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Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Brick walls

I am having some serious writers block.  I'm going to blame this on a wonderful author, who's story I just finished, The Winter Sea, by Susanna Kearsley.  It was historical fiction, (which is a genre I adore) set in the Scottish country side and is based around the events of one of the Jacobite attempts at putting James back on the throne.  There is love and heartbreak, twists turns, danger.  And how she did it is original and amazing as well.  Now I seem to have lost the inspiration to write on my vampire novel, and feel too guilty to write on all the other ones I have started. 

Now, I have a historical fiction novel started myself, as well as another fantasy book for young readers, but I am drawn to the historical fiction one after reading Kearsley's.  And this isn't a bad thing necessarily, but I am soooo damn close to having the Vamp one done, and I feel like I am taking two steps back if I abandon it 5 chapters from being completed.  

So last night I gave in to my intuition and pulled up my historical fiction, only to let the guilt of leaving the other book, rack my nerves enough that I couldn't get the true inspiration up to work on the historical one.  So then I pulled up the Vampire one and just sat there staring at the blinking cursor for 20 minutes.  Then I tried to go to bed and had insomnia thinking about both stories and their plots.  UGH!!!!!

I have never had this kind of writers block...  It's like every way I turn I'm banging my head up against very tough, very solid brick walls.  Should I just hurriedly finish the vampire one to get it done and over with, and go back when I am inspired and edit the shit out of it?  Or should I toss out the feelings of guilt and take a go at a couple of chapters on my historical fiction book? 

I know I sound stupid, but I am struggling badly.  I am wondering if I should even go as far as to stop reading a book, unless it is in the genre I am currently writing in.  I have always been scatter brained, so maybe that will help with the feeling of thudding walls on my brain....  Suggestions?

Monday, March 28, 2011

My 27th trip around the sun

This passed Friday, was my 27th birthday.  My sister was in town and we partied, caught up, got a tattoo, reminisced...  It was great.  But, as I sat here today trying to think of something to blog about, I started thinking about my age.  I don't feel older, nor do I look older (yes I still get carded for any and everything) but maybe that is what's bothering me.  Maybe if I felt older and looked older, it wouldn't be so weird to me that quite possibly half my life is over.

I remember my mom saying that "time flies" and "It'll be over before you know it" and me responding with a very sarcastic eye roll.  But now that is different.  She was right (as she normally is)  I'll be married for 5 years in September, I'll have known my husband for 10 years in April.  My oldest son just turned five, and my youngest will turn one on Tuesday.  And if all feels like yesterday.

Before my 21st, birthday's would be these huge, life altering, monumental deals.  Now it's just another day, just another full circle trip around the sun.  I feel no different, nor do I feel better, or worse...  completely the same as I did the day before my birthday.  Part of it sucks.  To know, no matter what you end up doing, it's just another day.  Part of it is great.  The birthday becomes irrelevant, you are no older looking, you feel 18 still, everything is the same...

Ok, I think I'm babbling at this point.  Sorry for the rant, and the boring blog guys...  I'll be back soon with better stuff! ;)

Thursday, March 24, 2011

Serving the Devil

This blog is for all those people who have been in some kind of service industry.  For all those people who have to kiss ass to make a buck.  For all those people who have NOT worked in a service industry, or who have forgotten what it's like.  Bartenders, waitresses, sales reps, salon employees, wal-mart cashiers etc, and so forth...  This is for you...

I have never worked in an industry where I didn't serve people.  Maybe I have a supreme ability to kiss ass and lie.  Maybe I was born to play that role in my professional career.  Or maybe the reason I doubt my job choices, and always want to change my profession.  Maybe writing is my dream career because I  wouldn't have to deal with people.

My first real job I was selling shoes.  I liked this job because I was good at selling (top of the list) and I liked the fashion.  But convincing a 500 lbs woman that the strappy Steve Madden that is obviously cutting off the circulation to her overly large toes, that "those were the ones" or "those were sexy, and she looked like Halle Berry or Angelina Jolie", was horrible.  Word of wisdom to the consumer, sales reps lie.  It's why we are good at selling things.   

