I will never be able to show my family that I’m not in the grave where they so grievously placed me. They have every right to believe me dead and rotting in my hand-made coffin, and to them, as well as the rest of the normal world, maybe that’s exactly where I should be. But I will go to my final death trying to get back to them, only this time things will be on my terms and not on those of my maker. Oh, how I have prayed that my body would die before the setting sun, and that my final thoughts before the dawn that takes me to my daily death would be my gift for suffering. Then I would at least be at home with my family, in a sense… or would I be cursed to the final fire, because he took my soul?

I lie feeling the gore soak into my flesh, while the stench threatens to steal the already tainted air from my lungs. Bones of others now surround me in my dome-like cage encasement. The thick slime covered floor will be my bed for as long as they wish to keep me. I close my eyes to the already black silence, hoping for a slither of solace in a place filled with nothing but vulgar brutality—and undeniable death. I still often pray to the Lord, having no way of knowing if he even listens, that I can someday envision, just once with my eyes and not in the many dreams of fantasy rescues, that beautiful farm back home. Slipping deeper into the darkness of my mind, I work hard to find a dim memory. One, that I can vaguely evoke, but desperately grasp through the misty clouds of my thoughts.

The one that I find and hold is of my mother in the kitchen, what now seems like centuries ago, with my little sister Edna hanging on her apron string. I had found my form of escape in that small piece of my mind, and that’s when I reclined in my desolate domain, giving way to the pain as I started to recall how it all began.

Chapter 1

I will never forget the night that he arrived at the farm. My family had already sat down for supper when we heard the knock on the door. Even though it was late in the evening for company, it was not unusual for a lone traveler to take on work with my father for room and board. Most would ask to stay for a few nights and at times end up staying until the following spring, while others only wanted a short rest, accompanied by a hot meal. So it was no surprise when my father opened the door to yet another stranger in need. The man standing on the other side caught everyone’s attention, especially mine, wearing his long black coat and tailor made gray suit, spruced up with shiny black shoes.

You could tell by his manner and the way he took off his gray silk hat, tilting his head as he gave us his greeting, that he was a true born gentleman, apologizing without delay for interrupting our meal.

"Forgive my intrusion," he said softly.

I was so busy staring that I almost missed the accent that carried the words that he spoke. He was a very handsome man and absolutely not from our neck of the woods. From what I could tell, he was somewhere in his late twenties, maybe early thirties. He was tall with a slender build, and his hair was a bit long for what I was used to seeing on a man, but he wore it well.

The flowing locks were as black as night, pushed back behind his ears and draping down over the front of his shoulders. His eyes were like a clear summer’s day, the palest blue that I had ever seen, but they stood out brilliantly next to his extremely white skin in the glow of our lanterns. His skin was by no means that of a working man; it looked as smooth as silk from what little my wandering eyes could see.

When my father asked him what it was that he needed, he only replied, “A place to rest good sir, for I have traveled far and I am very weary." Every single one of us had to pick our mouths up off the floor, because not even my parents had ever heard someone speak in that fashion.

"Why don’t you join us? You must be starvin’, and we got plenty," my mother asked, getting up from the table.

"That is most kind, but please do not worry yourself, I have need only for rest," he replied, then looked back at my father.

My father grabbed his hat from the nail by the front door and put it on before taking our guest—the most intriguing thing to cross my path since I've had one—to our bunkhouse, where we boarded those who stayed. The hat was just a ritual and something my father did whether he was going to work in the fields or out back to the outhouse. God love my parents, they never turned down anyone, not one single soul. My mother, being the sweet woman she was, made me take a plate of food out to him, regardless of his choice to decline, along with some extra blankets. Needless to say, I was scared to death. I had never seen a more beautiful man in all my days, and I guess you could say I already fancied him just a bit.

It wasn’t often a man could turn my eye. I knew my family needed my help, so it was just something that I tried not to think about. But while I gathered the blankets, I couldn’t stop hoping that I didn’t look as bad as I knew that I did. Sloppin’ pigs and milkin’ cows wasn’t something to curl your hair for. God knows I didn’t have time to fix the strands of hair that had made their way out of the tightly woven braid that had been wrapped in a bun at the back of my head all day, nor did I have a snowballs chance of changing my soiled dress. So, I pinched my cheeks to give myself some color, smoothed my hair best I could, and out the door I went. I remember to this day how stupid I felt on my way to the bunkhouse, thinking to myself, Do I say ‘Howdy, sir’ or ‘How are you? My name is Renee.’? What actually came out of my mouth made me seem like a stuttering fool.

I walked through the open door to the bunkhouse, and didn’t see him anywhere. I took a few steps in, and as I opened my mouth to say the words ‘excuse me’, a voice with a foreign tongue from behind me said, “Yes?” I jerked around, somehow managing not to scream, but at the same time lost my footing. The man reached out, taking hold of my arm to keep me from falling, simultaneously grabbing the stack of items that I had in my hands. When I was once again steady on my feet, he handed me back the stack that was meant for him in the first place. I swallowed the lump that had firmly cemented itself in my throat and smiled.

“Oh, hey, I was just bringing you some blankets to eat.” You blooming idiot, I thought to myself, immediately feeling the blood rush in massive amounts to my cheeks. “Um... I mean, I brought some food to keep you warm.”

I closed my mouth, biting at my bottom lip to keep any other dim-witted ramblings from slipping out, and just stood there looking as ridiculous as I felt. As soon as I saw the corner of his lip start to creep up, I held the items out in front of me. He smiled a small gentle curve with his luscious lips, as he leaned down, taking the items for the second time. The moment my hands were empty, I spun on my heel and bolted straight toward the house without so much as a backward glance. I was almost there when he called out, “Rest well this night... Renee.”

