I have started the Wiki for The Supernaturals. I do hope that people will check it out and enjoy it!

It’s still in process, but it has come a long way. Go, see pictures of a few of the characters! Yay!

http://thesupernaturals.wikia.com/wiki/Wiki_Content

Guardian of the Abyss has a new cover.

Sometimes it’s a difficult choice to let go of something that you genuinely like. Although it was not a popular cover, the old Guardian of the Abyss cover is actually one of my personal favorites.

That being said, the new cover is just fantastically lovely, and I certainly hope that, with a new cover, more people will be ready and willing to discover the beauty of Sarah and Abaddon’s love.

As a newbie Indie author, I am bound to make mistakes. This one was one of mine. I am grateful to all who mentioned the issue, so that I could correct it.

Now, if you’ll pardon me, I’m going to go cradle the old cover and comfort it. It needs it. Not me. Seriously. Would I kid about a thing like that??

So far as I know, my background is English or Irish. Possibly Scottish. Either way, with what little I know of my family history, at least some of my ancestors are from that area. I’ve always felt a pull towards that area, and thus I have decided to begin my ‘gods’ series with one of the most compelling ones from that area. I suspect that many of them will be from that area.

Something that is not talked about at all is how many of us white people have also lost our own heritages and backgrounds. I am not out to demonize Christians or their religion, I am simply stating a fact when I say what I am about to: Christianity in its early incarnation wiped out multitudes of other cultures–and many of them were white cultures.

The Irish, the Welsh, the English, the Scottish… they all had their own religions, their own culture, even their own writing. The Christians tried at that time to claim that they brought writing to the Isles, but this is not true. The druids (the ‘educated’ of the Isles) had a form of writing called Ogham well before the Roman Christian conquerors came.

So my first book in the Gods and Goddesses series centers around Gwyn ap Nudd. This ancient God was the Welsh God of the Hunt. His job was that of a psychopomp… meaning that he led forgotten or lost… or evil… souls to the Afterlife.

In The Risen God, the first in the series, Gwyn is found buried in a pasture by Terry. Terry is an average woman. There’s nothing special about her. She’s not psychic, she’s not the reincarnation of someone he loved. She’s just a typical American woman going about her day…. when she finds something extraordinary.

Now, Gwyn must find his Horn, fetch his horse and his hounds, and ride again. The fate of mankind rests upon the psychopomps being found and being able to do their jobs again. The gates to Annwyn (paradise) are degrading, and soon souls will be entirely unable to return home between reincarnations. And there will be no more choice in reincarnation thereafter–all souls will be trapped eternally on what will rapidly become a desolate planet upon which only a few will appear to thrive–even as the evil that rots their souls grows.

But that evil has had a lot of time to plot and plan. And even as Gwyn begins to search for his Horn, his Horse, and his Hounds, he continually finds himself stymied by the long-term planning of an encroaching evil.

The resurrection of Gwyn ap Nudd is symbolic, certainly; as he was not dead. Yet it is symbolic on two levels, for the resurrection of Gwyn ap Nudd into common culture is past its time. All of us whose cultures were destroyed have a right to our heritage; to pride in that heritage, and to resurrect that heritage.

So I welcome back Gwyn, God of the Hunt, God of the Dead. May you once more, in the minds of mankind, usher the dead home.

Guardian of the Abyss

Supernatural Singles

Shannon Phoenix

Genre: Paranormal Romance

Number of pages: 127

Word Count: 43,500

Book Description:

Buried at sea by the sorcerers who created him, Abaddon is unable to heal himself and unable to replenish his energy. He has lived here for longer than he can remember, with no hope of escape. Time is against him as the sea eats away at him, body and soul.

When her diving partner tries to kill her to take over her company, Sarah finds herself trapped beneath the waves and dying. Having brought light to Abaddon’s dark existence at last, only she can grant him the courage to do what must be done to escape his watery prison.

Abaddon must sacrifice his wings to save her. Sarah must come to terms with being trapped with someone she has been raised to believe is a demon, and face the betrayal that nearly destroyed her and the company she built. Together, they must take on the ocean and their own fears. The consequence of failure is death.

Excerpt of Guardian of the Abyss

The following is © 2012 Shannon Phoenix

Chapter 1

Sarah and James had been doing this for years. He had scuba gear on with more than enough air for two, and even an additional mini-tank for her. They held the weighted sled and the pair plummeted towards the large enclosed, protected area of coral on the sea floor. It was only one-hundred-ten feet. They would take the photos and then return to the surface.

