Excerpt from Torn

Excerpt from Torn

Bethany squatted in the tiny cell. It wasn't anything more than a small, stone box with a tiny drain, and an access point in the ceiling, which was securely fastened from the outside. The cell was too short for her to stand up, and too narrow to lie down. She shifted to a new position, trying to stretch out her cold, aching body in small segments without causing any further pain to the throbbing mark on her thigh.

Solitary confinement wasn't enough for a runaway slave. She had been branded—discreetly of course. The wealthy didn't like ugly slaves. Granted, she knew if she were caught running again, she would be branded on the neck. A third offense would mean her death.

She leaned her head back against the wall and flinched away from the cold stones pressing against her bare flesh. Bethany had lost track of the hours since she'd been placed in the cell, though she suspected it had been about two days. Twice she had received a cup of water and a leftover scrap of food.

The first had been maggot infested bread, which she refused to eat. The lump still sat in the far corner, as far away from her as she could place it. The second offering had been some charred meat, which she'd eaten mostly out of desperation. Bethany never said thank you when they dropped the food and lowered the cup of water. They didn't expect her to, and she hadn't been taught such manners. Then again, she hadn't been born a slave, either.

No one was. Slaves were people who either had been unable to pay their debts, or unable to protect themselves from the dreaded slavers. Bethany was the latter. She tried not to think about her life before slavery, but it was difficult, nigh impossible. The two lives were so very different.

Bethany had been born the daughter of a king. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to remember the tall walls that surrounded her family's keep, or the sprawling city encompassing it. The only thought that kept her calm was the knowledge that her home still existed, that her family continued to live. She knew because she'd often heard King Wolfric, the father of her new master, complaining about their continued defiance. Of course, he didn't know she was the youngest daughter of his enemy, Middin, King of Tokë.

She had been returning from Garrul, near the border of her family's shrinking land, when they were attacked. Her large caravan was traveling through the winding mountain pass. Bethany squeezed her eyes tighter, but the memory invaded her senses unbidden.

“Are you comfortable, my lady?” her lady-in-waiting, Nuala, asked.

Bethany nodded, keeping her thoughts to herself. She hated traveling through the steep mountains, even in spring, when the forest was alive with new growth and noisy birds. The jostle of the large wagon gave her a pounding headache and a rolling stomach. These were more than ample reason to not want to visit Uncle Lord Elias in Garrul. The fact that the old man was completely inept at entertaining a young woman was just salt in an open wound. He was gouty and lazy in general, but he was family and her father had insisted she make the visit. There had been peace between him and Wolfric for nearly two years, so there seemed little chance of an attack. Well, a lack of fighting, if not actual peace. Besides, her uncle was sickly and in need of encouragement—what better occupation for the youngest daughter of a king than lightening the heart of a war-weary man?

Finally, after a long and lonely month, Bethany was returning home.

The first hint of trouble came when the cumbersome wagon came to a stop. Such an event only happened at high noon or at the end of the day's traveling; it took too much time and energy to get the six enormous horses moving again. The men often rode ahead to clear fallen branches from the road or lay gravel on muddier portions, and sometimes the forerunners would even turn aside other travelers, forcing them to wait until her caravan had passed. Of course, seeing the wagon of a princess was a form of entertainment to the lowly bystanders. Occasionally, Bethany would even condescend to waive at them from the small window.

Bethany was just about to send one of her three maids out to see what the delay was when she heard shouts, followed by a piercing cry of pain. The clanking of swords and yelling of men quickly followed. Bethany shrank into the fur lined bench. The other women in the wagon followed her example. All, but one. Her lady-in-waiting, Nuala, jumped to the tiny window and tweaked the thick drape aside to peer out. She quickly ducked back as something thudded into the wagon, jostling the heavy wooden frame. Nuala's eyes had grown in fright, but she kept her wits about her while Bethany quivered in her seat.

Nuala yanked the fur covering from the floor to reveal the tiny trap door. “You have to run,” she ordered, staring at the princess.

Bethany understood the words, but couldn't grasp their meaning. Fear deadened her limbs and slowed her mind to a crawl. More out of shock than obedience, she moved towards her lady-in-waiting and the small opening in the floor, which permitted the sounds of battle to fill their plush sanctuary.

“Where do I go?” she wailed, as though the other women would have some hidden insight.

