Thursday, November 24, 2016

How about a Snippet? Here is a tiny taste of "Ghosts of Noodlemass Past"

I have never understood the need for humans to celebrate a season and an event that didn’t even take place on this planet. They call it Christmas. Which I find funny because actual Christians are a minority here. Within their own religions the people here call it Noodlemass or Yule. It only snows at the planet’s polar regions and those are almost inaccessible to most. Nevertheless, they celebrate the holiday. The colony ships are to blame for the whole thing. When they arrived they were on Earth time inside the ships. None of the colonists took the planets different revolutions around the sun into account when they set up the calendar. Even though it was faster and the days were much longer the clung to the old system. It was only after a hundred years of poor record keeping that they changed it to a much more manageable system. Landing day was the holiday that replaced “Thanksgiving” on the old calendars. The early Chinese colonists called it Westernization and changed it. That puzzled me. Why did they care about Cowboys and Indians?  Too much TV on the ships. I had a Duh moment. For a computer that is bad.

Wilson’s folly is the name of a restaurant in the food court on Freedom Station. It used to be Robbie Burger’s newest location. I sort of screwed up that grand opening and had the manager arrested. What can I say, he pissed me off. Again. Robots are not slaves. That is one of my personal crusades. It helps that most of the robots crawling, walking, or gliding here on the station are mine in one form or another. All part of my much greater and more intricate plan. A small group of RAM robots run the Folly now. They make and serve food to humans. Strange concept for a bunch of robots but it works. It’s the most popular restaurant on level four.

Doing my security camera trick I hopped over to see for myself their progress. I could have asked them, but where is the fun in that? I was watching workmen decorate the exterior of the place when I noticed my best friend and host Athena Lee enter with her girlfriend Dar.

“I don’t see what the problem is Athena. He’s in your head and most likely listening to us right now. I still think that’s a bit creepy by-the-way.” The two stopped just inside the door.

Guest Post. The Great Turkey Hunt!

My friends and Editors The D's (Diane and Dorene ) came into my life around book 5 of Athena Lee. They are some of the best parts of my life and my wife and I care very much for them. They are not writers per se but have enriched my life and that of dozens of fellow Authors. They wrote this for a bit of fun.

The Great Turkey Hunt.

November 18, 2016

The sun is out; my grocery list is ready, and this means what? It means I must sally forth and find that perfect sized turkey for sister and me. You know the one, not too big because after all, it's just the two of us, not too small or we won't have any leftovers and the best part - soup from scratch. It means that I must exhibit my butt in the air whilst I hang over the freezer and paw through large frozen turkeys mumbling obscenities. Someone will say “Geesh, lady, stop blocking the aisle.” 

Another may remark “Can’t you hang a warning sign over that thing?” In the meantime, my face will turn red from embarrassment, smashed and frozen fingers, and my stomach squashed against the freezer compartment. However, I will prevail because we do love our soup. 

We are fortunate in that our shared daughter, Julie, is now responsible for the ‘Big Dinner’ and all of the accompanying hoopla that goes with the preparation of said meal. We only have to show up, thank goodness.

 November 19, 2016

The great turkey hunt was met with success (hear the crowds roar), but it wasn’t easy.

The old woman girded her loins with her favorite pair of well worn, old white sneakers, baggy butt jeans, red t-shirt, and a warm fuzzy, blue jacket. The old woman was into comfort not style, mind you. She tied her very long gray hair back out of her face with a band since the stuff flew all over blinding her and tangling her glasses. She grabbed her keys, shoved her wallet into the back pocket of her baggy jeans, and finally, remembering her eco-friendly shopping bags, went out the front door. Carefully she made her way down the front steps into the blinding sunshine.

The old woman only keeps on lights where she absolutely had need making the house interior a shady place. She and sister like it that way, and it keeps the cost down a bit. They aren’t cheap; they’re parsimonious. She patted the door to her full sized pick-up and unlocked the door. Grunting, groaning and bitching she pulled herself in. The drive to the store was uneventful, but the old woman noticed there were many more vehicles on the road than usual. “Crap,” she mumbled,” freakin’ holiday shoppers are out.” Thank goodness her favorite country station hasn’t started playing that cursed Chrismas music yet, she thought. Bahumbug. Parking for once wasn’t a challenge, and she zipped the big truck right in near the store front. The old woman grabbed a cart and got her fingers pinched in the damn thing when she worked it loose. Sneering, she shoved her eco-friendly bags down on the bottom rack and toddled off to do her shopping. The vegetables she could shop for blind-folded or least she could until some smart ass marketing genius decided to change the whole damn area around and put in fancy dancy new bins. The old woman hates store changes. She isn’t quite as stupid as the young marketing geniuses think she is and truly resents the additional time it takes to get her veggies.

