tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-213963662024-03-07T02:16:28.944-05:00Organized ChaosBecause life is full of oxymorons...and writers know this more than most.Kelly Meding/Kelly Meadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07058232720272908627noreply@blogger.comBlogger588125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21396366.post-87852586611844322882016-07-11T18:23:00.001-05:002016-07-11T18:23:43.148-05:00ORACLE Teaser: First Two Chapters<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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With the release of <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Oracle-Project-Files-Part-1-ebook/dp/B01HBU1R1W?ie=UTF8&*Version*=1&*entries*=0" target="_blank">ORACLE</a> only a week away, it seems like time to give folks a small taste of what to expect in this duology. Unlike most of my previous work, this story is told in multiple third-person points-of-view. There's no magic, but there is the magic of science and scientific theory, as well as some pretty nifty psi-abilities. Action, adventure, breaking-and-entering, sarcasm, and an android--what more could you want?</div>
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<br /></div>
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I hope you enjoy!</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1pFh4uZ9J04mfVPF-QeRpz0y5_6vpF5O9dSCf8b3RlVoqg9-t8XxFfuo-bhliPGuVmfTT3S7yy3CGBK5ZxnyHEi7_aa3b2Y16kDhJjRre8A2Le_VvpB4DDtklg116QLJ73_IY/s1600/Oracle.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1pFh4uZ9J04mfVPF-QeRpz0y5_6vpF5O9dSCf8b3RlVoqg9-t8XxFfuo-bhliPGuVmfTT3S7yy3CGBK5ZxnyHEi7_aa3b2Y16kDhJjRre8A2Le_VvpB4DDtklg116QLJ73_IY/s320/Oracle.png" width="255" /></a></div>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
Chapter One</div>
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The straining engine of the approaching Ames
moving van sputtered and hissed, barely making forty miles an hour on the
winding mountain roads, and announcing its arrival long before white metal
flashed in the trees below. Olivia Gellar braced her feet on the asphalt,
adrenaline already spiking as the van drew closer, trundling its way up the
mountain.</div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This job
will be child’s play.</i></div>
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<br /></div>
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“Sixty seconds, Olivia.” Nick’s voice crackled in
her ear. She’d left her partner higher up the west side of the mountain with
binoculars and an excellent vantage point.</div>
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“Check,” she said. “Come on down.”</div>
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She took the earbud out, snapped it into an
insulated case, and then tossed the case toward the side of the road. It hit
the shoulder and bounced into a patch of grass, out of harm’s way. </div>
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Time to work her magic. </div>
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Olivia stretched her arms out to either side,
palms forward, fingers splayed. She closed her eyes and concentrated. The
orange behind-the-eyelid sun glare disappeared, replaced by a gray mist. She
harnessed it to use with her unique talent. </div>
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The short hairs on her arms and the back of her
neck stood to attention, teased by the static field coalescing around her body.
A sharp, familiar pain struck, as if a hypodermic needle had been shoved
between her eyes. She pushed the pain and the gray mist forward, out in front
of her like a negatively charged brick wall waiting for its opposing force on
four wheels.</div>
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An engine roared and a horn blared. Scorching air
blasted the bare skin on her neck, face and hands.</div>
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Olivia opened her eyes and saw the front end of
the Ames van crumple as it hit the invisible wall, absorbing the brunt of its
own kinetic energy. The van had barreled around the bend faster than Olivia
expected and the remaining kinetic force slammed into her.. She flew backward
several feet and struck the pavement ass first. The impact drove a shock up her
spine, the air from her lungs, and the static field collapsed. </div>
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The world tilted and looped, and she coughed until
she could breathe again.</div>
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“Ouch.”</div>
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She forced her body to roll over so she could
observe her handiwork. The wounded van stood sideways across the middle of the
road, smoke rising from its mangled front end. The windshield had spider
webbed, but not shattered. Acrid odors of burned rubber and motor oil tingled
her nostrils and amplified the throbbing headache that only time would dispel.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Olivia?” </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Nick sprinted out of the woods with a handful of
broken twigs stuck comically in his wavy brown hair. He paused briefly to snag
her earbud case out of the grass as he dashed toward her, barely sparing a careless
glance at the van.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“I’m fine,” she said. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sort of</i>. “Check the driver.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
He jerked left and slowed as he approached the
van. Olivia kept her eyes on him as she struggled first to her knees, then
feet, blindly picking a piece of gravel out of her throbbing elbow. Her stomach lurched, and she willed it away. An impact like that deserved a little
upchucking, but she had a job to complete. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Work now,
side effects later.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Nick peered inside of the open passenger window.
“Driver’s unconscious. His mind is pretty deep inside. He won’t be bothering
us.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Good.” Olivia approached slowly, a bit unsteady,
as if she was walking underwater. She crouched and peered beneath the van. “No
gas leaks, so just leave him there. He’ll be fine. Until Mitchell gets his
hands on him, anyway.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Nick grunted. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
They met at the back of the van. Olivia wrapped
her hand around the padlock securing the rear door. Nick’s hand drifted to her
lower back, the simple touch centering her addled mind. Through the haze of
pain, she pulled from the mist and her own inner reserves. The metal lock
heated. Hotter, hotter, until it snapped and hit the pavement with a soft
clatter. Nick tugged the lever. The door scrolled up.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Unventilated air wafted out and sunlight poured
in, illuminating the interior. Reinforced with aluminum sheeting the walls
resembled a Jiffy Pop popcorn pan. A hospital gurney stood bolted to the floor
in the center of the storage space.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Olivia climbed inside, pulse racing. McGreary’s
information had been correct about the time and place of transport. She just
wished that his knowledge of the cargo had been wrong.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
A teenage girl was strapped to the gurney, her
narrow body covered by a thin, white sheet. Shorn close, her hair color was
impossible to discern. Cheekbones protruded sharply beneath translucent skin,
an awkward contrast to her thick, overdeveloped brow ridge, giving her youthful
face a hawk-like appearance. Her chest rose and fell in a steady, sleep-induced
rhythm.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Is she drugged?” Olivia asked. Her voice echoed
painfully in the metal cocoon.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Nick stepped to the opposite side of the gurney.
He touched her cheek, concentrating with his own unique talent. “Yes. She’s
deeply unconscious, O, I can’t reach her.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“God damn them.” Olivia unsnapped the buckles on
the gurney. “Drugging her up and stuffing her into the back of a van for
disposal. I guess Wilderness got tired of storing their mistakes and decided to
start getting rid of them.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“We don’t know that.” He tucked the sheet around
the girl’s supine form, and then picked her up with little more effort than in
years past. They both struggled a bit more these days. “McGreary knew she’d be
here, but he didn’t know why. Maybe she was being delivered to a satellite
lab.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Olivia followed him out of the van. “Please. If
this were a secured transport, there would have been at least one agent. They
didn’t even have someone in the back guarding her.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Can we table the argument for now? Like after
we’ve given McGreary his sister back and he’s paid us for our work?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Fine.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
She followed him into the woods, to the short
trail that would lead them up to their waiting SUV. Agents would be on the
scene in a few hours. They likely already knew the van was compromised. No
agents in the van did not mean there was no security measures in place. Olivia
knew Wilderness, and she knew their tactics. If the girl, Brooke McGreary, was
still an Active Project, they would put Mitchell on the case.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Gary Mitchell specialized in retrieving lost
Projects. After all, he had been trying to retrieve Olivia and Nick for
eighteen years.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
# </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Brooke remained unconscious for the two-hour drive
to the rendezvous spot, a rest stop along I-77, just over the Ohio state line.
She showed signs of waking during the last five minutes of the trip, so Olivia
kept close watch. She didn’t know if the girl’s powers were dormant or active,
and she didn’t want to find out the hard way. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Been there,
done that, with no intention of going there again.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Nick steered the SUV toward a wooded area a few
hundred feet from the brick restrooms and information building. A blue pickup
truck was parked in front of a cluster of picnic tables, and a figure emerged
as Nick pulled into a neighboring space.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Olivia climbed out of the passenger side, her
stiff back resisting movement after being still for so long. The ungraceful
landing on her ass had definitely left its mark, and she wouldn’t be surprised
to find some black and blue down there later. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
She joined Nick on the other side of the vehicle.
Patrick McGreary approached them, hands at his sides, deep-set eyes wide with
silent questions. His thick frame and sunburned appearance bore little
resemblance to the girl in the back of their vehicle—not surprising given how
Wilderness tended to treat their Projects. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Did you find her?” McGreary asked.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Yes,” Olivia replied. “She’s still asleep, but we
found her. Exactly as you said we would.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
McGreary expelled a deep breath. “Thank you both.
You don’t know what this means to me. When they took her, I didn’t think I’d
ever see her again.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Nick opened the rear door. McGreary leaned inside
and stroked Brooke’s bald head. His shoulders started to shake, and Olivia
looked away. Gave him some privacy with his emotions.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“You’re lucky,” Nick said. “Most of the time, when
Wilderness takes something, you don’t get it back. I just hope we weren’t too
late to make a difference.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Look what they did to her,” McGreary whispered.
“My pretty little sister.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Olivia busied herself watching the small rest stop
crowd, his genuine gratitude both overwhelming and embarrassing. This was why
she hated meeting clients face to face. It made the jobs personal when she
wanted them to remain professional. Getting emotional led to thinking about the
past, and she couldn’t do that and remain objective.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Do the job and reap the rewards. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Watching Wilderness occasionally take one up the
ass was purely a bonus. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Once McGreary regained his composure, they gently
transferred Brooke to his truck and buckled her into the passenger seat. She
stirred, but didn’t wake, and thank God for that. Olivia didn’t need to see
their joyous reunion.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“I have a doctor friend who’s waiting for us,”
McGreary said as he closed the truck door. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“You should get going,” Olivia said. “Disappear
before they start hunting for her.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">If</i> they
hunt for her. But even if they try, being a precognitive has its advantages. I
never have to ask who’s at the door, and I always know if the train’s running
late.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Just keep her away from Wilderness. Get out of
the country, move to Istanbul, I don’t care. Keep her safe. And yourself, too.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“I appreciate the concern, but it’s not necessary.
You did what I paid you to do, and I thank you for that.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Olivia shrugged. They would take on any job that
insulted or damaged Wilderness. A tenuous truce prevented her and Nick from
attacking the scientific research organization outright, and they abided by
those unspoken rules. But these sorts of odd jobs were fun. Something she would
have done for free if the interested party couldn’t pay. Fortunately for them,
McGreary had created his independent wealth betting on football games. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Precognition definitely had its financial
advantages.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Our concern is free,” Nick said. “We’ve been
dealing with Wilderness most of our lives. We know what they’re capable of, and
we don’t take unnecessary risks when they’re involved.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
McGreary nodded. “I understand. At least let me
read you. A sneak peek at your future.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“I know my future, thanks.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“How about this week then? What can it hurt?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Olivia stole a glance Nick, whose gaze had shifted
to the ground. She had a good idea of their future, as well, thanks to their
biology, but that future was in three to five years. Not the events of the
upcoming week. Moreover, McGreary seemed eager to provide them with some sort
of parting gift.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“What the hell?” she said. “Give it your best
shot.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
McGreary took her right hand in his and held it
loosely. She expected him to close his eyes or start to hum or something
equally cliché. Like television psychics who only pretend to have the kind of
talent that truly existed in people like him. Instead, he stared at her. His
dark brown eyes dilated and seemed to look right through her head. She
visualized a hamster running on its wheel and couldn’t imagine what he saw in
there. Seconds passed. He blinked and released her hand. His eyebrows furrowed
into a knot.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“What?” she asked.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
He tilted his head to the left, seeming to debate
his reply, and that made her kind of nervous. “I saw two strangers coming into
your life. I’m not sure who they are, but one is mundane and the other
powerful. Unique. They’ll help unlock a secret.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Olivia bit back a sharp retort. Two strangers had
already come into her life this week, and she was staring at one of them. He’d
tried, but perhaps his power went on the fritz occasionally.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Then again, he’d said one was mundane, and both
McGreary and his sister had talents.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Well, that was enlightening,” Nick said. “But
seriously, you should get going.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Patrick nodded, seeming distracted. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
They waited for him to drive away, hopefully
taking Brooke as far from Wilderness and West Virginia as possible, before they
climbed back into their borrowed SUV. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Olivia pulled the safety belt across her lap.
“Well, whoever this mystery pair is, I hope one of them’s cute.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“What if they’re both girls?” Nick turned the key
and the engine roared to life.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Still hope one of them’s cute, because Nicolas,
my friend, you have no sex life.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
He put the gear into reverse. “And you do?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Well, not at this very moment, but I hope to have
one tonight. After a hot shower, some ibuprofen, and a long nap.” She settled
against the seat, shifting until she found a comfortable position for the long
ride home.</div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span><br />
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</span>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
Chapter Two</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Dr. Frey! Open the door!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The urgent, muffled voice spurred Dean Frey away
from his chaotic desk. The computer’s hard drive lay smashed into dozens of
pieces, the hardware inside completely exposed. He’d tossed in a handful of
refrigerator magnets for good measure. His few remaining paper files and two
thumb drives were secured in the pack strapped onto his back. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
His life’s work reduced to an old backpack. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
He darted to the lone sixth floor window. His
already rolling stomach bottomed out at the sight of it. He rarely looked out
the window; he never used the rusty fire escape. Living on the top story had
never bothered his agoraphobia until the moment that three-by-five hole in the
wall became his only escape route. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
He would not go willingly with the men shouting
outside his door. Doing so signed his own death warrant.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Open it!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Dean pulled, the window’s swollen frame squealing
in protest. He managed a space of maybe nine or ten inches before it refused to
rise further. He shoved the pack out first, and then squeezed through the tight
space. It occurred to him in a mad panic that all of his middle school suffering,
of being called “bean pole” and “arrow man” wasn’t so bad. His tall, skinny
build had probably just saved his life. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
His hard landing on the iron fire escape rattled
its entire frame. A wave of vertigo swept over him. The ground blurred and his
head spun wildly. He gripped the rail, inhaled deeply, and then blinked hard.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I can do
this. I have to do this.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
He shouldered the pack, swung around and descended
the ladder. Hand over hand, foot over foot, down the rusted rungs. One level at
a time. Not thinking about how far down to the ground it was.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Wood crashed above, probably the front door being
smashed in. Men were talking, some shouting, and the loudest of whom Dean
recognized. He had a very distinctive voice. Gary Mitchell, head of security at
Wilderness. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The man had left the office just for him.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Guess that
makes me special.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Dean hurried his descent, dropping floors as
quickly as he could without looking down. Above him, the fire escape clattered
with sharp squeals and clangs. Someone was following him, but Dean concentrated
on going down and nothing else. Third story to the second. Almost there. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
He hit the ground and bolted toward the street.
Men shouted his name. The building wall spat brick and mortar as he ran past.
He registered that he was being shot at, but did not stop or slow down. If he
did, he would be killed. Even running toward daytime traffic, he couldn’t be
sure he wouldn’t be caught. He would not go gently. Not by a long shot.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Dean emerged from the alley and melted into the
bustling lunchtime crowd. Pedestrians carried briefcases and takeout bags,
rushing to meetings in their business suits and silk ties. Dean had thrown on a
pair of blue jeans and an old sweater, and he carried a faded backpack on one
shoulder. He was certainly the only one in the crowd running from the people he
worked for. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Used to work for.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
He looked straight ahead, always searching. Public
phone booths were insanely hard to find nowadays, but they still existed. His
cell was in the apartment, as smashed to bits as his computer, useless even if
he’d kept it. Wilderness could have traced the phone.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
A block down, he spotted the Holy Grail attached
to the side of a gas station. He clamped his hand down over the pack strap and
made a beeline for the payphone. No one noticed him. Here he was anonymous for
a while.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“For a good
time, call Alice” was scrawled in black marker across the top of the pay phone,
right above a number. Dean grabbed the grimy handset, then took a moment to
look around, searching the faces of the passersby for anyone he recognized. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
No one. Not yet, anyway. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
He fished into his pocket for change and tossed a
few coins into the phone. His fingers flew over the keypad; punching in the
number he’d burned into his memory last night. Probably the only person who
could help him out of this mess.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“The number you have dialed is not available,” a
mechanical operator voice said. “If you require assistance<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">—</i>.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Damn it.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Dean slammed the handset back into the receiver.
His money clinked. He turned and looked back down the street toward his
apartment building. Less than twenty feet away, he spotted a familiar face.
Daryl Yates, a tall, thin man with a hooked nose who always reminded Dean of a
younger, uglier Jimmy Stewart, was Mitchell’s second-in-command.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Yates met his gaze. Both men froze. Dean’s heart
slammed against his ribs. Yates’s hand slid toward the front of his jacket.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Dean bolted, intent on running until he was hit by
a car or was shot in the back. He raced toward the street, bolted through the
nearest lane, and almost slammed right into a sheriff’s cruiser, paused in
traffic in the far lane. Dean wasn’t sure if he wanted to cheer or weep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The deputy rolled down the window. Sunlight
glinted off his nametag: Porter. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Problem, son?” Deputy Porter asked.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Um, yeah.” Dean glanced behind him. Yates stood
stiffly near the abandoned payphone. Mitchell approached, his eyes glued on
Dean. Dean turned back to the officer. “Yes, sir. I really need to get to the
bus station. You see, my wife is in Wheeling and she’s about to give birth to
our first son, but I don’t have a car and—”</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Hop on in, son,” Deputy Porter said. “I’ll give
you a lift. You’ll have to ride in the back, though. Rules and such.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Thank you so much. You have no idea.” He opened
the door behind the deputy and slid inside, slamming it shut.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“You mind the siren? It’ll get us there faster.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“The siren is fine,” Dean replied.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Porter flipped a switch on his dashboard and the
cruiser’s siren wailed to life. Dean looked out the window at the street.