“Anywhere! Just run and hide. And don't come back until you know the battle is over,” Nuala said before unceremoniously pushing the princess through the trap door. Bethany didn't fight her, though she barked her shins against the axel and smacked her forehead on the opening. Before she could respond, Nuala closed the hatch and locked it. For a fleeting moment, Bethany wondered if Nuala had sent the princess into the forest to save those still in the wagon. Would they spare the women if they didn't find royalty? It didn't make sense. Then again, the entire attack didn't make sense.

Bethany didn't wait to figure it out. She inched her way to the edge of the wagon closest to the lining forest, glanced in both directions to be sure no one was too close, and bolted for the surrounding trees. Three steps from the wagon she found herself dancing around a frantic horse's backend. Thankfully, the rider didn't notice her, his whole attention on his frantic mount. Just a few feet from the nearest tree, her soft leather slippers sank into the deep mud and disappeared. Bethany hesitated, wanting to stop to dig them free from the mire, but the screech of an injured horse sent her flying.

She tottered up the incline and into the forest. The trees were close together where large slabs of granite didn't interrupt their growth. Some even twisted around the protruding rocks, determined to grow despite nature’s obstruction. The rocks and pine needles defaced her feet as she scrambled through the forest. She stumbled a few times, adding new bruises to her legs and hands while the branches reached out, clutching at her dress and hair.

A few minutes into her headlong run, she vaulted over a rock, right into a river. The water was slow, but icy cold. Her long gown quickly grew so heavy she could barely keep her head above water as she paddled towards the other side. At the opposite edge, she dragged herself out, using the thick branches of wild berry bushes to keep herself from slipping back into the water. The banks were covered in spring mud, and by the time she reached solid ground, Bethany's elegant, green dress was caked in black sludge. She almost wanted to jump back into the river to cleanse herself, but a gust of wind reminded her just how cold the water was. Another dip in the river would only make her colder; besides, she'd just have to climb through the mud again.

For the first time, Bethany stopped to take stock of her surroundings. She stood next to a wide river that came from a short waterfall a half dozen yards away. Enormous fir trees grew in splotches around the river. The ground was covered with last winter's pine needles that pricked her bare feet. Through a clearing, she thought she spotted a road. Had she doubled back on herself or was this a different road? She wasn't even sure which direction she'd run. As the princess forced herself to think about it, she had a sneaking suspicion that she'd run in the general direction of King Wolfric's lands.

Bethany shivered, wrapping her arms around her chest in an effort to conserve body heat. She belatedly realized that her plush cloak had been torn off at some point. She reached up and touched her head; the simple ring of gold had fallen off, too. Bethany wanted to go back and search for it, but that would require another dunking in the river. Not really worth it, she realized as she considered her predicament. Another guest of wind set her teeth to rattling. From the distant clearing she heard men's voices and horse's hooves.

Bethany forced herself to move and find some cover. The only thing she could find was a large bush, much closer to the road than wisdom promoted. Other than that one dead bush, every other piece of ground cover was too thin or small to hide her entire body. In retrospect, Bethany had one moment of wisdom that day; following a sudden instinct, she pulled her small, gold signet ring from her pinky and slipped it into her mouth, hoping she wouldn't swallow it in her fright.

“What's that?” a man’s voice called out.

Thinking she'd been discovered, Bethany stepped out from her bush. “P-please, h-help m-m-me,” she asked, her teeth clattering together and making it difficult to speak. She felt the ring pressed between her gums and her cheek.

The man smiled, showing the many gaps in his teeth. Bethany glanced at the rest of his caravan and realized just what a mistake she had made. Trailing behind the smiling man was a row of men and women connected by a rope twined around their necks.

She had just asked for help from a slaver.

Bethany didn't think she had any energy left, but fear gave her strength, and forced her legs to move again. She ran along the river, towards the small waterfall, hoping to find a fordable stretch further upstream. Of course, the hope was fruitless. Faster than she thought possible, she heard the sound of hooves gaining on her. Bethany didn't waste time looking over her shoulder, but turned to jump back into the icy water. Just as she did, two hands reached under her armpits and yanked her off her feet. She cried out as she tried to break free from his grasp, but before she could, he had her lying on her stomach across his lap.

The slaver turned the horse and pushed him into an excruciating trot, the saddle and his legs digging ruthlessly into her stomach. The horse took a sudden turn forcing her body into the saddle at an awkward angle. Her side erupted with fire. The slaver jerked his horse to a stop, and Bethany let out a gasp of pain.

