Flash: Hidden from the Surface

Image courtesy of alexisdc. at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Rating: Mature

“Not ready yet, my dear.”

Cheyanne glanced over her shoulder in annoyance at the vampire lord who bought her body and soul, but not her spirit. “I would be if your brother didn’t keep unzipping the dress.”

“Garrett.” Clayton admonished, a touch of exasperation lacing his voice.

“I can’t help it, Clay,” the ghost formed between the woman and the silver-backed mirror. “This body should never be covered up. Especially these bazongas.” He reached for the large breasts the loose dress top revealed, the dark brown tips drawing into points as his cold presence brushed against them.

“While I agree with the sentiment, our guest and I are expected at a gala within the hour.” The younger brother approached the warlock-kin’s back and grasped the zipper, sliding it up her back.

Rather than keep eye contact, Cheyanne turned back to the mirror where her master remained invisible. Garrett hadn’t fully formed, so she could focus past him. Knocking his insubstantial hands out of the way, she pulled the top into place as the fabric tightened with the closure. She worked hard to appear resolutely angry when the ninety-year-old vampire raised her hair to kiss the back of her neck, and the ghost, who had died in his teens, continued to play with her nipples through the beaded fabric.

One day she would kill her father for enslaving her, and maybe when she raised him from the dead with her rapidly developing necromantic powers, she would thank him for selling her to the brothers.

(words 253; first published 2/24/2019)

Flash: Burdened Reflections

Photo by Antoine Da cunha on Unsplash

Art cropped by Erin Penn

Rating: Mature

Heather pulled into the daycare parking lot shaking from exhaustion. Two co-workers had quit in the early morning because of the insulting and vulgar rudeness of the pre-Christmas crowd, leaving the rest of the store to take up the slack. Lunch never happened. Getting off at her normal time had required her to demand the ability to leave, or payment to cover the daycare penalties if she showed up late.

The backup at the registers had been bad enough the tightwads running the outlet debated the costs until she shut off her light and walked away from the waiting customers.

Prying her fingers from the staring wheel, Heather shouldered her handbag before leaving the car, feeling a little naked without extra weight of the diaper bag she had left when she dropped off the children. She glanced around at the four other cars, recognizing all the them, as she quickly crossed the graveled lot, shivering in the cold. The daycare wasn’t the best, but it was willing to take in the twins and the government covered all costs so she could work. She didn’t know how she would have made ends meet without welfare assistance.

It wasn’t like her ex would be paying child support. After he dumped her once the baby bump showed, he disappeared without a trace. Phone number, facebook, twitter, old address – nothing worked. She had been so stupidly enthralled she hadn’t notice she never met any of his friends and he hadn’t bother meeting any of hers. No one existed anywhere with the name Jevil Horne, and she had looked in ways not available to most people. It was like he wasn’t on the planet anymore. She couldn’t even find where he got his inks, and they had been elaborate.

Heat embraced her through her windbreaker once the door closed behind her. The tight entryway required her to step out of the path of an exiting parent, toddler on his hip. The father nodded in passing, looking as harried as she felt. They overlapped each day during pickup and dropoff. One day she should ask his name.

She needed a new group of friends since her old ones dumped her. Babies didn’t mix with the half she used to club with, and the rest, well, they had good reason for distancing themselves even if it hurt. Getting involved with other parents might be the answer, because she sure as sunspots wasn’t going to stick around at the General Outlet after the holidays. They already treated her as a second-class citizen since she gave birth.

Breezing by the always unmanned receptionist desk at the understaffed, cut-rate daycare, Heather made her way back to the nursery area.

“Hey, Mrs. Forester, running a little late today?” asked the extremely overweight woman rocking one of the babies in the crib area, greed gleaming in her eyes.

“Only twelve minutes, which, since I usually run twenty minutes early, means I am still ontime.” Heather snapped going to the crib where they double-bunked her twins. “And it’s Miss,” she muttered under her breath, knowing no amount of correction worked with the caregiver. Heather picked up the pink and blue striped bag hanging off the side of the crib, automatically counting diapers and bottles. She hadn’t got to pump today, missing lunch, but she had enough at home for tomorrow.