Mitchell and Yates were gone. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Thank God.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
He leaned into the seat, shifting his pack around
to rest in his lap, and tried to get his heart rate back under control. This
was simply a diversion. A quick rest before the next sprint. They were being
followed for sure, but there was no way to turn around and check without being
obvious. A suspicious deputy was the last thing Dean needed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“First kid, eh?” Porter asked. He adjusted his
rearview for a better look, and Dean glanced up into curious eyes.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Yeah.” Dean fidgeted a little. Lying was not
something he did well. “It’s been hard, a lot of miscarriages. I had to come
out here for business, and left poor Sally home alone. She isn’t due for two
more weeks, but I guess you can’t plan these things.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Sally? Of all the names he could have picked, he
came up with Sally? He didn’t even know a Sally, except for the blond girl in
the Peanuts comics.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“I’ve got three kids myself,” Porter said, smiling
broadly. “All girls and every one of them looks like their mama.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
That was probably a good thing. The deputy was
chubby and balding, with mud-brown hair and a pointed chin. Not ugly, but not
someone you’d want a girl to take after. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Wouldn’t have minded a son,” Porter went on. “But
my wife decided three was enough and had that operation. Wouldn’t trade my
girls for anything, though. You’ll know what I mean pretty soon, I think.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Dean nodded along, content to let Porter do all
the talking. Then he wouldn’t ask questions Dean didn’t want to answer. Thankfully,
it wasn’t far to the bus station. He was half-afraid that the chatty deputy
would start telling him stories about potty training and diaper rash, all
subjects Dean had no interest in. Not today, and not anytime in the near
future. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Assuming he had a future. He’d heard stories about
the security team at Wilderness, and the things that those men were willing and
able to do. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
If Dean didn’t get real help soon, he would be
dead.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
# </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Dean talked fast to prevent Deputy Porter from
following him to the ticket window. The aged man seemed to take it upon himself
to see to Dean’s welfare, concern that may have touched Dean if he wasn’t
running for his life. The longer Porter was around him, the stronger the
likelihood of him getting hurt. Or his family getting hurt. Either way, not
something Dean wanted on his conscience.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The bus station bustled with life. Young couples
searching for their buses, families juggling luggage of all sizes, single men
off on business trips, one or two poorly dressed kids that might have been
runaways. If Dean hadn’t been looking so hard for familiar faces, he probably
wouldn’t have noticed any of them. They would have been as anonymous to him as
he was to them.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Anonymity was a good thing. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
He was also in luck for a change. A direct route
to Wheeling was scheduled to leave in less than ten minutes. Dean paid for a
ticket, relieved he had enough cash in his wallet to cover the bill. Security
tapes or not, he didn’t need his credit cards traced or attached to his
destination. If they even worked. Wilderness knew people. It was likely that
they were wiping out his entire life as he stood there, waiting for a young
woman with blue-streaked hair to print out his bus ticket.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
She slid the ticket under the glass partition and
offered him a half-assed smile. “Have a nice trip,” she said with the
enthusiasm of someone resigned to saying that ten thousand times a day for the
rest of her life.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Dean mumbled a hurried thank you, grabbed the precious
slip of paper and turned. He almost crashed into the man in line behind him. He
muttered an apology and moved to the left, studying the station lobby,
automatically searching for black suits. Anyone in a black suit was immediately
suspicious, whether they were a lawyer, a tax attorney or one of Wilderness’s
security agents. Spotting no one who seemed overtly interested in him, Dean
walked toward the outer doors.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Once he exited the depot, he felt a fraction
better. He inhaled the semi-fresh air, almost choking on the strong odors of
oil and exhaust fumes. Six buses were lined up, in various states of readiness.
Four had their sides raised, and uniformed men tossed luggage into the
underside compartments with all the care of circus jugglers. The first two
buses in line were loading passengers. Dean checked the numbers. His bus was
first.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">No way is
this good luck going to keep up forever.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
He glanced back at the depot, and his hand jerked.
Yates and Mitchell stood at the ticket booth, only their profiles visible. The
blue-haired girl snapped her gum, but didn’t seem terribly interested in
answering their questions. Mitchell flashed a badge at her. Dean had seen those
badges, identifying the wearer as part of a private security firm. They worked
well as an intimidation tactic. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
In most cases. The ticket girl just shrugged.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Yates turned. His dark eyes met Dean’s, and Dean’s
stomach churned. Yates nudged Mitchell. Dean didn’t wait to see how Mitchell
reacted. He walked toward the row of buses, moving quickly without drawing too
much attention. He went around the front of the fourth bus and back down along
the other side. A chain link fence topped with razor wire prevented him from
abandoning the bus station altogether. If more agents showed up, he was
completely screwed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Dean dropped to his knees and peered under the
bus. Two sets of shiny leather shoes walked quickly in his direction. They
paused, and then split up. One went left, the other right. Dean swallowed. They
were going to trap him from either end of the bus.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
His feet moved on their own, instinct carrying
Dean to the luggage carriers. He looked inside, expecting it to be stuffed
full. A clear path cut through to the other side of the bus. Only half loaded.
He offered a silent thank you to whoever was looking out for him today and
climbed inside. His hands slid on the surface of a leather suitcase, and he was
certain he heard something crack. Strong cologne bit his nostrils. His left eye
twitched, but he prevented the sneeze from escaping. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
He peeked out of the other side of the compartment
in time to see Mitchell disappear around the back of the bus. Dean slid out,
landed on his hands and pulled himself out the rest of the way, uncaring who
saw or what they thought. His feet hit the pavement with a soft thump, and he
ran toward his own bus. He didn’t stop until he was inside and up the three
steps to where the driver waited to punch his ticket. Dean handed it over,
amazed that his hand didn’t shake. The driver glanced at it, punched it
absently and handed it back.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Dean found an empty seat halfway down the aisle,
glad the bus was only half-full. He imagined he looked pale and scared, and he
didn’t need a lot of people staring at him. He slouched low in his seat,
hugging the pack to his chest, afraid everyone around him could hear his
pounding heartbeat. The bus rumbled around him, that familiar, soothing engine
sound. He vaguely registered the driver making an announcement, or the hiss of
the closing doors.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I did it.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
It wasn’t until the bus jerked forward that Dean
dared sit up and glance out the window. As they pulled away from the station,
he spotted a cluster of black-suited men standing amid the waiting buses. Dean
flopped back into his seat, relief hitting him like a sledgehammer and leaving
him boneless. His head lolled side to side in time with the lurching of the
bus. The trip should take about three hours.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">Three hours to try
and plan the rest of his life, short though it might be.</span><br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Oracle-Project-Files-Part-1-ebook/dp/B01HBU1R1W?ie=UTF8&*Version*=1&*entries*=0" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">Pre-Order on Amazon!</span></a><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">Other retailers coming soon! </span>Kelly Meding/Kelly Meadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07058232720272908627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21396366.post-3807659226614495742016-07-07T21:17:00.001-05:002016-07-07T21:17:50.903-05:00Cover Reveal: Oracle<span style="font-size: large;">One of these days I will figure out this whole self-publishing thing so I can manage an actual cover reveal/promotion with more than ten days before the publication date. But because of reasons, here's the cover for ORACLE: The Project Files Part 1. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I really do love this. Robin Ludwig Designs did a great job, and I couldn't be happier.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Pre-order at <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Oracle-Project-Files-Part-1-ebook/dp/B01HBU1R1W?ie=UTF8&*Version*=1&*entries*=0#nav-subnav" target="_blank">Amazon here</a>.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE96P3J7bdPFMN222CCreGIPy1FQFqihRwZgWrcjUR6CRZuF-NNOWnJSo38jaOIbfHSb5A_-BPsJyguEu0SifpSrZr2ak9l3bw-TI12vuq08hy8WJdAlc-ZEU6GbNm2dRmb6Ay/s1600/Oracle+Ebook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE96P3J7bdPFMN222CCreGIPy1FQFqihRwZgWrcjUR6CRZuF-NNOWnJSo38jaOIbfHSb5A_-BPsJyguEu0SifpSrZr2ak9l3bw-TI12vuq08hy8WJdAlc-ZEU6GbNm2dRmb6Ay/s320/Oracle+Ebook.jpg" width="213" /></a></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQrgB9edJThoySAdFVsMeG0HWQKTFKx0SJttj133nIU74jTYwsq9EEtdNtmyc5puIhya041Zhp7TOxU6J1_cDk1PeeohwW2wKFaGnN1je36ok14yfcZHPGolvvi-8MiUSo7CRt/s1600/Oracle+Full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQrgB9edJThoySAdFVsMeG0HWQKTFKx0SJttj133nIU74jTYwsq9EEtdNtmyc5puIhya041Zhp7TOxU6J1_cDk1PeeohwW2wKFaGnN1je36ok14yfcZHPGolvvi-8MiUSo7CRt/s320/Oracle+Full.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Blurb:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Dr. Dean
Frey is a man of science. His lifelong desire to create a better future for
mankind has led him to the prestigious, and highly mysterious, Wilderness
Institute of Scientific Research & Technology, as the head of their
Robotics Engineering department. Building on the research and designs of others
before him, Dean’s own genius culminates in the successful creation of
Anthony—the first fully-automated, free-thinking android prototype. And now Wilderness
wants to sell Anthony to the military. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Unwilling
to allow his achievement to become weaponized, Dean reaches out to a former
Wilderness employee with the resources to help him steal Anthony and relocate
them both to safety. He’s put into contact with the very secretive Nick and
Olivia, who ask for one simple thing in return: trust us, no matter what you
see or hear. Blind trust isn’t in Dean’s cautious nature, but he has no other
choice. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">For
telekinetic Olivia, rescuing a fellow Psion from a life of imprisonment and
experimentation is one of her favorite things. Being paid is nice, but she’ll
do the job for free, if it means giving Wilderness the finger. When Olivia’s
reclusive mentor solicits her and her telepathic partner Nick’s help in
smuggling a very special Project out of Wilderness, they jump at the chance to
infiltrate their former home and do some internal damage to the institute that
created them.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">With
their combined knowledge of the facility, breaking Anthony out of Wilderness should
have been easy—but Olivia learned a long time ago to never underestimate her
enemies, or the lengths they’ll go to retrieve what’s theirs. And this time,
the price for stealing the Project may be more than she’s willing to pay.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">*</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Other vendor links coming soon. </span></div>
Kelly Meding/Kelly Meadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07058232720272908627noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21396366.post-14612186087768127192016-06-20T10:05:00.001-05:002016-06-20T10:05:46.186-05:00I HAVE BOOK NEWS<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="e7gu" data-offset-key="87c9m-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="87c9m-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="87c9m-0-0"><span data-text="true">I've been somewhat vague about upcoming projects, because I'm still getting the hang of this self-publishing thing, and I'm always afraid I'll jinx myself if I speak before I have my ducks in a row.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="e7gu" data-offset-key="3o2ki-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="3o2ki-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="3o2ki-0-0"><br data-text="true" /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="e7gu" data-offset-key="5mhe1-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="5mhe1-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="5mhe1-0-0"><span data-text="true">Right now, my ducks are all at least in the same pond, so here's what's cooking, by way of a long story: way back in college, when I was still considering a career as a screenwriter, I began working on what was then a pilot for a TV show featuring characters with telepathic/telekinetic abilities. I wrote two episodes, and then put them away because what was someone from Delaware going to do with TV show scripts, right?</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="e7gu" data-offset-key="e7d4f-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="e7d4f-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="e7d4f-0-0"><br data-text="true" /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="e7gu" data-offset-key="75jfu-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="75jfu-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="75jfu-0-0"><span data-text="true">Not long after that, I got back into writing prose fiction, thanks to participating in fanfiction forums online. So I pulled those scripts out of the drawer and rewrote them as novels. First they were two long novels. Then three short novels. Then one long novel. Over the years, they've been rewritten, because my writing skills have vastly improved in the last 13-odd years. I removed unnecessary flashbacks. Killed a small subplot. Tightened what was actually happening.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="e7gu" data-offset-key="6b17h-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="6b17h-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="6b17h-0-0"><br data-text="true" /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="e7gu" data-offset-key="72emq-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="72emq-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="72emq-0-0"><span data-text="true">And now they're ready for you guys. As a complete duology, with book one releasing this summer, and book two in the fall. Don't worry, there are no major cliffhangers at the end of book one. I wouldn't do that to you guys.</span></span></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="72emq-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="72emq-0-0"><span data-text="true"> </span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOfVr3_KR7Z2x2VPtKXMecpsSCHUUT2xJcnPEGmRgjpfS_UKIk2zxyA7IOzKG7wMe4lfNvYEfMU_YtxXWEtdDgzBf7aCIjRQlaNnq9cOCWRDOZK5UV5ZDRMKWLjWMjG6G6v8rT/s1600/Olivia.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOfVr3_KR7Z2x2VPtKXMecpsSCHUUT2xJcnPEGmRgjpfS_UKIk2zxyA7IOzKG7wMe4lfNvYEfMU_YtxXWEtdDgzBf7aCIjRQlaNnq9cOCWRDOZK5UV5ZDRMKWLjWMjG6G6v8rT/s320/Olivia.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="72emq-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="72emq-0-0"><span data-text="true"> </span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="e7gu" data-offset-key="3jsvg-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="3jsvg-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="3jsvg-0-0"><br data-text="true" /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="e7gu" data-offset-key="ccnln-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="ccnln-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="ccnln-0-0"><span data-text="true">ORACLE: The Project Files Part 1 is scheduled for release on July 18th. I will have early paperback copies for sale at the Meet the Pros event at </span></span><span class="_5u8u" data-offset-key="ccnln-1-0" spellcheck="false"><span data-offset-key="ccnln-1-0"><span data-text="true">Shore Leave 38</span></span></span><span data-offset-key="ccnln-2-0"><span data-text="true"> that weekend, for folks who attend. I've long described the books as "The A-Team with superpowers," if that piques your interest at all.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="e7gu" data-offset-key="ec0n1-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="ec0n1-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="ec0n1-0-0"><br data-text="true" /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="e7gu" data-offset-key="70rvf-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="70rvf-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="70rvf-0-0"><span data-text="true">I'm super-excited to be working with the very talented </span></span><span class="_5u8u" data-offset-key="70rvf-1-0" spellcheck="false"><span data-offset-key="70rvf-1-0"><span data-text="true">Robin Ludwig Design Inc.</span></span></span><span data-offset-key="70rvf-2-0"><span data-text="true"> on my cover art. She did the artwork for Requiem for the Dead and The Night Before Dead, and she killed it both times.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="e7gu" data-offset-key="bcf9q-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="bcf9q-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="bcf9q-0-0"><br data-text="true" /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="e7gu" data-offset-key="2464i-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="2464i-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="2464i-0-0"><span data-text="true">And to give you an idea of what to expect from this book, the finalized back cover blurb is below.</span></span></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="2464i-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="2464i-0-0"><span data-text="true"> </span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW-sop7P903CGejxe2XlvkJ0FfNA5KsKuJSWod6wQMUHmcBAVLtoL7NJ8r0Wq8lHxEyX9sUCO8atnVQnNWFiAnZOIvGGkKK8ryBbCUBY5qOMD1QofSHqdBcIy_86T8DWkBhyFo/s1600/Dean.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW-sop7P903CGejxe2XlvkJ0FfNA5KsKuJSWod6wQMUHmcBAVLtoL7NJ8r0Wq8lHxEyX9sUCO8atnVQnNWFiAnZOIvGGkKK8ryBbCUBY5qOMD1QofSHqdBcIy_86T8DWkBhyFo/s320/Dean.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="2464i-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="2464i-0-0"><span data-text="true"> </span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="e7gu" data-offset-key="oej3-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="oej3-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="oej3-0-0"><br data-text="true" /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="e7gu" data-offset-key="5mrcq-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="5mrcq-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="5mrcq-0-0"><span data-text="true">#</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="e7gu" data-offset-key="e9a2-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="e9a2-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="e9a2-0-0"><br data-text="true" /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="e7gu" data-offset-key="ehnhs-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="ehnhs-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="ehnhs-0-0"><span data-text="true">Dr. Dean Frey is a man of science. His lifelong desire to create a better future for mankind has led him to the prestigious, and highly mysterious, Wilderness Institute of Scientific Research & Technology, as the head of their Robotics Engineering department. Building on the research and designs of others before him, Dean’s own genius culminates in the successful creation of Anthony—the first fully-automated, free-thinking android prototype. And now Wilderness wants to sell Anthony to the military. </span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="e7gu" data-offset-key="kgcn-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="kgcn-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="kgcn-0-0"><br data-text="true" /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="e7gu" data-offset-key="6jdvg-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="6jdvg-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="6jdvg-0-0"><span data-text="true">Unwilling to allow his achievement to become weaponized, Dean reaches out to a former Wilderness employee with the resources to help him steal Anthony and relocate them both to safety. He’s put into contact with the very secretive Nick and Olivia, who ask for one simple thing in return: trust us, no matter what you see or hear. Blind trust isn’t in Dean’s cautious nature, but he has no other choice. </span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="e7gu" data-offset-key="bkhvb-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="bkhvb-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="bkhvb-0-0"><br data-text="true" /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="e7gu" data-offset-key="7005v-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="7005v-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="7005v-0-0"><span data-text="true">For telekinetic Olivia, rescuing a fellow Psion from a life of imprisonment and experimentation is one of her favorite things. Being paid is nice, but she’ll do the job for free, if it means giving Wilderness the finger. When Olivia’s reclusive mentor solicits her and her telepathic partner Nick’s help in smuggling a very special Project out of Wilderness, they jump at the chance to infiltrate their former home and do some internal damage to the institute that created them.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="e7gu" data-offset-key="5jkp0-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="5jkp0-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="5jkp0-0-0"><br data-text="true" /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="e7gu" data-offset-key="9cf2v-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="9cf2v-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="9cf2v-0-0"><span data-text="true">With their combined knowledge of the facility, breaking Anthony out of Wilderness should have been easy—but Olivia learned a long time ago to never underestimate her enemies, or the lengths they’ll go to retrieve what’s theirs. And this time, the price for stealing the Project may be more than she’s willing to pay.</span></span></div>
