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#paranormal fiction
bansheebooks · 10 months
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Fine. Plenty of time for a cup of tea. Then we find ourselves a ghost. 
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tabortrillion · 8 months
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My first novel is available now! A link is available on my website along with a link to my self-published poetry collection! Here is a summary for What Came After:
To outsiders, Hannah has it all. She's taking college classes, holding down a fun job, and dating one of the most sought-after boys in town. But Hannah has secrets-secrets about herself and her past, the people she's hurt, and the people who want to hurt her.
When an unthinkable tragedy blurs the line between the natural and the supernatural, Hannah finds herself trapped between the world of the living and the dead.
As a spectator of the only life she's ever known, Hannah watches her own murder investigation from a different dimension of life-a place where no one can see or hear her aside from a mysterious boy named Art.
Will Art be able to help Hannah uncover what is keeping her in limbo? Or is there more to the situation than either one of them dares to imagine?
Click over to my website for What Came After, my poetry collection - Sides of the Mind, and book reviews!
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moonandris · 7 months
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What, in your opinion, is the difference between paranormal fiction and supernatural fiction and which genre do you prefer?
🔪🩸👻 🧛‍♀️👽
I've been looking for a good way to define the differences in the genres but I can't find a good example online, so I thought I'd ask my writeblr friends since y'all are into this stuff like I am! Please lemme know what you think makes these genres different and why you like a specific one, please! 😊❤️
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A night that was supposed to be romantic is taking a wrong turn....
There had been an ache first in his chest that had told him something was wrong, an almost burning that seemed to grow the longer he stood at the bar.  A pull of hurt that grew and twisted, it had no reason for being, and that confused him, briefly distracting him from his anger.  Then he looked over towards Yara for a moment just to see how she was doing since he had been gone for longer than he had anticipated or intended to be.  Her posture gave it all away, making the ache suddenly make sense to him.  It was through their bond and caused by her upset.  Whatever had bothered her earlier had gotten worse, and he had a feeling that Argona had not helped it.  Turning away from Argona without another word, he strode purposefully towards his wife without another word to the succubus.
“Come, we are leaving.” He gently touched her shoulder, his voice matching the softness of his touch.  Astaroth wasn’t upset with her in the slightest, and he didn’t want her to misinterpret that he was.  “You are sitting here looking dejected on what I had hoped to be a fun evening out for us, Yara.  I am sorry for whatever has upset you.  I’ll call the car and we can go back to the cabin and talk.” His expression was soft, as was his voice, but his eyes were studying her meticulously.   
“Don’t you need to finish your conversation?”  Her voice was a little cold and a lot distant.  Yara looked everywhere but at him, uncomfortable,and if he had not been supernatural, her voice would have been too quiet for him to hear. It was all she could do not to cry as she shifted in the chair a little.  The last thing she wanted was him feeling sorry for her, pity was worse than anything.  “I don’t want to ruin your evening, I’ll be fine.  I always am.”  She swallowed, fighting her emotions that were having a full fledged war within her.
“It is finished, and I’m not going to leave my wife sitting here looking and feeling dejected in order to talk to anyone.” His brows drew together, not understanding her discomfort and avoidance of him.  He hadn’t done anything that he could think of to hurt her, or upset her.  Jealousy or insecurity he could understand, but now he was confused.  Was this part of that?   Was he misunderstanding her reaction?   He wanted to support her, but how?
“I'm fine. There is nothing wrong.  You do not have to end your conversation with your friend due to me.” She wouldn't look at him, and her voice was anything but convincing.  If she met his gaze, he would see the lie plainly in her eyes.  At least looking away from him kept it hidden for a few more moments.  Actually saying that she knew that he’d prefer to be with anyone in the club but her, would break her.  Her father forcing the marriage had been the ultimate punishment on her.  Not because Astaroth was cruel, but because he wasn’t.  However, he was male.  A male that she was quite sure wasn’t oblivious to the fact that many beings in the establishment were lusting over, and most of them would be a better companion for the evening, or for any time, than her.
“Yara, what is wrong?” He waived over a waitress; he needed a drink badly.  He took one of her hands gently, still not understanding why she wouldn’t even look in his direction.  It felt like they’d gone all the way back to the beginning again, even farther back than the beginning honestly, and he was starting to become frustrated. “You’re lying and I know it.  I’m not going to stop asking until you give me a real answer.”  For the moment he was able to keep his voice calm, but it was a war that he did not know how long he would be able to win.  Her avoiding answering was causing his frustration and anger to rise, and it was not like he’d ever had to contain it before.
“Nothing.  I said I'm fine.” Still not looking at him, her chin lifted, and she ordered a blood wine when the waitress came.  “You don't have to stay sitting, go finish your conversation.  I believe the alluring blonde is still over at the bar.”  Now there was an undertone of bitterness that was so palpable in her voice that a deaf being would even have felt it.  Yara tried to pull her hand back that he’d taken, but of course he wasn’t going to let that go either, much like the conversation.  Once more she swallowed down her emotions and tried to put up walls.  Somehow she found that far harder with Astaroth than with anyone in the past.  After their previous conversations, the way he had treated her, and the way she had hoped things would be, it now felt like she had been a fool and that stung.
He ordered a demon's brew, neat. After the waitress walked away he leaned in and spoke right next to her ear. “Fine, I will not argue with you here.” His fingertips caressed her upper arm.  “I was not having a conversation, I was waiting for the bartender and being annoyed by the bitch of a blonde.  If you want to be mad at me for that, I can't stop you.  However, you’re not getting rid of me.  So, be mad.” He kissed her neck just below her ear then sat upright. His breath had been hot against her neck and ear, fanning out with each word.  
Astaroth could have said everything sitting up and she would have heard him.  He could have refrained from touching her.  The kiss was not needed since at the moment she was doing her best to attempt to pretend he wasn’t there.  However, he knew one thing: sometimes you had to gently push someone to pull the truth out of them.  It wasn’t something he’d ever done often, but he knew just enough to be able to do it.
She felt a wave of desire flow through her for him when his lips met her skin. There was no doubt that he had known just what he was doing.  He wasn’t fighting fair, but then neither was she by not saying anything.  She guessed they were even.  “I'm not..” Yara looked down, as he took her hand now in both his and laced their fingers. “What are you doing?” Now her head turned to look at him, brows drawn together. What WAS he doing?  And WHY?
Smirking, he leaned over until their foreheads were touching as he replied, “not allowing you to push me away because you misread a situation.”  When she tried to pull her hand back a second time, he held tighter between his two. “I brought YOU here to have an enjoyable night.  If you wish to ruin it, I won't stop you.  I, however, will also not argue with you. I’m not leaving your side, and I am still going to show the only woman here who I care to be with, the affection she deserves.”  Pulling her hand up, he kissed the back without breaking eye contact.  “Together.”
She sat blinking at him without saying anything.  What kind of game was he playing? Why did she feel so confused?  There were new emotions and feelings flowing through her and she didn’t know how to handle them.  Everything was so overwhelming.  The words of Lucifer battling the words of Astaroth now in her head.  Astaroth’s actions battling her father’s words of foretelling. 
While he waited for her to say something he was glad their drinks were delivered.   He needed the strong demonic liquid to help him deal with whatever set this round of emotions off.  He was perplexed by her behavior and feeling suddenly closed off from her. Why did she suddenly think that he was looking to be with someone else after they’d had this conversation.  They’d agreed.  This had been covered.  Did she not trust him?  What had he done to deserve that?
“Asti, I…” suddenly she felt unsure again and her head dropped away from his; so that her eyes were looking at her lap, “I mean you don't have to…”  She sighed, and her jaw worked.  Why had coming here made her feel so off balance suddenly? 
“Have to what? Act like we're married?  We are. Act like your husband? I am. Act like I like you? I do.  Act like I care?” He reached over and took her chin gently to turn her face to look at him. “Papilio, we may not be madly in love with one another, but I do care about you and want you happy. I’ve told you that before, I don’t know why any of this should come as a surprise.  I wasn’t flirting with that female, if that is what you think, and there isn't anyone else here I want to spend time with. I don't know why you're now feeling insecure, but I am yours.” Astaroth leaned over and softly kissed her cheek.  He was starting to understand, remembering what she had told him about things Lucifer had said.  This was their first time in public.  Maybe a place with fewer people would have been better.  A wine bar instead of a nightclub.
“Only because you are being forced.” Suddenly her voice was colder, she was fighting tears and she didn't know why.  She was trying to put on her millennia old mask of indifference and condescension but it wasn’t working. “We both know I'm not the one in this bar you'd be with if you had a choice.” Her eyes again swept the women lusting after him, then could not meet his afterwards.
His eyes followed hers and he sighed. “I cannot help how others look at me.  Just like I can't control the men who are ogling you.” They quick whip of her head, to look at him, told him she hadn't even noticed. She had been so caught up in her own jealousy and insecurity that she had not noticed anyone paying attention to her.  He found that intriguing.  She had been afraid of losing him.  It had never occurred to her that there were others within the bar that would have been glad to take her away from him.  It still bothered him slightly that she was taking her insecurity out on him, even if he was beginning to understand.  “Why are you getting upset at me for what they are doing?” Astaroth wasn't sure where this patience was coming from, but he was thankful for it.
“I'm not.” Yara protested. “I just know how this goes.” She saw one of his brows raise so she continued with how her thoughts went.  “Once you find a way out of…” a finger landed on her lips very softly, but it was the darkening of his eyes that gave her pause more than that.  She knew that look.  She’d seen it during their wedding.  She’d seen it with her father.  This was anger.  Deep, dark, anger. The fact that what she had started to say evoked that emotion so strong and deep told her one thing: she was very, very wrong.
