Showing posts with label Where the Road to Hell Begins. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Where the Road to Hell Begins. Show all posts

Saturday, September 25, 2010

Naughty...Wicked...Fantasies...

*waves at all our Wicked friends* Howdy!! I hope everyone has had an awesome week? Mine week's been productive with writing, writing and woohoo more writing! I'm almost finished writing book 2 ~ Phoenix Rising ~ in my Hell series (my goth "horrormance" series) and book 1 ~ Pandora's Box ~ hasn't even been accepted yet!! Only been subbed 2 weeks and I'm antsy for a response already. Someone tell me to chill-out already!! *cheeky grin* I'm loving these characters so much and their world is so alive, I'm having no problem remembering the minor details. I'm eating, sleeping, daydreaming and falling asleep at night thinking about them. Being so focused on a storyline, puts me in a naughty frame of mind. I guess because I'm living the emotions and passions right along with them.

Okies, I'll shut up about my excitement with my characters and give you a photo that hit me hard this week (I can't remember where I found, but somewhere on the world-wide-wicked-web).....



Does this photo bring to mind any thoughts? Comments? Fantasies? lol

Woohoo!!! We've reached 100 followers!!! Let's see how many of our followers actually read our posts...leave me a comment in this post and I'll give away a pdf copy of Elfin Blood and/or a paperback book cover. Your choice or both...whichever the winner prefers. By the way, the contest ends TODAY at midnight CST.

~~~~~


Now....off to my review of Nostos The Homecoming, by Nancy Barone Wythe.




Blurb:

For over a thousand years, LORD AIDAN HARTLAND OF WESTLAKE and his lover have in turn been eating each other’s hearts in order to regenerate. Now he’s back with his new identity- and the perpetual mission of protecting his woman and mankind from the demon Zendor that has no mate and eats human hearts at random to survive.

FBI agent ROBYN WAINRIGHT, assigned to investigate the strange deaths, is still unaware of her past, and determined to nail Westlake, with his mad tales of demons, paranormal powers and his eternal love for her. But the erotic visions she keeps having are driving her insane…

Review:

My biggest beef is that this story isn't long enough.I wanted more time with the characters because they're both likeable and I would have loved to have gotten into the head of the demon Zendor. But, hey, I'm weird that way because I end up loving the evil characters as much as I do the hero and heroine. This isn't a real beef because it's a compliment that I wanted to spend more time with the characters. The first scene where Lord Aidan Westlake arrives with his Great Danes is a very strong visual. I got this mental image of Aidan standing on a hill, above everyone else, with his Great Danes (beasts) straining against their tethers and Lord Aidan restraining them with ease. I can't remember if the sun pierced through the clouds to shine on just him in that moment, but if it didn't, it should have! :-) I loved Aidan's arrogance—who doesn't love reading arrogant men?—and Robyn's snarky attitude was just as much fun. She was definitely a tough as nails sort of woman. I won't give away the shocking details of the moment I sat straight up and said "WTF". For several pages Nancy left me worried how I could give a favorable review after the way she traumatized me with what she did to her characters. lol Nancy cleared that dilemma up by the time she wrote "the end".


Nostos The Homecoming is a creative story, built with a great imagination. Action punched through scenes in short lively bursts and Nancy Barone Wythe sure knows how to wallop you with great descriptions. For example:
"He had the timeless gaze of an immortal to whom the world had entrusted all its
secrets."

Wow! Immediately I knew Aidan had the look of an 'old soul' in his eyes. Another great line is when Aidan said this to Robyn…

"'You are like daybreak in my darkness…you leave me stunned and bewildered…'"

Dear God, I want someone to profess that type of emotion for me! :D

To get your own copy of Nostos The Homecoming by Nancy Barone Wythe, click here.

Saturday, September 4, 2010

Buried in Edits...

Not sure what's up with blogger, but I'm about ready to kill it!! Grrr...everytime I try to log into blogger, it tells me "Service Unavailable". The only way I can log in and do anything is to log in through my other blog account. Grrr...again! lol

Anyway, I'm buried neck deep in edits. I'm almost finished with the edits on my new dark gothic romance series Where the Road to Hell Begins and thought I'd leave an excerpt. Tell me what you think.

A word of warning, this is a dark gothic paranormal romance ("horrormance" as I lovingly call it LOL), there is a lot of graphic content that some viewers may find disturbing. So, read at your own discretion!


EXCERPT: (I actually picked this excerpt because it was less violent than others)

Power twinkled from his palm like a firework sparkler and the deadbolt grated open. Humans and their pathetic security measures, they needed protective charms to guard against demons, not deadbolts and simple locks. Soon Madison and Amos wouldn't need protection. Then blood would run like rivers, turning the soil red and from it the fruits of his labor would sprout.