</div>
Kelly Meding/Kelly Meadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07058232720272908627noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21396366.post-89265989427125324432016-05-16T12:42:00.000-05:002016-05-16T12:42:35.710-05:00Holy freaking adrenaline rush, Batman!<div data-contents="true">
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="1lp29" data-offset-key="ddaa5-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="ddaa5-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="ddaa5-0-0"><span data-text="true"></span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="1lp29" data-offset-key="ducmm-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="ducmm-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="ducmm-0-0"><br data-text="true" /></span></div>
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<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="1lp29" data-offset-key="68cd4-0-0">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span data-offset-key="68cd4-0-0"><span data-text="true">So I'm in my home office with the window open slightly for fresh air, tapping away at my laptop, in my mismatched teal sweat pants and red Deadpool t-shirt, when I catch the faintest whiff of smoke. At first, okay, someone's probably barbecuing on their patio, which is against the lease rules, but people do. But it's midday on a Monday.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span data-offset-key="gr76-0-0"><span data-text="true">The smell gets stronger. I look to my left, at the office window, and see a billow of gray smoke. Seriously real smoke. I get up so fast that shit falls off my desk and scares Jinx out of the room. I don't have a wide view of the building from that window, but I could trail the smoke to the ground. The mulch around a group of air conditioning units is on fire.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span data-offset-key="emc55-0-0"><span data-text="true">On. Fire.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span data-offset-key="18s3o-0-0"><span data-text="true">Flames. Smoke. More flames.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span data-offset-key="5v76u-0-0"><span data-text="true">Don't tell anyone, but my apartment burning down is one of my few very real fears.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span data-offset-key="9kcgt-0-0"><span data-text="true">And my apartment reeks of smoke. I dash into the kitchen, thinking water! I need to get water down there! So I grab my watering can and set it to fill in the kitchen sink. Then I shut the living room window, because smoke!, terrifying Puck in the process. All kitties have fled to my room, because Momma's acting psycho. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span data-offset-key="2ngqr-0-0"><span data-text="true">Once the watering can is full, I put a plastic pitcher under the faucet,and flee for a pair of shoes and a sweater. A gray and white striped sweater, to complete the hobo look. With both containers full, I somehow managed to get out of my door and down two flights of steps to the ground.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span data-offset-key="4u6og-0-0"><span data-text="true">A gentleman is already there stomping at the fire with his sneakers, so I immediately feel dumb for wearing sandals, but hey. Water! I brought water! I pour the water around the flames, which have made a circle about three feet wide and have half-torched some kind of grass plant. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span data-offset-key="bk1dq-0-0"><span data-text="true">Between my water and his feet, we've got it under control. He starts wondering what could have started it. He's found a few cigarette butts, but none of them are hot. I tell him about how one spring, the mulch outside a store I worked at spontaneously burst into flames. Something to do with moisture, trapped heat, and the chemicals in the mulch, so it was likely the cause of the fire.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span data-offset-key="efap-0-0"><span data-text="true">He stomps at it a bit more, and another lady neighbor brings more water. Once it's finally under control, he volunteers to call the office and let them know. I come upstairs, fling my windows back open, and turn fans on because it reeks in here.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span data-offset-key="4v062-0-0"><span data-text="true">The cats are watching me with distrust in their eyes.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span data-offset-key="dtcbk-0-0"><span data-text="true">And my hair smells like smoke. </span></span></span></div>
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Kelly Meding/Kelly Meadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07058232720272908627noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21396366.post-60929626551440515612016-04-08T08:08:00.000-05:002016-04-08T08:08:02.163-05:00The Night Before Dead (Dreg City #6)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSINjLGTGaz6Sj9cizjwfMmcBIFZowYc8val3ZRr4eWS3Z6ZRYmt-s4QN3zl46DtrlSVeVTFoQZLJQcD_YoORRwBOnAnlkCcDIz8R4kRkjtzzo2YS6MXzFBmsgM-eWTcHsM3Ok/s1600/Night+Before+Dead+Full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSINjLGTGaz6Sj9cizjwfMmcBIFZowYc8val3ZRr4eWS3Z6ZRYmt-s4QN3zl46DtrlSVeVTFoQZLJQcD_YoORRwBOnAnlkCcDIz8R4kRkjtzzo2YS6MXzFBmsgM-eWTcHsM3Ok/s320/Night+Before+Dead+Full.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> <b>In twenty-four hours, everything they know will change forever.</b></span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;">Evangeline Stone has died twice, survived dozens of wounds that should have killed her, bled to save innocent lives, and she’s still standing while so many of her friends are in the ground. With one final confrontation with the Fey brewing and an end to the constant battling in sight, Evy is ready to fight one last time—and then she’s done. She only has to get through one more day.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;">Wyatt Truman has loved Evy secretly for years, and openly for only a few months. Their time together has always been fraught with death and blood and fear, but they have overcome all odds and defeated every enemy in order to earn their happily ever after. And once again, Wyatt is putting his trust in an elf in order to secure that future.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;">Brevin’s plan to stop the Fey will require a leap of faith for everyone involved, as well as the potential loss of life for the three Therian men who volunteer to host and control a Tainted—a demon from the place where magic began. Creatures of emotion and instinct whom Brevin insists can be controlled if summoned correctly and into the right vessel. As time ticks down to the summoning ritual and Dreg violence breaks out all over the city, both Evy and Wyatt find themselves torn between doing what’s right and following their hearts.</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Buy link roundup!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01BZPA3QY" target="_blank">Amazon Kindle and Print</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-night-before-dead-kelly-meding/1123586686" target="_blank">B&N Nook</a></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/the-night-before-dead" target="_blank">Kobo</a></span>Kelly Meding/Kelly Meadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07058232720272908627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21396366.post-71330741571496333812016-02-18T16:15:00.000-05:002016-02-18T16:15:35.294-05:00I Can Haz Cover! The Night Before Dead (Dreg City #6) Coming Soon!<span style="font-size: large;">I couldn't have asked for a prettier cover to round out the final Evy Stone book, thanks to <a href="http://www.rldprint.com/" target="_blank">Robin Ludwig Design, Inc.</a></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi54gqPnZmsds32HbqgFQjA6G7VN0zFAmG9LCggorviQL2xy-4_UpLj49RbCneC_iKeIdPDdHRp5PCia463NF8lJZctIIYjT3GgYnUhNyN-2VyF_YBWda8Xzvy66hP9D8xNv2kN/s1600/Night+Before+Dead+Full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi54gqPnZmsds32HbqgFQjA6G7VN0zFAmG9LCggorviQL2xy-4_UpLj49RbCneC_iKeIdPDdHRp5PCia463NF8lJZctIIYjT3GgYnUhNyN-2VyF_YBWda8Xzvy66hP9D8xNv2kN/s320/Night+Before+Dead+Full.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUoZQJi8bsGeFrIVzOabIU7pMsWtQUW9qNUcVpXuMsteqVzdalQv3h1m_-7RUBB43-ZZkYH8XfmV63Gb2JqivUA289oeeYPE9mUb62eSsIYu0IEkA5e2Yimo8P7RFRkEMJxC2D/s1600/Night+Before+Dead+Ebook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUoZQJi8bsGeFrIVzOabIU7pMsWtQUW9qNUcVpXuMsteqVzdalQv3h1m_-7RUBB43-ZZkYH8XfmV63Gb2JqivUA289oeeYPE9mUb62eSsIYu0IEkA5e2Yimo8P7RFRkEMJxC2D/s320/Night+Before+Dead+Ebook.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Buy links coming very soon! For now, enjoy the pretty. </span><br />
Kelly Meding/Kelly Meadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07058232720272908627noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21396366.post-91362667036823867022016-02-02T12:32:00.000-05:002016-02-02T12:32:28.329-05:00Teaser Tuesday: The Night Before Dead <span style="font-size: large;">I have to hang my head and admit I was shocked to realize that it's almost been a full year since I last posted here. But in a way, I think that was a good thing, too. My career has been so up and down (mostly down) that I needed to step away and get my head clear about things. And I have.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">2016 is a new year. A fresh start. I have new things planned for later in the year, but first I feel like it's important to say goodbye to some old friends first. The final Dreg City book starring Evy Stone, The Night Before Dead, releases this month. My planned release date is February 15, but I may have to push it back a few days. No biggie. It's coming!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">So to celebrate that, here is the first three chapters from The Night Before Dead (Dreg City #6).</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Enjoy! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">#</span><br />
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst">
<span style="font-size: large;">Prologue</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">If you'd have told me a week
ago that I would be sitting across a conference table from an elf, about to
listen to what he had to say, I'd have told you to go to hell. Might have even
punched you in the mouth for good measure. Elves had been nothing except
trouble in the brief period of time that they'd been a part of my life. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">An elf set me up to die.
An elf tricked my boyfriend into making a bargain that traded his free will for
my life. An elf tried to bring a demon across the Break and into our world,
which would have been a complete and utter disaster. I don't trust elves. And vampires,
of all similarly untrustworthy creatures, helped us stop that particular elf.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Now our vampire allies have
fled the ranks of the Watchtower—the initiative of humans, weres and vampires
that try to protect the city from the darker races—leaving us at half-strength.
Erratic half-vampires were rising in numbers, the Fey were plotting against us,
and there was enough dissention among the thirteen Therian (shapeshifters) clans
to keep everyone involved in the Watchtower on their toes.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I used to think my life
as a Dreg Hunter was complicated. That old life is a fucking fairy tale compared
to life as I know it right now.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The conference room was
our War Room in the Watchtower—which isn't really a tower at all, it's more of
a metaphor. We'd overtaken the skeleton of a defunct mall and revamped it to
provide housing, training rooms, a cafeteria, showers, and a gymnasium. An
obstacle course was under construction in one of the old department stores, and
I couldn't wait to see that finished.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">At the moment, work was
at a stand-still while we dealt with the elf on our shelf.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Okay, so we he was sitting
in a chair at one end of the conference table, surrounded by three guys with
guns.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Like guns can do much against a fucking elf. Tovin plucked a bullet
from the sky.</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">This particular elf was
as calm as Tovin had been insane. Brevin, as he called himself, had been
brought to us by one of my dearest friends in the world, Phineas el Chimal, an
osprey-shifter who'd left us almost six weeks ago to seek out others of his
kind. Brevin wasn't what anyone expected him to bring home as a souvenir of his
travels.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Phineas towered over Brevin,
who was about the size of a middle-schooler, skinny as a rail, with white hair
and pointed ears. His sharp eyes didn't seem to miss a thing, and he’d been
exceptionally polite about being asked to spend the night in one of our jail
cells. Apparently Phin had explained our last encounter with an elf, and Brevin
didn't seem to mind the fact that we were terrified of him. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Not that we'd ever say so
out loud.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"We have quite a lot
to discuss," Astrid Dane said. The co-leader of the Watchtower, she stood
at the far end of the conference table with Gina Kismet on her left. Astrid was
a spotted jaguar shifter, and had been leading the Watchtower since its
inception. Kismet was a human, a kick-ass fighter, and had only stepped into the
role when the vampires left and Adrian Baylor (another human ally and
co-leader) was killed.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I didn't envy the pair
their positions, and I certainly didn't want to be in charge. I was a soldier,
not a captain. Point me at something and I'll fight it. Ask me to make a plan
of attack, and we're probably going to be in trouble.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"We certainly
do," Brevin said. His voice was deeper than expected, considering his
frail shape, and carried a kind of authority found in few creatures surrounded
by their mortal enemies. "Thank you for hearing me out."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"We trust Phineas's
judgment," Kismet said.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I held back a smile,
impressed she hadn't sprained something admitting that. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Okay, so most of we
humans in the Watchtower still had trouble admitting we trusted the Therians.
As Hunters, we'd been trained to distrust nonhumans on principle. Period. They
were bad, we were good, end of story. Except our lives had too many shades of
gray for that philosophy to stand, and now we were allies with the very
creatures we once hunted.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Weird, huh?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I never expected a
shifter to be my best friend and confidante, just like I never expected my
lover to be half-Lupa. On my left, Wyatt Truman observed the scene without
comment. Born completely human, Wyatt had been bitten and infected by a Lupa
over a month ago. Lupa were wolf shifters and thought to be completely extinct,
killed off by other Therians because their bites could infect a human and cause
them to go insane from fever before dying a painful death. Wyatt nearly died
from his bite, but in surviving, he was forever changed.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Human, Lupa, or something
in between, I still loved him with my whole heart—something I never thought
possible until recently.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Brevin sought me
out," Phineas said. "I believe we should give him the benefit of the doubt."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"I know you do,
that's why we're here," Astrid said. "Forgive me for being leery of
his motivations."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"I am not offended
by your lack of trust," Brevin said. "Phineas explained what Tovin
did, and I can assure you my intentions are more transparent than my kin."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"And what are your
intentions?"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Preventing Amalie
from declaring all-out war on the world."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I glanced at Wyatt,
unsurprised by the statement. Wyatt only had eyes for Brevin. On my other side,
Marcus Dane watched the production with barely contained impatience. Astrid's
brother and a fierce fighter, Marcus held an unofficial second-in-command
position to our pair of leaders. He was a brawler and a force to reckon with,
skin or beast, and he looked like he'd rather go tear some throats out than sit
around and listen to elf stories.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Not that he was in any
position to rip anyone's throat out. A few days ago he'd battled to the death
with a Bengal tiger shifter named Vail, and he'd come out of it with some
pretty serious gashes on his chest. The fight had left its scars on all of us
though. One of my very best friends, Tybalt Monahan, had been killed during the
ordeal, and we'd only buried him yesterday.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>I need a fucking vacation from my life.</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"We already know
Amalie and the Fey are our enemies," Astrid said. "She's the one who
manipulated a madman into raising Lupa pups and unleashing them on us."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"I know." Brevin
turned his head to meet Wyatt's gaze. "You are no longer yourself."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Wyatt growled softly. He
had a damned good reason for distrusting elves.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Can we stay on
topic, please?" Kismet asked.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"All of the Fey are
not your enemies," Brevin said. "The Apothi have retreated from this
fight, as have many of the Earth Guardians.” Gnomes and trolls, respectively,
and both formerly loyal to Amalie and the Fey Council. “I am one of three elves
still alive, and we oppose Amalie."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">That was news. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Two more elves in the
world made me all kinds of nervous.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Brevin added,
"Gargoyles are not Fey, but they oppose Amalie as well, despite leaving
the city for the northern mountains."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I beat back a pang of
regret at the loss of several allies. Max had been a gargoyle informant I'd
used to gather intel on various Dregs, back when I was still a Hunter. He'd
left the city with his fellow gargoyles ages ago, because they didn't want to
get involved. He'd also saved my life when I was held and tortured by a madman
named Walter Thackery. I owed Max.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">A gnome named Horzt had
saved Wyatt's life months ago with a healing crystal, and he'd given us a magic
powder that had saved hundreds of infected vampires from a horrible death. I
owed him too.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">And Smedge. A bridge
troll friend. Part of the earth, he'd often come up in the sandy ground beneath
a train bridge. And yes, he'd saved my life once. Wyatt's, too. I owed my
continued existence to so many people. I didn't know how to even begin repaying
my growing debt.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"We know there are
other creatures who oppose Amalie in theory," Astrid said, "but who
among them is willing to stand with us openly?"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Brevin shook his head.