“I have not, nor do I plan to look for a way out of this. I have tried making plans for the future with you today about the house.  We will be visiting someone who can tell us about your mother.  Do not finish that sentence if you truly want things to work out between us, even if just as friends in this arrangement.  Because if that is what you truly think of me, then there is no future of anything but resentment and discord.” He was angry but trying not to lash at her the way he normally would at someone who insulted him like that.  A temper tantrum from her was the last thing he fucking needed. 
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ekbelsher · 2 years
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I’m so excited about this book! It’s called The Second Death of Edie and Violet Bond (by debut author Amanda Glaze) and I was honoured to do some promotional art for it 😄 (This print is part of her preorder campaign. Book comes out October 2022)
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cljordan-imperium · 3 months
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Bayou Witches - 3
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Heaven Shelby belongs to @call-sign-shark “Follow.”  Mel grinned, biting her lower lip as she beckoned Heaven with all the fingers on her right hand, backing towards the staircase to the lower floor from the doorway of the blonde's bedroom.  The women had ended up spending the day shopping in the nearest small town with Mel’s mom and sister, both named Marie, having fun and exploring all the little shops.  Heaven had thought the place reminded her of something out of one of those holiday TV movies that came to life, where everyone was super friendly and all had the most amazing accents.  Not to mention there were plenty of places selling delicious smelling treats that tasted even better.  Now she wondered what her new friend was up to, there was no missing the impish grin that lit up the brunette’s face, all the way to her oceanic blue eyes.
“What?”  Heaven started to reach for her sandals, when Mel rushed forward to grab her hand and pull her forward before she could. 
“Nope.  Tonight is barefoot.”  Mel’s grin grew.  “I promise you don’t have to worry about delicate feet at all.”
“Meeeelll…”  Heaven drew out her name as she started to follow, laughing and wondering what was in store.  
“Adoption ceremony time.”  Mel spun, her patchwork skirt flaring out in a wide circle around her as she did.  
“I’m sorry, what?” Heaven’s eyes went wide as Marie suddenly seemed to appear from nowhere and take one of her hands.
“You are now a bayou witch, child.  Come and meet your ancestors.  They have been waiting a long time for you to show up.”  Marie’s heavy Creole French accent made her words sound rich and aristocratic.  Her face though, it showed all the love a mother could have for a child as she gazed at Heaven and placed a kiss on her cheek.  “It is time you meet all of your family.”
Heaven watched Mel almost bound down the steps of the interior of the mansion with child-like enthusiasm, while Marie gently led her.  Marie II was a the bottom of the stairs waiting for her sister.  A tight hug was exchanged before Francois and Dontanion also stepped into view, hugs once more being exchanged.  Then the two sisters scampered off like children towards the back of the house.
“Do not worry about Arthur, he is in Alexander and Cade’s capable hands for the evening.  They are very familiar with how important family ceremonies are.”  Francois offered his arm to his new little sister.  The last time there was a new female LaVeau had been the birth of Melania.  They were rare.  Heaven would be the only adoption, and she would be just as loved as those born into the bloodline.
“Your brothers will escort you to the ceremony, child.  Welcome home, Heaven LaVeau-Shelby.  You will always have family in the Louisiana bayou.”  Marie kissed both Heaven’s cheeks before leaving her in Dontanion and Francois’ care.  She, like her daughters headed for the back of the mansion.
“Tonight, you will meet aunties, uncles, cousins, nieces, and nephews within the line of the LaVeaus.  Then you’ll meet the ancestors.  No one tonight will mean you harm. We perform the same ceremony when there is a birth only then the baby is carried by its parents, you get escorts.” Dontanion explained in his accent that mirrored his mother’s.
Heaven was led across the back lawn of the mansion towards the bayou.  She could see a golden glow within the cypress trees that hung with Spanish moss and the low mangroves that were dotted among them.  As they drew nearer, she could hear the beat of the drums, and words in a language that she didn’t understand.  The closer they got, it was no longer discernible whether the singing was coming from in front of them, or from all around them.  It was as if the ancient cypress were singing themselves, the drumming coming from inside them.  The firelight made the shadows cast by the spanish moss to make the trees look alive.  It was like the entire bayou was welcoming Heaven home, and in a way it was.
Finally, they were close enough that Heaven could see the circle.  In the center was a bonfire, the wood piled so it was highest in the center.  Around that danced all of the females of the family.  Long skirts that brushed the ground, and like Melania’s, they all flared out when they spun.  Behind them were the males and the drums of all kinds.  Some were small enough to be carried, while others had to be placed and the drummer stood behind.  It was a sight unlike anything that Heaven had ever seen before.
When the three reached the edge of the firelight, everyone fell silent.  Marie came to the front, her rosary in one hand, her small staff with a silver head in the form of Baron Samedi in the other.  Twirling her rosary and moving the staff in a rhythm, she began to do a chant in the same language that Heaven had heard as they’d approached.  One of the drummers with a drum came forward to match the rhythm that she was indicating.  After two times through whatever incantation that Marie was doing, the other women and girls joined in.  There was also an intricate kind of line dance that the women did as they moved around the fire, making sure their skirts did not get too close to it. It started slow at first, then slowly began to increase in speed, but the rhythm stayed the same.
As Heaven watched and listened to the beautiful song, she started to notice what she thought were shadows moving across the waters of the bayou at first.  Later, she realized that it was the spirits coming out of the bayou and joining in the movements with the members of the LaVeau family. The spirits each carried a candle, a yellow flame atop each one.  Their voices echoed like soft breezes through the leaves of the trees as they joined in with the living LaVeaus.  Over 300 years of family came together to welcome their newest member to the fold.  The love almost palpable in the air as the members of the family, both living and passed on, now surrounding her in a circle.  It was a ritual that had been performed countless times over the centuries and would be performed  countless more in the future.
See blood did not make one a LaVeau, it was more than that.  Amongst those, living and dead, that were in  the bayou that night, there was an energy, a presence, in the very soul, the very being, that tied them all together.  It was a bond that even death could not break and  distance could not thin.  Time did not diminish, and the more members that came into the fold, the greater it grew.  Love is what made one a LaVeau and once you were one, all of those who came before and after accepted you without hesitation and loved without reservation.  Never, no matter where you were in the world, would you walk alone, because your ancestors would walk alongside you.  Tonight, Heaven became a LaVeau, and forever more she would be one and get to experience everything that came along with it.
@blind-the-winds @saltysupercomputer @pheita @writingmaidenwarrior @dreaminggoblin @toribookworm22 @korblez @aziz-reads @evita-shelby @call-sign-shark @cillmequick @raincoffeeandfandoms @spookyceph
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magical-mistakes-vm · 3 months
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"Are you having trouble breathing, Mahala?" Baldur was concerned, and was relieved when she shook her head. That was at least one thing they weren’t going to have to deal with. The inability to speak and that damn big bruise, they were. Why weren’t they healing? He had tried more than one type of healing and reversal spell and enchantment and it didn’t seem to be helping. This was normally something he could do without hardly a thought. He had to figure it out and do it fast if they didn’t want Vollrath to know about the situation. "Don’t you worry about a single thing, we are going to fix this, babygirl. It's resisting my healing right now; but, you're going to be okay, I’m just going.. "
"To get the fuck out of my way." Vollrath interrupted him abruptly, with a voice that was a low and almost feral growl; and he saw Baldur visibly flinch when he did. As his friend stood and turned to step away from the couch, Vollrath grabbed his shoulder, "when it comes to her, don't EVER hide something from me again." He didn't yell or raise his voice, he didn't have to. Baldur knew how serious he was, and nodded. The only thing keeping Vollrath from leveling his own office was knowing it would just put her through more pain, and she was currently dealing with enough.
"Close your eyes, my little witch." Vollrath told Mahala, as he replaced Baldur, sitting on the edge of the couch with his hip right up against her. His fingers gently traced over the deep pink, purple, and blue bruise that seemed to be darkening as he touched it. It was the opposite of what should be happening, and it frustrated him. He had no clue what Jonathan had done, but he had the power and control to be able to make it so she would be just fine. There was nothing Jonathan could have done that he couldn’t undo, that’s part of what made him who and what he was. The warlock down in a containment room would be dealt with later, by someone else. With his anger, he’d kill him if it was he that handled things.
Mahala nodded as she felt his gentle and light touches; she trusted him. Her hand went over to rest on his thigh and she felt one of his rest on top of it. The warmth of his hand and the way he cradled hers softly was comforting, it almost felt caring and protective. Surely it was her imagination though, it had only been less than a day since they’d met. It seemed like ever since she had returned to the town where her mother had grown up, one thing after another had gone wrong, but so far the morning in Vollrath’s office had been the worst. That’s why it was so perplexing that the man himself was able to ease her worries and upset. It put a very slight smile on her lips as she lay and waited for him to fix everything.
His palm ghosted over the skin of her throat, barely touching it, as he tried to not put too much pressure on the bruise that would be painful even if there had been no magic behind it; Vollrath closed his eyes to focus his magic on not only healing but reversing whatever spell or enchantment had been cast to silence her. He could feel the resistance to his mystical powers, and that only served to feed the rage that was building within him; he used that frustration to fuel his efforts to heal her. A slight whimpering from Mahala, as he increased his magic to force back Jonathan’s, made him instantly come to a complete stop with his efforts. He now knew what had happened and why nothing was getting better, and he was going to need one of the other men to fix it. As with handling Johnathan, his solution would be to simply kill him, which would no doubt not make the Coven Counsel happy, and they would now have to be involved.
“Shhh…I won’t do anything more that will cause you pain.” He gently caressed her cheek with his fingertips, then her forehead as he tried to sooth her. “You can still breathe without any problems?” He tried to keep his expression soft and warm, as was his tone, so he wouldn’t upset her any more than she already was. When she nodded, he was relieved that at least it was not getting worse. Vollrath could feel some of the tension in his body ease, as he was reassured that she was not in danger of suffocation. It was just temporary pain, not a risk of death. That he could deal with.