She loved doing this, she always had. It was so beautiful here under the water, and free-diving brought peace and comfort to her. James loved scuba diving, but had no interest in free diving. Sarah paid for his gear and for trips around the world with her.

Nothing could go wrong, because they planned with great care, and James checked on her every few seconds. She had no extra breathing apparatus, but she had the ability to free-dive, which meant she could hold her breath and dive to incredible depths. Her personal best was just short of three hundred feet.

Anchoring the boat, they dropped into the balmy waters off the coast of Bimini, on the opposite side from the more famous ruins. They were here to photograph a rare circle of delicate coral. With much of the world’s coral dying, the still-living coral here was a miracle. So, camera in hand, Sarah descended. This time around, she intended to do something unprecedented. She would remain down as long as she chose to, with the secondary tank that James was bringing. She had never done so before, so it was a new thing for her.

However, because of the depth, there was little choice for her if she was going to remain there for more than a few minutes. Once at such a depth, they would need to take decompression stops along the way back up. They had provided more than enough air for themselves to make these stops, and thus neither of them felt any concern as they descended towards the beautiful ocean floor, cameras strapped to their belts and their spirits high.

In the boat above them, they had left a local diving expert, so that they knew they had surface support as well as each other. Sarah knew what she was doing was dangerous, but she had done everything possible to make it a calculated risk. She was as safe as she could make herself while free-diving. She took a lot of ridicule for her precautions, but she was content.

High above them, water glittered as the sun danced on the waves. Around them, fish darted or lazed along. Bubbles floated up from the sled and from James’ breathing apparatus. Water caressed her skin and surrounded her intimately, an embrace more familiar and beautiful than a lover’s caress. It was, in a word, glorious.

Once they reached the bottom, it was gloomy, but not dark. Sarah turned her light on and looked around her. The coral was brilliant in the beams from her headlamp, and she shook her head for the moment when James offered her the smaller air tank. She was still doing well, and knew that shortly she would need more air, but by then she could take on the tank. She had longer since she was ‘tanking up’.

She turned to take a picture, and saw one of the many drug-cartel packages floating some 10 feet or so away. That was uncomfortably close, and she turned to signal to James to look out for them. But as she turned, she realized it was too late–far too late. Apparently there had been one where James was, as well. And James had activated the mines the dealers built into the buoy.

The bombs were intended to prevent people from stealing the weighted bags of drugs. The bomb detonated and the water filled with blood. James’ goggles floated past her, and Sarah did the one thing she had never done before. She panicked.

Even as the fear took her, and darkness began to close in as adrenaline sped up her heart rate and stole the oxygen from her brain, she saw a face loom in the blossoming blood. It was a face from the pit of hell and it followed her into darkness, black eyes pursuing her ruthlessly even as her impending death stole all functioning from her mind.

She tried to scream, but nature had locked her throat closed, a phenomenon known as shallow-water blackout.

* * * *

Abaddon had lived in this ocean hell for so long now that he didn’t even know how long it had been. Unable to connect to the wind or the Earth due to the water around him, he had been forced to attempt to revive what energy he could from the distant sun. Water was his enemy, and he had never known it more than now.

Most of the ‘guests’ he got here were men or women whose intentions were vile. Their nefarious purposes broadcasted so strongly that even the wildlife here felt it and hid. Abaddon hadn’t known of their explosive devices for very long, but he’d found out by means of a curious–and now dead–shark. He had never touched their strange packages, and knew nothing of what they contained.

But today, he had stepped out of his underground lair in order to attempt some time in the sun. He needed replenishment, and in these depths, watery sunlight was all he could get. Unfortunately, it came at a cost as the water continued to etch away at his stone form. He had no idea what would happen, but without sufficient power, he couldn’t renew it. Would he die? Never return from stone form? He didn’t know… didn’t care to find out. So his forays out were few and far between.

As he sat there in stone form, he had seen the human man detonate the bomb, and felt his ill will. The water had filled with blood and then Abaddon had seen the woman and the terror on her face. She wore none of the strange apparatus the others always wore, and Abaddon wondered how she survived so long under the water. Yet he also realized that her death would happen any second now. He looked up after the retreating man. He could jump and catch him. Then he could climb the rope and be free of this prison at last.

Or he could save the woman. He felt her shining soul and he could do nothing but gather her close and make haste towards his cavern. He refused to look at the retreating chain that held her companion. He couldn’t bear it, and he might change his mind. He already regretted it. It was likely that she would die anyway, and he had thrown away the first opportunity he had ever had to escape. The others had never lowered a chain. They swam down with their bodies covered in strange machines, and swam away again.