Another man yanked her from her perch, and dumped her on the ground near the end of the line of pathetic individuals. Without being told, Bethany scrambled to her feet with as much dignity as she could, which wasn't much, considering she tripped over her sodden dress twice. Once on her feet, Bethany tried to take a deep, calming breath. The movement sent a fresh stab of agony through her side. She clutched it as she bent forward, doubled over with the pain. It was nearly enough to make her forget the importance of the ring hidden in her mouth.

The man grabbed her by the hair, and jerked her back into a standing position while quickly slipping a loop of rope over her head and tightening it around her neck. Despite the pain in her side and scalp, Bethany felt as though a large rock had been thrown at her stomach—the rope sliding into place around her neck felt very final.

There was no escape now.

To continue reading Bethany's story, check out Torn, Book 1 of the Dothan Chronicles on amazon.

To read the next book in Bethany's story, check out Lost, Book 2 of the Dothan Chronicles on amazon.

Most of all, whether you enjoyed the story or not, please consider writing an honest review to better help other readers make an informed decision. 

Thank you.

Excerpt from Sucked Away

Excerpt from Sucked Away

“Whaboutyou?” I slurred, my eyelids drooping despite my effort to stay awake.

“I'll stand guard. Someone has to. We don't know when Sedgrave might attack again.”

Too true, I thought as I drifted off to sleep.

It wasn’t really an end. More like a very gory beginning.

Josh leaned over my shoulder, watching my progress as I typed the last few lines of my newest book. I had a feeling my publisher would be blown away with the sudden transformation in my writing. It wasn't a work of fiction like my past efforts; it was my real-life story. Granted, I wouldn't be telling anyone that. They'd lock me up in a padded room and swallow the key. I couldn't blame them for that response. Even I had trouble believing the sudden change my life had endured.

Endured was the right word. My first week as a vampire had been full of clinging tree faeries, slobbering werewolves, frozen houses, and vampire-sacrifices. I'd survived it, but just barely. I now spent my days and nights cooped up in my studio apartment, trying to reassemble my life. It wasn't going well.

I had a lot of ground to cover. Granted, I had been nearly tortured to death—a difficult feat considering how hearty we vampires are. I'd been whipped, skewered, and burned, but the worst of it wasn't what had happened to my body. The ritual, which we thought required my life, had taken my memories—my very essence. So I guess in some ways it had taken my life, it just did it in a way none of us expected. I had regained a lot of my history, but not all.

“This is fabulous,” whispered Josh from his position just above my right shoulder. Though he spoke softly enough, it startled me, pulling me from my own thoughts.

“Thanks,” I murmured.

“Hardly,” sighed my cat from his position on the desk, next to my antiquated computer.

Tereus was a gray Scottish Fold. Though I'd named him Muffler when I first got him, he had asked me to call him Tereus after I discovered he could talk. It turned out my cat was really a very old and powerful fae, trapped in a cat's body after he impregnated a friend's sister.

“You want a fabulous book read Les Miserables.”

“Don't listen to him,” urged Josh. “Hugo rambles.”

Josh was the one member of Mikhail's seethe that I thought of as a friend. The others I put up with out of self-preservation. I had no chance of survival if I wasn't part of a seethe. They provided support and safety during rough times, which already proved to be a necessity in my life. I just didn't like it. I'd been a lone wolf—forgive the phrasing—for such a long time, I wasn't sure if I could conform to a group again.

“C’mon. You should start getting ready for tonight,” said Josh, still keeping his voice soft; he knew how easily I was startled.

He gently placed his hands on my shoulders and guided me away from the computer. Josh had spent many hours, days even, helping me recover. He'd even gotten me wireless internet so that he could work from my apartment. Though Josh had been a jazz pianist when he was human, he was presently trying his hand at trading stocks online. So far, he was barely paying his own bills.

Granted, he had fifty years of savings he could tap into if necessary.

I forced my shoulders to relax under his hands. I felt a little better after getting the story down on paper, but not well enough to face this night. It was my Joining—a short ceremony to finalize my initiation into the seethe, followed by “one hell of a party,” or at least that's how Josh had described it. Whoever had been put in charge of my Joining had decided to make it a masquerade. Josh was very excited, while I was considering ways to run away. This would be my first time out of my apartment since the attempted sacrifice; attempted, as I didn't technically die.

Nevertheless, a powerful warlock had been freed.  

I watched Josh move to my closet and pull out the dress someone had purchased for me. I took it and silently went to my bathroom to put it on. Josh stayed, knowing I'd need help with the laces. I slipped into it, the girlish part of me reveling in the stiff fabric that draped from my hips in heaps of emerald loveliness. The bust was tight and strapless. I held it on as I came out of the bathroom and allowed Josh to lace up the back, which left my pale skin half revealed to the small of my back. Just as he finished, a small, half transparent puppy burst through my closed door.