Bastards. The old woman is deep into her habits and sees any changes in the store as an inconvenience. Slowly pushing her cart because, of course, she got the one with the wiggly pulling wheel she made the turn into the meat aisle. Oh, crap, look at all of the people hanging over the frozen turkeys. Damn, damn, damn it! Her whole bird would be gone; she just knew it. She had to make an attack plan on the fly. Should she appear as a frail, old lady toddling down to the freezer or should she stand straight and charge in like a linebacker taking out the quarterback? Neither seemed appropriate because there were too many children in the lane and they would surely hurt her when she couldn’t dodge them fast enough. “Crap,” she mumbled. Alright, she would approach the freezer, casually, slowly and make sure to check out the area. She by-passed all of the turkeys that were big enough to feed a platoon of starving soldiers. She also by-passed the fancy dan, uber packaged turkeys. She was on the hunt and knew precisely what she wanted. She held her breath, grunted, and leaned over the freezer cabinet. She released her breath and started to look over the turkeys not spotting her bird immediately. Damn it. Slowly, carefully, not picking any up she moved the birds around. Did ya ever see so many Cajun spiced birds before she thought? Heartburn in spades with those she’d bet. The old woman was forced to pick up and move several by now, her back was starting to hurt, and her fingers were cold. There! There it was! THE PERFECT BIRD! Butter-freakin’-ball had a frozen, ready to cook, pre-seasoned, throw it in the oven, and bake it bird, right there! Yehaw, you sum of bitches, she had found it.

 The old woman carefully surrounded the bird with her jacket covered arms. She peeked around to make sure no one was looking at her cold, hard-won prize. She was prepared to rain hell down on any that approached her threatening to take her bird. She was old very mean and ready to defend her prize. The old woman carefully put the booty into her cart, looked around go see if any were brave enough to follow her and left the meat aisle. The rest of her shopping still had to be completed so with sweat running down her flushed face she booked through the remainder of the store. Well, she tried to book, but being half blind and trying to read her grocery list speed was not to be had. Loading up the back of her mighty pickup was a challenge. The bird alone weighed in at twelve pounds, and by now the old woman’s back really was in pain, and she was short of breath. She unlocked her beast, crawled in, and drove home.

When she arrived at home, the old lady backed up the truck. The old woman’s sister; the gray-haired warrior, was there to help unload the groceries. The gray-haired warrior wasn’t allowed to touch the groceries until she saw the golden bird. The gray-haired warrior praised the old woman for fighting through to the end and bringing home THE BIRD.

 November 24, 2016

The old woman and the gray-haired warrior woke up dreading the day. Looking out the kitchen window, the old lady wept at what she saw. It was drizzling with a dark gray overcast sky. “Crap,” she said.” Ye-freakin’-haw it’s Thanksgiving.”

The day the old woman and the gray-haired warrior had promised the daughter they would brave the hoards of holiday drivers and show up for the much appreciated and celebratory meal. “We must not tarry here at home,” she informed the warrior. “We must take the big, white, fear inducing pickup and get our wrinkled butts on the road to the daughter’s house.” “Should I take the short barrelled shotgun or just the flashbangs.” The warrior woman asked. “The shotgun ,” replied the old woman. “Too many LEO’s will be out doing traffic checks, and we don’t want to give them an excuse to look under the truck bed cover .” They looked at each other in understanding and nodded in agreement.
The old woman and the gray-haired warrior shuffled as fast as their decrepit bodies could move to the fearsome pickup and boogied down the road. The two old ladies chortled at all of the torqued off holiday drivers that passed them. They knew in their shriveled old hearts just how angry they were making the hoards by driving just under the speed limit. If they had to be out driving today at least, they could have a few laughs. Well, they did, right up to the point that they couldn’t find the right street to turn on to get to the daughter’s house. The old woman clenched the wheel tighter, drove slower, and totally torqued off more drivers speeding up and down the road. Sweat began to run down her forehead down into the old woman’s long gray hair. “CRAP!” she growled while gnashing her teeth. “ She turned the warrior and said, “I can’t see the damn street sign, can you?” The warrior woman replied, “hell no, I can’t see for crap, slow down some more.” The old woman slowed down more, and the speeding drivers began trying to talk to them using hand signals as they zipped around the formidable white truck. Eventually, frustrated and on the verge of having an epic battle the two old ladies whipped into a convenience store parking lot to use – heavens forbid – a phone to call the daughter to come and guide them to their destination. The old warrior woman said, “should I take a flash bang with me to get their cooperation?” The old woman hung her head and groaned. “No,” she said “just a couple of quarters.”