It was almost more than he could bear to let it go, but now the decision was made and with each passing second, it went beyond the reach of his highest underwater jump. He pushed into the cavern and leaped from the water in a single jump. His powerful legs took him up onto the ledge that made up his prison.

Had he never found this underwater chamber filled with air, his stone form would have been taken over by the ocean long ago. As it was, he was able to escape the water’s constant torment for great periods of time.

He laid her down carefully, concerned about her health and well-being. She looked fragile, laying there alone in the slight gloom from the lichen that coated the walls. He had no memory of how to care for her. It had been so long since he’d been around humans–anyone at all, for that matter–that he had no idea what to do.

A moment passed and she suddenly convulsed. Abaddon decided that was most likely a bad thing. He turned her onto her side and watched as water and something else spewed from her mouth, filling the chamber with a vile odor. Disgusted, he cupped water from the ocean and let it carry the vile substance back with it. After a couple of minutes, she lay still and quiet except for the strange, regular sound of air going in and out of her. That, he felt sure, was a good thing.

He wondered what he would do when she awoke. Maybe he would just sit in his stone form, and she’d go away. She couldn’t stay here, humans were fragile. She had gotten down there without the strange objects the humans kept on their faces, so she would leave his cave and go back the same way.

Satisfied by this certainty, he moved a few feet away and squatted down to watch her taking in and releasing air. It was odd that humans, even while rejuvenating, could not be still. Fascinating, as well… and lovely. No doubt he only thought so because he hadn’t seen a woman in… how long had it been? Well, a long time, anyway.

The usual silence of his cavern was broken by the woman’s sounds, and Abaddon found it difficult to focus. Perhaps he should go outside and attempt to utilize the remaining hours of daylight. It was a wise choice. Not doing so was likely unwise in the extreme.

But Abaddon sat and stared at the constantly moving form of the woman. If there was one thing he could admit, it was that at least he hadn’t forgotten what a woman was. Nor, in all those long years, had he forgotten what it felt like to be betrayed by one. He’d be rid of this one as quickly as possible. Until then, he wasn’t above enjoying looking at her. She was beautiful, and that was a fact. He’d remember her for a long time after she was gone.

The thought made his heart pinch. He didn’t want her to be gone. Except he did, because her being here was just plain dangerous on every level, for both of them. Not that she was his problem. She wasn’t his problem. But if she was, he’d want her back to her own world quickly, for her own good. Humans had needs, as he recalled. A rather excessive lot of needs, at that. He had absolutely no way of caring for a pet, aside from the shark he sometimes fed. Other than Geoff the shark, he didn’t need anything, unless it could get him out of his personal hell.

And that, he decided, was that.

About The Author:

Shannon Phoenix always wrote stories. She watched the characters take on their lives within her mind, and began to write down what they were doing. She would write the stories and then let them go. But a few years ago, she got caught writing those stories. You know… those stories.

To her surprise, the person who found her stories loved her characters as much as Shannon did. She tentatively allowed others to read the stories, as well, and it was from that first foray into the scary world of letting others read her ‘little tales’ that Shannon Phoenix Books was born.

Shannon lives in New Hampshire with her husband John, her daughter, and their family cat, Song. Her full time job is parenting, her part time job is as a mother’s helper to a family friend, and her passion is letting the characters in her mind out on paper–or keyboard, as the case may be.

Welcome to Shannon Phoenix Books. May you find the magic in your own life.

www.shannonphoenix.com

http://www.facebook.com/shannon.phoenix.714

http://shannonphoenix.wordpress.com/

http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5829040.Shannon_Phoenix

http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B007WFAIBC

Here’s the schedule:

December 3 Interview
The Creatively Green Write at Home Mom
www.creativelygreen.blogspot.com

December 3 Spotlight
http://victoriadanann.me

December 4 Promo
Book On A Wire
bookonawire.com

December 4 Interview
Marked By Books
http://markedbybooks.blogspot.com

December 5 Guest blog
Roxanne’s Realm
www.roxannesrealm.blogspot.com

December 6 Guest blog
Cloey's Book Reviews and Other Stuff
cloeyk.blogspot.com

December 7 Guest blog and review
Wolf Majick Reviews
wolfmajick.blogspot.com

December 7 Promo
DEB SANDERS
http://DebSanders.com

December 8 Guest blog
Carly Fall - Where Fantasy Meets Romance
www.carlyfall.com

December 9 Interview
http://www.kaydeeroyal.blogspot.com

December 9 - promo and review
Beverly @ The Wormhole
http://wormyhole.blogspot.com/

December 10 Guest blog
Fang-tastic Books
http://www.fang-tasticbooks.blogspot.com

I went home, instead of going to work. By the time I got home, I was shaking like the last leaf on the last tree of fall in a stiff breeze.