I then moved to Texas (the bestest place ever) and began working at my mothers bar as a bartender.  This job was great because I made LOADS of money, met some great people, had tons of fun, but on the other hand...  Lord.  Belligerent drunks, dirty old men, pigs in very realistic man costumes.  And lets not forget the drunk who tells us we ripped him off and there is NO WAY he drank 13 crown and fucking cokes!  Ugh...  Now I will say drunk people tip better.  Word of wisdom to the drunks out there... Don't argue with the bartender.  You probably really did have that many drinks or you wouldn't be using the town whore as a crutch, and risking herpes virus by taking him/her home with you.

Mom sold her bar, and then I began to waitress at a restaurant and bar tend in the little bar in the place.  Again, met great people, hated serving people.  The vibe with customers in a food serving industry is WAY different than in a bar.  Granted there are some great customers, who are sweet and take care of their server, but there are those others who are NOT.  This industry almost made me a serial killer.  Also, keep in mind most servers make like 2.15$ an hour, and we don't get a weekly paycheck, because most of that check goes to the IRS.  There are three types of people I would like to address *DISCLAIMER~sorry if one of these is you...  but if it is, maybe you should rethink going out to eat*

A. Elderly people....  It is NOT 1940 any more and a 25 cent tip on a 40$ tab is ridiculous.  I can't buy gum with that. 
B.  If you go to church, and give "all" your money to Jesus, please consider you have no money to tip the server at lunch.  If you do decide to go out anyway (selfish mother effers) then don't TELL the server that you gave your money to God, and that is why there is no tip.  We would rather think you were a tight ass.  As I told a customer once, "Jesus doesn't pay my water bill".    And DEFINITELY DO NOT leave a fricking Bible as your tip, we just want to shove it in your ass.  And your killing trees for nothing.  The server throws that shit away!
C.  If an order is messed up, do not diss your server.  9 times out of 10 it is the cook who messes the order up.  If there is a problem, don"t be rude.  Go punch the cook in the face, instead of not tipping your hard working server.

The last job I got in the service industry, is my current job as a Hairstylist.  Now, this job...  Workin for almost soully ladies is nucking futs.  You make us bonkers ladies...  You are sensitive, and unrealistic.  Here are some more tips for the salon goer...

A.  The hairstyle you get is not going to make you skinnier, prettier, or make you look like Reese Witherspoon.
B.  If your hair is fried and you want to put color, or highlights in your hair, it is going to stay fried.
C.  If you decide to cheat on us and go some where else, then come in and have us fix it for you, do not expect us to be all sunshine and giggles with you.  Even if we smile, we are pissed to have to fix someones else's fuck up. 
D.    Your hair is most likely not the same density and/or texture as the picture you are showing me.  You are going to have to work at it, you will not be able to wash and go, regardless of how good we are.
E.  And last but not least. NO, I can not get you in RIGHT NOW!  Or even today for that matter.  I have customers that have had appointments for weeks!  I am not hindering their experience with me to squeeze you in because you don't know how to schedule ahead of time.  You are not effin special...  And don't get all pissy with your stylist because you are disorganized!

So ladies, and gents...  Please use some common courtesy, and respect for whom ever is serving you.  We are working for YOU, so a little respect and some niceties to the person helping you out.  We are not less of a person than you.  We don't need or want your shit.  If we have to smile and be polite to you, you should have to do the same.  THINK before you ACT please.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Tribute to Ms. Elizabeth "Liz" Taylor



A true icon, beautiful, talented, and she had a heart of gold. Liz you will go down in history. I am only thankful you will no longer be in pain. RIP Dear lady.  Say Hi to Michael for me :)

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Inspiration~ Tristan Lavelle

This will be a real quick blog, but I wanted to give some love and a shout out to some one who recently inspired me.  Tristan Lavelle, My wife-in-law.  Ok, to avoid confusion, I should explain what the hell a wife-in-law is.  She is my step daughters, mother.  (No we are not sister wives :)  She has her own family in San Antonio and I have mine here, our common link soully being her beautiful daughter) Lots of people think that this is weird, but we get along fabulously.  We both love her daughter and had we met under any other circumstances we probably would have been fast friend.  It turns out our relationship works wonderfully.  There is no stress, no anger and we had the freedom to live a perfectly peaceful family life. 