For a moment he thought about which of his friends would be better to send on the required errand for him. “Baldur, can you please come here for a moment?” He heard both men start to approach, which made him chuckle lightly. Both of them were worried; a fact that both warmed and amused him. He knew that they’d gotten off to a bad start that morning, but it did seem they were trying to make up for it. This is why they were his closest and oldest friends, while all three of them were far from perfect, when they made mistakes, they were ready to make amends without question.
“What do you need me to do, Vol?” Baldur was ready for whatever Vol had to say, or so he thought. He looked down at Mahala who looked even smaller than she had before, swaddled in Vollrath’s jacket as she lay with eyes closed. Guilt gnawed at him for how everything up till that point in the day had gone. If he and Elmar hadn’t good naturedly tried to provoke their friend, she wouldn’t have been alone in the office, for everything to have happened.
Vollrath turned, so he was looking at his two friends, his expression instantly changing and becoming malevolent and dark. Both men stepped back and gave him wary glances, not sure if one of them had done something, or if there was another problem. His eyes grew darker to an almost chocolate brown, his brows coming lower and closer together, and his jaw harder and more set, which only added the dark edge in his voice when he spoke. “Go down to containment and knock the asshole there unconscious. If he accidentally hits his head too hard and dies, oops…” His lips twisted into a sardonic smile. “He was trying to kill her when she defended herself and he’s still tied to her because of it. I’d go, but I WOULD kill him.” Vollrath’s jaw clenched again and there was no doubt in either of the men’s minds in front of him that he was serious. That they could see his one hand still lightly caressing the side of Mahala’s face was both unsettling and impressive.
Baldur’s lips thinned, his eyes now darkening as well; not only with what he’d been asked to do, but also with what he knew would have to come later. He’d been in the Coven long enough to know what Jonathan’s actions meant for the Coven as a whole. “I’ll call the counsel when I’m done. We’ll hold the meeting in the main conference room after hours tonight, for judgment on punishment. I’ll make sure he doesn’t wake up until then, and I’ll add another band.” He nodded to Vollrath, and turned and exited the room, his hands balling to fists as he did. Whatever had caused Jonathan to attack her, there would be no justification for almost killing her. If she was human the sentence would normally be death. That she was a new witch coming into the Coven complicated matters greatly, but he had a feeling that the judgment would be exactly the same.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Elmar looked at Vollrath, who he could tell was having a hard time staying calm, and not lashing out at Jonathan through the floors that separated them. Elmar himself was having problems staying still. He needed to be doing something to help. He hated feeling useless.
“Pull down the surveillance feed onto my laptop. Once Jonathan’s unconscious, it should stop back-feeding the spell, that has her voice trapped and the bruise darkening when I’m trying to cancel it out. I want to know exactly what happened in this office, but I don’t want to put her through having to relive it. We’ll also know what the Counsel is going to see tonight and where we need to clip it to keep certain things…private.” His jaw was flexing as Vollrath was trying to control his temper. Elmar could see that somehow, Mahala was remaining calm next to him. No matter what he had said after calling Baldur over, she had not started getting upset again. The woman truly was an enigma, and he was now convinced she was the Lioness to Vollrath’s Lion within the Nachtnebel line.
Baldur reappeared at the door a few minutes later, “you’re clear. He won’t be waking up for….a while.” A tick started in his jaw that had Elmar’s brows raising, and he headed over to Vollrath’s laptop quickly. Two of the most powerful men he knew physically and magically both pissed to the edge of reason, sure he wanted to be near them…like he wanted to be in front of a raging rhino!
“Hold still, love, and this will be over in just a minute. It shouldn’t hurt again.” Vollrath picked Mahala’s hand off of his thigh, turning it over and kissing the palm, before replacing the palm of his other hand against her throat. Closing his eyes, he focused his energy and power, causing his hand to glow and a warmth to spread over the whole area. He could hear Mahala’s breathing deepening, which meant she was relaxing, and that reassured him that this time it was working.
After approximately five minutes, the glow faded and Vollrath pulled his hand back. Baldur was now standing and looking over his shoulder. Both men could see the bruise gone, hopefully this meant that all Vollrath had been doing had been successful this time.
“Babygirl, can you say something so big guy here doesn’t kill someone?” Baldur finally said something, when Vollrath didn’t, earning him a glare from his friend that had him rolling his eyes.
“You’re loud, asshole.” Mahala said softly, making Vollrath laugh.
“She’s not wrong.” Vollrath kissed her knuckles and then pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Rest, sweetheart. I think Elmar’s ready for me over at my laptop. We won’t leave you in the room alone again.” That got him a thumb’s up, so he stood and headed over to his desk, followed by Baldur, who still looked ready to commit murder in an instant.
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weremoose · 6 days
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PREVIEW: Paranormal Deertective #1: The Laundry Room Haunting SUMMARY: Elmer's a deer down on his luck with a passion for the paranormal, Finnick's a single sheep dad trying to take care of his son, Finley, and Liam's a young rooster who's the new kid in town. When Elmer's elderly neighbour starts speaking of a ghost haunting the apartment's laundry room, the four of them work to solve this paranormal case, all with the help of an authorless book specialized in contacting the dead. WORD COUNT: 734 PREVIEW IMAGE:
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Feedback and constructive criticism is much appreciated; just please be respectful!
The door, greyed with age, screeched loudly in a way that made Liam cringe out of fear of being caught. Once Finley swung it open, they were greeted by the sight of a dark, dusty room, cobwebs littering every available space on the ceiling. There were books scattered everywhere, tossed haphazardly into random piles, although there were some stuffed into cubbies with no particular care. 
While Finley proceeded to walk in, Liam instinctively went to flick on the lights. Despite flicking the switch up…and down, and up, and repeating that several times in rapid succession, there was no response from the ceiling lights aside from the dimmest flicker.
“Don’t bother,” Finley eventually told him, “They don’t work. Just leave the door open.”
Liam wasn’t particularly fond of that idea given that it’d make it far more likely for the teachers to catch them, but he wasn’t fond of being stuck in the dark in a creepy room, either. So he did as Finley said, and moved on.
Glancing around at the mess, Liam was both puzzled and a little disturbed. He really wasn’t sure if it was the knowledge that he wasn’t meant to be there or the decrepit condition of the room or both. Whatever the case, he felt uneasy. However, he couldn’t deny that he also found himself incredibly fascinated.
“Why does the school even have this place?” he asked genuinely.
Finley shrugged his shoulders. “No clue. They got lots of books here, though.”
Hesitant but morbidly curious, Liam approached one of the tall book stacks (well, more like a book pile. Or perhaps even a book hill). When his foot tapped against something on the floor, he instinctively looked down, finding a book at his feet.
Kneeling, Liam picked two books up, the dim lighting requiring him to squint to read the titles.
“‘The Health Benefits of Recycled Teeth?’” Looking at the book in his opposite hand, he lifted it closer to his face to read it better. “‘Top Ten Bugs That You Eat in Your Sleep.’”
“That one’s kinda boring,” Finley said casually. He appeared preoccupied with looking through the cubbies, clearly searching for something.
Liam quickly put down the books with an unsettled expression, as though they were burning his hands (which, frankly, with such cursed titles as that, it wouldn’t surprise him if they did).
“Why do they even have these?” Liam questioned. “Who would read this stuff?”
“Me,” Finley replied at once.
“But why?”
“I think they’re neat.”
Finley then pulled out a book, holding it out to Liam to show him.
“This one’s my personal favourite,” said Finley.
Curiosity still evident in his gaze, as though he’d already forgotten the absurdity of the last couple of titles, Liam took the book from Finley’s hands and read it:
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“‘How to Contact the Dead?’”
Turning the book in his hands, Liam tried to find any sort of other text on the book’s leather bound cover.
“There’s not even an author,” he observed.
“I know. Cool, right?” Although Finley’s voice was fairly monotone, the excitement in his voice was still evident, complete with his fluffy tail wagging.
“It’s very mysterious.”
Liam’s curiosity persisted, and he decided to flip through some of its pages. A brief glance of its contents
showed that the book contained a lot of large words — definitely ones that weren’t elementary level — and written in a version of English that wasn’t exactly modern.
From what Liam could understand, it appeared to be very meticulous in its instructions. The author — whoever they might have been — was trying really hard to sell this whole ‘ghosts are real’ thing.
“Do you think any of it’s actually real?” Liam asked earnestly.
Finley merely shrugged. “Dunno. I’ve never encountered a ghost before to really confirm.”
“Do you want to?”
“If given the opportunity, I would take it, yes.”
Liam eyed the pages once more, then decided to hand it back to Finley at last.
“I don’t know if I’d want to see one,” Liam said decisively. “Sounds kinda scary.”
“They’re not that scary,” Finley said casually, “They’re just dead people.”
Liam shuddered, his feathers puffing up as he echoed in disbelief, “JUST dead people?”
“Yeah. I mean, they’re probably just like me and you, only deader.”
“And you’re okay with that? That thought doesn’t freak you out at all?”
“No. I’m not really scared of anything.”
“Huh. Wish that were me.”
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amayadartan · 3 months
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While Olly has been taking care of Amaya, things are not so smooth elsewhere in the Palace for Dartan...
“I want to see her.  I need to make sure she’s alright.” Dartan’s voice was raised as he was arguing with Arioch not far outside of the apartment of rooms he’d been given in an unused wing of the Palace.  He was being guarded, and, as soon as he’d tried to leave, Arioch and Mithos had been alerted.  For the time being, all agreed keeping him segregated from everyone was the best option, given his surly disposition and what had happened to Amaya.
“No one thinks that is best for HER right now.  She needs rest and quiet.  Olly and Arch will be attending to her, along with Abriella and possibly her friend Cassandra, who we have learned has healing abilities as well.  You need not worry about the sweet witch.”  Arioch had to admit he had a soft spot for her.  The previous night she hadn’t reacted when some of their glamour had slipped a couple of times, and she seemed sweet.  What problem Dartan had with her was his own.  She was now stuck there, confused, scared, and didn’t look at the scar down his face with disdain like some had.