I turned back to look at him, not recalling introducing myself, but didn’t put as much mind to it as I’m now sure that I should have. His beauty was a snare and it had me trapped. Absolutely frozen where I stood, I watched as he slightly lowered his head, never once taking his eyes off of me. He continued to gaze at me as he slowly turned and walked back into the bunkhouse. I blinked a few times, feeling almost dazed, like I wasn’t sure how long that I had been standing there or how long he had been gone. I shook the feeling off and turned in for the night, thinking of nothing else on the matter, other than the captivating color of his eyes.

The next morning, I woke to the smell of bacon frying. My mother always knew how to wake us up, and today I wasted no time. I hopped out of bed, and went straight to the mirror. I wasn’t about to let the beautiful wanderer see what he had last night. I pulled my hair into a tightly braided bun and splashed water onto my face. I wasn’t one for makeup—didn’t even own any, so that was the best I could do. I decided to give my cheeks a nice hard pinch for good measure. I headed downstairs, said good morning, and then headed out the door.

Chores came first on the farm, even before breakfast, and today was no different, other than I moved somewhat faster. My first chore of the day was milking the cow, so we would have fresh milk for breakfast. Normally, I would mosey on out, taking my precious time. Today, I practically sprinted. After all, the barn was right next to the bunkhouse. I peered in as I walked by and was disappointed to see that the stranger had already left. There was a five dollar bill lying on his bunk, and that was a lot for one night. It was actually more than enough for the whole month. The plate of food that I had taken out the night before sat atop the folded blanket, completely untouched. As usual, while we were having breakfast, curiosity got the better of me.

“Pa?” I started, in a voice almost too low to hear.

“What is it, child?” he asked.

“How come that gentleman left so early this mornin’?” When the look of disapproval flashed across my father’s face, I tried to come up with a reason for asking. “I mean, he didn’t even get to eat breakfast, that’s all.”

“Eat your food, girl. This ain’t no time for you to be askin’ about some stranger’s business,” he said in a very serious tone.

Well, that was that and life went on as usual: me helping with the little ones, while my mother went to the field with my father. She’d usually work up at the house, leaving the harvesting to the boys and I, but when it came to picking beans, she always wanted to pick her own, claiming she could get the best ones. I knew she did it just so I didn’t have to go out all the time. I enjoyed staying with the kids, even though at times they were more than a handful. The youngest, Johnny, was the worst. That boy could walk outside, and before he could get off the front porch, he was crying about one thing or another. The reason could range from falling and hurting his knee, to getting upset simply because one of the other kids wouldn’t play with him. No matter what the situation, he was always my hard one, but still one of my favorites. I guess he kind of had to be, since according to my mother, “He’s so much like you, Renee, if I didn’t go through thirteen hours of labor to get ‘im here, I’d bet my hide he was yours!” All in all, I didn’t mind the trouble, because I was always the one he ran to, to make it all better. To me, that was worth it.

I swear, sometimes I was convinced that both the youngest ones thought I was their ma. My little sister, Edna, who was six, only two years older than Johnny, followed me everywhere—even to the outhouse on most days. Her hair was as golden as the sunset and her little face was as sweet as they come, but that child had a temper that would not stop. If one of the boys picked on her, she just tore into them. On more than one occasion, I saw her grab a stick and run after them, yelling, “Come back, ya sissies!” She wasn’t what you’d call a girly-girl. There was no doubt about it, when Edna wanted to play, it was more tree-climbing than tea parties, and being quite the tomboy myself, I was more than okay with it.

That day was no different, as I spent most of my time refereeing, roughhousing, and consoling. By the time my folks got home with the three oldest boys, Sam Jr., James, and Thomas, I was ready for a break, even if it meant starting supper or unloading the pickup. The old pickup was my father's pride and joy. He had an old Ford Model T that he’d converted into a truck so that we could use it for hauling and such. We didn’t use it often, because with the depression and all, we couldn’t really afford it. We just didn’t have that many stamps for gas. We mostly walked, rode the horse, or hooked up the buckboard wherever we needed to go, regardless if it was miles to town or just down the road to church. But for days like today, we got to take advantage of the truck, and my father loved every minute.

I hadn’t thought much about the stranger that day. I figured he was another one that was just passing through—just a much better looking passerby than usual. We had already finished our supper, and the young ones were fast asleep, when once again a knock came at our door. My heart jumped so hard, I tasted it in my mouth. My mother opened the door, and there he stood. Apparently, he and my father had made an arrangement for him to stop by for the next few nights. That kind of business was my father’s concern, and that was the one thing we didn’t talk about. In those days, a woman did what she was told by her husband without question. My mother was one of the lucky ones who didn’t get beat by her husband. My father was a very good man, but I always wanted to know things that I shouldn’t ask, just like at breakfast that day. My overwhelming urge to know things that were not my business may have been the very reason that I’d never married. My father shook his hand and invited him in to sit for a spell.

“Myrtle,” my father said, looking back at my mother. “I’d like you to meet Martin Vigée Lebrun. Did I say that right?” My father’s face contorted a bit as he struggled to articulate Mar-teen Vee-zhay Leh-broon.

“Pronounced very well, sir,” he replied, grinning slightly at my father.

“How d’ya do?” my mother asked, with a delicate nod of her head.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance.” Mr. Lebrun tenderly lifted her hand and lightly kissed the back of it. That was the only time I had seen my mother blush, when my father wasn’t concerned.

Then, as Martin began stepping toward me, I felt myself start to shake. My body was reacting as if it were twenty below outside. My mouth must have been hanging open, because Pa glanced at me and leaned my direction.

“Girl, you're just about to drip on that dress you’re making,” he smirked, putting his fingers under my chin and gently pushed my mouth closed.

I was so embarrassed that I must have looked as if someone had just slapped me. I closed my mouth a bit tighter and stood to greet the most perfect being that I had ever laid eyes on. He took my hand, just like I was a true lady and bent down, staring me straight in the eye as he lightly brushed the back of my hand with his lips.

