…which might I add I am not especially fond of even though I like several tracks…

how can someone really rate “fall no more” lower than “hemoglobin”? the latter once inspired a friend of mine to say (in mockery) “I must list one of my favorite instruments as the band saw.” Beborn Beton, while a band that I love most of the time, still makes me laugh far more than Bella Morte. Maybe it’s unfair of me to judge based on the Engrishy-accents that occasionally shine through. I dunno.

Oh well, to each their own.

Anyway, I just bought the newest Bella Morte CD and I am happy that I did. I wasn’t huge about Beautiful Death but I like Before the Flood and, I can’t lie, I am a big fan of Andy Deane. So there you go.

Ten Types of Reviews That Make Authors Sad

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/night-falls-jamie-cannon/1037732146

And here’s the description again in case you forgot… okay, I know my last post had the same thing but for Kindle, but this is my blog right?

“Nicci Alexander is not my name. But it is the only name I have anymore. It is the name he gave me, my vampire. He found me in California and sank his fangs in, leaving behind a mark that keeps me with him as his companion, his servant. We moved to New York City to avoid the police and here we hope to stay. I help him settle into our new home by giving my blood every night, and sometimes killing to protect us. Things are simple now.
“But sometimes, I don’t feel much like a servant. I feel like there is something brewing inside me, a power I don’t understand.”
This book marks the beginning of the story of Nicci Alexander, a young woman thrust violently into the unknown world beyond what humans acknowledged. It is a supernatural story with love, drama, violence, faeries, werewolves, werepanthers, and other magical creatures. It is set in the modern age, where ancient magic prevents human beings from being exposed to the real creatures, some of them monsters, that live and work all around them. This is an ongoing story of people learning what it really means to be human.

Find it on the Kindle store here.

I’ll be releasing it for the Nook soon, so look for another announcement

Meanwhile, here’s the description from the Kindle store:

“Nicci Alexander is not my name. But it is the only name I have anymore. It is the name he gave me, my vampire. He found me in California and sank his fangs in, leaving behind a mark that keeps me with him as his companion, his servant. We moved to New York City to avoid the police and here we hope to stay. I help him settle into our new home by giving my blood every night, and sometimes killing to protect us. Things are simple now.
“But sometimes, I don’t feel much like a servant. I feel like there is something brewing inside me, a power I don’t understand.”
This book marks the beginning of the story of Nicci Alexander, a young woman thrust violently into the unknown world beyond what humans acknowledged. It is a supernatural story with love, drama, violence, faeries, werewolves, werepanthers, and other magical creatures. It is set in the modern age, where ancient magic prevents human beings from being exposed to the real creatures, some of them monsters, that live and work all around them. This is an ongoing story of people learning what it really means to be human.

Like me on facebook, or like Night Falls directly here.

I’ve been just as immersed in the “apocalypse” as anyone, the last few years – be it a nuclear winter, a pathogen that magically turns the dead into zombies, a weather-based cataclysm, meteors hurtling toward the earth, or what have you, I’ve seen the movies (and played my share of Fallout games of course). But there are just so many ways the world as we know it could come to an end. There are so many things about a ruined modern civilization that lend themselves fantastically to storytelling.

But, it’s not something I’ve written before. It’s not easy to try and maintain a little creative independence without leaning too much on some other reference material. (This is a lot like my conflict with writing supernatural/vampire fiction. But in the case of those books, I wrote them years ago, before there were many authors aside from Anne Rice and LKH to read at all – the post apocalyptic scene is pretty much overflowing like zombies crawling out of a graveyard at this point.) So it’s been put on the back burner time and time again. I have a lot of work planned on this series, and what I’m putting here isn’t the very beginning either. It’s just a random part.

Read more after the break. I’m fully expecting to add more samples of this one, since it’s a different setting than my typical work. But it deals with what I love to write about, of course – people dealing with hard situations and trying to keep their minds and hearts together.

[Working title for this novel is currently 'wasteland' so use the tags on the side to find more related posts if you so desire.]