Any how, I want to thank her for inspiring me.  She not only has lost tons of weight and looks absolutely amazing, but she followed her heart and is now living out her dream.  A couple of years ago (time flies when you are having fun, and that time could be wrong)  she decided that she want to follow a life long dream and start acting.  Now, in all honesty, I was a bit taken aback by this, and highly doubtful.  But despite what seemed to be a crazy, out of reach dream she is doing exactly what makes her happy.  She has been in an independent TV series,  directed a movie, and if my memory serves me correctly, 3 movies.

So here is my Thank You and my shout out to her!  Thank you girl, for pursuing your dreams, you have inspired me beyond imagination.  Things that rattled around in my brain for years are coming to reality, and I would have never attempted it if not for your bravery and perseverance!  Thank you for not shying from your dreams and thank you for making me reach for my own.  Love ya sista!!!

If any one is interested, here is a link to her stuff;

http://www.imbd.me/tristanlavelle

Sunday, March 20, 2011

You ARE dynamite bitch!

My beautiful sis has come into town for a visit, and even though I desperately wish she was closer to me and my mother, I have (finally) accepted that she will either work out her relationship, or she will choose on her own time, that the relationship is no bueno.  But that doesn't mean I don't still toss around ideas about how to get her here with us.


Anyhow, she's here for a visit and when she comes down I think of how terribly like my mom she it.  So different from me (I assume I got most of my many charms from my fathers side of the family) She's tall, I'm short, she's short tempered, I'm easy going, she is funny, but in a completely different way than I am funny.  And the list goes on and on...  But the one difference that I notice the most, is the lack of confidence and self appreciation.

Now, I have been known to be overly confident, but it is more of a put on than actually believing I am as good looking as Kim Kardashian (after a few drinks, that's who I say I body double for ;) despite the obvious "not so much") whom is a beautiful lady.  I mean don't get me wrong, I do think I am sexy and beautiful in my own "Crystal Hebel" way, but if nothing else, I am realistic!  I am five foot two and according to doctors still over weight by 40 or so pounds(even though I have lost almost 60, and yes, even fat, I thought I was good looking)  Now part of this feeling  is boosted by other traits I know I have.  I know I am no raving beauty, but once you pack on my good and bad traits I still believe I am a hot pick!  This may be vain, or OVER confidence, but knowing my sister, I would rather be over confident then have no confidence at all. 

As for the "self appreciation" trait she lacks, I can see when I do a good job.  I know when I have put my all into something and when I haven't and when I do put myself into something with my whole heart, I am proud of the things I have accomplished and I give myself big up's for it (even if the praise is for my ears only and I celebrate is with a nice hot bath).  Same if I have a difficult decision to make, and feel I make the right choice.  Or if I stick up for myself in the face of a bully.  Again, maybe this is a bad trait to have, but I wouldn't change if for the world after seeing how my sister is.

My sister is physically beautiful, sensitive, caring, and would give you the shirt off her back.  She has a wonderful work ethic, is smart, and funny.  She is organized, and has a nice ass ;) Ok, I'm being funny, but I see all these wonderful things about her, and she barely sees any of them.  Why doesn't she get how truly wonderful she is?  Why doesn't she know she is special she is?  My mother always told us we were beautiful and special, and for what ever reasons, it stuck with me and didn't with my sister.  If she could see, how sublimely spectacular she was, I just know her decisions in life would be different.