“How is my fair lady this fine evening?” he asked, still not breaking his gaze.

“I…I'm fine, thank you,” I said, feeling the blood once again rush to my cheeks.

I wanted to giggle like a stupid little schoolgirl, but the alluring little half-smile gracing his face made me think about matters of a much more mature nature.

“Would you like some honey?” my mother asked, handing him a hot cup of tea.

“No thank you, ma’am,” he said, politely accepting the cup.

“How ‘bout some supper? We got some left over, if you’re hungry,” she offered.

“I have had my meal this night,” he replied, looking back at me. “But I thank you for the cup of tea. You are most kind.” Then he politely excused himself as he walked over to visit with my father, where the two took the chairs in front of the fireplace.

Just hearing him talk brought questions to my mind: what does he do for a living, where does he come from, but most importantly, how long he would be staying. I found it hard to keep my eyes off of him. I sat watching as he and my father talked about things that men do, well aware that my mother, who was sewing in her rocker, was watching me. I did notice a time or two that when he would turn to speak to my mother, he would glance my way with a little smile—that perfect little smile. I would turn my head, as if I were shy, just to try to play lady-like, but as soon as I felt that it was safe to turn back, I would.

The night was getting on when he stood, said his thanks to my mother for the tea, which I swear he never took a drink of, and thanked my father for his company. I watched intently as he headed out the door on his way to the bunkhouse. As he turned to close the door, I noticed that he was staring right at me, only this time there was no smile on his face. Martin’s face had changed, the expression no longer friendly. It was almost frightening—almost. Just watching him walk gave me goose bumps of a fearful manner, because I had no idea that the mere appearance of a person could churn my stomach into knots. The fear from the look he gave me was fleeting, gone as quickly as it came, and it left me wondering what our next encounter would hold. I said goodnight to my parents and headed up to bed, in hopes that he would still be there in the morning.

Chapter 2

I could hardly fall asleep that night. All that I could think about were his eyes, and how they seemed to be so different from any other person that I knew. As a farmer's daughter, I didn’t meet many people out of our county, except during the time of our church revival. Folks came from all over to attend the Church of Christ’s three day long revivals. For the most part, they consisted of a bunch of older women with a few older men, but there were always a few young men around in hopes of finding a wife, and believe me, I was always ready to run if I saw one coming my way. That was one of the main reasons that I always hated to go. That and being bored out of my mind.

I had already gotten comfortable in my bed and was close to falling asleep when the strangest thing came into my mind. I could have sworn that I heard Martin calling my name, but I wasn’t sure because it felt too much like a dream. Go to sleep, Renee, I told myself. You are just thinking about him too hard. Right about then, I heard it again, but it was different this time, much more profound in its clarity.

“Come to the barn,” he said. "I wish to speak with you.”

I sat up in my bed to see if anybody else had heard what I had, but no one moved. Even Edna, who was mere inches from me, didn’t stir. I wanted to go so badly, but I was afraid I was just daydreaming; perhaps even wishing it was something I would hear him say.

"Renee.” I heard again, as plain as if he were sitting right next to me. “Come to me. Please.” That was all it took.

I knew somehow that Martin was really talking to me in my mind, where no one else could hear, but how I didn’t know. It just didn’t make sense. I put on my housecoat and slipped past my folk's room. I knew my parents would kill me if they knew what I was about to do. I could hear it now. We taught you better than this, young lady! Regardless, I couldn’t make myself stop. I just couldn’t. I closed the door as softly as I dared, then rushed across the yard to the bunkhouse. There must have been a candle burning inside, because I saw a dim light escaping under the large wooden door. I stood there for what seemed like a lifetime, too afraid of what was waiting for me on the other side.

"Come in, Renee," I heard from inside.

This time, I was actually hearing the words with my ears. I came to the conclusion that I must not have been daydreaming after all. I opened the door and walked in, trying to pretend that the fine tremble that had just taken over my body was from the cool night air and not from laying eyes on him.

“How’d you do that?” I whispered. “Call me the way you did?”

He stood from the bench and began walking closer. Instinctively, I started walking backwards, but all of a sudden he was there holding my arm. I didn’t even see him move.

“What is your hurry? I just wish to speak with you for a while,” he said, somewhat eerily.

“Who are you?” I asked, with a hint of panic in my voice.

He proceeded to gently pull me toward the bench that he had been sitting on, and once there, then pulled my down to sit. I was going with him and why I couldn’t say, but strangely enough, there I was.

“I find you most interesting,” he said as soon as we sat down. “Please, do not fear me… just relax."

No sooner than the words left his mouth, I began to relax some, but my heart was still close to bursting. He brought up his hand and began to touch my face. When I pulled back, he said softly, "I would like to feel your skin, to see if you are as soft as I believe you to be."

At this point, I knew I was blushing, wanting him to touch me at the same time. Despite my fear and everything that I had been taught about being a lady when in the company of a man, I leaned back into him. His touch was strong, yet tender as he ran his fingers down the side of my face. All I wanted at that moment was for him to kiss me. As if reading my mind, he did just that. The kiss was light, just a small brush of his lips against mine. My breath came out a little fast, and more audible than I had hoped, which was a little embarrassing.

"Do you like my touch, my lady?" he asked.

I answered with a smile, and bashfully put my head down. He reached up, placing his hand under my chin, and raised it so that I was looking into his eyes.

"Do not shy from me, Renee. You are far too beautiful." What was he doing to me? I had never once in all my days let a man touch me this way. Yet all I craved was more.

“Where did you come from?” I asked him. “Why did you come here?”

“I have come a long way in search of something to take back to my home,” he said, moving a single lock of hair away from my cheek. “And I believe I have found what I was looking for.”

“So, does that mean you’ll be leavin’ soon?” I asked in my usual naive manner.

“It is time for you to go back inside,” he replied after staring at me for a long moment. “Dawn approaches, and you need your rest.”