Today I waited for some fellows to bring our brand new mattress to the house. Trust me on this one, you don’t want to hear about THAT comedy… someday it’ll be funny, I’m convinced. Right now, though, we have a half-painted bedroom (during nanowrimo! during halloween-also my daughter’s birthday! during thanksgiving month!)… no bed…

Yeah, I said no bed.

And now we have a brand spanking new tempurpedic mattress leaning against the wall, which we’ll sleep on, on the floor.

In the meantime, I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck doing 70. I imagine, anyway. I’ve never been hit by a truck–and I hope not to start anytime soon. Especially if it feels this bad. Cause I gotta tell you, even my eyes are all googly.  My head’s in a vice, my throat’s so sore I sound like I’ve been smoking for a century.

Not bad, since I haven’t been alive that long.

I’m not quite caught up with nano, so thank god I got a great start at the Retreat I went to at the beginning of the month. YAY!

Anyhow. Enjoy your afternoon. Grab a copy of Guardian of the Abyss, have a coffee… and I’ll see you on the flip side.

I was a “second runner up” for this, so I got lucky. I hope the person who was not able to go enjoys the time in another way.

I don’t know what it will be like there, but I’m pleased to have Guardian of the Abyss coming out soon.

And now for the REALLY big news! I’m doing Nanowrimo this year! I’ve wanted to do it for about 3 years, so now I finally am going to suck it up and knuckle down and really try to do it this year.  The book I’ll write will be within my other, as yet unintroduced universe, Inner Earth Chronicles.

So, here we go… writer’s retreat and nanowrimo!

I generally won’t review or rate other people’s books on official sites like Goodreads or Amazon unless I can give it five stars comfortably. Giving negative reviews or ratings on those sites just makes me feel wrong; like a politician trying to win by throwing around the other guy’s dirt. Listen, we all have dirt, and that’s not the right way to win, if you ask me.

Granted, you didn’t… but I’m saying it anyway. :p

So that’s why I don’t do reviews out there in the public eye in a way that it’ll effect sales for the other person. If nothing else, let’s face it… every novel written is done so with love. Or at least, most are. Novel writing is a huge endeavor, and I think it’s pretty few and far between that people who do it, are doing so just for money. It’s a tough fight to the top and even then, there are easier ways to make money.

So a negative review is crapping on someone’s livelihood. It’s taking a big dump on their hopes, their dreams, and that bit of themselves that they poured into the novel.  In general, I don’t like to do either one.

That being said, sometimes, some books make me want to say something.  Sometimes, they make me want to clap and stomp my feet and yell with joy. Sometimes they make me want to just cover my head and try to staunch the bleeding from my eyes.  Rarely, they make me want brain bleach. Like, badly.

Now, as a writer, I’m not in much of a position to make these statements.  My books aren’t perfect, and they have no doubt made a few people want brain bleach. Bless their hearts.

And I’ll say this. I write these with the full knowledge that I’m a hypocrite. I don’t enjoy getting “omg this book sukz” comments. None of us do. And I’ll try to avoid ever saying it like that. But sometimes, I really feel a need to get things off of my chest.

I’m going to do it here. And if you want to tell me that I’m a hypocrite, feel free. I’ll agree with you.  But I’ll still say what I have to say. When the mood takes me, that is…

Reports have been coming in from Nebraska and Iowa of werewolves being tranquilized and abducted for days at a time in the Northeast area of Nebraska, and some visiting from nearby Iowa towns. The Supreme Counsel has issued a formal warning for werewolves to avoid using ‘were form whenever possible. Detection of werewolves cannot be risked at this crucial time.

Please keep this edict in mind, and travel for alteration during the full moon.

An investigatory agency is being arranged at this time.

Has a squilb stolen your socks?

It’s squilb mating season, so they’ll be gathering up socks by the load…

We can help! Hurry on down to the nearest Goblin enclave. Our talented specialists can Fetch anything that you can visualize for them. Get your keys back, access your hoard… or prevent squilbs from mating in your socks.

Disclaimer: Fetching of corpses or living things is strictly forbidden. Including, but not limited to the squilb who stole your socks.