Although it was nothing like the trucks that had been abandoned at the raider’s outpost of yesterday – a single look revealed those had been obviously used as makeshift beds rather than vehicles – the truck Eddie had gotten his hands on had four doors and four wheels and all the panels were there, although in a variety of colors, giving it a patchwork effect. I felt a little excited at the prospect of not walking all the way to Miri amidst raiders and plague-bearers.

“Are you sure it runs?” Eva asked when she saw it, but Eddie seemed confident enough. The back windows were missing although the windscreen in the front was still intact. Once Eddie roared the engine to life he hit the gas immediately.

I wondered again and again how I knew what I knew about trucks. I felt fairly sure I could drive one if I had to, but why? How could I know my abilities so selectively? As we drove Eva kept a lookout on the passenger side, peering alternatively through the scope of her rifle and around with her eyes. Me and Peter took turns doing the same on the other side. At first the area around us was dusty and dry and the clouds that roiled up from the tires made me nervous as they were a beacon to our location, but after a while wizened grass became prevalent and the road, though still dirt, was now compact enough to hardly maintain a track.

Better than walking, but the truck did make an awful racket, I thought. It made my head hurt. As the day went on and on seemingly without end the noise and the vibration numbed me to everything. I couldn’t even think about what Eva had told me earlier, or wonder about my past and future. I just kept looking for signs of raiders or, worse, plague-bearers.

It seemed like eternity before Eddie stopped for what he said was a piss-break and Eva said would be a good time to eat. I figured there was no point in wasting the chance for either. When I got out of the truck I noticed that Eddie had stopped at the base of a fairly sizable tree and in the dip of some hills: probably the best way to remain unnoticed. I was at least glad I could squat behind a tree rather than in sight of the whole world.

Back in the truck we ate bread and meat and no one seemed to have much to say. Tree or not, I was somewhat glad when we were on the move again, inching ever closer to a place less exposed even if it meant more shaky noise. For lack of anything to do I studied the horizon through my scope. Peter still had next to nothing to say, and I wondered what, if anything, I could do about it. I wasn’t entirely sure why he was so out of sorts, anyway. Sure, he’d been hit in the face, but was that it? Taking a bullet to his arm hadn’t really fazed him that much, so I was reluctant to think the answer was so simple.

We stopped again after another long stretch and now Eddie said we had to refuel. There were several large, faded red jugs in the very back of the truck, although I had paid no attention to it before. Now, since it was nearing dark, he wanted to put one of the jugs in while we were still able to see around us.

So me and Peter got out to stand guard and Eva got in the driver’s seat, ready to floor it if we had to make a quick getaway. Not for the first time I marveled at how organized the two of them were. They were obviously experienced at traveling out here in the no man’s land between cities. I felt antsy, and worried I would miss something, but the eerie silence remained unbroken.

As it got darker I started to feel anxious about being in the open. The truck surely made enough noise to attract anyone in earshot, even a mindless plague-bearer. Though, I had never seen them in solitude – they seemed to congregate together.

Not a comforting detail. I couldn’t see out my window anymore as the moon hadn’t yet risen, so I moved over in the back seat and sought Peter’s hand. If he didn’t feel like talking the least he could do was provide more of his warm solace, I thought. But he did better than that: he slipped his arm around my waist and kissed my ear. I still watched the dark window warily, but Eddie seemed confidant we would get to Wayside soon.

I fancied it would be a walled and secure place but of course it wasn’t. A few rough buildings clustered around what I instinctively recognized as fuel trucks – big silver bodies gleaming in the starlight. I knew they contained fuel, but I didn’t know how much. Eventually they surely ran low. Did they have a source to draw from somewhere else? I couldn’t remember that kind of detail.

As we neared I moved forward and leaned on the middle seat between Eddie and Eva to study the area. A rough barricade of vicious-looking pointed objects, both metal and wood as apparently anything with an edge would suffice to keep plague-bearers away, became visible; the ground surrounding it was blackened and charred. I saw a few armed men and women which were eyeing us suspiciously. Once we were close Eddie slowed and two of the men approached, glaring in the windows briefly before waving us in, grunting that we better not cause any trouble.