It bounced around the room, ignoring Tereus as the cat jumped on to the bed and hissed at it. It came up to where Josh and I stood and tried to bite the lower folds of my dress. We both turned away and ignored it. The ghost dog had been haunting Josh ever since we dug up its twisted mistress, who had chosen to be buried with her dog.

“You look beautiful. I got something to go with it. Now this is just to borrow for the night. So don't lose it,” he added before opening a felt box.

I felt just like Julia Roberts as I stared at the overwhelming display of silver, diamonds, and emeralds lying on the cushion.

I smiled reflexively. “It's gorgeous! Josh, where did you get it?”

“I know a guy.”

I smiled again, the movement feeling unnatural, and turned around so he could help me into the ornate necklace. Josh—or a sick display of diamonds—was the only person who could make me smile.

“Now let’s get your hair and makeup done before your date arrives.”

I tensed at the thought. I couldn't help it. Nik had insisted on escorting me to my Joining. He claimed he had the right, considering how much work he put into keeping me alive. Never mind that he'd wanted to kill me himself when I was first turned, or the fact that Josh had asked me first.

I’d a long list of enemies at the time, and Nikolai considered me a threat to the seethe's safety. He wasn't wrong, but Mikhail had chosen to protect me, mostly just to piss off Richard, the Lacey seethe's primus. Evidently, when you're a couple hundred years old, that's enough motivation to risk countless lives. I didn't get it.

“It'll be okay,” Josh said as he pushed me toward the bathroom.

My curling iron was already plugged in and hot. I sat on the toilet lid while he curled my hair. The ghost dog ran into the bathroom, lost control on the linoleum, and skidded through the edge of my tub. I couldn’t tell if it had any control when it interacted with the world around it or not, but occasionally it couldn’t go through a wall or chair leg. Today, evidently, it was the floor that it connected with.

“Where'd you learn to curl a girl's hair?” I asked, immensely grateful that he could.

“I studied a few years of college theater. I know my way around a bobby-pin.”

I laughed. It felt good. I hadn't spent much of the autumn laughing. In fact, this might have been the first time. It wasn't that I was depressed. Rather, I couldn't remember what was funny and what wasn't.

Josh wanted me to allow Jordan and Chloe to visit—my only two friends from my human days. The problem was, I knew if I saw them I wouldn't be able to carry on a normal conversation, not to mention I would probably kill them. Josh had made the annoyingly accurate point that if I didn't start getting out, I'd never recover the rest of my memories, or gain any control over my blood lust.

Even so, there was another problem, and one I refused to mention to Josh. To see Jordan and Chloe, I would have to see Nik. They were now both Nikolai's sheep: Jordan because he'd stumbled upon us after I'd been horribly wounded, and Nik had to control him; Chloe because Jordan wanted her to be in on the secret. They now spent half their time with Nikolai in his mansion.

It would take a lot more than my love for Jordan and Chloe to get me into Nik's mansion again.  I absolutely loathed Nik. It wasn't just his wanting to kill me when I first came to the seethe. In fact, I was mostly over that. After all, he had saved my life many times since that initial introduction.

It was something else entirely.

I knew that he had, at one time during his long life, sacrificed one of my ancestors in an attempt to raise Sedgrave, the maniacal though charismatic, warlock who could create daywalkers. And that was just a parlor trick; Sedgrave’s real skill was manipulating politics—a much more subtle and terrifying gift.

Still, Nik had tried to bring him back to life, and had never mentioned it to any of us when we were actively trying to prevent that from happening. I hadn't told anyone that I had seen him in one of my freaky ritual visions. In fact, no one even knew I had been transported back through all the other attempts at raising Sedgrave.

I couldn't figure out how to bring the subject up. In lieu of coming up with a plan, I had chosen to avoid him—until tonight. I couldn't get out of it. The party was for me, and I couldn't tell him he couldn't escort me. He'd saved my life after all; he'd earned the right. Besides, if I refused him, he'd want to know why, and I wasn't ready for that conversation.

“You doing okay?” Josh asked as he finished tucking the delicate curls of red hair into a beautiful design.

“I guess. Don't really want to do this.”

“I know. But you need to. You need to start going out, being around people.”

“People?” I asked.

“You know what I mean.”