As soon as the words left his lips, blackness fell over me, and the next thing I knew, I was in my bed, the sun shining brightly through the window. Could I have just dreamed about last night? I asked myself. It seemed so real. I was lying there trying to make sense of it when I heard my mother calling me from the kitchen.

“Renee, you best be gettin’ up ‘fore your Pa comes back in,” she hollered. When I didn’t come down, she came to my room. “Child, what's wrong? You feelin’ under the weather today?”

“No, Ma. I’m just tired,” I said as I attempted to get out of bed.

I tried to stand with all of my might, but just toppled back onto the old mattress. My mother screamed for my father, and he came running.

“What in tarnation’s goin’ on in…?” That was all he managed to say. The second he saw me, he put his hand to my head.

“Myrtle, send Sam Jr. into town and fetch Doc Taylor,” he instructed her, then turned back to me. “What happened to you, child? You feel like you caught somethin’?”

“I don’t know, Pa,” I said shakily. “I just feel a little weak. I’ll be okay after breakfast.”

Ma left momentarily and came back with a cloth and basin of water. She wet the cloth, and then tenderly started wiping down my face.

“She's burning up, Sam,” my mother said. “I think she's got the flu. Run and get some more blankets out the closet, would ya?”

They were acting like I was on my deathbed. I didn’t feel all that bad, I just felt like I didn’t have much strength.

The doctor got there no more than an hour later and checked me from head to toe. When he was done, he turned to my folks.

“We need to get her cooled down. Best get some ice from the icehouse, Sam. And I need you to bring in all the clean sheets you have, and some more water, if you would Mrs. Crocker.” As my mother was heading out the door, the doctor called to her. “I think it might be best to send the youngens over to the Miller’s farm for a few days, just in case this is scarlet fever.” That’s when my mother really started to cry. Not many made it with scarlet fever, and they all knew it.

..ooO<>Ooo..

Later that afternoon, the doctor stopped back by to bring my mother some salve to rub on me in case I started getting the infamous red spots that are well known with scarlet fever. He gave me the once-over again and rubbed his head.

“Mrs. Crocker, I just don’t understand. It ain’t like nothing I’ve seen before.”

“Doc, please just tell us,” she pleaded. “She's my oldest, and I ain’t looking to lose her.” She desperately covered her mouth with her hands, and practically screamed into them, asking, “Is it scarlet fever or not?”

“I don’t see no signs of scarlet in her skin, and other than her being weak she seems fine,” the doctor replied slowly shaking his head.

My mother fell to her knees and cried, until my father went over, took her up under the arm, and sat her in the rocker. The doctor asked my folks if I had been asking for lots of water, and both said no.

“So what is it, Doc? She can’t look that way, and not be able to get up, if somethin’ ain’t wrong,” my father exclaimed, standing up staring the doctor square in the eye, angrily. “You best not be wrong about this, when you could be treatin’ her the way you should.”

Doc Taylor almost fell over the table, then tripped on his case, and ended up on his backside on the floor. He, just like everybody in the area, knew not to piss off Sam Crocker. He pulled himself up using the side of the table, while my father stood watching, growing angrier by the second.

”Mr. Crocker…I truly ain’t never seen nothin’ like it.” Seeing that it wasn’t enough to satisfy my father, he continued. “Tell you what I'm gonna do. I'll call Doc Macaphee over in Brown County, see if he won’t come up and take a look.”

“I think that's the best I heard out of ya yet,” my mother said, and with that she got up and came to my side.

He and my father spoke for a while longer, then the doctor was gone. It was getting late, so everybody that was still at the house—my parents and Sam Jr.—started getting ready for bed. No one asked for supper that night. I know they were all worried about me. Mother came in to see if there was anything she could get me before she went on to bed, but all I wanted was to just fall asleep. I was so tired, my eyes shut as she was talking, and I don’t even remember answering her. Sleep had already taken me, and the dream world was slipping in.

I don’t know what woke me, but when I opened my eyes, Martin was standing there with his hand extended in front of him, as if waiting for me to reach for it. I started to say something, but like a flash, he had his hand on my mouth with his finger to his lips letting me know to be quiet. He helped me sit up. Then, he very gently put my blanket over my shoulders and picked me up in his arms. I laid my head on his shoulder, and he carried me out of the house. I couldn’t even hear his footsteps, because he walked like he was as light as a feather, even with me in his arms. My mind swam with questions that I couldn’t answer. I kept asking myself, where are we going? Why is it that I can’t say no to this man? All I wanted at that moment was for him to never let me go, to hold me so close that we would melt into one. It wasn’t long until he sat down on a log out by the field, with me in his lap. I looked into his eyes and felt a heat rise from inside me that I had never felt, so intense that my mouth suddenly became dry.

“I have longed for the hour that I could return to you, Renee. There are things I must know,” Martin said, looking at me passionately.

I rose in his arms, and kissed his forehead. How was it that in two nights, I could want him so badly, maybe even love him?

“What is it that you need to know?” I asked.

"Would you leave your family for me?” he asked, pausing momentarily. “Never to return?”

“Of course not,” I sat there stunned for a moment. “They need me, and I love them more than my own life.”

“That displeases me so,” he whispered, frowning down at me. “Renee, you will be mine even if it be against your will. I will be able to explain more of my meaning in the next few nights. You will understand more of this…I promise.”

I put my hand on his chest, leaning back to look him directly in the eyes and just as I started to protest, my body went limp and darkness was with me once more.

..ooO<>Ooo..

The next morning, I awoke to my mother standing over me, crying. Next to her was a man I had never met.

“Doc Macaphee, what do you think is wrong with her?” my father asked the unfamiliar man.

“To tell you the truth, Mr. Crocker, I just don’t know. I can tell you for sure it’s not scarlet fever,” he answered.