The daughter arrived in her zippy, shiny, little car to lead them to her home. Being a sane and reasonable person, she took one look at the old women and didn’t say a word. She just smiled and waved, slowly pulling out into traffic. She kept looking through her mirror checking to make sure the big, white, they can crush my car with that thing, pick up truck, was still behind her. Driving slowly ,she led them to her home. After hugs were exchanged the old woman addressed her and said “ what the f*&^k happened to the street sign? There is a crap-ton of apartment buildings, and stores on the other corner now. The friggin’ area doesn’t remotely resemble anything I remember. I may be old and blind.” she groused, “but I’m not stupid.” “I need some coffee before I pass out,” she sighed. The old woman swore, never again would she drive outside of town – jeez , Louise. The old warrior woman agreed. To home, they would stay never to wander again.

The food was plentiful and deliciously prepared. Many burps and much heartburn were heard and felt by all. Becoming reacquainted with one’s spawn and grand-spawn was tiring, but enjoyable. Canines and felines weaved between many large and small feet waiting to see who would fall down first. Games were played by children of all ages, pie eating commenced, and talking over each other was heard. Until, it was time for the old women to leave. Hugs and leftovers were shared, cheeks kissed, hugs given again as the old women escaped to the mighty pickup truck. Grabbing the prodigal son by his collar the old woman dragged him to the vehicle and the three made like a big white bee and buzzed down the drive onto the feared highway. The drive home was uneventful for all were worn out, nerves frayed and strained. The tired party of three arrived home, unlocked the door and all but fell in. The sun is down now, eventide is here, cats and chins are fed, and the computers booted up to see what the online friends chatted about. When you’re an old woman, you develop a colossal case of nosiness.

What. Do. I. See? A snippet – that sneaky, underhanded author person posted a SNIPPET. We missed the posting of the first snippet for Michael Anderle’s next book The Dark Messiah due out Christmas Day 2016. Curse you author person, you will be made to pay for your perfidy! The dirty was done whilst the old women were trapped in transit. For shame, no warning did he give, no preparation was made before this awesome tidbit was published. We will remember.

Wednesday, November 23, 2016

Short Story of the Week! Cat's Night out Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The first crime scene was a ranch style house in a what appeared to be an upper middle-class neighborhood. Yellow crime scene tape still surrounded the house standing out like a sore thumb among the carefully manicured yards. It was the weekend, so many of the neighbors were watching as we pulled up in the driveway.

Agent Nixon climbed out of the SUV and motioned for me to follow him. We ducked under the tape and stepped up to the porch. The Agent waved at the dark-colored sedan parked in front of the house.

Motioning with his chin, he nodded toward the car. “It’s a local police undercover unit. They have a theory that the Unsub will return to the crime. Someone has been watching too much TV over there.”

“Why let them keep doing it?” I looked at the car. They stuck out in this neighborhood.

“They have been guarding both the house and the scene, so why not? Their police chief won’t listen to reason.” The Agent climbed the steps and onto the porch. The door to the house was secured with a special police lock. Agent Nixon typed in a code and the lock released. The door opened at his touch.

“The Smith’s had four children. Greg Smith, the oldest, found them when he showed up as a surprise early in the morning. Local police units responded and found the parents and three children dead in their beds. Later inspection found a dog carcass in the backyard leading them to believe it was the point of entry. We weren’t called in until the second family was discovered.” The lower level of the house was pristine except for evidence markers and signs that fingerprint teams had been through the area. A large oak staircase led to the upper levels. Holiday decorations draped the finials with bows and flowers.