“So other men are given the ability to see, touch, and care for my wife, but I cannot.  Do you hear yourself?  How ridiculous is that?!”  Dartan’s voice raised again, and he took a step towards the fallen.  He did not know why he was so angry at being kept away, except he wanted to apologize, to explain that he had not meant for her to be hurt.  If he was bound to her, the least he should be able to do is talk to her.
“You want a divorce, so technically you're her ex-husband as soon as someone figures out how to do it.  Trust me, we’re working hard on that, by the way.  Then we’ll send you home, much to the relief of all of us.”  Arioch was losing his patience.  He was not patient on the best of days, and the Demon of Vengeance wasn’t having the best day with his friend Asher having been tortured by Lucifer’s son, then the hunt for Amaya, and her healing last night.  He was tired and wanted to be done with the spectre in front of him.
“I’ve changed my mind.”  The look on Arioch’s face was one of pure, complete, and unadulterated shock.  Dartan had lost his mind.  The fallen was now sure of it.
“I’m sorry, what did you just say?”  Arioch blinked twice, sure he had not heard the damned spectre correctly.  “You. Changed. Your. Mind?” He repeated the words back slowly, still staring at Dartan as if the other male had grown a second head.  If he had, that might explain this new development.  NOW he changed his mind?  NOW!  “Could you have maybe done that BEFORE you lost her in a forest full of creatures who think of humans as snacks?  Hmm?  Would that, I don’t know, possibly, have been too inconvenient for you?”  The sarcasm was so thick in Arioch’s voice it was almost palpable in the air between the two males, as they faced off against one another.  
“Don’t even start with me, demon.”  Dartan’s voice held warning.  Not that he knew what he’d do to the other male.  “It’s not like I had a lot of time to think about things.  And she…”
“She what?!” Arioch was completely flummoxed on even what to say at this point, and damn near at his breaking point.  If he didn’t think that snapping the neck of the being in front of him might harm Amaya, he would have.  “She made a mistake?!  You mean like you did abandoning her in the forest of a foreign realm where there are vicious animals?  That kind of mistake?  Or one that just inconveniences your royally egotistical dumbass day?” Now the demon was growling, a slight glow starting around him.  Had Dartan considered who he was speaking to, he would have remembered Arioch was the demon of REVENGE.  As in payback.  So getting payback for an innocent left to die in a forest would be right up his alley. Funneling any of the feelings Amya had towards Dartan regarding her treatment would FEED him.
"I didn't ASK to be married to her, but here we are, and I AM.  SHE. IS. MY. WIFE!" Dartan roared back, still not considering who he was dealing with in the slightest. He took a step towards Arioch, his hand coming in front of him, one at chest level palm down and the other at his waist with palm up. Between them a colored mist started to swirl. Fuck this demon, and fuck anyone else who got in his way.
Arioch was not one to be threatened or to back down.  The spectre wanted to dance?  He'd dance, and they'd see if Dartan could die a second time.  Patience completely gone, Arioch shifted into his full, fallen demonic form in an instant, and his talons were buried in the side of Dartan’s neck; purple blood began flowing down the spectre's chest.
Dartan’s eyes were wide as pain cascaded through his body.  Every nerve was lit up as if chain lightning was traversing through every fibre of his entire body.  It was then he realized he'd made a very grave miscalculation on who held the upper hand betwixt the two of them.
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ckatwriter · 3 months
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If you're in the east TN area, come say hi and maybe pick up a copy of my book!
Say the Tumblr secret code for 2 dollars off 😜
Bring me a present for 50% off 😝 /hj
Book summary:
The Afterlife has a flyover state, and it's called Purgatory.
Overlooked, often misunderstood, and exactly where Terry ends up.
After taking her own life, Terry isn't met with pearly gates or fire and brimstone, but with gray office buildings and a crummy apartment. She wakes up on Purgatory's lowest level with no memory of her life, a lot of questions, and a job to work off the years she had left on Earth as a Soul Shepherd in the hope of achieving a better ultimate destination.
She meets Dean, her quippy, sarcastic manager who evades her questions at every turn, but whose help Terry will need if she ever has a chance to move forward or find out who she used to be. And with the help of new friends who know what it's like to be stuck in limbo, she's determined to make the best of a weird situation.
Besides...she's already dead, what's the worst that could happen?
TW: mentions of suicide but not shown on-page, depression, death, and (alluded to) transphobia
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txfeline720 · 1 year
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Attention Tumblrs, lend me your ears and take heed of a potentially great show recommendation.
The show in question is Lockwood and Co. Based on the book series by Johnathan Stroud.
Summery:
(Copied and pasted from Wikipedia.)
"In an alternate version of present-day Britain, ghosts who are deadly to the touch have been rising from their graves for the past 50 years. Adults cannot sense the ghosts, but children can, so teenagers have been organized into licensed ghost-hunting agencies to detect and dispose of threats. Lucy Carlyle, a psychically gifted teenager, has run away from home and come to London in the hope of catching on at an agency. Running out of options, she applies for a job at a tiny outfit run by two boys from an old townhouse: Lockwood & Co."
It is on Netflix. If you like Detective and Thriller tv shows mixed with Supernatural content and of British origin, go check it out and see if it strikes your fancy.
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behindthesemasks · 4 months
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“Whose gun was that?” Case asked looking at the rest of the team members still assembled in the room after Mel had left. All heads turned towards the table where the weapons had been laid.
“Fuck! Mine.” Gabriel growled before heading to the door to follow the petite brunette who had left the room stunned by her actions. None had ever even thought she’d do anything like she had, let alone use that kind of language. She had always been more of the quiet and reserved type of person. Now Gabe worried what she might do, and who else she might shoot, with his gun.
“Well, that was exciting!” Cam chuckled as he reached down and flipped the chair with Andreas in it back upright. Everyone was pretty much ignoring the whimpering of the man in the chair, although his groans when the front feet of the chair hit the floor again did make Cam chuckle even more.
“Come on; let’s keep her from killing someone. Erik, Cam…you two play nice with our guest here and see what he has to say. If he stops cooperating, let me know and I’ll have my granddaughter come back in.” Ambrose grinned and winked at Andreas. He was quite proud of Mel; he wouldn’t have suspected she was capable of such violence. One should never judge a book by its diminutive and graceful exterior though; it was all just a mask that hid what lay underneath. “The rest of you, come on. We have some work to do.”
Ambrose and the others left the room, leaving only Andreas and his two interrogators. The reduction of people in the room didn’t make him feel any better though. He was quite sure he wasn’t leaving the room alive and that one of his two cousins would be the one putting a bullet in his brain in the end of it all. That Mel would be back and inflict more pain also seemed to be a foregone conclusion in the man’s mind as well. He had known her for years, and never had he seen her like that. When she found the one that hired him, he did not envy what she or those around her would do.
Back in the suite, Mel had changed out of her dress and into a black tee and jeans. She was just pulling on her hiking boots when Gabe came in. “If you’re thinking of trying to stop me, I still have the gun and I’ve just proven I’ll use it.” Her eyes were hard and full of fury, but her expression also said that she didn’t really want to hurt him, which made Gabe relax some. He honestly didn’t blame her for her reaction to Andreas. She wasn’t the only one who wanted to shoot him; she was just the one that had.
“I’m not here to stop you Mel. I’m here to make sure that you don’t kill a friendly or get yourself hurt while you lash out in this anger.” Years of experience allowed Gabe to keep his voice calm as he spoke to her. Inside his heart was racing. He knew there was no way that if she went for the weapon that lay on the couch beside her that he could stop her in time for her not to get even a poor shot at him, and at this distance that meant a world of pain for him. Never had it crossed his mind while they’d been in the other room that Mel would take any of their weapons. All of his years of training and attention to detail was now nagging in his brain that he was an idiot for giving her the chance.
“I’m not going to hurt anyone. I’m going to the hospital. Alexander and Sasha are both there. I don’t know who that third man is, but someone needs to be there to keep an eye on them, and not just Caden.” Mel stood after tying the laces on her shoe. Picking up the pistol, she unscrewed the suppressor and tossed it to Gabe. “I don’t need that part. You can either come with me or stay here, but I’m not giving back the gun Gabe.”
Catching the suppressor, Gabe nodded. He wasn’t going to argue with her. “I’ll go with you, but will you give me a minute to go get another pistol. You happen to be holding mine and I don’t like being at a disadvantage.” Gabe gave her a half smile that was a little sheepish.
Nodding, Mel lifted the back of her shirt and slid the weapon into the back of her jeans, after making sure that the safety was on. As he turned to leave the room, she started to follow him. Their path was blocked by Klaus, Case, Nic, and Ambrose. The four of them looked at the pair expectantly, eyebrows raised.
“And you’re going where?” Nic asked, his eyes alternating between the two of them.
“The hospital.” Mel’s tone was flat and her gaze even.
“I’m going with her, but since she has my gun, I have to get another one.” Gabe followed up with a look of resignation on his face and a slightly sarcastic smile on his face as he held up the suppressor.
“I don’t think so.” Klaus challenged her, earning raised eyebrows and amused expressions from Nic and Ambrose. Had he just watched what they had? Did he really want to challenge her right now?
One eyebrow rose and Gabe stepped back as he saw the woman tense. “Excuse me? I don’t remember asking your permission. And what’s more…I don’t need to.” The challenge in Mel’s expression and tone of voice said that if thought he was going to stop her that he was severely mistaken.
Growling, Klaus’s jaw ticked. How had things gone so sideways? “Fine,” he ground out, clearly displeased. “But it won’t be just Gabe going with you. Case and I will be too.” It wasn’t a request, it was a statement. A flat out statement. His expression was a stubborn one and as set as hers was. It was going to be a meeting of the wills and the other four standing there weren’t sure who was going to win.