"Very few, I am afraid. That is why I come to you now."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"You got an army up
your sleeve?" I asked, breaking the promise I'd made to myself about
joining in the conversation. I hated elves with a fiery rage, and Brevin was no
different—not until he proved himself trustworthy. Even then I'd probably still
hate him on principle.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"In a manner of
speaking, yes."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Really?"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">A silent statue this
entire time, Phineas shifted his weight from foot to foot. The were-osprey
didn't fidget, so something was majorly up with him. He knew what Brevin was bringing
to the table, and he didn't like it. I knew Phin well enough to see it in the
blank expression that was working too hard to be remain neutral. It sharpened
his already angular features into something fierce and feral.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">And scary.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Brevin took a moment to
look around the room at the people interrogating him. Astrid and Kismet, me and
Wyatt, Marcus. Next to Marcus, Rufus St. James watched with the sharp care of a
man used to being tricked. He sat perfectly still in his wheelchair, fingers
steepled in front of his face, green eyes fixed on the elf.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">No one else knew Brevin
was in the Watchtower.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Sneaking him in and
keeping him hidden from a mall full of Therian noses hadn't been easy, let me
tell you.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Astrid crossed her arms,
her long black hair pulled back in a sharp bun that made her look battle-ready.
"What kind of army?" she asked.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"The kind that
Amalie won't see coming," Brevin replied. "An army led by
demons."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The silence in the War
room was deafening.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Fuck me sideways.</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">As much as the idea
terrified me, I stood still and listed as Brevin explained.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 200%;"><br clear="all" style="page-break-before: always;" />
</span></span>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-size: large;">Chapter One</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-size: large;">23:59</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The warm body blanketing
me from above snuffled. The arm around my waist pulled taut, pressing me back
into Wyatt's belly. He exhaled hard, breath ruffling the hair on my cheek.
Everywhere our naked skin pressed together was hot, damp, and so incredibly
perfect. Even after waking up like this for the last two weeks, I still
marveled at how wonderful it felt.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I never thought I'd find
this kind of love and acceptance, or be so comfortable in bed with a
man—especially not Wyatt. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Almost five years ago, I’d
joined a secret organization called the Triads. Teams of three Hunters, lead by
a Handler, we hunted and fed justice to the darker races that dwelled in the
city: half-Blood vampires, goblins, rule-breaking shifters, and various other
things that go bump in the night. Seven months ago, I was murdered and brought
back to life, and then everything went to hell in a hard cart.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The Triads have since
been destroyed, the tattered remains folded into what became the Watchtower.
Wyatt had been my Handler for four years, and until my very brutal murder, my
feelings for him had been pretty platonic. When I was resurrected into the
recently-dead body of Chalice Frost, I found myself entertaining a whole host
of attractions and feelings I'd never experienced before. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Our road toward being
lovers had been long and rocky, but I'd never been happier than with Wyatt
Truman.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Dad?"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Damn it.</i> I dragged a pillow over my head and ignored the sound of
Mark's voice outside of our bedroom door. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"What is it?"
Wyatt said, his voice one octave below a bellow. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"John and Peter want
to go to the gym. Is that all right?"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He tensed. I didn't have
to turn or ask to know why he was hesitating. The three boys were the last full-blooded
Lupa in existence. Once there had been six, and ever since our discovery of the
remaining brothers, Wyatt had become a surrogate father and pack leader to
them. They'd also accepted me as his mate and as a quasi-mother figure. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The sudden change from
single Hunter to step-mother of three teenagers had been a mind-fuck, let me
tell you.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Everyone at the
Watchtower knew who John, Peter and Mark were, and they knew the boys were under
our protection. It still didn't stop old prejudices against Lupa from affecting
the attitudes of the other Therians. Lupa had been all but eradicated because
they refused to follow Assembly laws, and they infected humans for sport. While
one of their dead brothers had been responsible for Wyatt's infection, neither
of us blamed the three red-headed teens that had been thrust into our lives.
They were desperate for love and acceptance, and I could relate to that.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Everyone deserved the
chance to have a family. Even one as fucked up as ours.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"For an hour,"
Wyatt finally replied.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Thanks!"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I rolled to face Wyatt,
unsurprised to see apprehension lining his forehead. I smoothed my hand through
his thick black hair, then down his neck to rasp against the near-permanent
stubble on his cheeks and chin. He leaned into the touch, eyelids dropping down
over black eyes now permanently flecked with silver.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He nuzzled my palm, his
free hand tracing gentle circles on my lower back. I nudged my thigh against
his groin, unsurprised to find a semi-hard on. Lupa were incredibly sexual
creatures, often aroused even when nothing remotely sexy was going on. I was
still getting used to it, and Wyatt constantly reminded me that just because he
was sporting wood, he didn't expect <span> </span>to
have sex. It was a thing we were still working out, a push-pull battle between
his ingrained desires and his unwillingness to accidentally hurt me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Morning," he
said.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Good morning, hot
stuff." </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He rolled me under,
settling between my thighs. The gentle weight of his belly pressed close to
mine reminded me I was wanted and loved. So much of my past was violence and
hatred. Having these moments with Wyatt was worth more than I could ever
measure in words or gold. The hot length of him pressed against my core, and I
lifted my knees, cradling him there. Arousal curled through me, driving away
the last remnants of sleep and leaving me wanting.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"How do you
feel?" he asked.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I couldn't lie to him.
We'd gone at it for over an hour last night. "A little sore."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The flash of regret was
there and gone quickly. He started to pull away, but I locked my ankles behind
his back. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Not that
sore," I said. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"You sure?"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Positive."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Wyatt snagged a condom
from the box next to the bed. Because full-blooded Lupa bites were incredibly
infectious to humans, we were careful about how we kissed and made love. And since
there hadn't been a half-Lupa in centuries, no one knew if the same antigens in
his blood would transfer through semen, and our on-staff doctor couldn’t be
sure. Wyatt wouldn't take any chances with infecting me with the Lupa virus, so
we used protection every time.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I loosened my hold long
enough for him to put on the condom, then pulled him inside of me. He swallowed
my groan, mouth locking over mine in a searing kiss that made my toes curl and
my insides ache for him. For everything we were and could ever be together. He
moved in long, hard thrusts that made the bed creak and sent the frame slamming
into the wall, and I didn't give a shit if our neighbors heard. We belonged to
each other, and I would never be ashamed of that.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">In my old life, sex had
been a way to blow off steam. I hadn't cared who, as long as I got off, and
some days the rougher the better. And then I was kidnapped by goblins and raped
to death, and sex became something scary. Something used to hurt me. Wyatt's
patience and love had turned a horror into a beautiful thing, and I loved him
more every single day for what he'd given back to me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Pleasure lashed through
me, heating my blood, and I thrust up against him. Often times old fears
prevented us from making love like this, with Wyatt engulfing me with his bulk,
on my back. This morning I was enthralled by it. I took everything he gave me,
demanding more. Sweat beaded his forehead and shoulders, and it slicked the
skin between us.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I grabbed his ass and
urged him on, harder, faster, to end the kind of quickie we rarely indulged in
because it never felt like enough. I wanted all of him, to lick and suck and
stroke, not a simple wham-bam roll in the hay. But today was the day that our
lives changed, and I wanted every moment I could get with my lover. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He hiked my right leg
higher, deepening his angle on each stroke. I raked my nails down his back, and
he rewarded me by sucking on the hollow spot beneath my collarbone. I cried out
something nonsensical. He worked a hand between us and rubbed circles over my
clit, and everything went momentarily white. My entire body tightened, then
relaxed, as pure pleasure washed over me. My thighs trembled from it, and I couldn't
stop shaking. Not even when Wyatt plunged deeply twice more and groaned through
his own orgasm. He held us together, our bodies joined by sweat and ecstasy,
both of us breathing hard.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He pressed his face into
my shoulder and exhaled long, deep breaths. I stroked his back with gentle
fingers, enjoying the fine tremors that ran down his spine. The lovely
aftershocks of his release. I kissed his temple, reveling in the fleeting
perfection of the moment.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"I love you," I
said.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Love you too."
He kissed my cheeks, my nose, then my lips. "So much, Evy. I love you so
much and for so long."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He dumped the condom, and
then pulled me back into his arms. We existed like that for a while, the real
world held at bay for a bit longer.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Are you thinking
about the meeting?" I asked.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Can't stop.
You?"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Trying hard not to
think about it."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Ignoring it won't
make it go away this time."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"It never
does."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I wasn't the "ignore
a problem and hope it goes away" kind of girl. I'm the "kick it in
the face or kill it to make it go away" kind of fighter, and I always have
been. But kicking and killing wouldn't solve the problem staring us in the
face, nor would it do much good at today's scheduled meeting. All I could do
was wait and see what everyone else involved had to say.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"What do you think
the Assembly will decide?" I asked.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"It's hard to guess
at this point. They're still fighting over what Vale tried to do to the Dane
family."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Tried to do meaning a
coup. Each of the thirteen shifter Clans had an Elder representative on the
Assembly, which met and made decisions on behalf of all of the Clans. The Felia
(aka the cat shifters) Pride had come under attack by some of their own, a
family of Bengals led by a man named Vale, intent on overthrowing Elder
Marcellus Dane and replacing him on the Assembly. The entire thing had
backfired, the bad guy was dead, and Elder Dane had officially stepped down due
to health reasons. An Assembly vote a few days ago placed Astrid and Marcus's
cousin Riley into Marcellus’s position of Elder.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Vale's accomplices had
been punished by the Assembly, but rumor was a few of the Elders had actually
sided with Vale. No one was admitting to it—that I knew about—so it was
difficult to determine which Clans were still Watchtower allies.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Of course, the issue went
far beyond the Watchtower. If Amalie chose to go to war with the rest of the
world, she wouldn't pick and choose her enemies. Every single human, Therian,
vampire, and whoever else she hated at that moment would be targeted by her
minions.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I had no idea how fairies
and sprites went to war, and I had no desire whatsoever to find out.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"We should get
up," I said. "The meeting is in three hours."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Wyatt grumbled, but
released me from his iron grip.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">We were in some of the
newest housing in the Watchtower. Most of the single members lived in dormitory
style housing built in an old store front. A larger store across the corridor
had been turned into something more like multi-room apartments. We had one with
two bedrooms that shared a living room type space, but without the traditional
kitchen area. We did have a bathroom space to share with all five of us.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Yeah, three teenage boys
shared one room. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I'd already declared I
was never cleaning that room. Ever.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>I'm a warrior, not a maid.</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The boys were gone by the
time we were showered, dressed, and deemed ourselves presentable to the rest of
the our coworkers. Wyatt wore his familiar uniform of black jeans and a black
t-shirt. With his black hair, scruff and olive skin, the picture was
drool-worthy, and he was all mine. I stuck to jeans and a long-sleeve tee, with
a corduroy jacket, now that the fall weather was inching into winter.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The meeting would happen
at ten a.m. in the War room, so we had time to hit the cafeteria. My stomach
was tight and squirrely with nerves, and it didn't settle at the crowd already
filling the spacious eating area. Even those who patrolled at night and slept
during the day were up, the air full of anxiety and curiosity. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I grabbed a plain bagel
and bottle of water, while Wyatt piled his plate high with food of all kinds.
His half-Lupa nature had practically doubled his metabolism, which meant he was
hungry almost all of the time. I wasn't complaining about the way his arms and
abs were cut to perfection, but the frequent eating made me jealous.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Wyatt nudged my hip, then
angled his head. I followed his general direction to a table near the back,
farther away from the bulk of the crowd. Gina Kismet, Marcus Dane, and Milo
Gant sat there alone, the three of them as serious as I'd ever seen them. Seeing
Milo eating in the cafeteria made my heart kick in a happy way.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Not quite two weeks ago,
Milo had been nearly beaten to death by Vale in an attempt to make Marcus give
up important security information. Milo had held on, never letting Vale break
him, but he'd been left with serious injuries to his back and legs—swelling
that had taken days to go down, bruises that still painted his skin, and pain
that would be a long time fading. Tybalt and Milo had been brothers to me, and
I couldn't have stood losing them both. I was barely handling Tybalt's death.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The walker Milo used for
long-distance hobbling stood nearby, and he looked up with a bright smile when
he saw me and Wyatt heading in his direction. "Hey, guys."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I plunked down across
from him. "What's shaking, gimpy?"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Fuck you,"
Milo said with a grin. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Milo's progress has
increased tremendously in the last few days," Marcus said. He tended to
take my teasing a bit too seriously, but the big werecat was also seriously
overprotective of Milo. I still wasn't sure if the pair was technically a
couple, but they gave off serious "I want you" vibes when they were
together.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Things probably would
have progressed a lot faster if Vale hadn't decided to make Milo a human
punching bag. I bristled briefly at the memories of Milo's torture, then shoved
them down deep where they wouldn't bother me today. No regrets, no past issues.
Today was about taking back our future, no matter what.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"I don't have to
stay in the infirmary anymore," Milo said. "I can go back to the dorms
tonight."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Marcus's expression was
difficult to decipher. Something between pleasure and a silent reassurance that
he wouldn't be alone, no matter what dorm he went back to. I liked knowing
Marcus was around to take care of Milo. They both needed someone.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"That's fabulous
news, pal." I reached over the table to ruffle his hair, because it would
bother him. He stuck his tongue out, and I laughed. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Wish I could be at
the meeting with you guys today," Milo added.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"It's a pretty tight
guest list."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"And for good
reason," Marcus added. "Many Elders will be present, as well as other
leaders. Security will extra important given the nature of the meeting."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"And they don't need
a useless guard hanging around."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"You are far from
useless."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"He's always good
for a sarcastic comment," I said.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Milo flipped me off.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Wyatt ate in silence, as
he often did around any of the Felia. Lupa and Felia were mortal enemies,
ingrained in their DNA or something like that. From the moment he was infected
and became aware of his surroundings again, Wyatt had snarled and snapped at
Marcus specifically. To the other Felia to a lesser degree. Wyatt was learning
to control himself, but he too frequently struggled to maintain his humanity.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Some days I wondered if
the Lupa blood in his system was going to take away what was left of the man.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>I hope not. I love him too much to let him go.</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Gina says the
obstacle course will be back on schedule soon," Milo said. "I can't
wait to run it and kick your ass."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I snickered. "Dream
on, Gant."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Hey, I told you I'd
kick your <i>and</i> Tybalt's asses."
His smile faltered, fractured by grief. Tybalt had been Milo's best friend and
part of his Triad for almost two years, and the wound was still fresh. He'd
lost a brother, too. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"We all miss
him," Marcus said. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Milo shrugged and picked
at the remnants of his breakfast.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">One day we'd be able to
talk about our lost friends without feeling such a thick, blanket of grief. I
hoped.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">My phone chimed with a
text. <b>Ops. 911.</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Great. Emergency first
thing in the morning. No one else at the table had gotten the message, but that
didn't stop Wyatt from grabbing a handful of sausage links and following me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The entire mall was in
the shape of a big, square-ish U. The cafeteria sat at one corner of the top of
the U, with Operations near the center of the top. It was a short walk down the
corridor, which was thick with Watchtower members. Rumors about today's big
meet-up had spread, and everyone wanted to see who'd show.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I entered Operations,
which was the heart and soul of our organization. Besides the War Room, it also
housed a bank of computers and large screens that projected pretty much
anything we needed to see. Rufus oversaw most of Ops, because he had the most
computer skills among the senior staff. Milo could probably give him a run for
his figurative money, but Milo preferred staying in the field to being stuck
behind a desk.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Given his wheelchair,
Rufus didn't have much choice in the matter.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Rufus looked up from his
computer terminal, his expectant look melting into a frown. "Who invited
you?"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Wyatt growled. "I
invited myself."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Obviously."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I shrugged. "I tried
a leash, but he keeps breaking loose."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"You really don't
need to shadow her everywhere, Wyatt," Rufus said.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"I know that,"
Wyatt replied.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Right." He
turned his attention back to me, the one he had summoned. "It's about the
Frosts."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"What did they do
now?" Lori and Stephen Frost were the biological parents of the body in
which I was currently residing. While I'd absorbed some of Chalice's memories
and sensory perceptions, I didn't know them as my parents. My parents were an
unknown deadbeat and a drunken whore.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">For a while, they'd sat
by while Chalice didn't contact them for more than six months. Last week they'd
finally gone on the news trying to find their missing daughter, and a private
detective tricked me into meeting with them. We'd brought them back to the
Watchtower for their own good, and neither one of them had taken the news about
my true nature well—or the fact that shapeshifters, gremlins, and other assorted
creatures actually did exist.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Not well at all.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Astrid had ordered them
kept here until further notice, and I'd refused to visit them for the last
week. I had too much to do and no patience to deal with them.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Astrid doesn't want
them locked up indefinitely, and I agree that it's cruel," Rufus said.
"Their daughter is dead, and they deserve a chance to grieve for
her."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I crossed my arms.
"And what the hell am I supposed to do about it?"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Talk to them
again."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"And say what?
Stephen thinks I'm possessed or something. They want me in therapy."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"I could talk to
them," Wyatt said.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"No way," I
replied. "You're about as subtle as a two-by-four to the head."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"You're no diplomat
yourself, Evy."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Okay, so he had me there.