So, this is my shout out to all my girls (and boys) out there, who don't think they are good enough to try and get that job they are dying for.  Who don't have the confidence to leave a bad relationship and find some one who truly is better for you and deserves you.  Who settles for less than amazing every single day, because you think that you can't do any better...  Take the chance!  It's only going to take one glimpse of self worth, confidence, or splendor to snap you out of it and make you see you are special!


I hope and pray every day that my sister finds that moment and breaks her from the habit of self un-appriciation!  And now, I hope some one else sees this and also takes a step forward in the right direction!

Friday, March 18, 2011

The secret of life...

This morning, I awoke to my husband laying down a cup of coffee on the table in front of me, (I had passed out on the couch, and once I'm out, I'm out, so there I stayed until this morning) with two boys being boys on the floor, and the baby smiling at me from his walker.  I smiled at the scene before me, realizing that this was the secret to MY life.

Yesterday, we had one of my eldest son's buddies stay the night.  They played, and giggled for hours on the trampoline while the sprinkler shot up from under it.  The baby sat by, content with watching the boys play, and my husband worked on his old Harley we are fixing up.  The windows were all open and the warm breeze floated through out the house.

We had some pizza later that evening, and the fat and grease made my soul happy, as well as my stomach. 

After dinner, we all sat back and watched as the older boys played the Wii.  The baby was slowly murmuring his way into his nightly sleep in my arms.  While the babe drifted to sleep, I sat and thought about different twists and turns in the novel I am currently writing, and my husband reverted into his 5 year old self, cheering the boys on in their game play.

Once the baby was good and asleep I put him in bed, only to find the older boys wanting to snuggle with me on the couch, and watch a Scooby-Doo movie.  I subsequently fell asleep.

This morning, I awoke to my husband laying down a cup of coffee on the table in front of me, (I had passed out on the couch, and once I'm out, I'm out, so there I stayed until this morning) with two boys being boys on the floor, and the baby smiling at me from his walker.  I smiled at the scene before me, realizing that this was the secret to MY life.

My secret is, playing with my boys and seeing them smile, and giggle, play and grow.  My secret is watching my very busy husband get time to work on his precious bike while the weather is beautiful and act like a 5 year old boy.  My secret is splurging on delectable pizza, and of coarse a good cup of coffee...

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Editing

I began to re-read my 1st book last night.  Got about half way through what I had written and I am farely excited about what I have produced.  An average novel has between 80,000 and 100,000 words.  At about half way through my novel I have about 54,000 words, so I'm not doin half bad.  Of coarse as I go through it I find things that need to be  deleted, and things that need to added, so that number tends to go up and down.


Also, (I am new to this whole publishing a book thing) but I assume I need a cover to the book, so if any one has great atrist skills (whether it be computer generated or with your own hand) let me know!  I'd be interested to see what you can do!  Contact me via this blog or my facebook page.

My wonderful Husband...

I get on here and rant and rave about the faults of my rather sexy husband.  But only because this is an outlet to get stuff off my chest, and I know that somewhere out there another woman can relate :)  But today I wanted to tell you a quick snippet about why I love him.  Of coarse there are many more reasons than this one thing, but this is a good example of what kind of a man he is.


The hubby and I stayed up late last night catching up on our lives, becasue we are currently so busy.  So finally at 2 am I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer and I went to bed.  Needless to say my head hit the pillow and I passed smooth out.


My husband was down stairs, closing down shop (locking doors, closing windows, turning lights off) when one of my best friends text him.  She was cleaning her car in town (side note: "town" is about 15 minute drive from our house) and blaring her radio and her battery went dead on her car.  She had already tried everyone she knew to get her car jumped off and we were her last option.


Needless to say, at almost 2:30 in the morning, he drove 15 minutes into town, jumped her car off, drove fifteen minutes back therefor not getting back untill after 3:30 even though he had to get up at 7ish to go to work.


He is such a good person.  I have to admit to myself I don't know if I would have done it.  I should to be more like him, and become a better person.  I love his kindness, and loyalty.  I respect and admire my husband...  What more could a lady ask for?