“Josh... I can't even remember what my mother looked like... or if I liked chocolate chip cookies when I was human. I'm not sure I even know who I am anymore... and you want me to go out and... mingle?”

Josh grabbed my knee and spun me around on the toilet lid until I faced him.

“Then spend time with those who do know you,” he urged. “We'll remind you.”

“Who, other than you, knows me in the seethe?”

“Nik.”

I waved my hand, dismissing the idea. Josh took me by the shoulders and gave me a gentle shake.

“What is this thing with you and Nik?”

“It's nothing,” I answered quietly. 

“That's a load of bullshit. Whatever it is, you need to talk to him. Get it out in the open. He can't figure out why you've avoided him for the past two months.”

I stood up, pushing Josh out of the bathroom so that I could put my own makeup on. I wasn't sure why I needed makeup when I would be adding a mask, but Josh seemed to think it was necessary. I was halfway through the process when Josh opened my front door.

“Fine, be stubborn. I'm out. Nik will be here soon. See ya there.”

To Continue reading Sucked Away, Book 2 of the Series that Just Plain Sucks visit amazon. 

To read the  final book in the series, watch for Well, That Sucked, coming out Fall of 2015.

Most of all, whether you liked this story or not, please consider writing an honest review to better help other readers make an informed decision. Thank You. 

Marcys: A Fool

March 15

I believe being cooped up on this ship is starting to become too much for some of our young people. As I warned Ardythe, Jocosa and Alek’s past have proven a setback. Today, Oswyn found them together in the women’s cabin, during one of the few short periods that Rownet had managed to lure Forlaith up to the deck for some fresh air.

That poor child has not been the same since the attack. Rownet is with her constantly, and praise the gods, Oswyn is keeping her distance. Perhaps Oswyn sees Forlaith as spoiled or damaged. Well, whatever her twisted reasoning, the result is a good thing. Rownet reports to Ardythe and myself twice a day, but the reports are never promising. The day of the attack she informed us that the sailor, now dead, had not managed to actually rape her—another praise—and she received only a few bruises. Still, her heart is not so stout.

But I digress.

Naturally, I was called to witness their secret rendezvous, though they hadn’t actually been doing anything. They were caught sitting on the edge of a bunk, holding hands, and talking. While this is not allowable, considering the role Jocosa must play at Mallawi, it was hardly worth the fuss Oswyn made.

I tried to calm her down and insisted I would handle the situation, but she would have none of it. She called up for Adrythe and expounded on her findings until the children might as well have had sex. Finally, I ran out of patience with her and dismissed her from the room.

She left in a huff, taking Jocosa with her, who being the princess would receive no more than a slap on the wrist.

But Aleksandru?

How was I to save my own nephew? No doubt, Ardythe would want him thrown overboard like the would-be rapist. I couldn’t let that happen. I owed Haddock too much to let his son die because of one stupid mistake.

“He must be dealt with,” announced Ardythe without any preamble.

“I agree,” I said, hoping to show that I was not against punishing him.

“Throw him overboard.”

“My lord, while I agree Aleksandru has acted foolishly, nothing actually happened between them. Besides, if it wasn’t for Alek something very bad would have happened to Forlaith.”

“Are you suggesting because he acted the hero he can get away with anything?”

“By no means, my lord. But perhaps we could show leniency, just this once, as a thank you. Put him on bread and water for five days as punishment. I’m sure Alek has learned his lesson, and will go nowhere near the princess again,” I added, giving my nephew the steely gaze I learned from my wife, may the gods rest her soul.

“You are his uncle. How can I trust you to be impartial?”

“You can’t. I admit I do not want to see my nephew die because he was the fool. But that doesn’t change the fact he has acted in our best interests in the past, and the fact we need him. He has actually been to Mallawi. The same reasons we brought him on board, despite Jocosa, still exist.”

Slowly, after much grinding of his teeth, Ardythe nodded. “Seven days of bread and water.”

I’m not sure who felt more relieved, Alek or myself. I turned on him, my own anger able to take its proper place now that his life was safe. He backed away from me until he bumped into the closed door of the small cabin.

“I have put my neck out for you for the last time. Screw up again and it will be up to you to save your own life. Do you understand me?”

He nodded, wisely staying silent.

“Go near her again and I’ll throw you overboard myself,” I added for good measure before dismissing him.

The real problem is Jocosa. I don’t think Ardythe realizes it is likely not Alek who is seeking her company, but the other way around. I will have to warn her of the dangerous game she is playing.

Let us hope she listens.

Marcys