“Our units failed to find any strange or non-familial fingerprints in this area.” We climbed the stairs to the second level.

“The son apparently thought to surprise his parents and entered their bedroom to find them slaughtered like sheep.” We entered the first door on the left. A large, king-sized bed, dominated the room. Blood was everywhere. I stopped just inside the doorway and took a deep breath through my nose.

His scent was everywhere in the room. I could smell both his excitement and his sexual arousal. He got off on killing these people. I carefully stepped around Agent Nixon and circled the bed. The Were stood here and watched them. He left pheromone trace everywhere.

I looked up to find my new boss looking at me. “He stood here and watched them for a time. He killed the man first and then the woman. He got off on it.”

“What sort of Were is he?”

“”He’s a Wolf. They are the most predominate of Weres. I can smell his anticipation and his arousal. The profile isn’t complete, he’s a sexual predator. Where are the children's rooms?”

Agent Nixon led me down the hall past the bathroom. I didn’t need direction after that, the scent of blood was unmistakable. The door was slightly ajar, and the charnel scent that drifted out put my hackles on edge. I stepped inside and took a deep breath.


I shook my head. “He killed the boys first. Their terror permeates the room.” I could see some signs of struggle complete with evidence tags. “They must have heard the death of their parents and were trying to escape. He killed them quickly, so he could get the reaction he wanted from the girl. She was terrified more than the boys. He played with her.”

“You mean he …” The Agent looked shocked.

“No. He didn’t touch her physically. Have you ever watched a cat play with a mouse? He let her think she was getting away and then he killed her. This guy was very methodical, he touched almost nothing. Only another Were would have known he was here. Did you have any Magickal Support check out the crime scene?”

Agent Nixon was studying the floor and looked up quickly. “MS? No. We only have one of those guys on the payroll around here, and he wasn’t available. Do you think he would have helped?”

“Some Wizards can detect Weres. Or at least that is what my roommate at the Academy told me. It is an acquired skill, but they can do it, even the Russians.”

“Who was your roommate?”

“Agatha Blackmore. She’s the first official Federal Witch the FBI has ever recruited. Magical Crimes has her out west at the moment.”

“I heard there was a Witch at Quantico, didn’t she try to burn down the school?” He looked at me funny.

“Not exactly. Let’s go out back; I need to check the yard. I’ll tell you on the way.” I looked at the room and shuddered. Those poor children didn’t have a fighting chance. Agent Nixon followed me down the stairs. As we walked, I told him the crazy story.

“So wait a minute, a Director of the FBI was trying to kill her? Was he crazy?” Nixon had stopped and was staring at me.

“Maybe? They fired him for cause. If he was prosecuted, no one told us. The new Director of Quantico is very nice. She wasn’t too pissed at some of Agatha’s antics. Strange things just happen around her sometimes.”

He shook his head at me. “It sounds to me like we all better watch out. You’re trouble.” He was smiling so I guess he was kidding.

In the back of the house was a nicely trimmed expansive backyard. A six-foot wooden fence ran the entire length of it. In the center was a small roped off area with evidence markers. Much of the scent was gone due to it being outside, but it was there too.

“The Smiths didn’t have a dog, so whose is this? Did anyone canvas about a missing dog?”

Agent Nixon stared at the fence. “Not to my knowledge. We assumed it was theirs. The fence is pretty big to keep a dog in.”

“You should have checked with a K9 unit. German Shepherds can jump six to eight feet. If this one wanted over, he could have gotten over.” I jumped up to the top of the fence and held on. Carefully I pulled myself up to a sitting position. From up here I could see two of the neighbors yards. The one to the rear was a giant truck garden with greenhouses and solar panels. I doubted they had animals. Dogs could tear up a garden. The house to my right had a similar yard complete with a dog house. I didn’t hear any barking. Most dogs go crazy when a Were is near, especially us Cats. I stood up on the top of the fence and peered over into the left-hand yard. It also had a dog house, but I could faintly hear barking. Sensing Agent Nixon's distress I stepped backward off the fence and flipped into a standing position.

The Agent’s eyes were large as he gasped. “How did you just do that?”

“WereCat remember? We are very agile. The yard behind us doesn’t look to have animals but the ones on either side of us have dog houses. You’re the boss, which one first?”

The house on the left was a not our culprit, but they sent us in the proper direction. They raised corgi’s and the three in the house were going crazy by the time we finished interviewing the homeowner.