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

What I think is AWSOME news

Found out the other day that Amazon will publish any book I write which to me is totally wicked and exciting!  I will be able to follow through with a dream of mine....  Some people don't get to live out any of their dreams.  I am about half way through one novel, Training Day, and I am totally stoked to get it onto a Kindle :)  I will let you know when I finish and then if Amazon agrees to publish!  Here are two excerpts from  the book:

The bubbles fizzed like carbonated tonic water around my battered body. I slid down so that my dark auburn mane was fully submerged. The hair haloed my head like spirits raised from the dead. I always liked that feeling of being fully submerged in water. Maybe it was the feeling a fetus had when in its mothers womb; safe, secure, and unaware of the violence of the outside world. I sometimes wondered why God hadn’t made me a mermaid instead of a vampire hunter.
I came up out of the water with it dripping into my eyes. I looked down at the murky, pink liquid. Blood and guts will do that to your bathwater. I felt my self reminiscing about the old days. When things were normal. Safe. Secure. And my life was void of all things creepy and violent.

Chapter 1: Professor

“Professor! Professor O’Conner!”
I spun around on my Nine West, black Mary Jane’s. My hair felt heavy on my neck. Hair that fell down passed your bra strap should not normally be put into a French twist, too much weight. I clutched on to the strap of my leather briefcase for fear the inertia of my pirouette should send it flying.
As I waited I took in the scenery. This university’s courtyard was the prettiest I had seen by far. Hydrangea’s and Wisteria added purple and blue tones around every corner, and roses clung to every window sill. The grass was immaculate and almost a neon green. Not to mention the trees (willow and Oak) that sprouted up sporadically throughout the courtyard. It was beautiful. And to top it all off, every time the gentle breeze blew by there was a hint of honey suckle in the air. God only knew where that was coming from.
The young man calling my name finally caught up, panting and gasping for air like a marathon runner on his last race.
“Ms…..Professor O’Con…..” he choked out between large gasps of air.
“Look son, please, take your time and catch your breath. I do NOT want to give C.P.R. today. My morning has gone fairly well.” I said with my hand on his shoulder. I really was terrified the round little thing was going to fall out on me right there.
The poor soul managed a smile and nodded in thanks as he finally rose up into standing position. He stood only 5’5”, maybe. He was as round as he was tall. His head seemed small in comparison with his massive body. His little head held big, happy blue eyes. The blue was so blue that the irises were almost black. His carrot colored hair clung to his sweaty face. He was wearing a grey colored polo shirt that was two sizes too small with jeans that couldn’t have been much more comfortable than my outfit was.
While the student recovered I decided to take a mental inventory of my own person. I had a meeting with one of the other professors and wanted to look put together.
I smoothed the sides of my hair to make sure it didn’t look wind blown. I looked down at the light weight dress suit I was wearing. Camel colored skirt and blazer with black trim on the lapels and pockets. Under the jacket I wore a crisp, freshly dry-cleaned button down, white shirt. The Nine West heels and a pearl necklace was the topper on the cake. I smiled. At 29, I was one of the youngest professors here at the university and I was willing to bet I was also one of the best looking. At 5’7 and 142 pounds, I was curvy and toned.
I had been “the Chubby One” all through middle school and as a freshman, when I first noticed boys, I started watching what I put into my mouth, and added sports and working out to my curriculum. I was never on a diet so much as, well, lets just say I would choose the protein bar instead of the Snickers I really wanted. I worked out very hard for my figure and was proud of what I had. Life was good.
When I looked back up, the smile still on my face, I saw Ol’ Carrot Top staring me down. He hadn’t coughed or anything to let me know he was back from his cardiac arrest. He had just sat there in silence watching me appraise myself. Kind of creepy, if his eyes had not been so friendly.
“So, how can I help you mister….” I smiled politely at him and drug out the last word hoping he would fill in the blank.
“MacDonald, but please, just call me Mac.” He said with a smile and hand extended for a shake. His voice threw me off a bit; falsetto should never come out of a male mouth unless highly trained in the art of singing opera.
I returned the smile and shook his hand, “Okay Mr. Mac, how can I be of assistance to you?”
“Well the UT would like an interview to discuss your opinion on the vampire killings that have been happening in the area.”