My father walked over and tried to comfort my mother, while the doctor began removing items from his bag. “Myrtle, why don’t you go down and make the doc and me a pot of coffee?” he asked. Her eyes quickly darted back to me, and it was obvious that she didn’t want to leave. However, she was not the kind of woman to question her husband’s wishes, so she simply nodded and slowly left my room. My father then turned and watched Doc Macaphee examine me. As he pulled down my lower eyelid and peered into it, he asked my father, “When was the last time she ate?”

“Well, we got some tea down her yesterday, but that was all she’d take.”

“In all my time, I ain’t never seen nothing that would turn a healthy young lady into a full blown anemic in two days’ time. Especially not one that was up and around just days ago,” the doc said, as he continued his exam.

“So, how can we fix her, Doc?” he pleaded more with his eyes than his words. “My girl can’t even talk. She’s worse now than she was yesterday.”

“I would say to take her on into the Brownwood hospital,” Doc Macaphee sighed heavily. “But I really don’t think she’d make it.”

“And if we just sit here and do nothing? You want us to not even try?” my father said just a little too loud, and my mother came rushing back into the room, wanting to know what was going on.

“If she makes it through the rest of the day and starts looking better, then we’ll take her on in, first thing in the morning,” the doc said. My father nodded hesitantly, although he still wasn’t pleased. It was about that time that I began to stir. My mother came and sat next to me on my bed.

“What’s the matter baby? You hurtin’?” she asked. I shook my head, but touched my lips with my hand.

“You thirsty?” the doctor asked. “Wanna try some tea?”

I nodded the best I could. What was going on? I was so weak that I could hardly move. I wanted to ask these questions badly, but I couldn’t speak, no matter how hard I tried. As my mother was walking toward me with a cup in her hand, the doctor stopped her.

“Little bit of Laudanum will help her rest,” he said, mixing the substance into the cup of tea.

With her help, I managed to get down more than half the cup, and quickly began feeling the effects of the drug. The last thing I remember was the doctor gathering his supplies, and my father stepping out to smoke his pipe.

For sale on Amazon now http://www.amazon.com/Living-in-Darkness-Bloodbreeders-ebook/dp/B0052PK0AI/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1327017762&sr=1-1

Come back next Teaser Tuesday for the first few chapters of the un-released, Bloodbreeders:The Revenge, slated to be published February 17, 2012.

Manic Monday: Novel writing 101

2012-02-06T05:12:00.000-08:00

Novel writing 101

This week: How to ‘tell’ a story.

This is the most important advice I could ever give you about writing a novel and also the hardest to learn or explain. The fact is that you are telling a story not explaining it. It took me a long time and a few finished novels to get that concept. You are giving a depiction of what is going on in a characters life. This is also something that will click with you eventually.

Reading is a very important part of learning the process of telling a story. The view you use as a reader is different than that of any editor or a writer. Have you ever read a story or saw a show and got excited about the possibilities of what was going to happen or said out loud, ‘I know she is going to do that or he is thinking that’? Well writers, you need to bring your character to that kind of life. They have to have looks and actions that suggest what they are up to or how they feel. One of my editors used to flip whenever I used the word feeling. And she was right. Saying something like Bob ‘feels’ sick doesn’t make the reader truly feel it. You can use that word occasionally, but only if nothing else sounds right. You have to think like a reader when you write.

He hung his head. What does that tell you? It tells you that he is sad or ashamed and the rest of the scene will depict it. You are basically supplying pictures and letting the reader use their brains to see what’s going on. A novel is very interactive between you and the reader.

Which of the following sentences sounds like it came from an award winning New York Times Bestseller?

A. Rocco loves Reba.

B. When Reba entered the room. Rocco’s heart skipped a beat. He ached to hold her close. Butterflies danced in his stomach whenever she was near.

And see I didn’t use any fancy words.

Okay, here is your assignment…

Take the following sentence and write a short paragraph using this subject. Best paragraph wins my personal email address and my help at their disposable. Consider me like your big sister, your personal bitch, to answer any questions you have. And don’t forget the prestigious title of best paragraph J

Rocco loves Reba

You want to be a writer so write, tell me a story. Make me feel the love that Rocco has for Reba. What does Rocco look like?

What does Reba smell like?

Are they rich or are they poor?

Good luck!

Dawn

Next week: No matter how short the story, it must have…

The Logic of Night - Part 1 of 2

2012-02-03T00:00:00.000-08:00

The Hellfire Herald's, Dark and Twisty Friday's presents...

The Logic of Night
                    by Bill Robertson

Part one

Danny lay in the centre of his bed, his body scrunched into an agonised ball. He could hear his heart hammering in his chest, the rapid beats seeming to echo aloud in the stillness. He was listening, trying not to breathe - afraid to move even a millimetre

There it was again - a distant scraping sound beneath the bed - like fingernails pulled down a dusty blackboard. Skrit-Skrit, a pause, then again; Skrit-Skrit. He swallowed hard, and cautiously opened his eyes. Anonymous shapes loomed at him from out of the darkness. Slowly he made out the figures of Buzz Lightyear and Woody perched on the shelf. The faded luminous parts of Buzz’s Space Ranger suit were glowing sickly green in the dim light. The thin light that penetrated his bedroom curtains made them look alien and frightening: all idiot grins and leering eyes.

Skrit-Skrit.

Oh please, please let this be a bad dream, he thought desperately, snapping his eyes closed once more. He was near total panic.

Danny took a breath and tried to get control. ‘You’re nearly eight now,’ his mum had told him. ‘You’re getting a bit big to be scared of the dark.’ Danny understood the implied meaning - only babies were afraid of the dark.

Danny now realised that things looked different when you were alone in your room and there was something under your bed insistently scratching its way to the surface. He tried to curl up even tighter - as if making himself as small as possible might cause the thing under the bed to miss him.

The scratching started again. It sounded closer.

Skrit-Skrit.

Then he heard the voice.

It was barely above a hoarse, cracked whisper but Danny could hear every terrible word.