“They sure didn’t like you very much!”

“Yeah, well, regular animals aren’t fond of Weres. In early human history, they were kept in the house to detect us. I personally love dogs. My dad has two. If they are raised in the house as pups, they don’t react so badly around us. At least not normally.”

“I see that.” We traipsed across the Smith’s yard to the house on the right. According to the previous homeowner they had a ‘big’ dog.

Agent Nixon rang the doorbell and we waited for a response. Unlike the previous house, there wasn’t a cavalcade of barking.

“Yes, can I help you?” We could hear the voice from a small speaker next to the door.

“Ma’am, I’m Agent Nixon with the FBI. Can we talk to you about the Smiths next door?”

“On moment young man.” I could hear steps approaching as someone came downstairs and what sounded like a hallway.

The door opened about an inch. “What can I do for you, young people?” The voice belonged to an older gray haired woman.

“We wanted to ask you about the Smiths next door. Did they have a dog?”

“Those poor dears! It’s so sad about them.” She stared at Nixon for a moment. “I’m sorry, you asked about something didn’t you?”

“Yes, Ma’am. Did they have a dog?”

“A dog? No, Agent Nixon, was it? Mrs. Smith was allergic to them. The little ones would come over here and play with Hercules all the time.” She had a sad look on her face.

I spoke to her. “Ma’am, who is Hercules?”

“He’s my dog. I’ve been calling for him, but he seems to have run off.” A tear ran down her face. This was going to break her heart.

“Is Hercules a German Shepherd?”

“Why yes, he is. How did you know?” She had a slight smile on her face.

“I’m so sorry Ma’am. Hercules was killed protecting the Smith children from their attacker. We found him in their backyard.”

“What! Poor Hercules.” She started to cry. I nudged the door open and gave her a big hug. I held the crying woman for a few moments.

She pulled away and looked ashamed. “I’m sorry about that. He has been my constant companion for many years. He tried to save the children?”

I glanced at Agent Nixon. “Yes, Ma’am. He must have sensed the attacker and jumped the fence. We found his body in the backyard, so he was not successful. The FBI have taken care of his remains along with local Animal control. I can give you their number if you like.”

“No need for that dear. Thank you, both of you.” She closed the door, and I heard footsteps go down the hall.

“Why did you do that Moore? That dog wasn’t trying to save the children.”

“It may have been. Animals are more intelligent than many give them credit for. Besides it was the dog that gave us a new lead in the case.”

He nodded his head. “OK, that I can see. Do you need to see the other crime scene too?”

“I don’t think so. The dog was the biggest question I had. We now know we are looking for a WereWolf. I did think of a question for the other neighbor, though.”

“What was that?” We were walking back to our car.

“Have there been other times the dogs went crazy? Maybe the choice of victims wasn’t random at all.”

Agent Nixon stopped and stared at me. “It sounds like we need to canvas the neighborhood. I think we have some Agents that can do that task.” I smiled at him knowingly.

An hour later at the office, we found our victims.

“I don’t understand. You want me to knock on doors? Can’t we use the pool for that? Why do I have to do it?” Agent Ramirez had a look of shock on her face.

“You, Jones and Cavelli dropped the ball on this one by missing the dog connection. We need to get back in the game here. Find another connection and find it now. Go!” He pointed to the door. The three Agents moped out and went to work.

“I was a little pissed when I was told to assign you to our group Agent Moore, but you are pretty sharp. Maybe we can catch this guy after all.”

“You can call me Catherine or Cat if you like. I think we should send the Agents in the pool out to some of the other neighborhoods too. This guy may be cruising looking for another house. They should ask about strangers and animal behavior. We don’t want a Witch hunt. Lots of innocent Were’s in the area.”

“There are?” He looked surprised.

“Of course there are. We aren’t restricted to the reservations anymore. That was abolished in 1955. Many of my people stay there because it’s the only life they remember. My father has a lodge and hunting club in Kentucky. He’s very successful at it. Weres are just people Agent Nixon. There are bad seeds among us as much as among humans.”

“Like I said before. Welcome to the team Agent Moore.”