“Fine, you two can have a pissing match later. I need a gun.” Gabe sighed and started to move forward. He had a new respect for the female, but that didn’t mean he wanted to stand there and watch as she had a stare down with Klaus. He’d seen enough people do that over the years that he knew that it was better to just carry on and let them catch up later.
Ambrose reached behind him and pulled his weapon, handing it by the barrel to Gabe. “Take mine. You,” he pointed to Mel, “don’t argue and take all 3 men. You,” he pointed to Gabe, “keep them from killing each other. You,” he pointed to Case, “be the lookout, take up a sniper position when and where you can. I want you to be the ghost of the operation. And finally you,” his eyes met Klaus’s with an expression that said he was in control here and wasn’t going to be challenged. “You are going to make sure that she gets out of there exactly like she is right now. One bruise and we’ll have words. Got it?” Klaus nodded, as did the others.
Mel smirked and went to her toes to kiss Ambrose on the cheek. “You got it boss.” She gave him a wink before grabbing the front of Klaus’s shirt and started to pull him out the door to the suite. “You heard him, make sure I don’t get myself killed. Your job is to watch my ass, and I doubt you’ll have a problem with that.” She had mostly gotten her way, if she was going to have an entourage; she was going to give them hell.
Case about choked as he laughed and Gabe rolled his eyes as he followed the pair. They could both see the tick in Klaus’s jaw. Neither was exactly sure what he was restraining himself from…throttling her, or kissing her senseless. Knowing Klaus, it might be a mixture of both.
“Who’s driving?” Mel’s voice came from the front.
Case and Gabe looked at each other for a second before Gabe answered, “Case. You get to play pampered princess in the back seat with me and Klaus.” He slowed up a bit, half expecting her to come round at him.
“At least you have it down what my position is in this.” The sarcasm was thick in Mel’s voice and this brought a full on laugh from Gabe. She was going to give them hell every step of the way, he was sure of it. Not that he really expected any less of her.
“You’re not going to make this easy, are you?” There was no missing the resignation in Klaus’s voice that she was not going to give an inch and be in charge.
As they waited for the elevator, Case and Gabe took up positions on each side of Klaus. They were ready to block anyone coming from the back and shield anyone coming off of the elevator. Given they were taking the entire top floor of the hotel, the first wasn’t really too great a possibility unless it was another member of the team. And since this floor required a key to get to, the same was true of the elevator, but one never knew and you always planned for contingencies.
Mel turned to face him. “I’m going to do what needs to be done. That’s what I’m going to do. They’re after Alexander, Klaus; do you really expect me to sit her on my hands and do jack shit? It’s your cousin in there, who shot one of the nicest people I’ve ever met and would have put the red dot on Alexander’s head too. So, no, I’m not going to make it easy. You’re going to tell me when you run and op that it’s always easy? Of course not…so if you can’t handle things…”
Mels’s words were cut off as she found her back against the wall and Klaus’s face in hers. His eyes were hard and even she saw his jaw tick. “If I can’t handle it, what? I can walk away. NOT.FUCKING.HAPPENING. Feel me, doll? You can try to push me away all you like, it ain’t happening again.” His breathing was heavy and it was clear she’d hit a nerve. Still her face didn’t relax, she was defiant as ever and he found it sexy as fuck. Watching her when she’d been sad and meek had broken his heart, this was the woman he had fallen in love with all the years ago. The one who was ready to take on the world.
Before she could stop him, his lips crashed into hers. One hand was next to her head, against the wall, and the other was holding the back of her neck, his thumb by her ear. His kiss was rough, demanding, and possessive. All truth, he wanted to pin her against the wall and do much more than kiss her, but he knew this wasn’t the time or the place. His cock straining against his pants wanted to argue that point though.
There had always been something about his possessiveness and dominance that was a turn on and that was no different now. The fist holding his shirt tightened, digging a small pearl button into the palm of her hand. She kissed him back with the same passion, not caring about the two other men who were standing there. They were big boys, they could deal.
Finally Klaus broke the kiss, keeping his forehead against hers and looking into those clear blue eyes he adored. “I’m not gonna back down, doll. You want to take out my cousin? So do I. He’s gone too far. And I want to make sure Alexander is safe too. But you going off half-cocked and getting yourself hurt, or worse…it isn’t going to help a damn thing. So be pissed we’re with you if you want, but it ain’t changing. So we can have the rest of this discussion later.”
As the elevator dinged, arriving at the floor. Klaus’s lips curved into a smirk and he kissed the top of her nose. “Now get that sexy ass in line and let’s do this.”
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apparitionsxanonymous · 3 months
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Coffee
Apparition Anonymous is a collection of fictional stories told from the POV of the Grim Reaper as they guide newly departed souls to the Afterlife. Enjoy, and thank you for reading.
Read the previous part.
The man sitting across the table from me hummed to himself as he sipped his coffee. I watched him as he’d take a sip, peer into the cup, then take another sip. He didn’t pay me any mind. I looked over my shoulder to the left to see that the giant clock on the wall was still green.
Time wasn’t measured; it was an illusion. It was man-made in the physical world that everyone ran their lives by. Whatever position the sun and moon were in, whatever numbers the clock showed, that’s how they lived their lives.
It carried into the Spirit World, too. This clock didn’t have numbers on it, but it changed colors based on how much longer a session was. Green meant I still had much of the session to go. It normally didn’t get close to ending unless the spirit had learned something or felt better about why they’re here or felt better about their previous life.
When the man entered the room, we politely greeted each other before I offered him a beverage. He graciously took the coffee, but I couldn’t tell if he was enjoying it or not. At this point, he would begin to lose his sense of taste, so I assumed the coffee didn’t taste that great. Maybe he was trying to figure out why it didn’t taste great or why he could barely taste it at all? It was hard to tell without him speaking to me.
I didn’t think he was ignoring me on purpose. In fact, I didn’t think he was ignoring me at all. Sometimes the spirits needed some time to process things themselves at first.
“What brand is this?” he finally broke the awkward silence.
“Oh,” I hesitated, suddenly surprised at his question. “It’s um, mine.”
“I see,” he nodded, taking another sip before placing his mug back down on the table. “It tastes like… it tastes like the coffee my first wife used to make.”
I arched a brow. “Really?” I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.
He nodded, smirking. “I was usually the one to make the coffee in the morning because she was terrible at it. She’d always add too many grounds into the brewer or not enough. So, the coffee was always extremely watered down, or you’d be crunching on grounds.”
He laughed, and so did I. I was sure the coffee tasted watery to him because he was losing his sense of taste. Regardless, I’d let him believe I was a terrible coffee maker.
“There were some mornings I thought my ex-wife did it on purpose. She’d always drink the coffee just fine. I mean, she seemed to enjoy it more whenever I made it, but she’d drink it no matter what if she made it. I never knew if she made it better for herself and tried to ruin my morning, or if she really was that bad at making coffee and only drank it because she was being stubborn about it.”
I nodded, letting the man talk. I didn’t know too much about a spirit’s previous life before they joined the Afterlife. I knew about how they died and what exactly happened, but as far as everything else in their life, I had no idea. That would be too much information for me to handle. Not to mention, that whatever they did in their physical form had nothing to do with the Afterlife, despite what some of them believed.
“I guess none of that matters now, though, huh?” the man sighed. “I’m here, and there’s no going back.”
I shook my head. “No, but you could revisit the living world if you chose to. You can still visit your friends and family and keep an eye on them.”
The man cast a sad smile in my direction. “I was supposed to get married again. My wedding was in about a month. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to love again, not after my first wife. Not that my ex-wife was a bad person, don’t get me wrong. She was wonderful in her own way. But, somewhere down the road, we fell out of love. I had seen it happen before, but it was never something I thought would happen to me, you know?”
“It always happens to other people, yes,” I said in agreement, “but that doesn’t make us invincible.”
“Exactly,” he chuckled, “because we’re all other people to other people.” He took another sip of his coffee, making a face as though it was hard for him to swallow.
“I should point out that you’ll lose your sense of taste over time now that you’re here,” I explained.
He forced a grin toward me, and I didn’t know why he felt the need to be so optimistic. Then again, I’d rather him be in a good mood and polite than the opposite.
“Nah, it’s alright. Just a bit cold,” he said.
I flicked my wrist, adding more coffee to his mug and warming it up. He took another sip, sighing happily.
Maybe it wasn’t about the taste for him at all. His soul was growing cold, and he clung to that warm feeling.
“I guess everything happens for a reason, right?” he asked.
I nodded, even though that wasn’t completely true. Everyone was given a specific amount of time to live in their physical form the moment they were born. It was unclear, even to me, when someone’s life was longer than someone else’s. It was unclear why someone would die of a sickness, get into an accident, or get caught in a natural disaster. It was unclear when someone would join the Afterlife naturally or join at the hands of another, or sometimes themselves. If all of that had a reason behind it, I had no idea what it was.
However, if he believed there was a reason behind it, and that helped him find his peace, then I’d let him think whatever he wanted.
The clock on the wall had already turned orange, and I didn’t know why. How could our time already almost be over when we barely chatted? Could it be that he was already at peace?
I watched the man take another sip of his coffee, and he grinned again. “Do you know what this reminds me of?”
“Your ex-wife?” I questioned.
He nodded. “I know, I find it odd that it’s comforting me, too. Again, she wasn’t a bad person. We simply fell out of love. I don’t know why, I don’t know how. But that doesn’t mean we didn’t have great memories together. My divorce put me on the path to meeting my fiance. I’m sorry I’ll never get to marry her, but she made me feel again. Happiness, love, warmth. Much like this cup of coffee.
“The taste is bitter at times. Sometimes, it’ll leave a sour note behind. But if you find someone to warm it up for you, it’s easier for you to see the bright side of things.”
I opened my mouth to reply, but the clock turned red. I stood up, explaining that our time was up.
The man stood, thanking me. He took one last sip of his drink before leaving.