‘I’m coming for yooouuu, Daaaaannny,’ it taunted, every syllable dripped with malicious intent. ‘I’m coming and when I getcha I’m gonna rrriiiiiip off your arms and suck the meat from them like chicken wings.’ It cackled for a moment as if unable to contain its malevolent glee any longer. The voice sounded like it was coming even closer. ‘When I’m done I’ll use your little bones to pick the gristle from between my teeth. And do you know what the real fun part’s gonna be Danny?’ Although he had his eyes closed, Danny could almost see a set of yellowing teeth leering in the darkness: ‘I’m gonna poke out your eyes last of all. That way you get to watch the whole show,’ it chuckled darkly again: ‘Gonna getcha Daaannneee...’

Danny could stand it no more. He let loose a high, gobbling scream.

‘What the hell…?’ Roger Cousins fought off the duvet and clambered out of bed. Something was wrong with Danny. Beside him, his wife Wendy sat up as the sound wormed its own way into her sleep-fogged mind.

‘Rog, what is it? Is it Danny? She asked. Her voice was still thick with sleep.

Roger was already out of bed and reaching for the door handle, ‘I don’t know.’ He dived out into the hall, leaving Wendy to trail bleary-eyed in his wake as he lunged for Danny’s door. He yanked the handle and snapped on the light.

Danny sobbed with relief as he saw his parents standing in the doorway. His mother looked strange and alien with her sleep-straggled bird’s nest of hair. Her face appeared much older without its usual mask of make-up.

‘Jesus, Danny. What is it?’ said Roger, unable to hide the worry in his voice.

‘Daddy... I...’ was all he could manage before another flood of tears.

‘Hey, come on. It’s okay. Shsshhh.’ Roger didn’t know what was going on but he knew enough to instinctively take hold of his son in his arms and try to soothe his obvious terror. Wendy stood by his side as if unsure what her role should be. Danny could be such as Daddy’s boy sometimes she thought. She felt herself flush with guilt for a second. She went over and sat beside Danny and Roger on the bed.

Danny told his story. His words came out in short, sobbing hitches muffled by Rogers’s chest.

‘It was horrible, Daddy. There was something under my bed, it... it said it was gonna get me...and...and eat me up.’

Roger cradled his son close, understanding what had happened. He gently pulled Danny away from his chest and tipped his head up so that he was looking into his eyes.

‘It’s okay, Danny. You were just having a bad dream that’s all,’ he said.

‘But it was so real... I was awake, I heard it Daddy.’

‘Well, sometimes bad dreams are like that. That’s what makes them so scary - because you think it’s real in here,’ he tapped his forehead to emphasise the point.

‘You mean in my imagination?’

‘Exactly. I’ll prove it to you. Where did you say this voice was coming from?’

‘Under the bed.’

‘Well let’s just have a look-see,’ he let Danny go and leaned down to lift the quilt from over the side of the bed. Danny was suddenly terrified again.

What if that thing is still there - just waiting for Dad to stick his head under so that he could bite it off? He thought. Danny looked at his mother for reassurance.

‘It’s ok, Danny. I promise,’ Wendy said. She ruffled his hair and made comforting noises.

Danny held his breath as his dad’s head disappeared from view.

To be continued 2-10-2012

You can find Bill at http://billrobertson55.wordpress.com/

Interview with Jen and Keira

2012-02-02T00:01:00.000-08:00

Interview between Hellfire Publishing Senior Copy editor, Jen Hart and writer Keira Kroft aka executive editor, Dawn Binkley.

Hello, welcome to Table Talk Tuesday we are so very glad to have you with us.

Jen: How are you doing today?

Keira: I am great and so excited about Inamorata finally being released this summer.

Jen: You have a story coming out soon though Hellfire Publishing entitled, Inamorata. First of all what does Inamorata mean and how do you say it, lol.

Keira: In-am-or-ata means female lover, if it had an ‘O’ at the end, that would mean male lover.

Jen: What is that about?

Keira: The undead, reincarnation and love that never dies.

Jen: What made you choose that title?

Keira: One bloody night, is because that is the basis of the storyline, it’s perfect. Inamorata means female lover, which ties into the purpose of the story and I wanted single world titles for each in book. There’s Inamorata, Samhain and Asmodeus.

Why the cliché of single titled names you ask? It’s because One Bloody Night is already long enough, lol.

Jen: Where did the idea for your story come from?

Keira: When we first opened our comic book store in the mall, I was walking with some friends in the extremely creepy employee tunnels, I said “oh I am going to write about this, I am thinking old fashioned vampires” and everyone except my husband laughed at me and said “ya right” and here we are.

Jen: Please share a particular detail about one of characters, please.

Keira: Osvaldo is a cold blooded killer, he has no ethics whatsoever, except when it comes to his friendship with main character and head vampire Lucius, he will do anything for him.

Jen: What made you choose Hellfire Publishing?

Keira: As an owner, I say it’s the best publisher there is and those kids are going places, lol

Jen: Please tell us about any future projects you are planning.

Keira: One bloody Night: Samhain will be out in time for next Halloween. This series is dear to my heart because it’s a mix of horror and romances—my favorite. But I have more single romance and more horror coming soon.

Jen: How many books have you written?

Keira: Two are published, one more, as you all know is on the way, because I have been blathering on about it, lol. I have over forty more in the works.

Jen: Are you only with Hellfire Publishing or do write for other publisher’s as well?

Keira: Prior to opening HP I was published through Decadent Publishing and damn proud to be…awesome company.

Jen: We have a special place for unpublished writers in our hearts, here at Hellfire Publishing. So what advice would you give to an unpublished writer?

Keira: If writing is for you then, never give up, never give in and never say die! But if it’s not for you and you are just doing it for money, glamour and fame, get out—now. Do not waste any more time.

Jen: Can you share your blurb with us?

Of course :)

Inamorata is the first Novel in the “One Bloody Night Series”.