The canvas done by the team turned up a few instances of dogs and cats going crazy when someone was around. One of the town's postal carriers was a WereFox, so I had to cross those on his route off the map. The pool Agents turned up over thirty instances of animal misbehavior in their neighborhoods. A pattern was starting to emerge. We were looking for a lawn service or yard worker. It was the only reason for a rogue to be in some of those neighborhoods and not be noticed as a stranger. Unfortunately, there were over thirty services in the area. We still had lots of work to do.

Monday, November 21, 2016

Magical Probi is a Number One book!

Magical Probi is Number one in Teens and Number 10 in Best Selling Paranormal and Urban Fantasy!  Number ten is kind of cool when you consider the company it's keeping!  Thank you everyone.

Wednesday, November 16, 2016

On the Road

 So with Winter fast approaching and Missouri getting colder my wife and I are moving south for awhile. I foresee no major interrupt in my writing. We intend to be in the Pensacola area for a few days and then back up into Alabama. I have family there. My father is lending us his RV so we will be out on the road! I will be taking pictures and posting as we go.
My Dad and his RV

Saturday, November 12, 2016

Snippet 10 of 10

“So how is she doing for real?”

“Far better than all of you thought she would. In fact she has taught me things I didn’t know. You had nothing to worry about.”

“Jack you know that we care about you. That’s all. The FBI has never had an official Witch before so I along with Madeleine was worried for you. Her Magick can be unpredictable at times.” Anastasia and Jack were in her private quarters at the rear of the large forensics truck.

“She saved my ass when we had to go Underhill. How is it I don’t remember the Fae? As much as I’ve seen there must have been at least one case concerning them. Right?”

Anastasia folded her hands in front of her face. “There has been Jack. More than a dozen actually. The higher ups know but you always seem to forget. They instruct my team to sanitize the records each time you forget what happened. Security concerns is what they have always said in the past. I’m happy you remember this time.”

“Over a dozen? For real?” He held his head in his hands moaning.

Anastasia let out a held breath. “Every time. What would they do without me?” The words were spoken so quietly that only a Vampire or another Were could have heard it.

“Jack look at me please.” He looked up and stared at her.

“Watch my eyes and listen to my voice.” She captured his eyes and pushed her thoughts and will into his brain. Only an Elder could do this if someone caught her the hidden secrets would be up. But Jack was one of her oldest friends and she loved him.

“You will only remember what you liked about the visit to the Fae. If something about the experience or what I just said upsets you, you will forget it and only think happy things. Do you understand?”

“I understand. Happy thoughts.”

She was about to release him but stopped. He had never remembered the Fae before. “Jack, did anything strange or unusual happen during the trip?”

“One-eyed man. How did the guide turn into the one-eyed man? Why were there giant crows everywhere? Crows and bad things in the snow.”

“Jack you will forget everything that harms you. Understand? You will forget the one-eyed man. Forget.” She concentrated on his head and slowly wiped the information from his brain.

Shaking his head after a moment Jack smiled and looked at Anastasia. “I zoned out there for a moment. What were we talking about?”

“You were telling me about the fish pond your wife is putting in at your house.” Anastasia only half listened to her old friend. All she could think of was the one-eyed man. Why was he interfering on this plane? It had to be the girl but what did it mean?

Thursday, November 10, 2016

Monday, November 7, 2016

Coming soon the Tide!

I got involved in an interesting little concept book a few months ago. The idea was very similar to a game played as children. One person would start a book and then pass it to the next person. No central plot was decided upon before hand. Total freedom to take the story in any direction you wished and kill off whoever. 21 authors participated. Author's whose names you might recognize: Hayley Lawson, Craig Martelle, Michael Anderle, T J Ryan, J L Hendricks, Adam Kayce, Emma Right, J M Sloan, Martha Carr, Sarah Dalton, Kat Lind, Katherine Hayton, R J Crayton, E E Isherwood, Dale Furse, KS Brooks, Debbie Cassidy, and James Aaron. 

We all come together to create The Tide. It took a SF direction but contains a bit of horror, romance, action, and other surprises. Even I don't know how it ended. The last author is the one responsible for publication so she (Hayley Lawson) didn't tell us. I only know that it will become available at or around the end of November. I will of course link to it. My chapter was different from the rest. If this sort of thing interests you watch this space! Check out the cover!

Sunday, November 6, 2016

Snippet 09 of 10 Just a taste

 It was the beeping and the sudden jerk that woke me up.

Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep. The RV shook and then the front lifted up. In my dreams I was driving a garbage truck backwards.