The door opened without a sound and he easily maneuvered up the stairs in the dark to the bedroom. Amos lay curled on his side next to Madison on the bed. Lightening flickered through the window long enough for him to see Madison wore yellow panties and a pale green sleeveless tank-top. She lay on top of the covers, hair haloing her head like a gold coronet, one arm thrown over her head and the other rested on her stomach. Her long legs caressed by demonic electrical energy and his appreciative gaze.

Soon he'd part her shapely thighs and fuck her, remind her that she was his, forever his. Only his. And he'd make sure she understood that calling in Phoenix Birmingham bordered on treachery.

Approaching the bed with silent tread, Beliel stared at the two subjects. They meant everything to him, both equally important to his ultimate purpose.

Kneeling beside Amos, he twirled his finger and deepened Madison's sleep. "Amos." Blue eyes fluttered open, instantly awake at his call. "Hungry?"

Amos nodded his head, scrunched the covers down and scooted up into a sitting position. Holding his hands up, Beliel waggled the fingers on his right hand and his nails lengthened into sharp dark red claws. He pressed the tip of a nail against his left wrist and black blood bloomed as thick and gooey as tar. With rounded eyes, Amos stared at the blood. His breathing grew reedy and awkward, much too fast like a sprinter at the end of an arduous marathon. Like a torpedo Amos launched across the bed, wrapped tiny fingers around Beliel's wrist and smashed his mouth to the demon's wrist.

Beliel smiled and pet Amos's head as the child slurped the dark hemoglobin.

* * * * *

Madison jerked awake, unsure what woke her. Sleeping peacefully, a rarity for nightmares not to plague her dreams these days, she tried going straight back to sleep, but something dragged her from the edge once again.

Lightening crackled outside the window and a long weary sigh whistled through her lips. The thunderstorm had probably woken her. But…she'd watched the news and the forecast hadn't called for showers. A balmy, unusually warm spring evening had been in order.

She blinked, peering around her midnight darkened bedroom, the sound of heavy rain hitting the roof. Eh…the weather man just got it wrong. Again. Nothing new in the macabre southern weather.

Madison rubbed her itchy nose and stretched. Halfway through the stretch, her breath froze in her lungs as a black shape shifted and loomed over her. White holes resided where eyes, nose and mouth should be located. She opened her mouth to scream…nothing but gurgling noises erupted.

How embarrassing!

The apparition smiled, exposing white teeth. No, they were better described as pointy fangs.

This had to be a nightmare! Nightmare, nightmare, nightmare! Only in her nightmares was she ever unable to scream.

Wakeup, wakeup, wakeup!

Nothing changed.

She pinched her thigh and winced. Not a nightmare.

Thunder boomed as she found her voice and screamed. A cackle came from the shape. With her heart threatening to pound out of her chest, she reached for Amos and found empty sheets. Turning her back on the intruder forced a knot of queasiness to settle in her stomach, but she had to find her son and protect him!

Whirling about on the bed, she located Amos as he slipped off the edge of the bed and with soft, childish steps, plotted around the end of the bed.

"No!" She scrambled toward him, but he ran out of her reach and came to stand beside the dark specter. Keeping one eye on Amos and another on the presence, she held her arms toward him and prayed he'd follow her instruction. "Amos, come to me."

He didn't. Dang!

"Red rover, red rover, send Daddy right over," Amos chanted, eyes flaming burnt orange around the edges and in the darkness, they surfaced brighter than normal. "Hellfire, hellfire, send Daddy right over."

A warm breeze hit her skin and coupled with the chilling second stanza, together they bubbled her flesh with shivers of dread. Who knew the lines to a kid's game could sound so chilling?

"In the name of Jesus Christ, I command you to depart!" Where'd that come from? From the recess of her childhood apparently, proof she'd been listening with at least half an ear to her father's preaching.

Unfortunately, the Christian command did not work on this creature. He chuckled and she got the sick impression he sent an amused wink to her son. She didn't like the idea of them sharing secret jokes. Amos smiled up at the figure that grew more distinct by the minute. His body solidified, but his face remained blurry. Something dangled about his neck, a crystal of some sort.

"Get away from my son!"

A black arm reached out and tangled powerful fingers in her hair, dragging her to the edge of the bed. She fought, but her efforts were useless except to have strands pulled from their roots. At the edge of the bed, he yanked on her hair and forced her to her knees before him. This position was too servile for her liking and she refused to look up at him for fear he'd perceive it as reverence.

She clawed at his arm with her nails. He backhanded her, but with his hand tangled in her hair, her head remained steady taking the full brunt of his strike. The copper taste of blood flooded her mouth and she gagged as she swallowed the fluid.