“They ate just fine and needed three changes today, plus one change of clothes.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Gula.” Heather pulled out her customer service smile for the hag, then lifted first one and then the other of her twins from the crib. She should complain about the daycare putting them in the same crib, but she did the same at home. At two months, there was plenty of room. Thinking into the New Year, and what her growing babies would need, required sleep she seriously lacked. Decision would be made later.

Juggling the two mostly awake children, Heather exited the building and loaded them in her blue Honda, carefully checking all the straps and kissing first her son and then her daughter on their foreheads, saying “I love you.”

Her parents, and her several sets of step-parents, never said it enough to her. If she remember right, and since she had wrote it in her diary because it had been unusual even then, the last time was her eleventh birthday. When she left home, she swore she was never going back.

If that means raising two children on her own, so mote it be.

It would be nice to hear the words from someone again. Not even her coven-mates said those magical words. Only things like “We support each other before the gods.” and “Blessed be.”

Tucking her blonde curls behind her ears, Heather climbed into the car and started shutting her door. The coven had been relieved to have a reason to kick her out; they always been scared about how quickly she learned and mastered new magics. Magic soaked into her like sunlight into a tan, it didn’t matter the form – fire or water, nature or –

The door wouldn’t close.

Heather looked up to find her ex, Jevil, grasping the top.

“Hello sexy.”

***Chapter Break

Heather’s breast tingled at the voice, trained after nearly a year under his kinky appetites, but her mind pulled the rest of her deeper in the car. He looked dangerously delicious, silhouetted against the gray, winter sky. His black curls hung around his shoulders ready to swing forward and cut off the world has he hovered above her, building anticipation before he slammed into her the first time, every time. His large hand pulled the door completely open, and he filled the space with his wickedly well-muscled body. She remember digging her hands into the hallows and stroking the planes of his sinfully perfect build. All she could think about is how much she wanted to kiss him, have him work his way down her body until she screamed for release.

Then someone tried to open the car door into the back seat. She always locked them after loading the children.

“What?” She snapped her head around to find two men, even larger than Jevil, if that was possible, trying to get in the car. The back of her car. Where her babies were.

“The door’s locked,” one of them reported, his voice satin and melted chocolate late at night, stirring hormones buried beneath the changes to her body required during nursing.

When Jevil reached to the button on her door to unlock the car, she called the winter wind and shoved him back, his unseasonably thin shirt covered in a light layer of ice.

He smiled, his eyes darkening beyond black, like they did when he applied nipple clamps or taught her a new incantation. “Don’t be that way babe.” He wiped the crusty frost from his front and strode toward the car again. “We just want the brats. It’s not like they are anything but a burden.”

burden. burden.

The day weighed down on her. Lack of food made her shake. Every screaming, demanding customer. The looks the daycare workers gave her. The abandonment of her friends. And all for what?

Her son made a sound, a half-cry for attention.

“Don’t you dare!” she spat, slamming the door. The Honda turned over instantly without her touching the key, and she peeled out, spraying gravel, hearing a slight thud when one of the men with Jevil didn’t move out of her way quickly enough.

She saw him leap impossibly high in the air, and for a second, a split second, that if she didn’t have the Sight, her mind would have brush aside for a more comfortable version of reality. Behind the suddenly naked man stretched two large wings. Black, shimmering with midnight purple and sunless silver scales, and perfectly matching the horns growing out of his head. One hand gave her a single taloned finger in her rear-view mirror, as he landed back on the ground, pulling the illusion back into place.

“Oh goddess, oh goddess.” Heather kept looking at her side mirror all the way home, though nothing seemed to be following her.

The rental was small, but affordable, at least on the salary she had before she got fired because of missing days from morning sickness. The hard scrabble since then from one minimum wage to job to another destroyed her anemic savings long before the babies were born. Government assistance workers had helped arrange partial payment until some real section 8 housing opened up, but she had to make up the difference. She hadn’t made her portion of this month’s payment; she didn’t think her landlord would kick her out until after Christmas. Her luck said today might be the day.

Well, good luck with that. No one would get anywhere near the house today. Pulling into the garage, she raised the wards her coven had put in place back when they used to meet here and locked the house up tighter than a fortress. When Jevil had dumped her, she had rescinded his welcome and cleaned the house of all traces of his existence. The first pass had been mostly to find something to cast a tracking spell because she wanted to give the jerk a piece of her mind, but the bastard hadn’t left even a hair behind. No way he could get inside now.