"If I honestly thought anything I had to say would make a difference, I'd
go talk to them. I'm not their daughter. All they see when they look at me is
Chalice. I'm never going to make them believe I'm Evy Stone."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"We've been holding
them prisoner for over a week," Rufus said. "We can't keep them here forever.
They have lives to go back to. Sooner or later someone is going to start
missing them."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"How do you know
they haven't already?"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He pointed to his
computer. "I've been sending emails on their behalf to coworkers and other
relatives, so no one calls in another missing persons report."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Oh." That was
pretty fucking smart of him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Yeah, oh."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Stone!"
Astrid's voice boomed across Ops.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"I didn't do
it," I said as I turned.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">She faltered, then
understood the joke. "I need a quick errand."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"How quick? The
meeting starts in two hours."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Your errand should
take you less than an hour."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"To do what?"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Pick up something
that will help your parents forget they ever saw you."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Okey dokey.</i></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 200%;"><br clear="all" style="page-break-before: always;" />
</span></span>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-size: large;">Chapter Two</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-size: large;">22:25</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Turns out the little
thing that Astrid needed me to run out and grab was less of a grabby thing and
more like a threatening thing. She gave me the address of a mage named Adolpho,
who ran a small antiques store on the southwestern side of the city. And when I
say small, you'd drive right past it if you didn't know to look for it, nestled
among a dozen boarded up store fronts in a little used part of the
neighborhood. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Wyatt being Wyatt
insisted on coming with me to do my errand. Since I didn't technically have a
drivers license, nor had I ever been taught to drive properly, he took Alpha
joy in driving us to the mage's shop. Few other cars passed us on the street,
and no one was parked in front of the papered over front doors with the tiny
"Collectibles" sign in the window.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He scented the air as we
stepped out of the Jeep, as was his new habit. The Lupa infection had
heightened his senses of smell, hearing and taste, and he was still learning
how to use those to his advantage. The smell thing was super useful,
considering goblins stank like stale sea water, and he once described a
half-Blood as "ass and congealed blood."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Gross as hell, but such
was our life.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Despite the drizzling
rain, the street still smelled like old urine and gasoline, and the combination
turned my stomach. The shop had a Closed sign hanging in it. I banged my first
on the glass plates anyway, uncertain if Adolpho lived near, above, or in his
supposed collectible shop. Wyatt tilted his head.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Footsteps," he
whispered. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Oh joy."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Plastic blinds parted and
a bright green eye appeared, the rest of his face obscured by the door. The eye
shifted to take us both in, then the blinds dropped. Nothing.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Astrid Dane sent
me," I said, hoping that would work in the vein of "Open
sesame."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I'll be damned if the
door lock didn't turn. He opened it with the chain still attached. "For
what purpose?" the man asked.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"You tell me. She
said I had to come here and fetch something."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He squinted. "She
said she would send someone she trusted."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Okay, One-Eyed-Mage was
getting on my nerves. "She does trust me. I trust her, too, which is why I
didn't ask what I was picking up. As long as it isn't poisonous or explodable,
I don't really give a flying fuck."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"I don't know…"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Wyatt growled. "You
remember Brutus?"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Adolpho's eye widened.
"Yes. Sorry." The door shut, the chain slid, and then it was open
again. Wider this time. Adolpho was a big, barrel of a man with no hair, a
scraggly gray beard, and only one eye. The left socket was puckered and empty.
"My apologies, come inside."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The shop reeked of herbs
that blended together into one indistinguishable odor, mixed with the musty
smell of a closed-in space. The first few shelves nearest the door were filled
with rusty trinkets and cloudy pieces of glassware. Beyond it was a wall, and
through a thick panel of beaded curtains was a setup very much like an ancient
apothecary shop. A wall of wooden drawers, many no wider than a credit card,
some as big as a shoe box, each labeled in a language that I couldn't read. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">It reminded me of Old
World Teas and its owner Brutus, the last mage we'd ousted for working with the
sprites. Adolpho seemed much more high-strung, less likely to be pulling the
whole double-agent thing that Brutus had pulled with Wyatt for years. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I wiped rainwater off my
arms and face. Wyatt didn't seem to notice the droplets trickling down his
cheeks from his hair.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Adolpho lifted a ring of
ancient-looking keys out from beneath his baggy shirt. He fitted one into a
drawer and slid it open. He removed a brown leather pouch with a drawstring.
"This is what Astrid asked for," he said, dangling the pouch from two
fingers. "Steep it in two cups of boiled water for at least five minutes,
and then make them each drink half."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I snagged the pouch and
received a waft of something not unlike peppermint. "What's it do?"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"It does as Astrid
required."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">That told me exactly
nothing. "Which is what?"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He shook his head.
"You'll have to inquire with her. I've done as she asked."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Wyatt took a step
forward, allowing silver to rise up and fill his eyes. He growled softly, an
intense sound that made Adolpho back into a cabinet with a yelp. "Don't
play word games, mage."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Adolpho gulped hard, his
Adam's apple bobbing. "She required a potion that muddled human memories
and she needs enough for two."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>The Frosts.</i> "How does it muddle memories?" I asked.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"They will be
confused about the events of the last month or so, as though coming around from
a blackout drunk."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Astrid had ordered magic
used on the Frosts to make them forget they'd ever found me, or that I'd told
them who I really was. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Shit, fuck and hell.</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">While removing their
memories was a much better solution than keeping them locked up forever, I
didn't like that Astrid had gone behind my back. I didn't like that she was
using a mage to create an herbal spell that would make them fuzzy on "a
month or so" of time. What if it was longer? What if it didn't work? What
if Lori Frost woke up and she'd turned into a frog?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Stranger things have
happened in this fucking city.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"If the herbs aren't
applied properly, what could happen?" I asked.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Full memory
loss."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Are the memories
recoverable if that happens?"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"No, so apply
wisely, child."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I hated being called
child. "Okay, thanks for this."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Adolpho nodded.
"Tell Astrid my debt is repaid."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Yeah, sure."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The light rain had become
a steady downpour by the time we got back to the car. My t-shirt clung to my
skin. I turned on the heater to try and dry us both out a little bit.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Astrid wants those
herbs for the Frosts, doesn't she?" Wyatt asked.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"I have no
doubt." I tapped my fingers against the dash. "Shit, Wyatt, what if
something goes wrong?"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"You genuinely
care?"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Of course I
do." From anyone but Wyatt, that question would have come across as
condescending. He was truly curious. "They aren't my parents in the sense
that I was raised by them, but they raised this body. They genuinely loved
their daughter. I have a sense of connection, and I don't want to see them
hurt."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"I understand
that."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I stroked the smooth
leather pouch, too aware of the dangerous herbs inside it. "Astrid has to
know I'd ask what this does, and she'll know I won't like it."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Maybe she expected
you to balk, and this is her way of giving you a push."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"A push where?"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"A push into doing
something about the Frosts."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Why are they my
responsibility? I didn't ask to get resurrected into their daughter. I didn't
ask them to come here looking for her, and I certainly didn't ask for O'Reilly
to introduce me to them. Nor did I ask for Vale to fucking kidnap them and put
them right into the middle of this mess."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Wyatt held up his hands
in a gesture of surrender. "I know all of that, Evy. In some ways, your
being inside of their daughter is my fault."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"How do you
figure?"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"I initiated the
resurrection spell."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Yeah, well, you had
no idea I'd resurrect into a body that had a connection to the Break, rather
than the dead Hunter you'd prepared for me." That particular wrinkle had
been a bonus for us, because me resurrecting somewhere other than in the
expected place had put the first wrinkle into Tovin's plan for bringing a demon
across the Break—the magical barrier between this world and the one where dark
creatures had been banished long ago. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Breaks existed all over
the city, and humans went about their days unaware of them. But if a human is
born over a Break, they have a connection to it which often leads to a Gift of
some sort. Wyatt was Gifted. He could summon inanimate, inorganic materials
into his hand from a decent distance—a Gift he was still learning to control
post-Lupa infection. My new Gift was the ability to transport from one location
to another. I could go through solid objects, but it hurt like a motherfucker,
so I didn't like doing that. The talent had saved my life more than once these
last six months, and it had been another fantastic foil to Tovin's plan.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Did I mention my other handy
ability to rapidly heal? That came courtesy of the resurrection spell. I'd have
been dead ten times over without it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"You don't get to
take responsibility for this," I said. "There's no one person at
fault for this mess."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Wyatt grunted.
"Seems to me the entire mess can be traced directly back to Tovin's first
manipulations."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Maybe. Then we'll
blame the elf. No more self-blame. Understood?"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He leaned in closer, eyes
narrowing. "Have I told you lately you're really hot when you give me
orders?"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Not lately,
no." The gleam in his eyes was all too familiar, and we had work yet to
do. "Down boy."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He grinned, and my heart
skipped. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Then my phone screeched
with a general alert text, Wyatt's following an instant later. I checked the
message.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Kismet: <b>Backup ASAP. Union Street Salvage.</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"That's only a few
blocks from here," Wyatt said.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"I'll call it
in." </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He made the turn. We'd both
lived in this city our entire lives, and we knew every single street and side
road. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Gina Kismet led Quad
Four, and they were on patrol this morning. She worked alongside Shelby, an
Ursia who shifted into a big-ass polar bear, and Kyle, a Cania dingo-shifter.
The other person on their team had been Tybalt, and they'd yet to replace him
in what were typically quads of two humans and two Therians. The problem was we
didn't have any more trained humans to fold into the quad, and Astrid liked to
keep the human-to-Therian ratio balanced because it fostered tolerance or
something like that.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">All I cared about was the
team needed backup.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I let Ops know that we
were responding to the call. The salvage yard was easy to find, its massive
acreage surrounded by a metal fence topped with razor wire. The east side
hadn't been my stomping grounds as a Hunter, but I'd heard a few stories about
tracking Halfies through the salvage yard for hours on end.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Lucky for us the place
was owned and operated by a family of Prosi who were human-friendly and
pro-Watchtower. A big, fenced-in area full of places to climb, jump and swing
on seemed pretty fitting for people who shifted in lemurs and bushbabies.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The entrance was off the
corner of Union Street and a dirt road to nowhere, marking the end of city
limits. Union itself trailed off into undeveloped land that eventually became
part of the forested mountains surrounding the city. A rain-soaked, rail-thin
man in denim coveralls held open a chain-link rolling fence for us without even
asking for ID, then promptly shut it with himself on the outside. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Prosi weren't known for
their amazing fighting skills.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Past a dingy trailer
marked Office, dirt trails ran off in three different directions. Wyatt stuck
his head out the window and sniffed. How he could smell anything over the stink
of oil fuel and engine grease was beyond me, but eventually he took the center
road. We trundled past hundreds of different kinds of cars, trucks, vans,
motorcycles, and heaps of other metals. Salvaged parts of refrigerators, ovens,
and all kinds of machinery was piled in no discernible way, but I guessed it
made sense to the owners. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">A goblin male darted out
in front of the car and leapt onto the hood an instant before we'd have smashed
into it. Wyatt hit the brakes, but the fucking thing grabbed onto the
windshield wipers. It peered in at us, its red eyes glimmering with bloodlust.
Oily black skin glistened in the rain. Most of the goblin warriors I'd fought
wore loincloths. This fucker was totally naked and there was no hiding how much
it was enjoying the fight.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I fought back the very
real urge to vomit. Months had passed, and I had a completely different body
than the one tortured to death by goblins, but some things never left you. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The goblin hissed,
showing off rows of razor teeth. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Wyatt stuck his left hand
out the open window and shot the thing in the head. Gore splattered the car
hood. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Guess we found the
fight," I said.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">We ditched the car. I
hadn't left the Watchtower with anything on me except a serrated knife in my
boot, so I grabbed a few more toys out of the trunk—two Glocks, a machete, and
some extra rounds. Wyatt stuck with his single pistol, probably intending to
bi-shift at some point so he could do more damage.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">A roaring sound that
could only be angry bear-Shelby rattled the tin roofing near the car. We bolted
in that direction, splashing through mud puddles on our way to the main event.
A goblin sailed overhead, its mangled body dead before it smashed into
something out of sight.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>It's going to be that kind of fight.</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The odds were three to
several dozen, so I jumped in the machete and cleaved through the shoulder of
the nearest goblin. It screeched and yanked away, bleeding fuchsia all over
itself as it stumbled into a friend. Bear-Shelby was going to town near a
roofless school bus, batting at the goblins like he was playing a life-sized
game of whack-a-mole. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Kyle hadn't shifted, so
he and Kismet were going hand-to-hand. Both were bleeding, but I couldn't stop
and assess injuries. The machete helped me thin out the horde a bit. Behind me,
Wyatt roared. A hulking shadow and the squeal of several goblins told me he'd
bi-shifted. Since he wasn't full Lupa, he couldn't shift completely into a
wolf. He could, however, get taller, more muscular, grown insane claws on both
hands, and reshape his face into something genuinely grotesque on a human
being.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He was truly a monster in
that form—nothing sexy about it. But he was also a formidable fighter, and we
needed that in our corner.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"They keep
coming," Kismet yelled over the battle roar and the rain.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I could see that. For
every two I dropped, three more seemed to take their places. "From
where?"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"No idea."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">One of them jumped onto
my back from behind. Short arms circled my neck while clawed fingers sunk into
my shoulders. Teeth scraped at the my left ear and cut my scalp.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Oh hell no.</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I slammed backward into
the nearest hard surface. The goblin wheezed and its arms loosened. Another
hard smash and it let go. I pivoted and kicked it right in the groin. It
squealed, and then died when I ran it through with the machete. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Two more hit me from the
side, and we all went tumbling into a puddle. Too close for the blade, I
dropped it in favor of smashing their skulls together. Teeth broke and blood
spurted. The awful stink of seawater rose over the other scents around me. My
gut twisted. I used to take great pleasure in killing monsters like this. Once
it had been fun.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Now it was a fucking
responsibility.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Gina!"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I rolled onto my knees,
fingers curling around the hilt of my abandoned machete. Kyle and Kismet were
separated by a cluster of goblins that seemed to be doing their best to herd
Kismet away from the battle. She punched, kicked, and slashed at them with a
shiny pair of butterfly swords she'd been training to use, but the goblins were
overwhelming her.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Goblin warriors were only
about four feet tall, but they were strong, they were dumb, and they fucked
anything with a hole, including corpses. I'd experienced the agony of a
goblin's hooked penis, and I'd seen too many other mutilated human victims,
both male and female. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I launched at them. On my
third stride, I went sideways into a car door with a wall of goblins pressing
down on me. Teeth snapped at my arms and face, scraping skin and drawing blood
that the rain washed away. The stench of them filled my nose. Clawed fingers
ripped at my shirt.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Bitter fury rose up like
bile and came out on a long scream. I swung hard with the machete. Goblin
squeals were my reward, so I did it again. Blood splattered. One of them
grabbed my hair and yanked my head back, exposing my throat. Sharp teeth
flashed.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Wyatt snarled and smacked
the goblin away. He batted a few more hard enough to snap their necks. I hacked
off various body parts on my way out of the pileup. My shirt was torn, my
throat and arms stung from a lot of small wounds, and I could still feel their
hands on my body. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">None of that fucking
mattered, because Kismet was gone.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Kyle yelped. Wyatt
charged off to help him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I ran in the direction
I'd seen the goblins herding Kismet, overtaking them only a few yards down a
narrow path between piles of broken bricks and cement blocks. They'd apparently
given up on persuasion and had lifted her up into the air like some kind of
offering to the gods. She was struggling like a champ and cussing them left and
right.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Hey,
shitheads!" </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Some of them turned and
hissed. None of them attacked, which was what I'd hoped for, so I took the
party to them. No fucking way were they carting Kismet off to become their
latest plaything. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I went in low, aiming for
kneecaps so I didn't accidentally take a chunk out of my friend. Bones
shattered. Flesh tore. Blood spurted. I moved without cataloguing any of it,
aware only of my enemies and the need to beat them. My arms ached but it didn't
matter.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Palms slapped down on
both of my ears, and everything went gray. My equilibrium shattered all to
hell, and I fell to my knees with a jolt up my spine. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Fucker boxed my ears.</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I blinked hard through
the rain, aware of lots of small legs carrying my enemies away from me. I
fumbled for one of the Glocks, fell flat to my chest in the mud, and opened
fire. Bullets struck flesh. Goblins screamed. Faltered. Fell. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The goblin who'd boxed my
ears clamped its mouth down on my wrist. Fire lashed up my arm, right to my
shoulder. I transferred the gun to my left hand, and then shot the thing
between the eyes. Seawater blood splattered me in the face. Teeth scored my arm
as the body fell, leaving pencil-thick gouges down the length of it. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Dizzy and nauseated, I
hauled ass to my feet. Pocketed the gun for now and scooped the machete back
up.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Somewhere behind me a big
cat cried out in anger. More backup.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"A little
help!" I shouted.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I followed small rivers
of fuchsia past the piles of bricks, deeper into the salvage yard. The cars and
whatnot got rustier and dirtier the farther back I trailed the goblins. Small
trees and bushes had come to life inside some of the husks. I couldn't exactly
be stealthy about tracking them with my wet boots squishing into mud with every
step, so I went for speed instead.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Kismet screamed.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Gina!" </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">A goblin jumped from the
shell of an old pickup truck, mouth open, hands extended. I took its fucking
head off before it could blink, and I kept running. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The horde had stopped
where the ground dipped down to the perimeter fence. A dozen small trees had
grown up near the fence, and piles of old shingles had gone to rot nearby. I
couldn't see Kismet for their moving bodies, so I pulled both guns and opened
fire on anything that wasn't human. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Two, six, twelve, twenty
of them fell dead, and the final few ran toward the trees. I hit one on the
back, and down it went. The other two I let go.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Kismet sat up from
beneath the pile of bodies, her skin smeared in gore. Red blood mixed with
fuchsia in a graphic war paint that was all the more hideous due to the fact
that her shirt was gone. She stared at me with wide eyes, one hand stanching
blood from someplace on her neck. I picked a path over the bodies and squatted
in front of her.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"You with me?"