I stood alone while the clock turned yellow. Another soul was waiting for me to let them in, but I needed a minute. I thought I was here to help the souls find peace? But I guess I didn’t always need to have words of wisdom.
Sometimes, all you needed was someone to lend an ear over a comforting cup of coffee.
© Rachel Poli, All Rights Reserved
Thanks for reading. Apparitions Anonymous is updated every Monday and Friday. If you enjoy my work and would like to stay updated with my writing journey, please consider visiting my Ko-fi page.
Read the next part.
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aziz-reads · 6 months
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Chapter one of who knows what
Contains: Vampires, male sirens, retail burnout, and several poor choices.
As a barista, I was used to demanding customers and the never-ending line of drink orders. A regular who was notorious for never liking any drink no matter which way you made it slammed his pro-capitalist Grande cup of liquid sugar on the counter, causing it to splash over onto the register tablet. "There's too much whipped cream on this. Do you want me to get diabetes?"
"No problem, sir. I'll get right on it." I had perfected my professional smile and felt like I could handle anything, even Disgruntled Dan.
However, as I stood behind the espresso machine today, I could feel my composure beginning to crack. I was well aware of the fact that I had already tinkered with the drinks of six customers that morning, but it seemed like an impossibly high number compared to my typical workload.
My boss, a short, burly man who liked to demand perfection with each order, was watching me with his arms crossed. He had not yet said a word, but it was clear that he was waiting for something. I glanced down at the muffin selection, halfheartedly wishing there was something more substantial to offer our nicer customers, but our baker was out today with some kind of family emergency.
The customer at the far end of the bar had a hood pulled over his head, and he was wearing mirrored sunglasses that reflected my own ineptness. I took a deep breath, straightened my apron, and turned to him with a forced smile. His voice dripped with expectation as he asked for something ‘special’, and I held my breath in anticipation as my boss nodded for me to go ahead.
Off-menu drinks were rarely allowed, because if it got popular enough the chain owed the employee who created it a Finder's Fee.
My heart began to race as I set off on what felt like an impossible task. With trembling hands, I worked quickly but accurately to craft something unique. After a few moments, I had it: a layered concoction of espresso, cream, syrup, and toasted almonds topped with whipped cream.
The customer's eyes lit up as he tasted it, and he thanked me for going above and beyond his expectations. My heart swelled with pride as I watched him take another sip and he pulled out his phone to record a review video. Everything seemed perfect - until I heard an ominous noise coming from the blender behind me.
Before I could do anything, the blender let out an ear-splitting screech followed by a loud thud as it fell onto the floor. Despite my efforts to contain it, a sticky mess of fruit pulp soon covered the entire ceiling of the cafe.
My boss let out a low groan as he surveyed the scene before us. We both knew this meant that our shift was over - but not before we spent hours cleaning up this mess. The clock struck midnight as we headed outside in silence; now I had to speed walk home through a dangerous part of the city well after curfew time.
As I made my way home fighting back tears, feeling exhausted and defeated from all that had transpired that day, one echo kept running through my mind: "No problem sir...I'll get right on it."
As I turned onto yet another empty side street, the streetlights flicker before turning off entirely. Plunged into near darkness, I heard a crash from a nearby alley and the sounds of a struggle. Despite everything in my body telling me to run the other way, I creeped around the corner and peered down the alleyway.
Through the darkness, I saw a man with his face buried deep in a woman's neck, blood pouring from the wound as the woman struggles to break free. Terrified, I gasped audibly, and the man wrenched his head in my direction as the body in his grasp went limp. His glowing eyes searched for the source of the sound, and his fanged mouth hissed.
I stood, frozen in terror, my heart thumping so loud I was certain the vampire would be able to hear it. He slowly turned his head toward me, his creepy glowing eyes searching for the source of the noise. My legs felt like jelly and I couldn't move an inch as he stepped out of the shadows and into the faint light of a nearby streetlamp.
The vampire's pale skin was almost translucent in the eerie light, but what really struck me were his pointed fangs and sinister expression. He didn't appear menacing at first glance, but there was something about him that filled me with dread.
When he finally caught sight of me, his mouth curved up into a malicious smile that sent chills down my spine. I had no idea what he was going to do next - all I knew was that it wasn't going to be clean or painless. "So sorry to interrupt your meal, sir." Despite everything, my mind was still on autopilot enough to apologize for witnessing a murder.
My mind raced as I tried to figure out how I could get away safely without arousing suspicion or alerting him to my presence. The moment passed, and before I could act on it the vampire's eyes flashed with anger and hunger; he lunged at me faster than any human could possibly move.
I screamed in terror and stumbled backwards, tripping over myself as I frantically tried to escape. Just when it seemed like he was almost upon me, an unexpected force grabbed hold of my arm and yanked me out of harm's way.
The young man's armor glimmered in the moonlight, and his crossbow was polished to a shine, its bowstring taut. His face held an intensity that made my heart beat faster as he studied me, his eyes running over my neck, collar bones, and face. After what felt like an eternity, he finally raised his weapon and aimed into the darkness beyond us. He spoke without taking his gaze from the shadows. “Get behind me now.”
It took a second for me to process what was happening, but the vampire's defensive hiss broke my mind out of its trance.
"Are you insane?" I leapt forward and brought an elbow down on top of the crossbow, throwing off my would-be savior's aim and sending the arrow skidding across the ground through pieces of trash and ending its journey in a harmless roll near the vampire's feet.
Both men were now looking at me like I had grown an extra head.
I could see the anger in the young man's eyes as he glared at me. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he spat, his grip on the crossbow tightening. "That was our chance to take him out."
I shook my head, trying to regain my composure. "Take him out?" I crossed my arms and gave him my best shift-lead stare down. "I don't see an Enforcer Badge. Unless you're taking him out on a date this isn't your business."
I heard the crinkle of disturbed paper from behind me and turned on my heel. "And you!" I directed to the vampire, "Your meals shouldn't pass out when you're done with them unless it's in their feeder contract and you have a bed waiting for them."
The vampire sneered at me with disdain. "And who are you to dictate how I feed?" he hissed, baring his fangs in a menacing manner. "You're just a human. A weak, insignificant mortal."
I rolled my eyes, unimpressed by his bravado. I gave a mocking hiss back at him. "Today is not the day and I am not the one you want to mess with, buddy. If I can't take my frustrations out on customers, I'll take it out on two idiots breaking the Sundown laws."
The vampire straightened up, a look of confusion on his face. "What are you talking about?" he asked, his menacing demeanor suddenly replaced with mild curiosity.
The man in armor behind me had an equally interesting reaction: he laughed. "You're not from around here, are you?"
I narrowed my eyes, turning to keep both of them in my line of sight. "I moved here about a year ago."
"And this is, what, your first time out after curfew?"
I shrugged, not wanting to give away too much information to these two strangers. "Maybe. But that's none of your business."
The vampire stepped forward, his eyes locked on mine. "You don't understand, human. The Sundown laws have no authority in this city. Our esteemed mayor never signed the treaty."
That changed everything. I now had the appropriate amount of fear the situation was calling for. If there were no Sundown laws, then there were no Enforcers. If there were no Enforcers, then not only was there nobody to legally save me from these two, but there would also be no necromancers to bring me back as compensation for being the victim of a supernatural attack.
I channeled my anxiety into a bratty huff and turned on my heel. "Fine, be the monsters everyone thinks you are. That goes for you too, hunter." I glared at each of them in turn. "I'm going home."
I was not, in fact, going home. The hooded man with reflective sunglasses from earlier was at the end of the alley, blocking my path. I now had an ominous stranger at one end, a vampire at the other, and a hunter who may or may not be on my side now that I've yelled at him in striking distance.
I weighed my options quickly. I could run, but the hunter would likely catch me, and who knew how fast the vampire could move. I could fight, but that seemed like a losing battle against what I had to assume was at least two supernatural beings. So I did the only thing I could think of: I tried to use Customer Service on them.
"Oh hello, sir. How was your drink?" I turned completely towards the hooded man, but didn't move more than one step closer. There was a palpable silence in the alley as all of us watched for his next move, and after a few seconds that felt like an eternity, he... laughed.
It wasn't the laughter I was expecting. It was a deep, throaty kind of chuckle that made the vampire and hunter exchange wary glances. The hooded man removed his sunglasses and hung them on the edge of his breast pocket, revealing bright blue eyes that sparkled with amusement.
"I like you," he said, his voice was smooth and entrancing. "Come work for me."
I let the words wash over me. The pull of their notes spoke directly to my heart and I took another step towards him, then saw the collapsed woman who brought me here in the reflection of his dangling glasses. "A siren." I breathed, looking at the man. I turned to the vigilante, who now looked as scared as I should have felt, "A hunter." Finally I glanced back at the Vampire, who was crouched on the opposite side of the alley from the woman. "And a vampire."
I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. "This sounds like the beginning of a bad joke that I don't have time for. One of you either better kill me and get it over with, or let me go home and get some sleep before my next shift."
The vampire stood up straight and took a step towards me, his eyes flashing with amusement. "I like her," he said, grinning. "She's got spunk."
The hunter snorted, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword. "I'm not here to kill you," he said. "at least I wasn't before you attracted more monsters here."
I frowned. "Okay, I understand your beef with the vampire, but Mr. Siren has been perfectly civil."
"Kill the hunter, little girl." The cadence of the siren's words made my heart race with urgency, not unlike when we got a last second notice that Corporate was making a visit to the store. I took a deep breath through my nose and tilted my head to look at him.
"You're not helping. I was telling him you haven't committed any wrongdoings." I turned back to the hunter, whose eyes were wide. I looked down at his feet, sure he had somehow stepped further away from me but there weren't any sounds despite the trash on the floor. "What's wrong? Is there another monster right behind me?"
"She's Charmed." The vampire said. "I'm not messing with that." By the time I turned my head towards him, he was gone, the far end of the alleyway empty.
I looked back towards the siren, who was now slowly approaching me with a predatory look in his eyes. "Come to me now," he whispered, using his powers to pull me towards him.