It is with great regret that we must inform all of our readers that the Supernatural News Feed has had a falling out with the National Researcher Newspaper.  Previously, they have been an accurate method for disseminating information from us to you.  While it has also been a great source of revenue, as well, as humans enjoy such exotic stories.

And while we would graciously state that it was instrumental in the acceptance of the reality of Vampires by humanity, it still must be stated that we can no longer rely on them to aid us in reaching you with International News about Supernatural happenings.

With the expansion of humanity and Supernaturals across the world, and their ability to immediately communicate with each other from anywhere in the world, we have been forced to attempt to keep up with their rapid knowledge sharing. Constantly monitoring their internet has also helped to prevent premature or undesirable discovery of our people.

Therefor, it is of utmost importance that we find a way to get the News out to all Supernaturals. With this pressing need in mind, we have found a simple solution that we feel will be above reproach and without suspicion by the human populace.

We have hired an author, who will entertain humans with stories of our kind. In the meantime, she will allow us to use her website to disseminate information to our people about important happenings in the Supernatural Community.

As you all know, the last few years have been both exciting, and terrifying for many Supernatural groups. With the recent appearance of a new Master Sentinel for the Vampire race, the return of the Gargoyle’s Sacred Mother, and rumors of a fully grow Siren, we must be especially vigilant to keep in touch with each other in the months and years to come.

Please find these News Feeds at: http://www.shannonphoenix.com/Supernatural_News_Feed.html

He raised both eyebrows. “New Galatia. The ‘were village…” he said it like she was stupid.

“‘Were? As in werewolf?” she finally asked, sorting out what he must–impossibly–be saying.

“Obviously,” he scowled. He pulled a thick, laminated poster towards her. “I think you’d be particularly interested in this–”

She couldn’t help it, she cut him off again. “There are werewolves, too? For real?”

He stared at her. It was very clear the vampire wasn’t disposed towards her in anything approaching a friendly manner. She might have been something unidentifiable, ugly, and smelly stuck to the bottom of his shoe. “Has he told you nothing?” he asked finally. “Of course there are werewolves. You’ll be living in their village–”

“I’m not living with werewolves.”

He looked pained, as if she were purposefully being obtuse. But seriously, he didn’t genuinely think she’d just move in with a bunch of man-dogs, did he? She supposed that it was nice that he wasn’t moving her in with vampires, but werewolves weren’t something she wanted to live with. Ever. No vampires, no werewolves, no snake-dudes or reptillians or whatever. No, no, and no.

With exaggerated patience, he said, “Perhaps you would like a cabin in Waltham Park, then? Something isolated? Would that make you happy?”

She rested her jaw on the heel of one hand while she tapped her fingers on the table with the other one and considered it. Would she be safe anywhere near the werewolf town? She did know that New Galatia was in Waltham Park. She just hadn’t known it was… werewolf central.

“Let me put it this way, Miss Barker. You haven’t got a choice. It’s Waltham park, or perhaps Tallis’ dungeon.”

Her fingers stopped drumming the table. “He has a dungeon? Can I see it?”

He rolled his eyes, the gesture fitting his youthful appearance perfectly. “Not unless you piss him off enough,” he told her. “And then it won’t be a sight-seeing tour.” He pulled out a different glossy poster. “How about this?”

The poster showed a lovely, long ranch-style house that sprawled in a green, grassy yard. Behind it were verdant trees and the mountains rising behind it. It was, in a word, lovely. She smiled. “That’s beautiful. But the problem is, I’m not staying here. Neither you nor Thanatos can pressure me–”

“You were attacked at your college, were you not?” At her nod, he continued, “And at your home?”

She looked away. Did everyone know?

“The point is, you’re being attacked. You’re not safe at your college or at your home. Where will you go?” he asked, “What will you do? You’re a target.”

She sighed. She should at least go look at the house, right? “Fine. Can I see it?”

He smiled, almost a genuine one, too. “Yes. We will set out immediately.” He snapped his fingers and the three women in the room who had supplied the folders and glossy posters went into instant action. The papers were cleared away while another briskly trotted out of the room and down the hallway.

She felt an unexpected irritation with the man, and with Thanatos as well. She felt like she was being pushed into something she didn’t want. The house was beautiful, but what strings did it come with, even if she decided she liked it? She was particularly disturbed by James’ simple recounting of what she already objectively understood; gargoyles hired women to birth their children.