I asked.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Yeah." She
shook herself all over. "Jesus Christ. Did that really happen?"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Almost
happened." I helped her stand up. "You hurt anywhere?"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Superficial."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">She was bleeding from at
least a dozen cuts and standing there topless, but her jeans seemed intact so I
wasn't going to question her on her definition of the word superficial. She
finally seemed to notice the topless thing and wrapped her arms around her
breasts.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">A lioness leapt into the
mess from somewhere above us. She sniffed at us, then followed her nose down
toward the trees and fence. The small dark patch on her left shoulder was the
only way I knew that was Lynn Neil.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Evy?" Wyatt
had undone his bi-shift, which left his shirt sleeves stretched out and torn in
a few places. He took one look at Kismet and slipped his shirt off. "What
the hell happened?"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"The goblins were
trying to take Gina with them," I said. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">His dark gaze went
deadly.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Evy was pretty
badass with that machete," Kismet said as she tugged on the too big shirt.
"You've been practicing."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"They weren't taking
you." I wouldn't wish that kind of fate on my worst enemy, let alone allow
it to happen to a friend.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Why did they want
me, though?"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Something tells me
they would have happily carted off anyone who was human."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"What
happened?" Wyatt asked.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"We were doing a
simple patrol of the area when we got a call about a possible goblin sighting
out here,” Gine said, “so we checked it out. We were attacked, and we called
for backup. You guys came. End of story."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Why does this whole
thing feel like a setup?" I asked.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Because it
is," Kyle said.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He approached with naked
Shelby behind him—clothing became problematic when it came to shapeshifting—and
flanked by humans Carly and Oliver. They were part of a quad with Lynn and an
Equi named Nestor, who was the only person MIA.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"How do you know it
was a setup?" Kismet asked.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"The goblins left us
a present a few rows back. Nestor's guarding it."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The only presents goblins
ever left behind were dead bodies.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Where's Lynn?"
Carly asked.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I jacked a thumb over my
shoulder. "Sniffing down around the fence. It's where the goblins were
heading. We'll check out the present if you guys want to investigate
that." It wasn't a<span> </span>question so much
as a polite order, and no one contradicted me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Wyatt hovered close to
Kismet on the walk back. Shelby seemed to know where Nestor was, so Kyle and I
followed him, the other pair behind us. Wyatt and Kismet had been friends for
more than ten years, and they had this brother/sister love between them. He
knew she was freaked out by what had just happened—as freaked out as Kismet
ever got around other people—and he was doing his silent supportive thing.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Nestor was a tall fellow,
with a long face and dark hair—both things typical of his Clan. He was a zebra
shifter and somewhat new to the Watchtower. He stood with his arms crossed, at
attention in front of an old VW bus. "It's gory," he said.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Definitely new. "My
entire adult life has been one gorefest after another," I said.
"Bring it on."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He stepped aside.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I smelled it first—the
ripe odors of blood and meat left in the sun too long. The interior of the bus
had been stripped of all furnishings, leaving a shell that was coated in blood.
Some of it had been washed off by the rain through the windows and puddled on
the floor with the various parts of someone's body. Male, female, I wasn't
sure. The pieces were too small. My stomach churned, and I stepped back before
I got sick all over Nestor.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Wyatt stuck his head in
the open door. "Male, not freshly killed. I suspect the dismemberment
happened post-mortem."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I wasn't about to ask how
he knew that. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"There's a
note." He turned around clutching a wet sheet of paper, his expression
grim.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"What's it
say?" Kismet asked when I didn't.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">His black eyes flashed
silver. "Stone or more. Which will die?"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Fuck me." My
gut rolled. The goblins knew I was alive.</span></div>
Kelly Meding/Kelly Meadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07058232720272908627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21396366.post-19357748429580976862015-02-22T12:40:00.000-05:002015-02-22T12:40:09.590-05:00Pangaea KickstarterI'm a little late getting this up on the blog, but I've been promoting it on Twitter and Facebook for a while. So here you go.<br />
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A couple of months ago I was given the opportunity to join a <a href="https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1881107045/pangaea-1" target="_blank">Kickstarter campaign</a> for a shared-world science fiction anthology called Pangaea. The basic premise of this world is that the super-continent Pangaea never separated, and mankind evolved on a single, gigantic C-shaped continent. It is a vastly different world from the one we know today, and yet still somewhat the same.<br />
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And look at the names on this project, y'all: Michael Burstein. Adam-Troy Castro. Russ Colchamiro. Peter David.
Michael Jan Friedman. Robert Greenberger. Glenn Hauman. Paul Kupperberg.
Kelly Meding. Aaron Rosenberg. Lawrence M. Schoen. Geoffrey Thorne.
Dayton Ward and Kevin Dilmore.<br />
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We're a bit over halfway to our goal with 15 days to go. For only $8 (the most basic pledge) you'll get an ebook version of this anthology. 14 different stories by 14 different authors, including myself. And if you're feeling really frisky, there are two opportunities for me to Tuckerize you. That means I will write you into my story by name as a minor character, and if you want, I can even kill "you" off in true Kelly Meding style.<br />
<br />
I would really love the opportunity to write this story, so please, if you have a few bucks and want some amazing stories, <a href="https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1881107045/pangaea-1" target="_blank">please pledge</a>!<br />
Kelly Meding/Kelly Meadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07058232720272908627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21396366.post-56560916208620105882015-02-05T18:47:00.000-05:002015-02-05T18:47:10.420-05:00Why I Cancelled Appearing at Coastal Magic Con This YearI've wanted to attend Coastal Magic Con since it's inception (and when it went by a completely different name), and I was very, very excited to receive an invitation to be a guest author for 2015. The con was well-reviewed by attendees, I would get to meet bloggers and authors I only knew from online, and who doesn't like Florida in February? I wanted to go. Badly.<br />
<br />
And then a lot of things started to happen in 2014. Some bad things, some okay things, some things that were completely out of my control. But for the most part, the last half of 2014 kind of sucked for a variety of reasons. I held off cancelling for as long as I could, hoping something might turn in my favor, but it didn't. And while I did explain my reasons to the folks in charge, I never publicly stated why I'm cancelling. I want the folks who might have been looking forward to hanging out with me to hear it from the horse's mouth (so to speak).<br />
<br />
A lot of different factors went into my decision not to go to CMC, but the largest consideration was finances. Someone on social media mentioned it was because Cornerstone Run didn't do well in sales, and yes, that's true. But that's only a tiny part of the financial big picture. Even if the books had sold like gangbusters, the money accrued wouldn't have landed in time to help me out. Since last summer, my living situation has been...altered. My expenses are higher while my day job income has stayed the same, and writing as Kelly Meding/Meade isn't bringing in much extra. After my expenditures for two different cons last August, I simply don't have the $1000+ to cover airfare, hotel, and food for a trip to Florida. <br />
<br />
Another deciding factor was pretty simple: I don't have anything new to promote. I'm still taking a hiatus from writing/publishing as Kelly Meding/Meade, and the break is doing me good. I'm more centered than I used to be. I do still plan on finishing Dreg City at some point, but not today. Probably not tomorrow, either, or even next week. But at some point. I'm not finished writing paranormal stuff, I simply need to find my passion for it again.<br />
<br />
I'll still be doing the usual stuff: Facebook, Twitter, and the occasional blog post. I'm not going away, but I might spend more time hiding in the corner than usual.<br />
<br />
And so we're clear, this isn't a "woe is me" post. It isn't a "you didn't buy my book so I'm going to your con" kind of post. I was in tears writing to Jennifer, saying I couldn't come. This is me telling you why I can't be there this year, and that I'm so sorry for missing out.<br />
<br />
And this is me saying I truly hope to see you guys there next year. Kelly Meding/Kelly Meadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07058232720272908627noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21396366.post-72968047321613337632015-01-20T13:47:00.001-05:002015-01-20T13:47:10.216-05:00Release Day: White Knight The final installment of the Cornerstone Run trilogy is out! See how it all ends!<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFLO3cVcyNnzAfe3qNkDhj2rgI-mmJowrYY3LQVy4PeJHqE-oFd8K-fnpc4S_p-9rf64IIA7Rd7QxQ-4OJX9zvehz1oN-A88HBAseDchYnfDW_v_ajEXBZB8rtkI3jo9VAmQB6/s1600/White+Knight.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFLO3cVcyNnzAfe3qNkDhj2rgI-mmJowrYY3LQVy4PeJHqE-oFd8K-fnpc4S_p-9rf64IIA7Rd7QxQ-4OJX9zvehz1oN-A88HBAseDchYnfDW_v_ajEXBZB8rtkI3jo9VAmQB6/s1600/White+Knight.jpg" height="320" width="205" /></a></div>
<br />Kelly Meding/Kelly Meadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07058232720272908627noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21396366.post-1994352920995396792015-01-10T22:07:00.002-05:002015-01-10T22:07:28.635-05:00Taking My Health Into My Own Hands<div class="_5pbx userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}">
I haven't written anything too personal on this blog lately. I haven't written much of anything, to be honest, but those of you who've seen me post about this on Facebook know what's been going on. And I want to put it all here in case it helps anyone else.<br />
<br />
Since the summer of 2013, I've been suffering with TMJ related pain. For those who don't know, feel free to Google it. For those of you who do, or who also suffer with it, you already know. I used over-the-counter mouthguards for a while, until they just weren't helping and the pain was too much, and I finally went to the dentist (after too many years of avoiding). After a thorough dental cleaning, I was fitted for a special mouthguard on my lower teeth to help with grinding. Grinding teeth at night is one of the big bad things that TMJ suffers do. It took a few weeks (and a lot of money) but I got the mouthguard.<br />
<br />
It kind of helped. The pain levels were up and down for the next couple of months, sometimes around a 4 (on a 1-10 scale), sometimes a 7 or 8. Early in 2014, I was getting frustrated by the whole thing, so I made an appointment with a local orthodontist who specialized in TMJ disorders. He didn't like the mouthguard my dentist ordered, so I was fitted for an upper teeth guard that cost 3x as much. *big sigh* <br />
<br />
The really irritating thing was that it would take 3 weeks to get it. More pain. And once it came in, he wanted me to wear it for a few weeks to see if the pain improved. At that point, I was ready to burst into tears. I clearly remember the feeling. But I did it.<br />
<br />
At this point, so many of the details are jumbled together, and I'm too lazy to research. But the mouthguard kind of helped. The pain was up and down most days. And then May/June hit, and my life because an unexpected quagmire of stress. I didn't care enough to call the ortho. And then Kitteh's illness in July took the wind out of me. Plus stress causes inflammation, so....<br />
<br />
I also somehow managed to knock my glasses
to the floor in the middle of the night, step on them, bend them, and
the people at Lenscrafters couldn't quite get them right again, so the
nose pad dug into my face. More pain. Pretty much all day long, I was
raging at around an 8.5-9. The area around my right eye
would get numb by the end of the night.<br />
<br />
Not fun.<br />
<br />
Sometime
in August (I think) I went back to my orthodontist, and we decided to
try muscle relaxers for two weeks, taken before bed. After two nights, I
already noticed a change in my pain level. The relaxers are supposed to
stop the head and jaw muscles from spasming during the night, which is
part of what causes the pain, and they were doing their job. Yay! At the
two-week follow-up appointment, my pain was simmering around 4 by the
end of the day, so we chalked it up to a win. I made another appointment
for November.<br />
<br />
Two days later, the pain shot back up to 7-8. I
tried herbal remedies. I tried all kinds of supplements. I massage my
face, head and neck every morning in the shower. Now I'm one of those
weird people who don't like to seem needy. I hate going to the doctor,
any doctor. So I didn't want to call my ortho yet. I didn't want to have
to take more drugs or get a Botox shot.<br />
<br />
Now some of you know
that last summer my sister had some serious pain issues in her hands.
Carpal tunnel symptoms that no one could really diagnose. She started
eating gluten free in order to control the pain, and except for a few
slips, it's worked for her. I did some more research into gluten
sensitivities, and how it can cause inflammation. I found stories online
of folks whose TMJ pain has been improved by cutting out gluten.<br />
So I figured what the hell? I was desperate to stop living every day in
pain. I wanted stop taking six ibuprofen a day, that really didn't
help. So on September 29th I had my last (known) encounter with gluten.
It was Progresso Minestrone soup (my old favorite). The next day I began
a journey toward eating gluten free.<br />
<br />
Was it difficult? Not
really. I did it because I WANTED to do it. And I like to cook, so
preparing things from scratch rather than relying on frozen dinners and
frozen pizza wasn't a hard switch. It took about two weeks before I
started to notice a change. And over the course of about a month, I went
from a pain level of 8.5 down to around a 4-5, depending on the day.<br />
<br />
Over the last few months, I've noticed a lot of other things. My
overall sense of wellness has improved. I am less bloated. I am more
cheerful now that I'm not in pain. And I have found a lot of new
favorite foods (a year ago I never would have imagined liking black eyed
peas and lima beans). I also made use of my insurance and got a new
pair of glasses. Once the nose pads were properly aligned, the pain
dropped to around a 3.5-4.<br />
<br />
The last two days are the best I've
felt in a year. When I told my ortho in November about being gluten
free, he told me he'd had a few other patients show improvement by doing
the same. He also asked if I'd cut out dairy, but I told him I love
cheese too much. LOL.<br />
<br />
So yes. I am gluten free by choice, and it
has improved the TMJ inflammation that used to make me want to bash my
head against a wall. Sometimes I miss Hardee's chicken tenders, but I've
found great substitutes. Some people still look at gluten free like
it's a fad, but gluten sensitivity does exist in more people than
probably realize. The wheat we eat isn't the same as the wheat our
ancestors used to eat. It's highly processed and it's not good for us.<br />
<br />
In the end, when I can end my day with a low discomfort level and a belly full of healthy food, I call it a win.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Kelly Meding/Kelly Meadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07058232720272908627noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21396366.post-87726761086975234732014-12-02T18:26:00.004-05:002014-12-02T20:32:25.905-05:00White Knight: Snippet<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFLO3cVcyNnzAfe3qNkDhj2rgI-mmJowrYY3LQVy4PeJHqE-oFd8K-fnpc4S_p-9rf64IIA7Rd7QxQ-4OJX9zvehz1oN-A88HBAseDchYnfDW_v_ajEXBZB8rtkI3jo9VAmQB6/s1600/White+Knight.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFLO3cVcyNnzAfe3qNkDhj2rgI-mmJowrYY3LQVy4PeJHqE-oFd8K-fnpc4S_p-9rf64IIA7Rd7QxQ-4OJX9zvehz1oN-A88HBAseDchYnfDW_v_ajEXBZB8rtkI3jo9VAmQB6/s1600/White+Knight.jpg" height="320" width="205" /></a></div>
A snippet from Chapter One. <br />
<br />
48 Days!<br />
<br />
*#*<br />
<br />
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<br />
<div class="04BodyText">
<span style="font-size: small;">Knight sent a quick “where are you?” text to Bishop.</span></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="04BodyText">
<span style="font-size: small;">Instead of texting an answer, Bishop took his
overprotective nature in hand and called. “Hey, what’s going on?”</span></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="04BodyText">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Are you busy?” Knight asked.</span></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="04BodyText">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Inspecting the new apartments with Jeremiah and the
electrician. They should be move-in ready by the end of the week.”</span></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="04BodyText">
<span style="font-size: small;">“That’s good news.” With more than a hundred new loup
joining their town in the last two months, they’d built apartments and homes
with enough space to permanently house the newcomers. Newcomers who’d spent the
last few weeks sleeping in spare rooms and on sofas all over town.</span></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="04BodyText">
<span style="font-size: small;">The human electrician had been a compromise, since no one
in Cornerstone was qualified to wire up entire buildings with multiple
apartments, and Bishop had spent the better part of the week overseeing the
project.</span></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="04BodyText">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Yeah,” Bishop said. “It’ll be good to give everyone some
stability.”</span></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="04BodyText">
<span style="font-size: small;">“You’re right, it will. And I’m sure your wife will be glad
to have some of your attention back.”</span></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="04BodyText">
<span style="font-size: small;">Bishop’s sharp laughter bellowed over the phone. “Trust me,
when Jillian wants my attention, she gets it.”</span></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="04BodyText">
<span style="font-size: small;">Knight heard the affection in his brother’s voice for the
woman who’d stolen his heart. Maybe not in the ass-over-teakettle way that Rook
had fallen for Brynn, but Bishop and Jillian had a fierce bond. They were both
stronger together than apart, and as they eased into their roles, they would
easily put any other Alpha couple to shame.</span></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="04BodyText">
<span style="font-size: small;">Both of Knight’s brothers were married and in love with
their mates. He envied them their joy.</span></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="04BodyText">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Knight?”</span></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="04BodyText">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Huh?” Had Bishop been speaking?</span></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="04BodyText">
<span style="font-size: small;">“I asked you what was wrong. You sound off.”</span></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="04BodyText">
<span style="font-size: small;">“I’m fine. Rook just got some big news, though.”</span></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="04BodyText">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Big good?”</span></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="04BodyText">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Very good, I hope.”</span></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="04BodyText">
<span style="font-size: small;">“What’s going on?”</span></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="04BodyText">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Forget it. Call him, it’s not my place to tell.”</span></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="04BodyText">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Okay, I will. Are you sure—?”</span></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="04BodyText">
<span style="font-size: small;">“I’m <span class="ITAL">fine</span>.” Knight ended the call
before he had to defend his tone of voice anymore. He couldn’t always control
how he came across lately, and it bothered him, but there was nothing to be
done. In truth, he’d been lucky to come out of his forced shift at all. The
fact that his mind was mostly intact was a small miracle. He could deal with
the occasional outburst.</span></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="04BodyText">
<span style="font-size: small;">His family might feel differently, but whatever. He was the
one the hybrids had targeted. He was the grand prize for them. He welcomed
another attempt at acquiring him.</span></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
<i><span class="ITAL"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Come and get me.</span></span></i></span><br />
<br />Kelly Meding/Kelly Meadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07058232720272908627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21396366.post-57893844859126590882014-10-21T10:13:00.001-05:002014-10-21T10:13:20.579-05:00Release Day: Gray Bishop (Cornerstone Run #2)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizexvv3X7PPjyg-_4mpxtrlgexLD6yBQOi49trUxpAeugcu1_g0G6JuYw1gXxSznrkVoGh0XwFp4rqgbVqVN6vo2ykGOvpOdapSEKJ-af0-e1RB-wQc5Pxf1d-XiLYFShjhMrz/s1600/Gray+Bishop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizexvv3X7PPjyg-_4mpxtrlgexLD6yBQOi49trUxpAeugcu1_g0G6JuYw1gXxSznrkVoGh0XwFp4rqgbVqVN6vo2ykGOvpOdapSEKJ-af0-e1RB-wQc5Pxf1d-XiLYFShjhMrz/s1600/Gray+Bishop.jpg" height="320" width="205" /></a></div>
<span id="freeText16561052431440472774"><strong>Some people need something to fight for…</strong><br /><br />With
the attacks on their homes escalating and human half-breeds seeking
sanctuary among them, the loup garou are reaching their breaking point.