My body wanted to. My heart pounded so hard I could feel it in my throat. Every muscle was tensed and it would be so easy to give in.
The Siren tilted his head, then lifted it as if scenting something out. Then he gave a sinister smile, all threats and no virtue, and crooned, "Lily."
My body surged into fight or flight mode at the sound of my name, my real name, leaving his lips. My eyes widened to take in more light and see threats coming, my heart skipped a painful beat as it surged with adrenaline, and my muscles turned toward the threat, not because he asked me nicely to go to him, but because anybody who knew my real name needed to be destroyed or silenced on sight.
Before I could actually do anything, a hand on my arm held me back. It was the hunter, his grip firm but gentle, as if he didn't want to startle me. "You're giving off one hell of a power aura. I can get you out of here but you need to let go of the crossbow."
I looked down at my hand, and the way my fingers had curled around the bow like claws. This wasn't me. I wasn't a hunter. I didn't move against someone out of emotion. My hand let go of the weapon in one breath, popping off the way fruit too heavy for its limb does in the Fall.
The hunter nodded and stepped closer to wrap an arm around my waist. "Hold on tight."
As soon as his arm wrapped around me, I felt a jolt run through my body. The world around me blurred and shifted, and suddenly we were no longer in the alleyway. Instead, we were standing in the middle of a dense forest, the smell of pine and damp earth filling my nostrils. The hunter set me down and I stumbled a few paces away towards some bushes as the acid from every coffee I had that day clawed its way up my throat in an effort to spill out onto the grassy floor.
I leaned forward and retched, my stomach heaving as the hunter stood silently behind me. When I was done, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and turned to him, wiping my eyes.
"What the hell was that?" I asked, my voice hoarse from the river of acid that had just run through it.
"Teleportation." The hunter replied, his voice concerned and soothing. "I'm sorry, but the nausea usually doesn't last too long."
I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself, and looked around. The forest was beautiful, but I had no idea where we were. "Where are we?" I asked.
The hunter took a step closer to me. "We're in a safe location. Far away from any of those monsters."
I held up my hand to stop him. "Hold on. You're not a full human yourself if you can teleport. What is your problem with the supernatural?"
His eyes flashed with indignation. His jaw was clenched and he inhaled sharply through his nose before speaking. "I'm not a monster," he hissed. His nostrils flared as he spoke, his voice sharp like broken glass. "I'm just charmed. Like you. Still human, just with an evolutionary boost to help stay alive when there are blood hungry beasts running around."
"Charmed." I muttered, trying to make the explanation make sense. "The vampire said I was immune when the Siren spoke. But I definitely felt the magic in his words."
The hunter nodded. "The Siren's song can charm humans to do their bidding, but it has less effect on those who are charmed. It's a protective spell that shields us from their influence."
I crossed my arms in front of me, trying to wrap my head around everything that was happening. "So I'm not really immune, I just have more control against the power."
"That's about right." The hunter looked at his feet and kicked at some leaves. "Look, you can stay the night at our safe house until you decide what to do. There are wards, so even if the Siren comes looking for you he won't be able to do anything."
"Our safe house?" I peered up at him for an explanation.
"Just..." He ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. "You'll see." He looked down at me and held out an arm to help me up. "My name is Ethan. What is-- what can I call you?"
I pursed my lips. He clearly knew my real name, the one the Siren had used. But he was also smart enough to not use it after my reaction in the alley. "Call me Tara." I didn't want to risk giving away too much information.
Ethan nodded and led the way deeper into the forest. I followed closely, still trying to process everything that had happened. The trees grew thicker and the air grew colder as we walked.
A chill crept through the night air, making me hug myself tightly and shiver. The stars were out but waning, as if they too felt the cold oppressive sense taking over the usually muggy and humid nights of summer.
Finally we arrived through a clearing where an impossibly large building stood, surrounded by nothing but a line drawn in the grass a few yards away from the entrance.
The building looked old, but it was made of sturdy bricks, and it seemed like it had been standing strong for years despite the elements. It was tall, with at least three floors, and the windows were dark and ominous, as if nobody lived inside.
Ethan saw my hesitation and put a hand on my shoulder. "It'll be fine." He walked confidently across the line in the dirt and towards the door. "First we need to see Granny, then you can get some sleep."
I followed Ethan, my heart pounding with fear and anxiety. We entered the building, and the creaking of the door echoed through the empty halls. The air was thick with the musty smell of old books and herbs filled my nostrils. The interior was dimly lit, and the only source of light was from a few candles that were scattered around the room. The walls were lined with bookshelves, which made me really want this to be an actual safe house and not some weird cult.
A woman surely too young to be Granny came down the stairs at a clipped pace, a scowl pasted on her face in an attempt to mask the worry in her eyes. She was dressed in a long black robe, and her hair was pulled back tightly into a bun. When she saw Ethan, she let out a sigh of relief and rushed forward to embrace him.
"Ethan, thank goodness you're back. And who is this?" She looked at me with suspicion, her eyes narrowing.
"This is Tara, Granny. She's Charmed. We just got back from a combination Vamp and Siren encounter."
Granny's expression softened, and she gestured for us to follow her further into the building. "Of course, of course. You're welcome here, Tara. We're just a little on edge these days."
As we walked, I couldn't help but take in more of our surroundings. There were strange symbols etched at every corner of the hallways and at the top and bottom banisters of the stairs.
"Miss Granny," I said, clearing my throat against the dry rasp that came out, "I'm very glad you're so welcoming but you didn't want to ask me questions or anything before giving me a bed in your house?"
Granny glanced back and smiled. "The wards would have kicked you out long before making it past the foyer if you were a danger, dear."
I nodded, accepting her response even though I still felt uneasy. We continued down the hallway until we reached a small room that was sparsely furnished with a single bed and a nightstand. Granny gestured to the bed and smiled reassuringly.
"You'll be safe here, Tara. Ethan will bring you something to eat and drink, and we'll meet in the morning to talk some more."
I thanked Granny as she left the room, closing the door behind her. I lay down on the bed, feeling the softness of the mattress beneath me. My mind was racing, trying to make sense of everything that had happened.
As I lay there, I exhaled a deep breath, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. My thoughts slowed to a gradual stop, and a sense of safety washed over me as I fell into a much needed sleep.
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The first half of their date went well...but how will the rest of it go?
Being Death, Astaroth had a permanent invitation to the top floor Immortal VIP Lounge of the club, so that is where he led Yara.  Maybe getting out of human eyes, where they didn't have to be quite as careful, would help her relax.  This was supposed to be a romantic evening for them, and while dinner had gone well, somehow the mood had changed.  In their conversations, they both had revealed that “normal” relationships had not been a thing for either of them, but it was something they desired trying with one another.  He had hoped this would be the start of her relaxing and trusting him more.  Whatever had upset her since then, he would fix it.
As they reached the lounge, Yara tried to relax, let go of the jealousy and insecurity,  and just enjoy the time with Astaroth.  It wasn’t like she’d never been to a club, or with someone that was the object of desire; neither of them were firsts for her.  However, the person she was with hadn’t been her husband before, and she hadn’t cared if they wanted to be with someone else.  Questions came to her mind,  causing old and deep seated fears to rise once more to the surface.  No matter what had been said by them before, they hadn’t been the ones to choose each other, they were just trying to make the best of it, right?  He was being sweet to her, and romantic, but that was all, right?  Was it just because they were stuck together?  Now that there were others obviously interested in getting his attention and being with him,  would he choose someone else for the night? Could she stop him?  Were they really in this together?  TOGETHER...
Astaroth didn’t miss that something was bothering Yara.  The look on her face said that while she was there in body, her mind was somewhere else completely.  He looked around the lounge, not seeing anyone from Hell at all, there wasn’t even anyone from Heaven.  Could it be someone from her past that was upsetting her, or bringing up a memory?  He was getting worried something else was wrong, that maybe he had done something wrong that he wasn’t aware of.  “Papilio, what is bothering you?  Please tell me, so I can help” 
“Sorry, nothing…I’m fine.”  She tried to put on a smile and her fake mask that she always wore. Yara failed completely at both, and Astaroth saw straight through her.  The problem was she didn’t know how to express to him what the problem was without sounding like a fool.  How did she tell him that she was falling for him after such a short time and was jealous? He obviously wasn't jealous over her,  not that she could see anyone paying her attention.  She was a DEMON.  Demon’s didn’t fall in love.  Not like this.  Did they?
Now he was even more bothered as he looked at her.  After all they’d shared, now she was choosing to hold something back?  What could suddenly be so major that she wouldn’t share it after everything that she had shared?   Maybe if he gave her a minute, whatever nerves or upset had happened could calm down.  Forcing her would just make him like her father.  “I’ll go get us some drinks.  Why don’t you sit here, and enjoy the music and view of the dance floor below?  We can go down there in a little bit if you want.”  He kissed her temple softly and headed to the bar.  Maybe she’d decide to tell him what was wrong when he got back.  
As he was standing at the bar, waiting for the bartender to finish with another patron, Astaroth felt a hand on his arm.  Thinking it was Yara, he looked over with a pleased grin on his face, and was surprised to see a familiar face, but not one he wanted to see, standing there. Argona, a succubus that he had hooked up with a few times, but that had been the farthest thing from an actual relationship, had somehow found him on the one night that he wished for any female other than Yara to leave him alone.  From the look on her face, she was wanting to rekindle their past affairs, something that even if he had not been married to Yara,  made him recoil at the thought. Her body moved in a seductive  motion meant to elicit desire, and in the past it might have. Now, it did not. Now it made him want to make her drop where she was standing, in her impossibly high heels; however he knew the owner of the club, and did not want to create bad blood.
“Is there something I can assist you with, Argona?”  One brow rose as he looked at her with a rather indifferent expression, his grin gone. His voice was flat, completely lacking effect.  Whatever reaction she had expected from him, this was NOT it.  He hoped that she would get the hint and leave.