She breathed deeply instead of hyperventilating, and turned off the car, this time with the key.

“So, Apollo and Diana, how did you like meeting your daddy?”

The twins started crying after being silent the entire wild ride home.

(Words 1610; first published 1/27/2019)

Flash: Reversed Reflections

Image courtesy of Ben Schonewille at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

The men were still following her, she was sure of it.

Heather adjusted her mirrors after pulling into the rest stop. She watched as the black Tahoe continued down the highway, positive that when she passed the next gas station it would be pulling in behind her again. But for the moment, she was off their radar.

Leaning  back, she took a moment to breathe and center herself, then adjusted the mirrors for real. Cars with intent to follow would have a red haze around them going forward. At least until nightfall, when her sun and nature-based magic failed. That’s when they will attack again, her gut said.

“I guess I could try some of the night magic.” Heather suggested to the two rear-facing seats shown in her inside rear-view mirror. The twins neither approved or disapproved the suggestion.

Not that she would do the night magic her ex-boyfriend taught her. Her demon lover. She hadn’t known how true that appellation had been when Jevil had introduced himself at the club. She thought he had just been a bragging asshole, and she always liked bad boys.

Having a guy gyrate behind her while she was dancing, and somehow whisper in her ear , “I’ll be your demon lover tonight,” made her panties melt five beers in to the night. She hadn’t questioned the magic required to perform a whisper while dancing to ear-shattering club music after sunset.

When she started showing, Jevil had flicked her aside like the butt from a used smoke, and she thought that was that. Lesson learned, sun and darkness don’t mix. Until yesterday when he had shown up at the daycare with two other men who could have passed for his brothers, wanting the kids. The twins had already been strapped in, so she floored her sedan, making one of the men leap out of the way and she had seen wings behind him for a moment before the illusion reformed. Real, honest-to-badness, bat-like wings shimmering like oil in the dim winter sun.

She had spent the night at her house, her haven, behind wards made by her coven before they had cut her from the circle, while the trio battered and pounded the magical walls denying entrance. It was the night before winter solstice, so nearly fifteen hours of her tossing what little magic she had under moonless skies. Every stone and plant in her house was drained or dead by the time the sun rose. The house would not survive another night.

Not that it mattered, because they had tossed gasoline against the side they had breached close enough to touch the physical siding, and then added a match.

Heather barely managed to get the kids into the garage and strapped into their seat in the Honda Civic before flames roared through their living quarters. She pulled out from the flames and smoke while dawn broke the horizon, which she used to power a nuclear blast of Light, capital L intended, to clear her path. She had been driving ever since, exhaustion held off only by magic. She wouldn’t make it through the night.

Stumbling out of the car, she opened the driver-side rear door. Carefully unbuckling her daughter, she took the baby over to a picnic table. Looking around, to see who was about to get an eyeful and finding no one, she kicked off her shoes and dug her toes into the sod. After that she lifted her shirt and unsnapped the nursing bra pad protecting an aching breast. The child latched on as soon as the nipple was in range.

“I know, I know. I am so sorry to have missed your morning feeding. You’ve been so good, Diana.” She had been feeding Apollo when she had smelled the gas; he had not been happy about the interruption, but settled immediately after the car started moving. Both of them had been eerily quiet as she drove in a panic to nowhere. Her coven had removed her when she had shown up with a reverse witch streak, the black lock damning against her blonde hair. Dabbling with Jevil, using sex magic at night and other seductive tricks, left its mark on her body, life, and soul.

“I should have known better.” Heather talked using the rise and fall babies love to hear. “You will know better, won’t you? You are going to be my smart little girl.” The baby sucked steady, leeching liquid from her body she hadn’t replaced since yesterday’s, goddess help her, breakfast. She had worked through lunch at her retail job since two of the staff quit. Well, management must be having a field day with her being a no-show today. She drew more energy from the soil to push back the low-blood-sugar headache and dehydration migraine. The brownish grass turned black as she killed it for her survival, removing every particle of light the living mass had stored for the winter.