Two, in particular.<br /><br />After failing to stop his little brother’s
kidnapping years ago, Bishop McQueen angrily broods on his shame, though
no one else blames him.<br /><br />Jillian Reynolds is still dealing with a
tragic accident that took everything she ever wanted from life. And her
attraction to Bishop is only making things more difficult.<br /><br />When
word reaches them that Jillian's hometown is under attack, the Alpha
takes Bishop, Jillian, and a group of enforcers to assist in the battle.
And it is in this chaos that both Bishop and Jillian will have to face
their pasts—and the true feelings they have for each other—if they are
going to survive…</span><br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/20741176-gray-bishop" target="_blank">Goodreads</a><br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Gray-Bishop-Cornerstone-Run-Trilogy-ebook/dp/B00I8RB1WS/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1391872831&sr=1-2" target="_blank">Amazon</a><br />
<a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/gray-bishop-kelly-meade/1118515440?ean=9780698165472" target="_blank">Barnes & Noble</a><br />
<br />Kelly Meding/Kelly Meadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07058232720272908627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21396366.post-65554760791333551662014-10-10T11:26:00.001-05:002014-10-10T11:26:28.699-05:00What the Heck is up with Dreg City 6?I've written variations of this post in my head many times over the last few weeks. The words haven't changed a whole lot. Mostly it never felt like the right time, because I hadn't accepted the decision. And before anyone panics, no, I'm not going to tell you that I won't be writing Dreg City 6. I will. Just not anytime soon.<br />
<br />
Back in June, there was some pretty big upheaval in my personal life. I'm not going into the details, suffice to say I lost my home office, my privacy, and I gained some roommates. This summer was a huge adjustment period for everyone currently living under this roof. But the loss of a separate writing space for me was difficult to adjust to, and I was under deadline for White Knight so I pushed through it. An I got the book finished just in time for Kitteh to get deathly ill, so the summer pretty much sucked.<br />
<br />
Kitteh is fine now, though, so yay!<br />
<br />
And then things changed again in August/September, and I had to adjust to another new element in my daily life. Plus I work in retail, and we're beginning to swing into the Holiday Selling Season, so my day job is becoming even more stressful. I'm still frustrated on a daily basis by certain things, and before anyone thinks "you have the power to change your life, Kelly!" No, not with this. This is up to someone else to fix, so that my life can go back to normal. And this post is not meant to embarrass anyone. It's the vaguest way I can try to explain why I've made the decision I've made.<br />
<br />
What's the decision, already?!<br />
<br />
I'm taking a break from writing. I have given myself permission to take a break. To not stress about my next book, or about getting my next contract. To stop checking sales ranks on Amazon. For at least rest of October, I'm going to watch DVD's, read books, and try to unwind while squirreled away in my cave. Because this, at least, is one thing that I can control right now.<br />
<br />
I'm definitely not disappearing from social media. I still have a book coming out this month and another in January. I'll be doing some promo for them, of course, and I'm too addicted to Twitter to leave it. I'll still be blogging when necessary.<br />
<br />
The other thing I'll be doing is taking some time to reassess my career. It's a painful thing for a writer to have two series cancelled. I took a risk with the Cornerstone Run trilogy by changing genres and names, and it hasn't paid off like I'd hoped. So I need to think. I need to decide what I want to write, and where I want my career to go from here.<br />
<br />
I WILL be writing the final two Dreg City books at some point, because I promised you guys I would. It's been almost five years since Three Days to Dead was published and we began Evy's journey. Everyone who has hung in with me from the start, THANK YOU. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. For the new fans who are still discovering Dreg City, thank you. For everyone who has ever left a review of my work on Amazon, GoodReads, or any other site, thank you.<br />
<br />
I'll see you around the internet.<br />
<br />
-KKelly Meding/Kelly Meadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07058232720272908627noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21396366.post-26652521796175385662014-09-28T12:44:00.001-05:002014-09-28T12:44:44.655-05:00Sex & Violence by Carrie Mesrobian<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0H3QuefVslorn-j35gTnzOetUZufZ9H8RY-Gv7yqgEuB6097gVyaGkTR1f7QZQaqKeRmUWxdbQ6uoo0Z_WTdTeYeRfVduNZYIW8wnG2AmZFZh0g5fWrGQqevmH5PVGulHfHaa/s1600/17339214.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0H3QuefVslorn-j35gTnzOetUZufZ9H8RY-Gv7yqgEuB6097gVyaGkTR1f7QZQaqKeRmUWxdbQ6uoo0Z_WTdTeYeRfVduNZYIW8wnG2AmZFZh0g5fWrGQqevmH5PVGulHfHaa/s1600/17339214.jpg" height="320" width="228" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
It's been a long time since I started and finished a novel in the same day that included an 8-hour shift at work.<br />
<br />
THE BOOK IS THAT GOOD.<br /><br />And it's different from so much of the other YA out there in two major ways: it's first-person male POV, and it's not a love story. It is so much more than that, because it takes two things, sex and violence, and it shows how they are both completely separate, and yet inexplicably intertwined. <br /><br />I absolutely loved the narrator's voice. So very matter-of-factual, and yet sharp, observant, and funny. He doesn't get bogged down in self-pity and misery. He doesn't lament endlessly about the situations in which he finds himself. He just kind of (forgive the cliche) rolls with the punches and adapts as best he can.<br /><br /><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17339214-sex-violence" target="_blank">READ THIS BOOK RIGHT NOW</a>.Kelly Meding/Kelly Meadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07058232720272908627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21396366.post-54161046172339305402014-09-20T19:31:00.004-05:002014-09-20T19:31:52.528-05:00Gray Bishop: Chapter OneThe first chapter of GRAY BISHOP (Cornerstone Run #2) is u<a href="http://kellymeding.com/wordpress/?page_id=177" target="_blank">p on my website</a>. Only a month to go!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizexvv3X7PPjyg-_4mpxtrlgexLD6yBQOi49trUxpAeugcu1_g0G6JuYw1gXxSznrkVoGh0XwFp4rqgbVqVN6vo2ykGOvpOdapSEKJ-af0-e1RB-wQc5Pxf1d-XiLYFShjhMrz/s1600/Gray+Bishop.jpg" height="320" width="205" /></div>
<br />Kelly Meding/Kelly Meadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07058232720272908627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21396366.post-49101515678517327932014-08-31T16:29:00.002-05:002014-08-31T16:29:47.944-05:00Snippet: GRAY BISHOP (Cornerstone Run #2)<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="04BodyText">
Taken from Chapter 2. Read the rest October 21st!</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizexvv3X7PPjyg-_4mpxtrlgexLD6yBQOi49trUxpAeugcu1_g0G6JuYw1gXxSznrkVoGh0XwFp4rqgbVqVN6vo2ykGOvpOdapSEKJ-af0-e1RB-wQc5Pxf1d-XiLYFShjhMrz/s1600/Gray+Bishop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizexvv3X7PPjyg-_4mpxtrlgexLD6yBQOi49trUxpAeugcu1_g0G6JuYw1gXxSznrkVoGh0XwFp4rqgbVqVN6vo2ykGOvpOdapSEKJ-af0-e1RB-wQc5Pxf1d-XiLYFShjhMrz/s1600/Gray+Bishop.jpg" height="320" width="205" /></a></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
He and Rook went inside and straight down the long hallway
to the kitchen. Mrs. Troost, their housekeeper since before Bishop was born,
had laid out a platter of sandwiches and a note that cold broccoli salad was in
the fridge. Bishop and Rook helped themselves to food, then took their plates
outside to the back patio.</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
Brynn and Shay were seated on opposite sides of the long
picnic table, beneath the shade of an umbrella. They looked up at their
arrival, Brynn’s face breaking into a wide grin. Shay simply watched them
approach, her face blank, her eyes empty. Always empty. The girl’s spirit had
been broken, and Bishop’s beast snarled with the unfairness of it all.</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
“Mind if we join you?” Rook asked.</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
Brynn deferred to Shay, who nodded slowly. Rook sat next to
Brynn, such an odd contrast, the pair of them. Rook was a head taller than
Brynn, his muscled arms decked out with tattoos and scars, with a ragged ear
that made him look downright dangerous. Or like the alternative rock band star
he’d tried to be. Brynn was small and pale-skinned with stick-straight black
hair and big blue eyes. A true odd-couple in terms of physical appearance. Very
much matched in every other way.</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
Bishop sat on the same side as Shay, keeping a solid arm’s
reach of distance from the spooked girl. The only people she seemed to allow
close proximity to her were Knight and Dr. Mike, the town’s physician. She was
underweight, average height, with long, strawberry-<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" style="mso-comment-date: 20140713T1725; mso-comment-reference: CE_1;">blond</a><span class="MsoCommentReference"><span style="font-size: 8.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;"><span style="mso-special-character: comment;"> </span></span></span>
hair and pale, gray eyes that had no life in them. She was also quite pretty. He
imagined the girl had a heart-stopping smile, and he hoped one day to see it.</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
“Your ears must have been burning,” Brynn said to Rook. “Shay
and I were just talking about you.”</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
“Oh?” Rook said. “Good things, I hope.”</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
“She asked about your ear. I was telling her about that
night.”</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
Bishop paused before taking a big bite of his roast beef
sandwich and studied Shay’s profile. She was staring at her half-eaten
sandwich, hands clasped in her lap. Shay had been informed about the events
that followed the attack on her town in bits and pieces over the last two
weeks, mostly by Brynn and Knight. She’d been badly wounded and catatonic for a
while, until Knight coaxed her back into the world. No one wanted to overwhelm
her or frighten her with the reality that Cornerstone was still under attack by
an unknown, unstable enemy. That she was showing curiosity about the people she
lived with had to mean she was making progress in her recovery.</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
“I’m surprised Knight hasn’t told you about that yet,”
Bishop said softly.</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
Her gaze flickered toward him. “I don’t ask.” Her voice was
soft, melodic, and almost impossible to hear. “It hurts him to talk about it.”</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
It hurt all of them to talk about it. Bishop didn’t test
her statement, though. He could be blunt to a fault, but he knew when to hold
his tongue around grieving women—except when it came to Jillian.</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
He’d have deserved it if she had hit him for throwing her
late husband in her face last month.</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
“Did Brynn tell you how she faced off against a Black Wolf
with only a shovel?” Rook asked, levity in his voice.</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
Brynn had been down and on the ground when Bishop, Jillian<span class="MsoCommentReference"><span style="font-size: 8.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;"><span style="mso-special-character: comment;"> </span></span></span>,
and Father arrived at the barn, but the mental image the description conjured
up made Bishop smile. Brynn was small, but she was fierce when it came to Rook.</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
Shay glanced up at Rook. “She mentioned defending you until
help arrived.”</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
“I was scared out of my wits,” Brynn said. She leaned
against Rook’s arm and rested her chin on his shoulder. The picture was
obnoxiously cute. Bishop attacked his sandwich so he didn’t have to see it.</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
“Where’s Knight, anyway?” Rook asked.</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
“I don’t know. He said he had to do something at the
auction house, but that was over an hour ago.”</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
Bishop frowned at his food. Father had temporarily shut
down the auction house until the triplets had been dealt with. Their weekly
auctions were what kept outside cash flowing into Cornerstone without tempting
humans to stay too long, or get any ideas about moving to town. They hadn’t had
an auction these last two weeks, and they weren’t likely to have another one
for the foreseeable future. They couldn’t risk the triplets attacking with so
many clueless humans in the way, and the fewer outsiders around the better.</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
Father’s office was at the auction house, and he used it for
both auction and run business, so it was possible Knight went to see him.
Bishop sent a text to Knight’s phone anyway, asking for a location. Knight was
the triplets’ primary target, and even though he was relatively safe within the
confines of town, Father insisted he not wander around alone. No one wanted to
risk losing him again.</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
“Paranoid much?” Knight said, his voice a welcome sound
from the patio doors.</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
Four heads turned. He stepped outside with a glass of iced
tea in hand, sunglasses on even though he’d just been inside.</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
“Who’s paranoid?” Rook asked.</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
“Bishop.”</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
Rook snickered, then shoved broccoli salad into his mouth
without asking for clarification.</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
“I don’t like you walking around alone,” Bishop said. He
didn’t give a damn if that made him paranoid. He preferred to think of it as
smothering and overprotective.</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
“I went to the auction house and back,” Knight said. “I
didn’t even stub my toe.” A month ago, his tone might have been light and
teasing. Today it was bordering on hostile. Knight didn’t like being handled,
but damn it, he’d been kidnapped twice in his life already. Bishop wasn’t going
to allow that to happen a third time.</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
Instead of joining them at the table, Knight flopped into
one of the patio’s lounge chairs, angled away. He seemed intent on ignoring
them—something else he wouldn’t have done a month ago. Rook had twisted around
to stare, and as he turned again to finish his meal, Bishop caught a stray
emotion on his face that stirred up his gut.</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
Fear.</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
Fear of what, he didn’t know and couldn’t ask, but fear all
the same.</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
His phone buzzed. Rook jumped at the same moment. They
retrieved their phones, to an identical message from Father: 911 Office.</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
Bishop got up without a word, barely listening to Rook
explain their abrupt departure to the women. Knight wasn’t following them,
which surprised him briefly until he realized Knight’s exclusion could mean
they had a lead on the triplets.</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
The auction house was a five-minute walk, and a ninety-second
run. Despite the late summer heat, Bishop jogged down their road to Main
Street, made a sharp right, and pounded pavement to the end of the official
town limits where McQueen Auction House had been built three generations ago. Rook
stayed on his heels. Devlin and his cousin Winston met up with them at the
front door, and they all followed Bishop inside.</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
Father was behind his desk, standing with his arms folded,
agitation all over his face. “We’re waiting on two more,” he said in lieu of a
greeting.</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
They fell into line around the room, waiting for their
Alpha to begin the meeting. Bishop studied his father’s face, but found no hint
as to their agenda in his set jaw or narrowed eyes. Moments later, two pairs of
footsteps pounded up the stairs to the office. Jillian Reynolds came in first,
Jonas right behind her. Bishop’s beast stirred at her appearance.</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
“This information stays in this room for now,” Father said.