Fuck that
“I have no comment. Thank you, sir.” I said in mid step. The UT was short for the University Tribune; the college newspaper.
I had gotten in trouble the year before (Also my first year as a faculty member), when I gave an opinion about an artifact that geologists thought was a relic from the time of Jesus Christ. A cup with what seemed to be blood soaked into the clay. It had a cross on the front of the goblet with the initials JC behind the cross. It looked like a coat of arms almost, and historian and scientist alike were assuming they had finally found the Holy Grail.
I had taken one look at it and determined it was a pagan chalice that was supposed to be used for raising the dead. Christians were outraged and the college had to publicly apologize for MY actions. Not a wonderful way to start your first real job, huh?
“Please, Professor. I could leave it anonymous! No one but you or myself would know who answered the papers questions!” He pleaded with me as he struggled to keep up pace, little fat cheeks jiggling with every step he took.
I stopped dead in my tracks; Mr. Mac went three feet passed me before his tennis shoes could make his ass stop moving in that direction.
He spun to face me, a glint of smile in the corner of his eyes. He thought he had won. Boy was he mistaken.
“Mr. Mac- whatever your name is,” my grass green eyes blazed with anger. If looks could kill fat Mac would be dead as a door knob right now, “with all do respect sir, I am the only professor in this school with a degree in Preternatural Sciences. If I were to answer your questions, even under an alias, who the hell do you think they’d expect said it?” My rage pulsed with my heart beat, strong and boiling.
I guess he felt scared of me, because he took a large step back from me.
I could feel myself cooling down. My lips twitched in an upward motion. I wanted to giggle at the pansy before me but I kept a solid grip on my anger. Or at least I tried to hold it.
He was scared, but once he had his personal space bubble back intact he stood his ground. Blue eyes bulged with persistence and smarts. This kid was no dummy.
“Ms. O’Conner,” He started but I interrupted before another word could escape his pinched lips.
“Professor O’Conner, Mr. Mac.”
“I’m sorry, Professor O’Conner, and please, just Mac. I just wanted an expert opinion and the regular Biology professor’s don’t hold a candle to your experience in the topic. I did not mean to offend you; you were just my first choice. I had to ask.”
He was trying to soften me by flattery and I have to be honest, it was working. But not working near enough. I managed a smile.
“Well, thank you for your consideration, but I must decline. My job is way too well paying to give it up for a small interview in a college newspaper.”
And that was the truth. One hundred and twenty thousand plus a year was way too much to sacrifice.
“Thanks for your time Professor. I appreciate you talking to me. You have a nice day ma’am. And remember me if you change your mind, please.” He said with sincerity and a wink.
He bowed with an over dramatic pause and then turned on his chubby little feet and walked away without a care in the world.
Funny how youth does that to you. Carelessness is disease in the young, which proves the saying that Youth is wasted on the young.
I took a look at my watch and realized that if I didn’t get a move on I was going to be late for my meeting. So without further ado, I turned and made my way to the History department.
Vampires, as far as any one knew was a species that had survived mid-evil times. As far as I was concerned it was the only mythical being that wasn’t extinct. Dragon bones had been discovered but that’s been it in hundreds of years. Zombies were something that needed “magic” to raise and that magic had been dead for nearly as long as the dragon. Fairies were found here and there, but they are on the endangered species list, right up there with the Panda. There were only 33 fairies in North America alone. There were trolls, and sea monsters and all those things that your grandparents told your parents, and your parents told you were all imaginary, are all real, or they were real at sometime or another.
I was the only professor south of the Mason-Dixon line that had a degree in Preternatural anything; only one of 25 in the world. I was a hot commodity.
When Vampires were “outed”, I was 16 and eager for an exciting path to travel down. Vampire studies seemed like an exciting, bumpy road to travel down. I never regretted my decision, ever.