From here the small cluster of buildings seemed much more substantial although not nearly as enforced as Derelict. There were no merchants to be seen, and instead of a pharmacy they had a building with a sloppy red cross painted above the word ‘Emergency.’ Eddie drove to the largest building beside the fuel trucks and Eva looked back at us. “We’ll find no inn here. Rather than risk traveling at night, we’ll have to stay in the truck tonight. There is a tavern, though,” she nodded toward the building.

I scrubbed my face with my hands and felt numb to everything. She added, “It’s best not to leave the truck unattended, so we should probably only go inside in pairs, if that’s all right.”

“I don’t care,” I said. “I’ll stay here for now.”

Peter just shrugged when she looked at him. “Fine,” she said. “Fire two shots if there’s trouble.”

“You bet,” I said. She got out when Eddie stopped the truck, and went into the tavern as though she didn’t have a care in the world. Meanwhile, he grabbed the empty jug from the back of the truck and, whistling cheerfully, strolled into the dark where the fuel trucks were being monitored by shifty-eyed men.

I looked at Peter. “How can he whistle in a place like this?”

He shrugged again but gave me a crooked smile so I leaned back and adjusted to face him, resting my arm on the seat. His hand brushed my hair back and I couldn’t help but smile.

“How are you holding up?” he asked in a low tone.

“Fine I guess.” I rested my head on my arm to look at him sideways. “My whole body is stiff and I feel like it’s still vibrating even now.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” His fingers lingered on my face. “Will you come have a drink with me when they come back?”

I didn’t particularly want to be passed-out drunk, but a small amount of relaxation sounded good, though I would have said yes to him anyway. “Of course,” I said, and he smiled again.

“It could be a while,” he pointed out. “It’s only just dark. The night’s got a while to go.”

I nodded. “I’d rather be bored than running for my life again.”

“Well, I think you’ll get your wish.” He twisted to look around and then fell back again. “There’s hardly anyone here other than the HAS guards. They must keep this place going so people can make it all the way to Miri.”

“Eddie said it would be a day and a half to walk here,” I mused. “And then two days after. But we made it here in a little over half a day.”

“I can’t imagine it’d be smart to park and stop somewhere,” he said. “We’ll probably have to switch off and drive through the night.” Then he hesitated.

“I feel like I know how to drive. Is that weird?” I asked.

“I think I could, too,” he admitted, “but I guess it’s too useful to be weird. Anyway, if we can drive through the night maybe we’ll make it in another day, then. I’d think there’s more than enough fuel.”

“I hope,” I said, chewing my lip as Eddie reappeared from the darkness lugging the obviously-heavy jug with both hands. When he put it in the back I felt the whole truck rock.

“You keep your eyes peeled.” He said seriously, then laughed. “Nah, should be fine, tonight. Mostly HAS out here, which’d usually drive me up the wall, but it’s better in a place like this.”

“All right,” I said, and after he made a joke about what we’d be doing out here in the dark, he left for the tavern.

I felt like it was going to be a long night. When the moon finally crept above the horizon some of the alien darkness was taken from the place and I felt at ease enough to put my head in Peter’s lap and stretch my legs over the rest of the seats, which was still a far cry from the bed at Derelict. I absently studied the ragged interior of the truck and without meaning to I fell asleep.

Day 9

When I woke up it was so late it felt more like early morning, though it was still fully dark outside. I probably would have slept more but I was hungry, and besides Peter had nudged me gently awake. I rubbed my eyes and sat up, feeling guilty for sleeping when he must be tired, too, only to see Eddie and Eva approaching from the tavern. “I slept so long?” I marveled as I sat up.

“It’s all right,” he said, and I hoped he was back to his usual, sweet self.