He picked up a folded sheet of paper with four sets of numbers printed in black
marker. “I received this in today’s mail. No return address, no distinguishing
scents attached. Postmarked from Welton, our nearest neighboring town.”</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
Bishop accepted the paper when handed to him. The numbers
seemed familiar in some way. “Coordinates?”</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
“Correct. The coordinates are for a location just off Route
12, about six miles from here.”</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
“No indication of what we’re expected to find there?”</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
“None. That was the only thing in the envelope.”</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
“Feels like an ambush invitation.”</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
“My thought as well. I want you six to go there and see
what we’re meant to find, if anything. Go in as pairs, one beast and one skin,
from different directions so you can see from all sides. Keep in constant
contact with each other.”</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
“With respect, Alpha, is six of us enough?” Jillian asked.</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
Father’s eyes flashed with annoyance. “Six is all I will
risk sending. This could be an ambush, or it could be a tactic to draw my
enforcers out of town and make us more vulnerable to an outside attack. Once
you’ve left, I’ll inform the other patrols of what’s going on so everyone is on
their toes.”</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
The plan was a good one. They didn’t know what they were
going to find out there in the woods, and putting all of their strongest
fighters in one place was a bad move.</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
“Understood,” Bishop said. “We’ll leave right away.”</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
“Good. Be careful, all of you.”</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
Verbal affirmatives rose up, and then the group filed out
of the office and downstairs.</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
Bishop hung back. “Was Knight over here within the last
hour?”</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
“No, I’ve been alone all morning,” Father said, concern
furrowing his brow. “Why?”</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
“He told Brynn this was where he was heading.”</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
“Knight probably needed a few minutes to himself. I don’t
like it, either, son, but he does need personal space in order to control his
empathy. If your mother was around others for too long, too consistently, she
became agitated. Especially when something was already bothering her.”</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
“Right.” Their mother had been a White Wolf, too, so Father
had a unique perspective on the responsibilities and side effects of the
burden. Balancing the emotional control of seven hundred-plus loup garou was a
monumental task. “I’ll let you know when we’re close to our location.”</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="04BodyText">
“Be careful, son.”</div>
<div class="04BodyText">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">“I will.”</span>Kelly Meding/Kelly Meadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07058232720272908627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21396366.post-57010746442230518352014-08-05T10:29:00.000-05:002014-08-05T10:29:13.065-05:00Authors After Dark: CharlotteTonight I'm hitting the road, beginning the first leg of my drive down to Charlotte, NC, for <a href="http://www.authorsafterdark.org/" target="_blank">Authors After Dark</a>. I didn't make it last year because I was in a wedding, but I'm super excited to head back this year. My schedule is really light, so I'll have plenty of time to just hang out with folks, and to see Charlotte.<br />
<br />
If you're looking for me (Kelly Meding/Kelly Meade) at the conference, here are a few places you can find me:<br />
<br />
WEDNESDAY (8/6)<br />
6pm - 8pm : Wecome Event<br />
8pm - 9pm : Blind Date Book Party<br />
<br />
THURSDAY (8/7)<br />
10am - 11am : Urban Fantasy Panel<br />
<br />
SATURDAY (8/9)<br />
1pm - 4pm : Book Signing<br />
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The book signing is open to the public, so if you live in or around Charlotte, please come out! Lots and lots of authors will be signing and selling books!Kelly Meding/Kelly Meadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07058232720272908627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21396366.post-90264275579945522922014-07-15T08:13:00.002-05:002014-07-15T08:13:36.033-05:00Release Day: Black Rook<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgde1K9qhxsqkZdLzWBkaDDBuqZ2g34U1vOSbsYgIF5sp_3n-euvltK697CWpTeMCV7ik-aMu7C-3PoIg3G75G-vf6CT5ihfDqOOb-08icUGnAwjb9sLq1g_iV1BPoh8a6w2gGa/s1600/Black+Rook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgde1K9qhxsqkZdLzWBkaDDBuqZ2g34U1vOSbsYgIF5sp_3n-euvltK697CWpTeMCV7ik-aMu7C-3PoIg3G75G-vf6CT5ihfDqOOb-08icUGnAwjb9sLq1g_iV1BPoh8a6w2gGa/s1600/Black+Rook.jpg" height="320" width="204" /></a></div>
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It's here! BLACK ROOK is finally available for download from most major e-retailers, so get your copy today! Remember, this new series is ebook only, so you can't find it in your local book store.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Black-Rook-Cornerstone-Run-Trilogy-ebook/dp/B00I8R61LY/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1391872765&sr=1-1" target="_blank">Amazon</a><br />
<a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/black-rook-kelly-meade/1118515436?ean=9780698165441" target="_blank">Barnes & Noble</a><br />
<a href="http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/black-rook" target="_blank">Kobo</a><br />
<a href="http://www.booksamillion.com/p/Black-Rook/Kelly-Meade/Q745796728?id=6028515542844" target="_blank">Books-A-Million</a>Kelly Meding/Kelly Meadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07058232720272908627noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21396366.post-85990465889953195822014-06-30T20:02:00.001-05:002014-06-30T20:02:20.892-05:00Black Rook Blog Tour<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg91p8iMedvrikxLvLDt2_Wg8n6JBh1KNUWaGuGKghVSrOGmTXh07UCkQ5r1cbxX9nYR81xkhyphenhypheneeldGvsnA6-nGlzXr9If0w6anIyhVJ4S58mYIsowaj9SDRBLw3y9y_Nr7K-rT/s1600/BlackRookbanner.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg91p8iMedvrikxLvLDt2_Wg8n6JBh1KNUWaGuGKghVSrOGmTXh07UCkQ5r1cbxX9nYR81xkhyphenhypheneeldGvsnA6-nGlzXr9If0w6anIyhVJ4S58mYIsowaj9SDRBLw3y9y_Nr7K-rT/s1600/BlackRookbanner.png" height="120" width="320" /></a></div>
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With <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/black-rook-kelly-meade/1118515436?ean=9780698165441" target="_blank">BLACK ROOK</a>'s release right around the corner, tomorrow kicks off my first-ever Month Long Blog Tour to promote my new series. You can follow along with the tour and drop comments for chances to win a fun grand prize gift basket! The tour list is below, and the first few stops are coming up tomorrow!<b> </b></div>
<div>
<b> </b></div>
<div>
<b>July 01 - </b><a href="http://chitsuen.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">[Insert Clever Quip Here]</a> </div>
<div>
<b>July 01 - </b><a href="http://puretextuality.com/" target="_blank">Pure Textuality</a> </div>
<div>
<b>July 01 - </b><a href="http://myreads.booklikes.com/" target="_blank">SnoopyDoo's Book Reviews</a> </div>
<div>
<b>July 02 - </b><a href="http://ragesexandteddybears.blogspot.ca/" target="_blank">Rage, Sex, and Teddy Bears</a> </div>
<div>
<b>July 02 - </b><a href="http://wildwordywomen.com/" target="_blank">Wild Wordy Women</a> </div>
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<b>July 03 - </b><a href="http://bookedandloaded.com/" target="_blank">Booked and Loaded</a> <span style="color: red;"> </span></div>
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<b>July 04 - </b><a href="http://mmjayewrites.com/" target="_blank">MM Jaye Writes</a> </div>
<div>
<b>July 04 - </b><a href="http://tootsbookreviews.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Toot's Book Reviews</a> <span style="color: red;"> </span></div>
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<b>July 07 - </b><a href="http://geeksinhighschool.com/" target="_blank">Geeks in High School</a> </div>
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<b>July 08 - </b><a href="http://www.rhireading.com/" target="_blank">Rhi Reading</a> <span style="color: red;"> </span></div>
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<b>July 09 - </b><a href="http://thebooknympho.com/" target="_blank">The Book Nympho</a> <span style="color: red;"> </span></div>
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<b>July 10 - </b><a href="http://angelsguiltypleasures.com/" target="_blank">Angel's Guilty Pleasures</a> <span style="color: red;"> </span></div>
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<b>July 11 - </b><a href="http://madhatterreads.com/" target="_blank">Mad Hatter Reads</a> <span style="color: red;"> </span></div>
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<b>July 11 - </b><a href="http://wendydawnswickedworld.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Wendy Dawn's Wicked World</a> </div>
<div>
<b>July 14 - </b><a href="http://romancingthedarkside.com/" target="_blank">Romancing the Dark Side</a> <span style="color: red;"> </span></div>
<div>
<b>July 14 - </b><a href="http://wickedwomenbookblogs.blogspot.ca/" target="_blank">Wicked Women Book Blog</a> </div>
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<b>July 15 - </b><a href="http://www.ismellsheep.com/" target="_blank">I Smell Sheep</a> <span style="color: red;"> </span></div>
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<b>July 15 - </b><a href="http://www.rantingsofareadingaddict.com/" target="_blank">Rantings of a Reading Addict</a> </div>
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<b>July 16 - </b><a href="http://yummymenandkickasschicks.com/" target="_blank">Yummy Men and Kick Ass Chicks</a> <span style="color: red;"> </span></div>
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<b>July 17 - </b><a href="http://bittenbybooks.com/" target="_blank">Bitten by Books</a> </div>
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<b>July 18 - </b><a href="http://bookskater.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">BookSkater</a> </div>
<div>
<b>July 18 - </b><a href="http://www.addicted2heroines.com/" target="_blank">Addicted 2 Heroines</a> </div>
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<b>July 21 - </b><a href="http://paranormalhaven.com/" target="_blank">Paranormal Haven</a> <span style="color: red;"> </span></div>
<div>
<b>July 22 - </b><a href="http://www.gizmosreviews.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Gizmo's Reviews</a> </div>
<div>
<b>July 22 - </b><a href="http://totallyaddictedtoreading.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Totally Addicted to Reading</a> </div>
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<b>July 23 - </b><a href="http://www.dealsharingaunt.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Deal Sharing Aunt</a> <span style="color: red;"> </span></div>
<div>
<b>July 24 - </b><a href="http://booklovinmamas.com/" target="_blank">Book Lovin' Mamas</a> <span style="color: red;"> </span></div>
<div>
<b>July 25 - </b><a href="http://www.betweendandr.com/" target="_blank">Between Dreams and Reality</a> <span style="color: red;"> </span></div>
<div>
<b>July 28 - </b><a href="http://www.ifeeltheneedtheneedtoread.com/" target="_blank">I Feel the Need, the Need to Read</a> </div>
<div>
<b>July 28 - </b><a href="http://www.platypire.com/" target="_blank">Platypire Reviews</a> </div>
<div>
<b>July 29 - </b><a href="http://indieauthor-howto.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Indie Author How-To</a> <span style="color: red;"> </span></div>
<div>
<b>July 30 - </b><a href="http://wtfareyoureading.com/" target="_blank">WTF Are You Reading?</a> </div>
<div>
<b>July 30 - </b><a href="http://jamigray.com/" target="_blank">Jami Gray's Blog</a> <span style="color: red;"> </span></div>
<div>
<b>July 31 - </b><a href="http://tezmilleroz.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Tez Says</a> <span style="color: red;"> </span></div>
Kelly Meding/Kelly Meadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07058232720272908627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21396366.post-48535380390375184102014-06-15T12:51:00.001-05:002014-06-15T12:51:19.038-05:00Black Rook: Chapter OneI've gotten my butt in gear and updated my website, which includes a page for the Cornerstone Run Trilogy, and the <a href="http://kellymeding.com/wordpress/?page_id=172" target="_blank">entire first chapter of BLACK ROOK</a>!<br />
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<br />Kelly Meding/Kelly Meadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07058232720272908627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21396366.post-24136010164930021342014-06-09T18:55:00.000-05:002014-06-09T18:55:21.390-05:00Cover Reveal: Gray Bishop and White KnightThey've popped up online, so it's only proper to officially post them here:<br />
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<br />Kelly Meding/Kelly Meadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07058232720272908627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21396366.post-82504866510639717032014-05-26T14:46:00.000-05:002014-05-26T14:46:30.713-05:00Random UpdateIt's been a while since I've posted anything here, and a reader question kind of reminded me of that. I'm so happy that winter is finally over and we're moving into the hazy, lazy days of summer.<br />
<br />
Ha! I almost believed myself with "lazy" days.<br />
<br />
Anyway, summer is here and I'd rather have sunshine and heat than cold and clouds. So what have I been up to, besides the day job?<br />
<br />
I'm one-quarter of the way finished writing WHITE KNIGHT, which is Book Three in my upcoming Cornerstone Run trilogy with Berkley Intermix. If you're somehow only just now hearing about this, it's a new digital-only paranormal romance trilogy from me (under the pen name Kelly Meade) about wolf shifters, Magi, and vampires. Berkley bought the whole trilogy, so you don't have to worry about it being cancelled in the middle.<br />
<br />
Coincidentally, all three books can be pre-ordered now! Pre-orders help publishers determine reader interest in a new book, so if you want to give it a try, don't be afraid to click the links below and give it a whirl.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Black-Rook-Cornerstone-Run-Trilogy-ebook/dp/B00I8R61LY/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1391872765&sr=1-1" target="_blank">BLACK ROOK (July 15th)</a><br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Gray-Bishop-Cornerstone-Run-Trilogy-ebook/dp/B00I8RB1WS/ref=pd_sim_sbs_kstore_2?ie=UTF8&refRID=0KKJHSH9Z0KQ2R9W9HMT" target="_blank">GRAY BISHOP (October 21)</a><br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/White-Knight-Cornerstone-Run-Trilogy-ebook/dp/B00I8RB100/ref=pd_sim_sbs_kstore_1?ie=UTF8&refRID=0N9FG1VD47A9J92AR5SE" target="_blank">WHITE KNIGHT (January 1, 2015)</a><br />
<br />
In other series news, if you missed my previous blog post, there will be no more MetaWars books for the foreseeable future.<br />
<br />
As for Dreg City 6, yes. There will be a 6 and a 7, because seven is how many books I always envisioned it taking to finish Evy's story. I know how it ends. I've had the final scene in my head for ages now. The problem is time. Right now I have to finish writing my contracted novel (White Knight). Once that is turned in, I'll be able to think about Dreg City again. I hope to have another Dreg City book out this year, but I can't promise anything at this point.<br />
<br />
What I can promise is a fun new series, starting with Black Rook, with my own unique take on wolf shifters and their secret societies, plus hot brothers, the women who love them, and sexy-times. What's not to love?Kelly Meding/Kelly Meadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07058232720272908627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21396366.post-90859411743649712082014-05-12T09:37:00.000-05:002014-05-12T09:37:46.959-05:00The (Meta) War is OverIt's happened again, folks.<br />
<br />
This time I can't say it's as much of a surprise, but Pocket has decided not to pick up the next title in the MetaWars superhero series. So for the handful of you who've been clambering for Gage's book....um....maybe some day?<br />
<br />
The trouble with promising to one day self-publish more MetaWars is time. I still have a book due to Berkley for my werewolf trilogy. I still want to finish up the Dreg City books. I have more ideas than I can shake a stick at, as well as other projects that are keeping me quite busy. I don't know when I'll be able to fit Gage's book into my schedule--and that's just writing it. Never mind the production aspect of self-publishing a book.<br />
<br />
So for now, the MetaWars series is, if not over, certainly on an extended hiatus.<br />
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I'm sorry I didn't do better by these characters and by my loyal fans.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6JvWN6HfwtKFyXWHM_L_yQ9unPyGEhu_RphWYjIKu6toiBbLBUoxYgXkYI6n-y5VVb2ZxThyphenhyphenrkt44RR2sXJwS4YXg4wgjkK3pdOy7Z4kyi9WTP_JYvW8PrZC4pETsPI-4lgHM/s1600/new_bundle_metas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6JvWN6HfwtKFyXWHM_L_yQ9unPyGEhu_RphWYjIKu6toiBbLBUoxYgXkYI6n-y5VVb2ZxThyphenhyphenrkt44RR2sXJwS4YXg4wgjkK3pdOy7Z4kyi9WTP_JYvW8PrZC4pETsPI-4lgHM/s1600/new_bundle_metas.jpg" height="320" width="206" /></a></div>
<br />Kelly Meding/Kelly Meadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07058232720272908627noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21396366.post-65156063668126081652014-03-16T17:25:00.001-05:002014-03-16T17:25:48.548-05:00Cover Art: Black Rook<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT_aT-fMLgaOfUTVJ-xP-w-FBVy4umuj36YxPojfSx1GMkB7LdkPIWhGRITrwCU_4SnP7Vys-zQ75PduUrtX89Ggx35CWyS4TG9xVzxdrMXDg8gErIiWkUplmaOL-HROK9SWbP/s1600/Black+Rook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT_aT-fMLgaOfUTVJ-xP-w-FBVy4umuj36YxPojfSx1GMkB7LdkPIWhGRITrwCU_4SnP7Vys-zQ75PduUrtX89Ggx35CWyS4TG9xVzxdrMXDg8gErIiWkUplmaOL-HROK9SWbP/s1600/Black+Rook.jpg" height="320" width="204" /></a></div>
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<span class="acf8a5ef866f84447b664c50911765056312"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Black-Rook-Cornerstone-Run-Trilogy-ebook/dp/B00I8R61LY/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1391872765&sr=1-1" target="_blank">Coming July 15</a> from Berkley Intermix. </span></div>
Kelly Meding/Kelly Meadehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07058232720272908627noreply@blogger.com0