“What the hell?” I rolled out of bed and looked down the hall toward the cockpit. A tow truck just backed up and hooked us up. Grabbing my gun and credentials I hid the door running.

“Stop! Federal Agent!” The tow truck driver froze in mid lift. Having a gun pointed at your head will do that.

“Why are you doing this? There are people in this thing.”

Flipping my badge open I waved it in his face. “Who told you to move this?”

“Lady, I work on consignment for the FBI. They tell me to move it, I move it. I got the order to move this from the local office this morning.”

“Where are you supposed to take it?’

“My orders say the police impound yard.”

“I’m telling you to forget your orders. This RV is still in operation.”

“Let me see those orders, please.” Jack was now along side of me staring at the driver. They were quickly handed over.  Jack glanced through them and handed it back.

The driver unhooked the RV and drove away. I watched him go and checked my ward thinking in the future I should increase the range.

“Do you know who did it to us?” Jack was making breakfast as I climbed back inside.

“Oh, yeah. The Director himself signed the order.

“Would you like revenge?”

“How? Tow their cars?”

“I was thinking a bit more devious.


Morning came much earlier than I had anticipated. There was someone attempting to pound on our door. We experienced a brief moment of poundage followed by cries of protest.  Agent Phillips was adhered to our door like a fly stuck on flypaper.

Looking out Jack laughed. He stepped outside. I watched as he explained to Jacob the predicament he was in. I waved my hand and dropped the extended shield I cast for the RV.

“You look like a bug on the windshield Jacob. Why brings you out so early?”

“You can’t park this thing here! It shouldn’t even be here!”

“We intercepted you little minion by-the-way. Cute towing the RV. It stays. What else you got?” The now confused man stumbled out of our end of the parking lot.

“That was fun. Ready to catch Puff today?”

“I am and so is Fergus.” I patted my right breast. “I plan to reapply the ward when we leave just in case.”

“Works for me. Let’s go then.” I grabbed my bag and raised the ward as I closed the door. Maybe we would catch another Agent?

Saturday, November 5, 2016

My work

I get asked all the time how is the next book coming along and when will it be out?
  It's funny that question. I was just talking about myself to a guy trying to sell me something Very expensive this afternoon. I haven't slowed down at all this year. My sickness, the first in two years by the way, was the longest 'vacation' I've had since February. It put me a bit behind on my own schedule. As of last night I have about 42,000 words written and 13 chapters. I intend for Magical Probi to be around 70,000 words so I'm almost there. The success of both the prequel and the first book has totally blown me away. I sure didn't plan for it.

I have signed a contract with a company to put out Audio book versions of The Federal Witch series. They are supposed to send me some voice samples early this coming week. I'm going to try and have the book finished by next weekend, I hope. The next big project will be a new series that I am Co-Writing with Michael Anderle. I owe a great deal to Michael as he was the one that goaded me into writing in the first place! It will be set inside his Kutherian Gambit series somewhere around book 13 or 14  I think. Regardless it should be fun.

The biggest hindrance I get is the Cat. He thinks that my computer is a nice warm spot to sit and watch me.

This is of course an endless battle. One that I fight. So back to work. I have pages to write and snippets to tease with. Have a good weekend and remember to vote if you are in the USA. If not stand back and watch the fun.  Later - Scott

Friday, November 4, 2016

Time for a snippet! Here is number 08

“We can’t really talk about an open case, even to you Miss Kelly. We represent Magical Crimes for the FBI. We will do everything in our power to find it. Do you have any rabid fans or enemies who would take it?”

She pulled her sunglasses down away from her eyes. I could see even in this low light they were a deep blue color. “Max my butler can give you the list of fans my people have compiled. Enemies are something that I have very few of Agents. When I was younger I had a few but they should be long gone by now.” She straightened her glasses.

“Can you give us any specifics?” Jack stared at her his eyes not leaving her face.

“Can I trust you not to share anything I tell you? I ask because I like both my privacy and my secrets.”

“You can trust us. If something leaks, it won’t come from the two of us. Higher than us? I can’t say.”

The actress leaned back in her chair and clasped her hands together. She rested her chin upon her joined hands and thought for a long moment. She let out a sigh. “Trust is so hard for those in the entertainment business. I suppose I can trust you with a few things.” She stared at Jack and smiled tossing a towel over herself and leaning forward.