They are supposed to be low key and get their nightly fix from a bag. But what if they could spend a cozy evening eating an old fashioned meal and then when they were done they would simply set the place on fire and walk away—no one would be the wiser?

That’s the plan when a group of rogue Vampires has poisoned the entire security staff at a Christmas Eve party at a mall in Chicago and proceed to take over for the evening and feast upon their own kind of tradition, four house keepers, a maintenance man, a girl who lives in the mall, a lonely late night worker and a couple who have escaped to the department store where she works so their spouses wouldn’t be privy to their affair and some other delightfully unexpected guests.

Everything goes exactly as they expected until the group leader Lucius Sturdevant, and second oldest Vampire to date, realizes that the woman that lives in the Comic book store that is trying to figure out how to kill him is the reincarnation of Laura, the love of his life, that died in his arms of old age, because he didn’t have the heart to turn her.

One lucky commenter will win a free e-copy of One Bloody Night: Inamorata when it comes out.

You can find Keira Kroft at:

www.keirakroft.com

www.keirakroft66.blogspot.com

http://www.facebook.com/keirakroft

http://twitter.com/#!/KeiraKroft66

Keira Kroft

Writer to Writer Wednesday Lyn & Sylvia

2012-02-01T00:37:00.000-08:00

Writer to Writer Wednesday

Featuring Silvia Violet, Author at Changeling Press, Silver Publishing, Loose Id, and Samhain.

Interviewed by Lyn Croft, Author at Hellfire Publishing

Lyn: Hello Silvia! Thanks so much for taking the time to sit down and chat with me. I’m so excited to be able to get to know you better. Can you tell us a little about yourself? What inspired you to be where you are today?

Silvia: Hi Lyn! Thanks for having me! I have been a reader of romance since I was in my teens, and I’ve always enjoyed making up stories. When I was in college I wrote lots of short stories but nothing for publication. Then later in my twenties while teaching high school I decided that what I really wanted to do was be a professional writer. I set small realistic goals for myself and got to work on making my dream a reality. I’ve written m/m/f since early in my career but it wasn’t until I met Jason, one of the heroes of Sex on the Hoof, that I wrote an m/m story. I’d taken a long break from publishing but this story really kicked my muse into gear and I’ve been immersed in m/m stories since then.

Lyn: I hear you have a few books that just released, “Paws On Me”, and “Sex on the Hoof”, which are books 2 and 3 in the “Protect and Serve” series. Can you tell me a little about each of them?

Silvia: Sure! Protect and Serve is a multi-author series set in a near future world where vampires, shapeshifters and other creatures have “come out” to society after an economic collapse. Each story has a cop, a fireman or another uniformed service person as a main character. In Sex on the Hoof, Jason, a deer shifter works in the crime lab. He’s been fighting an attraction for Drew, the only vampire cop in the city. When a lust demon attacks them, Jason and Drew lose control of their attraction, but they have to fight horrors from Drew’s past before they can comfortably be together.

Paws on Me stars Drew’s lieutenant, Seth, a big bear of a man who doesn’t think he needs romance in his life and a bear shifter named Brandon. Sparks fly when the two men meet but Brandon is involved in a case Seth is working, and they both have to break some rules to follow through on what they desire from each other.

Lyn: I’ve noticed you have a fancy for shifters. Who is your favorite character so far, and what is it about him that makes him tick for you… ;)

Silvia: I do love shifters of all kinds. Typically my favorite character is one of the ones I’m working with at the moment. But I do miss Brandon my bear shifter. What I love most about him is that his public persona makes him seem like a cocky flirt while he’s really very cuddly and domestic. He even shares my love of baking.

Lyn: You’re also quite the chef too from what I hear. A woman who writes steamy scenes, and serves up delicious yummies… Where did you learn your skills for cooking?

Silvia: I learned a lot about food, especially baking, from my grandmother. I’ve also learned a lot from cooking shows and from just experimenting and practicing. Baking relaxes me so it’s what I turn to after a stressful day.

Lyn: So, you raise your children, write amazing books, serve up dishes that make my mouth water…Is there anything you can’t do? LOL

Silvia: LOL! I am so not superwoman. We do have nights where we eat cereal for dinner and many days a large part of my to do list goes undone. The biggest thing I can’t do is keep my house clean and organized. I live by the maxim that A Clean House is a Sign of a Wasted Life.

Lyn: Who is your favorite author, and what is it that really strikes you about their work?

Silvia: Wow. It’s hard to pick a favorite but I have to go with Josh Lanyon. His ability to make me feel what his characters feel and his use of imagery never cease to amaze me.

Lyn: Do you mainly write one genre, or are you a multi-genre?

Silvia: So far everything I’ve written falls under the umbrella of erotic romance or erotica, but within that I’ve written historical, fantasy, sci fi, vampires, shapeshifters, and contemporary. And my relationship combos include m/f, m/m/f, and m/m. I’ve even got a cowboy story in the works J

Lyn: Do you have any advice for new authors out there?

Silvia: Schedule time in your day to write even if it’s only fifteen minutes. Set realistic goals and make them a priority.

Lyn: Thank you so much for chatting with me. I had a wonderful time. Is there anything else you would like to share with us; that I may have not asked?

Silvia:. Thank you for having me here. I’ve had lovely time talking with you. I’d like to let your readers know that I have an m/f horse shifter story, Stallion’s Accord, coming out in December as well as a contemporary m/m story that showcases my love of baking. It’s called One Kiss, and it’s my first book with Silver Publishing.

Lyn: Well, thanks again. How about leaving us with a little tidbit from “Paws on Me” to tantalize our taste buds…

Excerpt from Paws on Me:
I’m Seth Morrison. I’m a cop, a police lieutenant to be precise. I’ve been on the force more years than I want to think about. I’ve seen good men get killed, turn dirty, lose themselves in the bottle, lose their fucking minds, but I’m still here doing what I do. I don’t know any other life. People tell me I need a break, a vacation, to relax. I don’t want to fucking relax. I just want to do my job and keep this city from falling apart.