He slapped her again. No point in that one apart from amusing himself since she ceased to struggle. Once more for good measure, her teeth shredding the inside of her cheek, until she choked on the blood in her mouth and spewed the fluid all over him and herself. When the coughing finally subsided and she could breathe without feeling like she attempted to suck liquid air into her lungs, she looked up at him with hatred boiling in her belly. Even this close, she could not discern his features, but she could make out her blood pock marking his face. This was just…odd.

He stunk to high heaven. Putrid as if he'd risen from the grave, but he seemed hearty and hale. He sure as heck was strong enough to prove his heartiness.

His tongue flicked out and licked her blood off his lips and chin. Bile rose to the back of her throat, but she forced it back.

"Mm…Mm…Good to the last drop." Great a supernatural creature that quoted commercials. "I'll have more of you soon," he said. "That's a promise, Madison."

Over her dead body!

That's what he means, you imbecile!

"Run, Amos, run!"

The creature smiled, displaying those eerie razor sharp teeth. Amos didn't budge, didn't even blink. He just continued to look up at her with a soft childish smile on his face.

Her attacker's eyes glinted like diamonds in sunlight, but without the aid of any light other than the frayed lightening. They sparkled with such vibrancy her eye sockets ached.

Not freaking human! She'd had enough of these supernatural creatures coming into her home!

Madison let lose another scream. Where the heck were the Birminghams? She thought they were here to protect her. But they'd traded her guest bedroom for a hotel room. Fled more likely. She couldn't blame them, she'd flee too. Any sane person would.

So, not the time to be thinking of that, Madison!

The demon dragged her hard against his granite-like immoveable chest, knocking the breath from her lungs with their sudden impact. Demon or not, he was buff beneath his clothing and as unforgiving as concrete. And that terrified her more! She couldn't compete with strength.

Not even an inhalation moved his rock hard pecs. A testament that he didn't live, or rather evidence he didn't need air to live. And if that wasn't enough to prove he was dead, she held her breath, trying to block out his stench, but failed miserably as his malodorous odor caused her eyes to water.

"I'll provide you security and safety, make you queen of all nations. All you need do is consent to come with me now."

Queen of all nations, huh? What an amazing offer. Kind of like winning the lottery without buying a ticket, but she guessed it came with a high price.

There was a familiar cant to his voice, but it was unfamiliar at the same time. Diamond eyed or not, buff or not, offering the world or not, he was in her home uninvited and he stunk to high heaven.

She sucked in a breath to scream again, but he slammed his mouth over hers, slicing her upper lip against her teeth and cutting off any sound she might have executed. The hand in her hair twisted her head to the side, so he could deepen his demonic kiss. His tongue swished inside and flicked across hers, her bleeding mouth making their connection wet and slippery.

Madison grunted and squirmed, slapped and punched, attempting to break free, but none of her efforts worked. So, she bit down on his tongue and gagged on his dark sludgy blood, like having a mouth full of mushy, rotten eggs.

He jerked backward and an outraged bellow struck her face, the stench knocking the breath from her lungs. Holding her steady by her hair, his other hand wrapped around her throat and constricted. Awful strangled sounds came from her, but he squeezed tighter and tighter until she thought he'd crush her windpipe.

Amos…

White pinpoints exploded behind her eyes and darkness began to drown out the limited vision she possessed in the darkened room. Bright lightening haloed his silhouette and his grip intensified as thunder rattled the windows.

If he murdered her, Amos would be left all alone with him.

She struggled to lift her arms and rake her nails down his face, but they weighed too much to maneuver accurately. They ended up banging against her thighs like a loose window shutter in a vicious thunderstorm.

In those few moments before loss of consciousness, his face transformed with concise clarity. All thought froze, shocked beyond comprehension, she couldn't believe her eyes. His identity couldn't be right.

The door to her bedroom burst open as Madison lost consciousness.

*****

The thunderstorm boomed hard enough to rattle his vehicle and because of it, Nix almost didn't hear Madison's scream. Scrambling from his car with pistol in hand, he took the steps to her room two at a time. Chambered inside the gun were special bullets blessed from the forging and the final product etched with a cross. One shot and any demonic bad boy would die screaming in a shitload of pain. Better than what they deserved in his opinion.

Locked. The fucking bedroom door was locked! Damn it!