I left my rifle in the truck and brought only the handguns with me. Standing and stretching my legs was a relief to say the least – walking was difficult for a few steps. Peter seemed nervous as we entered. Now I noticed a sign declaring it ‘Wayside Tavern’ and I figured it had been the original building as it was certainly larger, but also, made of wood and stone rather than metal. Despite the hour it was still populated with a few dozen patrons scattered throughout at tables and the bar. When I spied the crude sign for ‘restrooms’ I told Peter I had to go, but he still looked antsy and said he would come with me.

Once we had food and drinks, though, he looked a little relaxed. “I feel like you’re miles away,” I said.

“Sorry, Lilah, it’s not you at all,” he said, appearing startled. “Just… I know I must have lived in this place for my whole life, but it still seems so…” He shook his head. “It’s a cruel place. I don’t know how these people keep going. Just for this? To be able to drink at the end of the night to the tunes of an old piano?”

There was, in fact, a piano, although whoever was playing did so only sporadically. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “So much of it seems familiar to me, but I don’t feel like I fit in, either. Maybe in Miri…”

“Miri’s not going to be any different,” he interrupted, keeping his voice low. “Maybe in some parts it’ll be nicer, or cleaner, or whatever. But all of this,” he gestured around with his fork, “is old history. Derelict is the new age. Metal and salvaged parts on the edge of wilderness running rampant with plague-bearers. Miri might be nice in that we don’t have to be watching for them, but…” he trailed off abruptly. “I’m sorry. Don’t listen to me.”

I had hardly thought about what I expected to find in Miri other than the safety of its walls. But I had no doubt he was right – I’d still have to carry a gun to go somewhere by myself – especially given what Eva had said about fertility. Even if I could carry a child I’d be in danger of being abducted just for that, so someone else could pass along their line. And if I couldn’t, well…

“I’m sorry,” he said again, looking worried now. “I’m getting ahead of myself anyway. We still have to find out how we got so far south. And it’s not so bad, not for me, at least – I’ve got you.”

I smiled for him although I still felt like he had a point. “I’ll just be glad to get there so we can stop speculating about it.”

We stayed there for a while but I felt disconnected from the tavern and the rest of its grimy patrons. Peter was probably right about everything – Miri wasn’t going to be much different in most ways. We’d still be paying an arm and a leg for food and ammo and he’d still be nervous if I went anywhere by myself. I didn’t know what Eddie and Eva were going to do with us, either – my own fault for being too foolish to ask. I wanted to find out but when we went back to the truck, they were both asleep in the front seats. Eddie cradled his rifle in a silent warning to any curious passersby. I felt bad slamming the door when we got in but there was nothing to be done about it.

I unbuckled my guns and put them on the floor and Peter did the same. I felt bad that I had slept already so I didn’t mind when he mimicked how we’d been earlier, putting his head in my lap. It was nice actually. I was surprised when I fell asleep for a while. When I woke up because my neck hurt it was still dark although the sky was noticeably lighter. I was half-awake and reluctant to admit it was almost time to leave. Peter stirred and sat up blearily, wrapped his arms around me and lay back on the seat again so I was sort of on top of him, but I fell asleep again so I appreciated it.

The next day of driving felt noticeably more annoying than the last one, I figured because I hadn’t slept well, but everyone seemed out of it. I asked what they were going to do in Miri, and Eva said we could stay with her since she had an extra room. Why she had an extra room wasn’t explained and neither was my question really answered but I was somewhat glad to know that at the end of this infinite vibrating drive would be a room where I could sleep again in the proper horizontal fashion.

After a while Peter took off his jacket and had me change the bandage on his gunshot wound. He seemed more like himself today. When I made to remove the bandage over his eye as well he pulled me into his lap and kissed all over my face until I laughed and had to tell him to hold still.

“How’s it look?” He asked.

“Healing,” I said, and he grimaced.

“Is the scar going to make me look tougher?”

I had to laugh again. “Tougher? I don’t know if it’s going to scar yet. You heal fast.”

“Oh.” He seemed disappointed for some reason. “Well, I guess no scar is better still.”