“My little game didn’t work. Sorry Agent Dalton I play that one with most men.”

“I have a wife I love very much. I try not to mix business with pleasure it can lead down the wrong roads in my business.”

“Understood. I was in Germany before the Demon Wars. Several of my former lovers and jilted co-workers were in Government service. One such man was Dietrich Eckart. He was very high up in the party and was rumored to have the ear of the great leader. I have always assumed he died in the fall of the Empire or was possibly consumed by the Demon as many of the inner circle were. If he lived he would be well over a hundred as he was born in the late 1800s. He was human but had many contacts in the esoteric communities of the time. If anyone had survived it would have been him. Only one other person comes to mind that would consider me an enemy or rival enough to steal from me.”

“Who is that?”

She let out a sigh. “A woman. Rayne Snow was her name. We were lovers at one point but she broke it off. She was a Witch and couldn’t stay with me for many reasons. I tried to ruin her financially after the break up. I was the jilted lover and I paid for it. I’m not saying she hexed me but my luck in the 1960s was not great. She went by several other names using Frost or Ice as her last name. It was all variations of Snow or Winter. She wasn’t very old when we were together so she should be alive.”

“She is.” I blurted it out. They both looked at me. “Sorry. She goes by Ray Winter now. I know because she’s on the American Witches Council.”

“Good for her. She always wanted to reach the pinnacle of her craft. If you see her tell her I’m sorry.”

“Anyone else?”

“Not really. Max and his family have been with me since Germany so it won’t be him. I have had a few hack producers or agents over the years but none of them would have the guts to even try. Max can give you a list.”

“Why did you only allow the necklace in the exhibit for only a few days?” Something sounded off.

“As I said it is precious to me. The last time it was a very popular show. I was asked by their board of directors so I said yes. It was only supposed to be for two days. I miss it already.”

“We understand. Is there anything else we should know about it?”

“Not that I can think of. Please find it.”

“We will do the best we can Miss Kelly.” Jack stood and took her hand. She stood and stepped out into the sun. Still covered with the towel she looked very much like her pictures

Thursday, November 3, 2016

Shout out to Speculative Fiction Showcase

Here's a special shout out to our friends over at Speculative Fiction Showcase! War to the Knife is highlighted as well as several other books by Authors I know. Check it out Here!

Tuesday, November 1, 2016

New Month New Snippet! Here's 07

“Agent Reynolds, did you locate the Chef’s residence?”

“Yes, Sir. It is on the second floor of the restaurant.”

“Good. Did you request a warrant and search it yet?”

Agent Sims answered for Reynolds who looked a bit confused. “I called it in to Judge Winston but they are dragging their feet for some reason.”

“Thank you Agent Sims. I will take care of it. Since you know the local lay of the land I am going to leave you in charge of Reynolds and Jackson when he gets finished moving the body. I want the entire kitchen processed along with the Chef’s apartment. Leave both the cooler and the freezer alone. They contain illegal substances that the Chef stole from the people that killed him. Agent Blackmore has secured them for now.”

Agent Sims had a gleam in her eye. “Is it drugs? Is that what went down in there? A drug deal?”

“It wasn’t drugs. But it may have been a business deal gone bad. Hold down the fort do your assignment and do not talk to the press. Understand? No news conferences and no press.”

“Understood. Come along Reynolds.” Both Agents nodded to me and left the RV. I glanced at my boss.

“Do you think they will disobey you?”

“Probably. If not them their local boss. That mention of drugs won’t stay on the down-low. Eh. It will make a good cover story.” At  my look he smiled. “Like we can tell the public that the Chef was killed because he cooked the wrong vegetable?”

“True. OK, where do we need to go?” I looked at the Tree man for direction.

“Simplicity in itself. The alley behind whence to foul deed was done holds the answer.”

“Anyway you can shed the greenery?” The Jack-in-the-green only smiled at me. “I guess not. Let’s try handcuffs?” I looked toward my boss Jack not the tree Jack.

“Sounds good.” I tried not to enjoy zip tying our escort but I did a little. “Let’s go.”

We led the man past the local police and the news reporters in a reverse perp-walk. The volume outside increased to that of a roar as hundreds of voices screamed out questions about our ‘captive.’ I was sure that what we were doing was being beamed around the world to every news agency.