Taking two steps back, he inhaled and kicked just to the side of the doorknob. The impact jarred up his leg, traveled into his spine and snapped his teeth together. But the door held steady. Sounds of gurgling penetrated the door and he almost panicked. Losing Madison wasn't an option, so Nix drew a long breath, expelled it, repositioned himself and drew one more deep breath. On the exhale, he kicked the door with everything he had. The door flew inward, loudly crashing against the inside wall. Nix stumbled, but caught the doorjamb and steadied himself.

His gaze swept the room fast. Amos stood beside a dark apparition. That apparition tossed Madison to the bed like disposable goods. She did a little bounce when she landed and lay limp. From where he stood and with only the hall light illuminating the room, Nix couldn't tell if she were alive or dead.

Gut instinct told him hours ago that something wicked came this way, but he might have waited until it was too late to help.

Nix reacted, aimed and fired. The demon jerked when the first bullet ripped through his heart and stumbled when the second one entered his gut. Unusual that he didn't explode upon the first wound, so Nix put a third slug into him, straight between the eyes. The shot jerked the demon's head backward hard enough to rip a human's head off. Unfortunately, the demon's remained intact.

The demon's features crystallized and a smirk tilted the edges of his mouth before he exploded into flames. Perplexed by the intensity and sparkling whiteness of the flames that consumed the demon, Nix protected his eyes with his forearm. The cackle that followed the demon from the room made abso-fucking-lutely no sense! Demons screamed and died in a dramatic explosion. They didn't laugh and die in sparkling white light.

What would Georgie make of this new circumstance?

His gaze jerked to Amos and the orange ring around the child's eyes spiked and thinned, but didn't disappear. Nix ran to Madison and slid across the bed on his knees. Her eyes were closed, but it was too dark in the room to see if her chest inflated with oxygen. Lifting one of her hands, he released it and it landed as limp as a wet noodle over her stomach. Pressing two fingers to the pulse in her neck, he detected nothing.

His heartbeat rocketed.

If she were dead, what would they do with Amos?

Nix jabbed his fingers through his hair and reminded himself not to jump the gun. One step at a time, take it slowly, assess the entirety of the situation. The first step was confirming Madison's status.

Taking a moment to collect himself, he breathed in and out, all the while commanding himself to calm down and get a fucking grip on his rampaging emotions.

Once his heart rate slowed a fraction, he adjusted the position of his fingertips and waited. A slow, but steady tap hit his pads.

Oh, thank you God!

"Momma hurt?" Amos asked in a small voice, sounding like a two year old rather than a boy of five.

"A little but—"

"Good." Nix whipped his head around, his neck cracking from the force of the movement. The child smiled and his eyes spiked anew, closer to the shade of burnt orange. "So hungry. I drink Momma's blood?"

Horrified by that question more than the sight of the demon flinging Madison on the bed, Nix stared mutely at the five year old. Drink his mother's blood? Did he drink the blood of the animals he killed too? As far as he knew, only two supernatural creatures drank blood. Vampires and demons. Neither were rays of sunflowers and puppy dog kisses. And they both gained power by ingesting the blood of their victims.

"No," Nix said in the most authoritative voice he could project, but inside he quivered and prayed there'd be something in the Sherlock Handbook to guide them accurately. "You cannot ever drink Momma's blood."

None of this made sense. Running a hand down his face, he thought they might be in way over their heads. But he'd made a promise to Madison not to give up and, for good or bad, he'd keep the promise. It didn't matter that the little voice in his head screamed run! He couldn't save others if he found his way to an early grave. Even so, he would still keep his word to her.

With the flat of his palm, he tapped Madison on the cheek. "Madison. Wake up, Madison."

She groaned, so he tapped the other cheek.

"Ow!" She swatted at his hand, blinked and blinked again. "Amos?"

"Momma!" Amos scrambled onto the bed and lay down by her side, positioning his head on her shoulder and wrapping his little arm around her waist. Even in the dark, he could tell Amos's eyes were back to normal.

Madison rubbed Amos's back. "It's okay, sweet boy."

Sweet boy? Pfft…only if you enjoyed psychotic rages, creepy orange-red eyes and children that drank blood.

"Demon?" Her voice sounded scratchy.

He almost said he didn't know and then realized she referred to the presence in her room and not her son.

"Gone." Nix brushed his knuckles across her cheek and she flinched. "Sorry." She nodded or at least he thought she did. It was hard to tell in the dark room. "I'm going to get the lights."

She caught his hand before he could move off the bed. "Was that a demon?"

"I—" He thought so. The creature sure smelled like a demon and the thunderstorm vanished with him, the full moon shining through her bedroom window proof the weather was a result of the creature's presence. But the way the creature reacted to the demonic bullets left him confused and unsure. "I—um…think so."