I park my car, grab my coffee from the cup holder, and charge up the front steps of the station. I could take the side door, it’s closer to my office, but I love the chaos of the bullpen. When I open the door, I breathe deeply, enjoying the variety of smells: coffee that’s been on the warmer far too long, the sickeningly sweet smell of candy and doughnuts, pine-scented cleaner from the scrubbing the janitors gave the floors last night, and something unnamable that simply smells like cops and hard work. I shake my head as I try to imagine not being here nearly 24/7. This is where I belong.

My stomach rumbles. I should’ve had dinner, but after pretending an afternoon nap was a night’s sleep, I’m running late. I’ll grab something from the vending machine while I dream about a juicy burger and thick home fries. It sure would be nice to have someone cook for me. I don’t seem to get along with stoves. Years ago, I tried being married. That worked for about 30 seconds. My wife wanted me to work shorter hours. I wanted her to talk less, or maybe never.

Friends tell me I should make an effort to date, but I’m more comfortable at a gruesome homicide scene than making small talk at dinner with a woman or a man. Yeah, I like both. I stopped going out with men when I entered the academy. I just couldn’t deal with the shit the guys would give me. Now, I don’t advertise what I like, but I pick up a guy now and then. I’m discreet, but if somebody finds out, I’ll deal.

One-night stands I can handle, but relationships are beyond me. People think police work is draining, but I’d rather spend all day in the field and all night at my desk filling out fucking paperwork — and often I do — than try to decode relationship signals. I inevitably screw things up and never understand why.

Sex I need. Romance I don’t.

My phone rings. I pull it out of my pocket hoping the call will save me from the mountain of paperwork on my desk. It’s Drew Danvers, detective and vampire. That’s right, a vampire who works for the good guys. We’ve got a werewolf in homicide too. And he’s a damn fine cop.

I remember when the shifters came out of the closet, scaring the hell out of us humans. One by one other monsters made themselves known. Most people assumed they were all assholes who wanted to eat us, but I quickly learned not to judge a man because he sucked blood or turned into a wolf. I judge men based on how they treat others.

I answer the call. “What’s up, Detective?”

“Two dead werewolves found in a closet at Shift. Hacked up pretty bad. The scene’s a circus. Jenkins called in sick. I’m on my own, and –”

“I’ll be there in ten.”

“Thanks, sir.”

“No problem. Murder scene or paperwork, which would you choose?”

* * *

I step inside the club. A crime lab team is there and several uniformed officers are talking with employees. I spot Drew in the entryway of an office. He’s frowning as he questions a tall hairy hunk of a man. I’ve seen this man around the area several times, and just like every other time, he makes my cock sit up and take notice.

Our most recent encounter was a week ago. When I want to grab a beer and be left the fuck alone, I go to Mitch’s, a dive just down the street from Shift. Last time I spent the evening there, he sat next to me at the bar and came on strong. I was in a shitty mood. I wanted him, and it pissed me off. He’s not my type. He’s young, hip, and outrageously flirtatious. I walked away, but I regretted it later that night when I couldn’t stop fantasizing about him.

The man looks my way and catches me staring. His grin says he knows the direction my thoughts are going. Fucking bastard winks at me. Drew scowls.

I turn to face him. He grins down at me, that same cocky-as-fuck little smile he’d given me earlier, making me even more aware of how close we are and how big he is. At 6’2″, I’m hardly small, but he’s got several inches on me. And while I’ve got a rather thick pelt, the fur visible above the vee of his t-shirt is astounding.

He smiles mischievously. “You gonna cuff me if you take me in?”

“Impeding a murder investigation will get you thrown in jail.”

He rolls his eyes. “I found two dead guys in my closet when I came to work tonight. My business is shut down, and I’ll be losing money every minute that you’re here. But at least I have a sense of humor.”

“Well, I don’t.”

He shakes his head. “Are you taken too?”

I take another step back. “You’re making a lot of assumptions.”

I look over at Drew and realize he and Jason are grinning like loons. Fuck. All I need is the two of them ragging me.

I glare at Drew. “Detective, do you think you can question this man without killing him?”

“Probably.”

“Fine. Fleetfoot, head back to the lab. Take my car. I’ll get a ride with Danvers.” I throw him my keys, and he snatches them out of the air as he gives Drew’s hand a final squeeze. Jason is better in the lab than any tech we have. We only send him into the field when we’re desperately short-handed. I run a hand through my hair, wishing I knew how I’m going to hold the homicide division together if we don’t get more funds.

He holds out his hand. “I’m Brandon Lord. I own Shift.”

“Lieutenant Morrison.” I shake his hand. His skin is surprisingly smooth, his grip tight and warm. I want to feel those big hands running over me. I want to rub his furry body with my own. Fuck! I should assign someone else to this case right now and get the hell away from him. But some crazy restlessness he’s dredged up in me makes me fight my instincts.

“Nice to meet you, Lieutenant.” His voice is low and rich. And his grin lets me know he’s well aware of my body’s reaction to him.

I need to get away. His smell alone is making me hard. “I’m not here to play games. Drop the act and treat this case seriously, or I’ll find an excuse to throw your ass in jail.”

He grins. Fuck, he knows he’s got me rattled. “I’d never kill anyone, Lieutenant. I’m just a cuddly teddy bear.”

The bear shifter and the bear. Ridiculous. I need to leave now. This man is no cuddly toy. I don’t think he’s our murderer, but he’s far smarter than he wants me to believe and likely far more dangerous. “I know what cuddling leads to.”

Brandon laughs, a deep, infectious sound. I can’t help but respond. Now I want him more than ever. Taking this case is a supremely stupid idea, staying on it now is unprofessional.

But I won’t walk away.

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