Back at the table, Yara saw the captivating woman in a dress even smaller and more alluring than hers, approaching Astaroth in a clearly seductive manner.  When the woman laid her hand on his arm, and her further seductive movements after she was acknowledged, but he didn’t pull away; there was an ache that started in her chest that she didn’t like. Then the doubts started even louder in her head, and for some reason those doubts came in Lucifer’s voice now.  Did she really have a claim on him?  They were only married because of the contract they'd been forced into. Why would someone like Astaroth look at someone like her? What could a Lord like him have in common with her?  WITH HER?  And then there was the sound of her father’s laughter that almost made her teleport herself straight out of there without a thought as to where she'd even go. 
She kept reminding herself that they had agreed that they would not have anyone else besides each other. So that would include one night stands from a club, right?  He had seemed concerned that she was upset, so he wouldn’t entertain another woman in front of her, would he?  Yara felt so unsure and she hated it, she hated the laughing and taunting voice of her father in her head.  Astaroth was starting to mean something to her, and that scared her because that meant losing him would hurt. Her head started to swim and she felt queasy, panic started to set in and she wanted to leave.
Back at the bar, Argona was smirking at Astaroth seductively.  She was not one to give up easily, especially when she had her eye set on someone specific.  Her voice came out soft and seductive, like velvet against his ears.  “I think you know just what I want, my Lord.  Why don’t you and I get out of here and we can reconnect like old times?”  She was running her hand over his forearm, letting her fingertips caress the back of his hand.
Now Astaroth did pull his arm away, he did not like her assumption of familiarity.  Not that he could say exactly why this was, other than his blooming affection for Yara.  It wasn’t like he had not been in situations similar many times in the past, and done just what she was suggesting.  Then he saw the black band on his finger, the lights from over the bar hitting it and throwing back green sparks, and he couldn’t help but see those impossibly green eyes of Yara’s and it was like it sparked a fire in him.   “I’m married.”  His voice was cold and hard, he held up his hand so that she could see his ring, the one he had crafted himself to remind him of Yara’s eyes, and it had worked like a charm.  “I have no need or desire to leave with you.  I am quite content with the female I came with.”  His smile tight, voice sarcastic.
Argona was not deterred.  Instead, she saw his rebuffing her as a challenge. “You know as well as I do that marriages of our kind mean very little.  I don’t believe you want nothing to do with me.  You always did enjoy our time together, so very much. Maybe she’d even like to join, you might both enjoy.”  Her smug look didn’t falter as her chin lifted, and she reached out now to run one hand over his bicep.  “Stop. Touching. Me.” Astaroth bit out in a low growl through gritted teeth.  He was tired of her arrogance and her disregard for his marriage to Yara.  Yes, it may not have been by choice, but his respect of it was.  They had agreed to things, they would make the best of their marriage, TOGETHER.  Together meant not fucking others, especially not arrogant bitches like Argona.
Yara saw the continuing conversation, and the woman’s continuing touching, and her head dropped in defeat.  She couldn’t muster anger, for some reason the hurt in her chest was too great.  Lucifer’s words over the years just seemed to echo in her ears louder and louder.  The woman was far more beautiful than she was, and it was clear there was some kind of friend or acquaintance of Astaroth’s.  Why would he choose her?  She was loud.  She threw temper tantrums.  She was a child that not even her mother wanted.  No one wanted. She was a female that her father had to force someone to marry because none of the Princes or Dukes of Hell had come courting.  No one would ever love her, no one ever had.  Her father had told her often enough, and it was setting in that maybe he was right.  As she sat there with the thoughts echoing louder and louder, trying not to cry, and trying to decide where the best spot to teleport out would be, so Astaroth could enjoy his evening; Yara didn’t know that he saw her and somehow he knew.
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When Casperius makes it to the kitchen things take an interesting turn..
When Casperius made it down to the kitchen, Cormoran was leaned back against the counter in front of the large sink while Sioban and Martenique were sitting at the round dark wooden table sipping tea from fine china cups with their heads close together talking low and soft about something.  Both women were smiling and looked relaxed.  He noticed a small, empty plate between them with some crumbs.  It seemed they had at least had a snack while he and Horace had finished their conversation.
The stone floors of the room normally echoed when walked on with hard soled shoes, so he was careful to measure his footfalls to not disturb the two women who were speaking in a language he did not understand.  So, it seemed his cook knew sprite, or maybe they knew a common language.  Martenique having someone she could speak freely within the manor would not be a bad thing.  As he passed behind her, on his way over to his brother, he let his fingers gently dance across Martenique’s back between her shoulder blades, the feel of her soft skin under his calloused fingertips soothing him in a way that not even demon’s brew could.  Her head tipped up to look at him, and he was even more resolute that he would find whoever had put her in danger and they would pay, very painfully.  
 "Continue your talk, Teni, I need to talk to Cor."  Casperius' fingers softly caressed her cheek, as he momentarily paused to bestow an affectionate smile upon her, and receive one in return.  She was so damn precious to him that his heart was still thundering at the thought of losing her to either his brother, or interference of others.
When he turned to continue over to where Cormoran stood, he had to roll his eyes at his brother’s expression.   It wasn't just the smirk, that was a common sight, it was the whole smug ass expression painted from his eyebrows to the set of his strong jaw.  It all spoke to how his brother knew Martenique was someone more than just a body to warm his bed and ride his cock. 
"You know Horace wasn't completely wrong." Cormoran said low once Casperius had assumed a duplicate stance next to him.  "You may not like hearing it, but you haven't acted like a male in a relationship."
Casperius' eyes squeezed shut and he breathed out heavily, a weight settling on him he'd been trying to avoid.  "Teni and I are not intimate." Even as he was keeping his voice low, he had opened his eyes to keep a close watch on her.  Knowing about Emma would destroy her, he was sure, and he had no one to blame but himself.  "I hadn't thought she would be here this fast.  I thought I had time to get things sorted." Another heavy sigh as the weight of his lie and the ones he'd have to tell her in the near future bore down on him further.
“Well, you don’t.  So you had better think osomething very fast, or you are going to have a mess.  A mess is the last thing we need after what happened earlier today.  Not to mention what just happened in the hallway, and figuring out who clued our little brother in on the fact that she exists.” Cormoran’s tone was reproachful.  He was tired and on edge.  While he had gotten some sleep, it had not been enough and he was now on edge after the argument in the hallway.  That Sioban and Martenique were getting along was at least a positive sign.
“I’m well aware.  I’ll have Visalus handle Emma.  He is more than capable of distracting her.” Casperius’ eyebrows rose as his eyes rolled.  That was a nice way of putting it.  It was not that he cared, it had only been carnal between them, and at least this would make it easier in the end.  That was one thing down. “We need to focus on figuring out who would talk to Matty.  Someone did, and that means that everything that we talk about could be getting to him.”
Cormoran scoffed and shook his head.  “You’d better hope so, little brother." Already in his mind he was developing plans to handle the fallout of his brother's mistakes.  Martenique was beautiful and innocent, she did not deserve to be drug into Casperius' debauchery. 
Casperious looked at his brother and rolled his eyes. "I will take care of it. You can trust him. I will let nothing upset Martenique. She has become very important to me." He sighed in frustration and gave Cormoran a pointed look as he continued. "I have had Horus prepare the gardens for her. When have you known us to have gardens upon the estate?"  His eyebrows rose and he waited a couple beats before continuing.  "Never. Do you think I would go through all of this and then let her be upset because of a woman who means nothing? Hmm?" Once more his brows rose as he regarded his elder brother.
Cormorant looked at him, he knew his brother. He knew of his whims and ways. He knew that one woman rarely kept his attention and although Martenique was beautiful, she was not of the kind that his brother normally found to be of interest. She was short, and while she was proportional, she did not have the curves that normally caught his brother's eye. She was not a succubus, an incubus, or a lust demon that had all of the attributes that would drive any male, of any type, to desire her. Her face would be what could be described as sweet. It was not one that would inspire men to fall at her feet with desire. What could be inspiring his brother now to take all of these actions did mystify him. Casperius was normally one to only go after the most beautiful of women. Women who upon the Earth would be considered models or actresses, those who were desired by many. And while Martinique was certainly beautiful, she was neither of those. 
"If you are not careful, you will destroy her. You will not need Matty to come and capture her and fill her head with his manipulations and destruction. You will do it yourself. I am not sure why you have done this. I'm not sure why you have decided such an innocent creature should be brought into our world. But if you do not take care, then I will have to take action." There was a firmness and directness in Cormoran’s voice, a seriousness in his whole demeanor that bled into the ether around him.
He couldn't even tell his brother why he had made such a declaration other than their brother had destroyed too many people to get back at them to allow one more to be destroyed for nothing more than Casperius' whim.
As he looked at the woman sitting there with Sioban talking in some fae tongue that neither he nor Casperius could understand, the joy and the radiance that came off of her was infectious. Just watching the two women talk made him smile but he also remembered the fear on her face when she walked out to see the three of them fighting in the hallway. He remembered having to go rescue her because their brother had shown up in her realm and decided he was going to try and kidnap her. Another victim of being in their lives. 
Cormorant couldn't take another woman being destroyed on his conscience. When Matthias did it was one thing, the Casperius doing it was a completely different one. He could stop that. He could control that. He could save her. Maybe just once he could save one of the ones destined to be destroyed by his family. Maybe he could make her fall in love with him. Maybe he could change her eye from the wayward brother to the strong one. He was just as dirty, his hands had just as much blood on them, and he had written many of the contracts that conspirius enforced. But he was not as capricious, and his desires did not blow in the wind, ever changing with the tides. She would be safe. And she was more his type. She was the type that he could fall in love with. Sitting there watching her talk to the woman that currently occupied his bed, he found he was more drawn to the sprite. It would cause a fight with Caspirius, but it would not be the first one the Cormoran had.
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