~~~~~~

Now, I have to write a synopsis--evil demonic plagues of the writing world!--and I suck at them. I wish synopsis weren't necessary evils, but they are. It'd be so much easier if the publisher just read the first page and if they liked it, keep reading! Make an informed decision from the actually book rather than a fast decision on a synopsis that may or may not catch the flavor of the book. Grr...but, hey, I can jump through hoops and write the synopsis and pray they don't put too much stock in it and give the book a chance. LOL

Hope everyone has a safe and fun Labor Day weekend!
~huggles~
Gracen

Saturday, April 10, 2010

WINNING HEROINE NAME

All the votes have been cast and the winner is in. And I do believe the winning name will make Tierney happy. LOL By a landside 65% of the vote, GENEVIEVE is the winning heroine name.

Since the meaning of names are important in this book, I did a search of the meaning of Genevieve and was shocked to see that it means “Woman of the People”. Wow! Knowing the demonic plans for Genevieve, that is the perfect name for her!!

I’ve already done a search and replace in my story and substituted Genevieve for Katherine. Thank you bunches to everyone who participated!

JODER suggested Genevieve, which means she’ll win the prizes. You left me your e-mail, Joder, so I’ll drop you an e-mail in a few minutes.

Since SHERRY and DIANE TAYLOR suggested the other two names in the contest, Jacqueline and Catia, I’ll send you and PDF e-book of Elfin Blood if you want it. If you’re interested, just drop me an e-mail at contact@gracenmiller.com. (That’s contact at gracenmiller dot com). (I'll attempt to track you both down by e-mail, but just in case you don't hear from me and are interested, send me an e-mail!)

I hope everyone has an awesome weekend!

~huggles~
Gracen

Saturday, March 27, 2010

Help Me Find the Perfect Heroine Name!!!

Heroines deserve strong names...right?

Anyone ever notice that heroine (the lead female in a book) and heroin (the addictive illegal drug) are pronounced the same way? And, of course, the spelling is almost identical. Hmmm….Do you think someone somewhere is trying to tell us something? Like maybe we’re a man’s drug of choice or we’re as addictive as narcotics? LOL Because we know no one is suggesting we’re big trouble! *cheeky grin*

I’m in the middle of writing and the hero’s name jumped out at me from a billboard. Phoenix—Nix to his friends. Everywhere I look now, I see the name Phoenix. So, I know it’s the right name for my hero. But the heroine, we’re struggling over her name. Nothing seems to fit correctly. She’s been Grace, but that was too close to my name and I kept writing Gracen. So she had a name change to Samantha, but she doesn’t feel like a Samantha. That probably sounds crazy, but I have to “feel” the name before it sits well with me. Next, she became Alexis and then Katherine and that’s where we still are. But, once again, she doesn’t feel like an Alexis and Katherine is okay, but I’m not jumping for joy over it. I do like that I can shorten Katherine to Kat, which would fit with Nix’s character, but there’s still something holding me back for loving Katherine/Kat.

