Daggers of morning sunlight stabbed through my closed eyelids, adding a fresh wave of agony to the pounding in my skull. My clock said I still had more than an hour before the alarm was set to start its Bean-Sidhe shrieking at seven. Hoping to fall quickly back to sleep, I pulled the covers up over my head and snuggled deeper into my pillow.
The sound of glass shattering dashed that hope.
“Somebody’s going to be extremely pissed off when they wake up,” I mumbled to myself, rolling over.
A second later, adrenaline sent my body’s nervous systems into overdrive as I realized it wasn’t a car window being smashed; the shattering sound was coming from inside my house.
Wakefulness sliced through my hangover-induced lethargy and I fumbled for the metal bat I left behind the nightstand for such an emergency. Settling its weight comfortably in my hand, I slipped off the side of my bed, careful not to shake the ancient wooden bed frame.
My house was old and creaky, but I’d grown up there and knew exactly where to step to avoid making noise. Standing at the top of the stairs, it sounded as if somebody was breaking every one of my downstairs windows.
Son of a bitch. Where the hell are Luka’s wards?
Read the rest of this entry
Almost missed yet another week of posting a chapter. Whoops! Since nobody screamed for me to save Alex’s dignity and stop posting, I’m just going to keep throwing chapters up and hope people are enjoying the story despite the rough writing.
Getting Luka and his wheelchair into my car was an easier deed than I had imagined. Luka nimbly swung himself out of the chair and into the passenger seat. As for the chair, it performed some amazing feats of acrobatic agility and I was able to fold it down to a size compact enough to fit in my messy trunk.
“Tell me about this Carlos,” Luka said as I pulled out of the Agency parking lot.
“Born in nineteen eighty-seven on the island of Puerto Rico, his family emigrated to mainland America when he was five. His parents and younger sister died in the Fall and he was adopted by a distant relative.” I recited what had been in Carlos’ file without taking my eyes off the road. Luka was the worst passenger I’d ever had the displeasure of driving anywhere. Not being in control of the two tons of metal and glass hurtling down the streets made him antsy. It was only a matter of time before the “helpful suggestions” started. “He showed a bit of promise when his magical abilities first began to appear, but he topped out as only a low-level sorcerer.”
“Watch out for that pedestrian, Lex. He is not paying attention to where he is walking.”
“I see him.” The pedestrian in question was a young man walking along the opposite side of the street. If I didn’t know he did it with everyone, I’d have been more annoyed by his side-seat driving, but I simply smiled and reveled in having my friend back. Read the rest of this entry
I’ve missed posting the next two chapters of Where Demons Fear to Tread and for that I apologize; events conspired against me and kept me completely away from the computer these last two Fridays. However, I’m not sure if I want to continue posting chapters. It’s been a little over three years since I last read WDFTT (Holy WOW! Has it really been that long? Yup, it really has. WDFTT went out on submission to publishers as Lost Souls at the end of 2011… My how time flies!) and as I’m reading through each one before I post it, I find myself cringing quite a bit. I still love Alex and her story, but I’ve grown so much as a writer these last few years and it’s now extremely obvious rough the writing is. It needs a massive overhaul which I don’t currently have the time for since I’m in the process of rewriting Child of Mischief.
So, question for all you lovely readers: Continue posting up chapters each week as they are or preserve what dignity Alex and the rest of the Vamyraset have left?
The top search result(s) that leads people to my blog revolve around my posts about my adventures with Splat Lusty Lavender hair dye, so in the interest of helping those people out, I should post an update about my hair. The last time I used the Splat Lusty Lavender was way back at the end of 2013 and I STILL have a pink tinge to my hair after several attempts at bleaching it (both at home and professionally) and coloring over it with my normal go-to dye of reddish-blonde. At this point, I’m going to just have to let it grow out and gradually cut it away each time I trim my hair.
I loved having purple hair — Absolutely loved it! — but the Splat took several weeks of almost daily washing before it finally stopped bleeding on everything and by then the color had paled to more of a magenta. I can’t speak for anybody whose hair composition differs too much from mine, but I can say that if you have blonde/dirty-blonde hair that is very fine think long and hard about using Splat because it will be a decision that sticks with you for a very long time.
My hair after bleaching.