What exactly was Thanatos’ motivation here? He made it very clear that he didn’t care about her, but his behavior spoke far different from what his words did. He said she was just a human but he saved her, he protected her from a vampire, he was apparently buying her a house, he dipped into the all-important hoard…

She sighed and followed James outside. He picked her up and suddenly the world tilted and spun and flashed past with insane speed and fury. When they stopped, she was dizzy and disoriented.

“I’ll show you the inside first,” James said through the roaring in her head.

She straightened up and nodded. “Okay.” It was as weak as it sounded.

They reached the steps when a reverberating ‘boom’ shook the ground as Thanatos landed behind them.

“What are you doing?” Thanatos demanded.

“We’re looking at houses, as you requested,” James informed him, his tone surprisingly respectful, given his track record so far.

“This is not in the town,” Thanatos told him, scowling.

James backed up against the door frame. “She doesn’t want to live with werewolves,” he answered.

Thanatos’ eyes switched from James to her, and Alexis realized for the first time why everyone cringed from him.

“They are the best possible protectors,” he informed her. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. They leave on the full moon.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to live there. This is a beautiful place, quiet and–”

“Isolated. It’s quiet and isolated. It is utterly unacceptable.” His gaze switched to James and Alexis could go back to admiring how powerful and sexy he was, even in ‘jeans and a t-shirt’ made out of skin. “I told you to get her a house in town, and instead you have isolated her. Do you wish to see the moon rise tomorrow night, or has all self-preservation fled you?”

James practically groveled then. “You said to give her what she wanted! Whatever she wanted…”

“In town!” Thanatos barked.

“I don’t want to live in the town!” Alexis yelled at him, irritated.

“Yes, you do,” he told her. “You want children at your house. You want activity and friends and–”

“None of those people know me, Thanatos. They’re not just going to send their kids over to my house–”

“They will,” he interrupted her. “I will see to it.”

“Or what, you’ll kill them?” She crossed her arms to glare at him.

He scowled. “Of course not. You don’t seriously think I’d kill them just for not visiting someone?”

“Then how?” she asked. “What possible motivation would they have to stop by the house of a person they don’t even know?”

“My hoard is quite substantial…” he trailed off as he looked at her, apparently clued in to her shock by her gaping mouth.

She snapped it shut and then asked, as calmly as she could muster, “You intend to buy me some friends? You can’t buy people, Thanatos.”

He obviously realized he’d done something wrong, as he scratched the back of his neck and looked perplexed. “Ah… no. I was going to buy you a chance to get to know them. Once they know you, they’ll adore you.”

“It doesn’t work like that. People you pay are employees, not friends.”

“You can’t live out here,” he said. “You won’t even have a chance to meet them, so how will you get to know them?”

“They’re werewolves, Thanatos,” she argued. “Who says I want to know them?”

His face closed off, just like that. His voice was colder than the morning after an ice storm, and just as discordant as he said, “So that’s the problem. Werewolves. Who would have thought that a woman who got herself arrested, and then attacked for protesting for gargoyles would be such a bigot!”

He looked at James, “Get her whatever house she wants. If she’d rather be isolated than make friends with those got-to-be-evil werewolves, then so be it.” The look he threw her was scathing, hard, dismissive.

He vanished before she could speak. But what was she going to say? What could she say? He was right. She just kept screwing up, time and again. But in fairness, did he expect her to just trust mythical monsters without knowing a thing about them?

“Take me to the town. I want to meet some of these werewolves and learn more about them and if I’d be safe.”

James looked at her like she was insane. “Of course you’d be safe. Even if you don’t trust them, do you genuinely think Thanatos would purposefully put you into a situation where you weren’t safe?”

“I don’t know. He keeps telling me I’m a useless human and then he buys me a house. I guess, though, when you have a hoard that nets three quarters of a million dollars from just a bag full, it’s not so hard to buy someone a house.”

“You really don’t know anything at all about gargoyles, do you?” he asked her. “Especially the one you’re involved with.”

“We’re not involved,” she growled. Much to her regret, if she were going to be honest about it. But then again, why would they be involved. Despite her earlier objections–and lies–to the scary vampire Thanatos had protected her from, she was considered ‘pleasantly plump’ by the world. And she wasn’t anywhere near a size six, either. Why would a guy like Thanatos be interested in a fat chick? Sympathy?

“I wouldn’t tell him that,” James told her. “No matter what he has said, he’s crazy about you.” He picked her up and the world flipped inside-out again as he flitted through the woods, past trees and over their fallen brethren.

Apparently, they were off to the werewolf village so Alexis could crap her pants with fear while meeting some perfectly sweet half human, half wolf beasts. Oh, the excitement!