So, here’s where you step in. I want you to pick the heroine’s name. From now until next Thursday, April 1, 2010 (no joking!), you get to suggest names. Then on April 2nd I’ll allow random.org to pick 3 of the suggested names from the list and then you’ll vote your favorite name from those 3 names. The winning name will become the heroine’s new and final name.

To help you suggest a name, here’s a small bio for her: She’s twenty-five, has a five year old son named Avery. Was romanced into an early marriage to a man of means with political and financial connections, but he left her without a word when Avery was two. So, she’s a single mother, with a strong sense of protective mother instincts. But things aren’t as they seem. Overnight, Avery turns homicidal, kills the family cat, then moves on to gutting the family dog, before starting on wildlife animals and the neighborhood pets. A phone call to a psychic tells her a demon is to blame and that she’ll send reinforcements. That’s when Nix enters the scene.

My heroine will face many obstacles, all related to her son. She’ll grow from being a woman with unsure footing in this world, into a woman of conviction and determination to save her son from the evil forces that threaten his livelihood, while learning nothing about her life is as it appeared.

So, she’ll need a solid name and I’m thinking something old-fashioned. But please don’t give me names like Beth, Lisa, Marie, Bridgette or Jane. I have nothing against those names, but they’re a little more commonplace than I’d prefer. But I don’t want names like Ethel and Mildred, either. They’re too old fashioned! Give me something classy and practical.

Don’t forget to leave me a comment with your name suggestion!!

One Rule: You cannot suggest a name that’s already been suggested. If you do, you will not be entered into the contest unless you suggest an alternate name. The person that suggests the winning name will win the following items:

1. A 2010 Moonlight, Lace & Mayhem desk calendar:




2. A Gracen Miller Mouse Pad:




3. And if the winner wants, I'll throw in a PDF e-book of Elfin Blood.


To help you get a better feel for the issue, here’s the first two chapters …they’re unedited and very rough draft, so please pardon any errors or snafus.

CHAPTER ONE

“What?” Katherine said with a mixture of disbelief and irritation. She looked at her son, Avery, and felt adamant denial surge in the form of a pounding headache. She’d come to the doctor for answers and this screwed up diagnosis was what she got?

“Ms. Wescott, all the tests came back normal.” The doctor scratched his chin as if intrigued. The thought of him being ‘intrigued’ over her son’s dilemma pissed her off. She forced aside the urge to whack him with her purse. “Everything except the anomaly with his blood,” he made a face, scrunching his features as if that anomaly still perplexed him. “Fascin—” The word fell incomplete when his glance landed on her hands twisting into tight fists in her lap. His gaze shot to her face. There was a flash of wariness in his ordinary brown eyes, like he expected her to give him a shiner any moment. She wanted to. She sure as hell wanted to pop him in the eye, but she had to settle for hoping the murder she felt at the despicable word ‘fascinating’ showed brightly on her face. He cleared his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbed nervously, and he failed to meet her gaze as he continued, “Otherwise, I can assure you there is nothing physically wrong with him.”

“Just psychologically?” she drawled with enough sarcasm to frighten a heavy-weight boxer.

“With the right psychiatrist and medication…Um…”

She would not drug her child into a zombie state so everyone could cope with his condition. Hell, he was already a zombie without medication.

“We think” —so refreshing that the doctor only thought and didn’t have a damn solid answer— “he can live a relatively normal life with medication.”

“Relatively?” she echoed, baffled why the doctor felt that should make her feel better about his diagnosis.

“Dissociative Identity Disorders are not the end of the world, Ms. Wescott.”

Dissociative Identity Disorder her ass! That was the new feel-good medical terminology for multiple personalities. Something her child did not have. Putting a nice, neat medical nametag on the disorder didn’t alter the diagnosis or make her feel any freaking better.