*~*~*
Harold wrung his hands nervously. He was at a loss, he had no choice but to let her see what his fatherly love for her had gotten her.
Damn….


That was from the beginning, and this is from somewhere near the middle:

“They are here for you, Avery.” Ruby said in a thin voice.
“What are you talking a…” Avery started to ask but was cut off by Ruby.
“They are going to take you Avery. Do try to go without a fight… They will not hurt you and Michelle will find you. Be brave.”
And just like that the small bay window exploded with a violent burst.
~*~*~
And loud boom vibrated the whole house. Both Harold and I jumped to our feet, gave each other a quick glance and barreled to the door of his study. It was locked and I bounce right off the damn thing.
Harold seemed to appear out of nowhere. He flew through the air with more grace than any seventy year old man should have and planted his foot on the door with a vicious karate kick. Some where in the back of my mind I knew it was a Jeet Kune Do style kick.
Harold’s foot went through the door and inch from the knob. He withdrew his loafer clad extremity and put his hand through the hole to unlock the door. It swung open to a silent house.
I started to charge out into the hush and was stopped by Harold’s arm. I turned to glare at him and he put a finger to his lips and then made a sign with his hands and again, my subconscious told me that he was talking in sign language, to be quiet and stay low.
I nodded and crouched down. Harold followed suit.
I got to the corner of kitchen and did a quick peek into the disheveled area and then dodged back out of sight. I looked at Harold and gave him the okay. He nodded, and stood walking into the kitchen with an air of confidence. I followed.
The room’s bay window had been shattered inward and part of the wall had been written on in scrawling red letters; Come and get it hunter.
Harold stopped dead in his tracks dropped to his hand and knees, whimpering as he crawled over to Ruby. She looked fine, other than the bloody three inch gash on her forehead. The love in their eyes for each other radiated through out the room causing my throat to grow tight and hurt.
Then reality slapped me hard. This time my eyes did well up. Avery…
Panic consumed me as I asked, “Ruby, Ruby? Where’s Avery?
“It’s okay Duckie, you’ll save her.”
Greif imploded in my chest, “Mother fucker.”
I lurched forward and grabbed Avery’s keys that still sat on the table, turned and bolted out of the house.
Harold called out to me, “Michelle, please….
I quickly interrupted him.
“Harold. I have a job to do. And now that job has involved the person I care for most in this world. I’m going to kill them before they have a chance to tie THEIR shoes.”
I turned and continued to climb into Avery’s car.
I was just putting the corvette into gear when Ruby tapped lightly on my window.
I looked at her peaceful, if bloodied face, sighed and rolled down the window.
“Ruby, I…
“Michelle I only want to say, think first, don’t rush. And I wanted to give you these.” She tossed the duffle bag full of tricks that Harold had given me earlier.
I looked up at her and said, “Thanks Ruby.”
“Be brave Michelle. I know you will be successful.” She said with a knowing smile and then she stepped away from the car and waved in farewell.
I pulled out of the driveway and headed to my house. It was good to know Ruby had confidence in me. Someone needed to, because I sure didn’t.



Avery awoke in the floor of a van. Her head hurt slightly from the dose of, what she thought, was chloroform, she had smelled before she passed out. Other than the head ache she felt unscathed.
She let a sigh of relief and then decided to open her eyes. She was sorry the minute she did.
“Ahhhhhhhhh!” She screamed with a vengeance.
The brown eyed vampire just stared at her.
She grabbed at her shirt and then scrambled backwards to put her back against back doors of the van.
“Relax dumb ass. The worst has already been done.” She said to Avery.
Avery did relax. But only slightly.
“My name is Beth Ann. I’ll be your escort to your resting place for the next couple of days.” she said with an evil grin.
Beth Ann was just average. Average height and weight, average hair and facial features, average clothes. The only thing on her not average was the malicious look on her face and her alabaster skin.
Avery closed her eyes and remembered Ruby’s last words to her. Michelle will save you. Be brave.
Yeah right. She’s not the one sitting here in a van full of vampires.
And with that thought, she shed tears. Tears of anger, tears of frustration and tears of fear.