The clear blue eyes of the very young stared up at Heather, studying her intently, until, finally, Diana slowed her sucking. Unlatching the nipple, Heather tucked everything back in and slipped on her shoes, not worrying about the mud clinging to her toes, before carrying the drowsy baby to the car. Laying the two-month old back into the seat, Heather started buckling the child in. Kissing her lightly on the forehead, she promised, “I’m going to do everything in my power to protect you and your brother.”

Heather quaked as she considered her words. Everything in her power. She had to do it. Closing the door, she walked around to the other side where Apollo patiently waited for her with his black eyes. As she unbuckled him for the afternoon feeding, Heather commented, “Well, I guess your daddy is going to find out how well he taught me the Empty Magics.”

(Word 975; First published 1/20/2019)

 

Flash: A Dragon and a Witch

Image courtesy of Phil_Bird at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Rating: Mature

Leathery wings silently glided the dragon over the Nether Gate. Twisting to the pond as he dipped below the fruit trees scattered throughout the garden, Indigo called to the Inner Fire and flashed bright for a moment, transforming into human shape to touch boot on the stone pier.

“Well, if isn’t His Hotness invading my home yet again.”

His dark eyes searched the shadows for the witch whose vitriol-laden sexy voice had sent shivers down his vulnerable flesh form. He found her plucking a plum from a tree. Striding forward onto the rich loam, he closed the distance between them.

Not moving, she bit down on his favorite fruit, and he watched her cheeks hollow, sucking the juices out before she asked, “What did I tell you the last time?”

“That if I ever showed up here again, you weren’t going to kick me out.” The sometimes-man smirked down at the small, but curvy witch. “I fail to see the threat.” He grabbed the hand holding the plum and pulled it up to his mouth to take a bite where she had already broken the skin, Vera fighting him all the way but failing. Despite her inhuman strength capable of maintaining the magical garden, his arms could carry a dragon’s weight into the air. There was no real contest even though she pretended there was.

“I assume you carried this message to your queen as well.” She huffed, standing on tiptoes, waiting to regain her limb.

Taking a second to admire the juices flowing down the slim white arm from the half-eaten fruit, he eventually answered, “In all the glorious detail you provided. That you no longer owed fealty to the Air. The treaty had played out it four score and once more and anything coming from your garden will be paid for, not taxes and tribute collected.” He licked the juices which had reached the hollow of her elbow as she continued to struggle ineffectively against his greater might. He watched out of the corner of his eye her reactions while he followed the sticky line back up her arms, giving special attention around her wrist before prying the fruit from her fingers and releasing her arm.

During the entire time her eyes widened and darkened. She hadn’t stepped back, but instead licked her lips and her breathing deepened. The witch could have spoken a spell to throw him from the shade of the tree and into the water, but she hadn’t risked the start of a war, or maybe there was another reason. They had been playmates while she had resided as hostage-supplicant in High Aerie until her parent’s death and her inheriting their land.

“I also carried your warning that anything entering your lands is to be considered yours from now on to do with as you see fit.” One quick bite finished the fruit, and he threw the pit aside. “The queen does not care.”

After shaking out her arm, Vera brought the fingers to her mouth to suck the last of the stickiness from them. Pulling two moisten fingers from her mouth, the brunette looked up through her bangs and asked, “Is that Regina’s only answer?” She popped her thumb into her mouth, swirling her tongue around as her cheeks hollowed again, sucking firmly.

Indigo felt his eyes go completely purple as he watched her. Two sides of a cold, cold war kept them apart during their adolescent years while she became a ruler and he a trusted solider. The childhood friendship had changed into something else entirely the next time them met. Something that could never be pursued without total surrender on one of their parts, her part. Something the queen expected him to acquire before the next full moon – the surrender, not the results that both of them really wanted – to Void with the queen’s expectations. A short laugh twisted from his gut. “No. She expects the normal tribute to be brought by your farmhands in six days. And your presence to sign a new treaty.”

Satisfied all the stickiness had been removed, the witch wiped her hand on her apron, then pushed her long braids back bringing his attention to her long neck. He did like graceful necks in both his forms.

“Or?”