Although….she looked at her son. He sat on the table, his legs swishing back and forth like that of any high-energy child. Avery stared at the doctor with enough malice blazing from his baby-blue eyes that it sent shivers of dread up her spine. Yeah, she couldn’t deny something was amiss with him. But she trusted her gut and it said the problem was much more than multiple personality disorder.

Two months ago, he’d been a happy, healthy, normal child, one that giggled often and adored his feline and canine companions. The next day, he’d been mute and homicidal.

He’d snapped the cat’s neck the first week of the change, receiving multiple cat scratches before he managed feline murder. Five years old and he displayed a marked increase in strength. Explaining away that incident in the emergency room would have been difficult in the best scenarios. The hostile, blaming glances from the medical personal had made her feel worse than a slug. Easily read in those gazes was that if it happened again, Social Services would be called. She didn’t want or need a repeat performance of that event ever again. And if she thought Social Services would help, she’d call them herself.

The dog had been next. Avery had sliced and diced her with a kitchen carving knife. He’d gone into the fenced-in backyard to play and she’d left him alone long enough to pour a glass of iced tea...not more than five minutes at most. When she returned, she’d found him and the dog on the back porch. Blood everywhere like there’d been a struggle. His blonde hair had been speckled with the stuff, his pale face splotched red, his hands coated to his elbows like the hemoglobin had been used as lotion, and the clothes on his chest blossomed with the substance, as if he’d wallowed in the sanguine fluid. The smile on his face…her hands trembled at the memory. She’d choked on a scream and retched over the side of the railing until she could do nothing more than dry heave.

Avery had caught a fly and she’d been amazed at his quick reflexes. And then he tortured it, holding it steady with his fingers while he pulled off its legs before moving on to those fragile wings. Those incidences heralded the beginning of his atrocities.

Twice he’d tried to stab her, slicing her upper thigh the last time. She’d stitched the wound herself, worried about infection when the slash turned an angry shade of red. Religiously, she’d slathered the wound with antibiotic ointment, added warm salty compresses and luckily, the cut healed. It still ached and she’d forever wear the ragged scar of her son’s attack, but she refused to give up on him, or allow anyone to know the total truth of his ferocity. The protective instincts of motherhood had kicked in. Nothing on earth could force her to betray him.

He’d kicked, scratched and bitten her more times than she could count. When the violent episode ceased—sometimes he snapped out of it in the middle of the rage—he would collapse in her arms and sob until exhausted sleep claimed him. His heartbreak broke her heart.

The doctor didn’t seem to notice her distress—just as well—and continued in his patronizing tone, “This disorder always involves some sort of trauma, Ms. Wescott. Your frank honesty can help us determine the trauma and proceed accordingly.”

She ground her teeth hard, amazed they didn’t crack. “Nothing has changed in his life.” Not a damn thing since her husband walked out the door three years ago.

“I’m sure if you would consider—”

“Enough!” Katherine came to her feet with a snap. The doctor flinched in surprise, his words cut off midstream. She sent him a hostile glare, snatched up her purse, held her hand out to Avery and said, “Let’s go, baby.”

Avery plopped off the diagnosis table, while the doctor’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. Avery sent the doctor a smile that reeked of evil intent. It creeped her out when her baby wore that expression and she couldn’t even explain the expression. It was as docile a look as the one he always wore, but something about his eyes screeched not just evil, but malevolence. There was a difference.

She sniffed. What was that smell? It rather reminded her of rotten eggs. She put a finger to her nose, but nothing helped obliterate the stench. It’d become stronger lately. God-awful described the scent perfectly.

Katherine looked at the doctor. “Do you smell that?”

“Sulphur,” he whispered, face as pale as rice paper, gawking at her son like he was the prophesized anti-Christ. The doctor tossed the chart aside, jumped to his feet, knees popping, and exclaimed, “Ms. Wescott, I don’t think you should walk out that door.” He stared at Avery, not sparing her a single glance through the diatribe.

Wondering at the doctor’s sudden fear, she looked down at Avery. There it was again…that fiery orange glow surrounding the outer perimeter of his blue eyes. The child blinked and the color dissipated.

“We really must put him somewhere we can watch him around the clock, run tests and such.”

Her gaze snapped to him, eyes narrowing. As long as she breathed her son would never become a damn lab rat. “He does not leave me. Ever.”

Anyone that tried to take him was a dead man.