~*~*~
I turned into my drive way on two wheels and threw the car into park before I had fully stopped.
I ran into the house, up the stairs and into my closet.
I pulled out a leather pair of skinny leg pants and a black tank. Sat down and pulled on a pair of black Doc Martin boots that laced to the knee. I strapped the ankle knife over the left boot, and the other knife onto my left arm over my set of silver throwing stars. I put my charm bracelet on my right hand, my cross around my neck and put the brass knuckles in my back pocket. I strapped on my Kodachi’s and my gun last and was ready to roll.
Then I heard Ruby telling me not to rush and decided to sit and get my feelings in check.
I sighed and let the despair wash over me. When I opened my eyes I wasn’t in my room. I was in Lyndon’s.
Lyndon was reclined on a fancy gold trimmed high back chair. He was beautiful and his face took my breath away. I gasped for air and when I did, I saw him perk up and look in my direction as if he could see me.
He stared for a moment and then looked towards the door in his room. A few seconds later a girl vampire strut through the door. She had an attitude like she was the most beautiful girl on the planet, but I just thought she was average.
She bowed down in front of Lyndon and on her way back up she came ridiculously close to his privates. Which, oddly enough, sent a pang of jealousy through me. She gave him her best sexy smile and he waved her off. The gesture would have hurt my feelings, but she didn’t seem the least bit affected. Her smile stayed planted on her face.
Lyndon was staring at her intently. I couldn’t hear a thing so I took several steps forward. Her mouth was moving but no sound out. I was looking at her trying to memorize her face when Lyndon’s smooth voice rang through. I jumped a foot off the floor at the sound of his voice.
“You know our deal. Freedom if you survive the next three days.” he said like he didn’t have a care in the world.
He still didn’t see me so I tried to calm my speeding heart down.
The girl replied in silence and he replied back to her, “Yes, yes. I hope to see you in three.” I noted the sarcasm in his voice.
She turned and left and I just stood there taking in his loveliness.
I wasn’t expecting it when he sat up. I didn’t have time to move. I figured he couldn’t see me so I didn’t sweat it much. Or at least I didn’t until he spoke to me.
“I can feel you there.” He sighed.
I flinch and started to step back.
“Don’t.” He said with such sadness in his voice that I didn’t move.
He sighed again and gave a small smile.
“I can’t see you, but I can sense you. Do stay with me a minute?” he asked. The way he said it was more pleading than asking.
He looked into the spot which to him was a blank spot, but to me, he was looking directly in my eyes.
I raised my hand and he closed his eyes and leaned his cheek into the palm of my hand. I shivered. I couldn’t exactly feel him but I could feel his temperature. He was cool to the touch.
When I looked back up from my hand to his face, a pink tinted tear was rolling down his cheek bone. I reached with my thumb and wiped it away. He leaned back and stared at what was the tear drop on my thumb. I froze.
“My tear is floating.” He said with a hint of amusement in his voice. That’s when I saw him check his self. He straightened up and walked over to the dark solid wood bed that was covered in white satin sheets.
“Go Michelle. You need to be looking for Trent and Avery and I, not spying on me.” Lyndon said to me.
He was right, so I took several steps backwards and then turned. I had walked to the furthest edge of the room and turned again to have one last look at him. He was punching a hole the size of window into his cinderblock walls.
I blinked in disbelief, and when I opened my eyes I was in my room seated in my thinking chair.
“Damn!” I yelled at myself, “Less sleeping, more working, stupid.” I rose and left, ready and rejuvenated enough to take down the world if it meant getting my friends back.
~*~*~

Chapter 13: War
he thought, Damn me to hell…again…



Prelude

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