“I have been instructed to burn field after field until you capitulate.” Indigo’s broad shoulder’s shrugged, his face stoic.

Vera gasped, laying a hand upon her generous bosom. A feature he only appreciated in human form. “Oh, no!”

Indigo’s eyes narrowed. That wasn’t fear but extreme overacting.

“You do know,” her voice continued with the excessive hyperbolized tones she would use back when they were planning something their caretakers would rue later, “that as an Earth Witch bound to my lands, burning them will send me into agony.”

“Which is why your grandparents surrendered the first time.” He cocked his head to the side, moving to lean under the fruit tree and crossing his arms. Flower petals drifted down from the ever-fruiting tree bearing heavy branches of pink flowers, green young fruit, and full purple plums. “Why are you even trying?”

“Because I rule here.” Her heart-shaped face firmed into marble, her tone cutting as sharp flint. “I owe those tied to these gardens and fields to try.” A small smile slipped in like gold flecks in a High Aerie mining vein. “Plus it affects all those in my family.”

He shook his head at her obstinateness. “You have no family left. You are the last of your line.”

“Except for my husband.”

A cold hollow formed within his Inner Fire. It roared back to fill the void and leaped higher, a hint escaping as smoke from his nostrils. He found himself suddenly learning towards her, his fists either side of his body. “What husband?” he growled.

“Fruit bit and shared, from lip to lip and hand to hand. Thus it is done. Thus is it done. It is done thus.” She stood on tiptoes and quickly pressed her lips against his where he leaned forward.

His world exploded, and he fell like a stone as the world, a land, rushed in to welcome him, bind him, ground him.

(Words 1030 – first published 8/19/2018)

Book Review: Thieftaker (Thieftaker Chronicles, #1)

Book Cover from Amazon

Thieftaker by D.B. Jackson

BOOK BLURB ON AMAZON

Boston, 1765: In D.B. Jackson’s Thieftaker, revolution is brewing as the British Crown imposes increasingly onerous taxes on the colonies, and intrigue swirls around firebrands like Samuel Adams and the Sons of Liberty. But for Ethan Kaille, a thieftaker who makes his living by conjuring spells that help him solve crimes, politics is for others…until he is asked to recover a necklace worn by the murdered daughter of a prominent family.

Suddenly, he faces another conjurer of enormous power, someone unknown, who is part of a conspiracy that reaches to the highest levels of power in the turbulent colony. His adversary has already killed—and not for his own gain, but in the service of his powerful masters, people for whom others are mere pawns in a game of politics and power. Ethan is in way over his head, and he knows it. Already a man with a dark past, he can ill afford to fail, lest his livelihood be forfeit. But he can’t stop now, for his magic has marked him, so he must fight the odds, even though he seems hopelessly overmatched, his doom seeming certain at the spectral hands of one he cannot even see.

 

MY REVIEW

Harry Dresden meets Revolutionary War Boston

I have a new author to add to my faves – D.B. Jackson. The worldbuilding in Thieftaker is superb. Normally I avoid “alternate histories” – the tweaks never follow out to logical conclusions.

Example: The American Revolution inspired the French Revolution. Keep America loyal to British Rule so no American Revolution and jump forward 200 years … what happened in France and does the emperor still rule there and how does that affect France during WWII … do they accept occupation or fight? All of history feeds off itself; you can’t change just one thing.

But this book is not an alternate history, Thieftaker is an urban fantasy set in historical time. Ethan Kaille could be Harry Dresden, if the Chicago wizard lived in Boston just before the revolutionary war.

The characters are real, from the flawed hero to the merchants rivals on the warf. The arguments are urgent from the dreamers driving the country to the brink of revolution to the honest (and not-so-honest) people who just want to make a living and fear changes to the status quo. The scenes are authentic from the riots in the cobblestone street to the country manors of the Crown government. D.B. Jackson does an outstanding job blending his academic background as a historian with his occupation of fantasy author. A reader can immerse in fictional history.

Is the main character likeable? Not always, but I always rooted for him – even when he was being unlikeable. Can’t buy a good tea without paying England her tax, can’t have a good detective without him also being a Dick when interrogating suspects. And that is also part of the excellent worldbuilding.

If you like urban fantasy via detectives, pick up this book.