CHAPTER TWO

Katherine chewed on her fingernail. Through her window, she watched her neighbor staple up a “missing pet” poster across the street. The eighth missing animal this month. Would her nightmare ever end?

She released the curtain, turned with the sound of the curtain swishing behind her and walked to the liquor cabinet. Jack Daniels really, really wanted to be her friend or at least her amnesiac friend. Drinking to oblivion was stupid. Drunkenness would resolve nothing. On the morrow, she’d awake with a hangover and the reality that her ‘reality’ hadn’t changed at all. Or, she’d wake to a new horror Avery had committed while she’d been passed out.

Eight missing animals on one street, she thought rubbing her eyes and all of them dead by Avery’s hand. It’d been a month since her doctor visit and things were decidedly worse. Avery’s deeds now included sneaking out of the house at night, stealing the animals somehow from their neighbor’s homes, bringing them back to her house and butchering them in her backyard, or God help her, in her living room on more than one occasion. After committing animal murder, he’d climb back into bed bloody.

She relocated him to her bedroom, hoping she’d wake when he climbed out of bed. For the first time in her life, she became a dead sleeper rather than a light sleeper. She lived in a state of panic of Avery never getting better, her neighbors discovering his nightly jaunts and them learning the lengths she would go to cover up his nightly murderous jaunts. Worse, she feared, his victims would turn to the two legged variety.

Using an alias and going against her belief—or rather non-belief—she’d gone to the Church. They performed an exorcism. Nothing changed.

She visited an herbalist. They administered herbs and performed an incantation, with incense clogging up her sinuses. Again, nothing changed.

In desperation she’d turned to a witch doctor. He’d done his thing and still nothing changed.

A week ago she’d located her umpteenth psychic that claimed to have all the answers. Georgie lived in Kansas, talked a good game, but being jaded came with a lot of trust issues. A nervous giggle jerked through Katherine.

We’re not in Kansas anymore.

Katherine ran a hand down her face. She was starting to doubt her sanity. Then she’d doubted Georgie’s sanity when she cautioned Avery was the cause for her heavier sleep pattern so he could go about his nightly jaunts unhampered. That wasn’t even possible. Was it?

Georgie also warned that evil lurked near, an evil she couldn’t contain and one that would devour her soul. That sounded a bit hellfire and brimstone to her.

She shook her head. Evil? She wasn’t even sure she believed in evil. Her deceased Christian parents would think her blasphemous, but even if evil did exist, her parents couldn’t help Katherine with this dilemma. They were dead. Seven years in the grave now.

Regardless of religious beliefs, Georgie refused to explain, just promised help. Katherine had yet to see any assistance. With each passing day, hope grew further and further out of reach, a smoky mist she couldn’t wrap her fingers around.

Defeat was her constant companion, a weight bearing heavily on her shoulders. But now wasn’t the time for giving up. She shut the liquor cabinet, turned and walked up the stairs to check on Avery. She found him in his bedroom sitting on the floor at the foot of his bed. The tip of a knife rested in the palm of his hand, the handle horizontal, and rotating in a circle unaided by touch.

Katherine closed her eyes, counted to ten and prayed she hallucinated.

She opened her eyes and felt her heart lurch into her lungs. Nothing had changed!

Blackness narrowed her vision, she struggled to maintain consciousness. Avery turned his head toward her, his eyes shining with that strange orange glow and his wide-eyed expression articulated without words, “Look what I can do!”

He came at her so fast she barely had time to release a half-scream before he kicked her feet out from underneath her. She hit the floor hard, the breath whooshing from her lungs and her teeth jarring. He jumped on her before she had a chance to gasp a breath. Instinct took over, thank God. The blade glinted—it was serrated, odd that she noticed that at a time like this or that she wondered where he’d gotten it from—as he slashed it toward her neck.

She caught his wrist an inch from her throat.

Copyright 2010 Gracen Miller ~ No part of this may be copy, pasted, uploaded, or used in anyway whatsoever without the express written consent of Gracen Miller.


(Please note: This contest will also run at Moonlight, Lace & Mayhem where I blog every Friday. All names suggested at Moonlight, Lace & Mayhem and Wicked, Thorn & Roses will be combined together to create one contest.)
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