Again we stopped at midday and took a break to stretch and refuel. The weather was noticeably warmer so I left my jacket in the truck. Again Eddie had stopped by a cluster of trees. As I finished my business I noticed the long grass was concealing a few stacks of perfectly rectangular stones. I glanced around and saw no movement so I curiously poked around with my boot until I recognized it as the remains of a man-made wall. Probably a house, I thought. Before I could do more than gaze at the outline of the structure, a gunshot rang out from behind me.

As I turned, gripped by immediate fear, I heard Peter yell: “Lilah!” And then more gunshots. I ran around the tree and as I moved down the hill I saw from the other side of the truck as a plague-bearer shambled out from behind another copse of trees – another shot and its head exploded. More of their bodies were scattered around the area. I numbly took in Peter aiming at the treeline, Eva scanning wildly back and forth for more movement, Eddie shaking the last of a fuel jug into the tank.

My rifle was still in the truck. I didn’t know if I should get it or just get down. Peter shouted my name again as he stood rooted. “I’m here!” I yelled back.

Eddie tossed the jug into the back and said, “Get in!” Time felt sluggish as I complied, as he swung the driver’s door open again, as Peter fired two quick shots in a row, as Eva backed up to the door that Eddie had opened for her. I copied him, leaning over to push Peter’s door open. “Get in!” Eddie shouted again. Finally Peter was in the truck again and Eddie was accelerating before the doors had closed. I grabbed my rifle and twisted to face the back of the truck, where the hatch’s window was missing. More plague-bearers were running instinctively at the movement of our vehicle. Peter fired twice more and I hit a third, though in the leg – it fell, and through the scope I could clearly see as another bent to cannibalize. I shot that one in the head, more for practice than anything else. Peter fired and the one on the ground went still. Six, seven more and then we appeared in the clear.

“More will come,” Eva was saying, now that I listened. “More will certainly come. They smell the blood.”

“We’ll be long gone,” Eddie said, in what sufficed as his comforting tone.

“I just saw the movement in the trees,” Peter said.

“You’re a good shot,” Eva said. “Very good.”

“There could be more,” he went on like she hadn’t spoken. “Where do they come from?”

“People still make their own way outside the city,” Eddie said. “Eventually the plague gets all of ‘em.”

Faced with that grim prospect we rode for a long while in silence. The gentle hills of the terrain seemed to conceal endless locations, but we saw no more plague-bearers.

In honor of the one year anniversary that I started this novel (wow, it’s been that long?? -_-) I decided to post the first “chapter” or so, for your viewing pleasure. I’ve not fully decided on a title for the novel yet, so the working name is simply “Two Worlds” for now. Which should make a small amount of sense even after just this excerpt.

See more after the break. I tried not to make it too long, since blog-formatting is not entirely reader friendly.

[Working title for this is 'two worlds' so use the tags on the side to find related posts.]

The sun was only minutes from setting, casting great amber beams across the paved roads and buildings, reflecting as small novas on each glass paned storefront and windshield. The myriad of bright spots gave many a good cause to squint as they navigated their way to their destinations – home to a waiting family or perhaps to an empty house, or even a bar of strangers for their evening haven. It was a Friday in May, and it was the thirteenth of the month, providing a judicious setting for suspicious activity.

Hannah Summers did not think much about that. She was thinking about how hard it was to see the crosswalk sign, peering through tightly squinted eyes up the avenue toward the west where her apartment eventually sat, squeezed among others in a dingy concrete building. She was thinking about the study group she had just left, and how it had gone far too long, thus causing her to miss the bus she usually took home. Instead she had to get off at a different stop and walk the rest of the way. If not for that, she wouldn’t now be peering against the golden rays of blinding light.

If not for that, she also would not have misread the traffic sign, and would not have walked out into the street approximately twenty seconds too early. Only when she was across the first two lanes and past the median did she realize her error as a horn blared to her left. In the next moment she clearly saw the bus coming over the hill and toward her, but the squeal of its brakes filling the air did not register as anything but the nightmarish scream of a demon.

She had a moment to think about things, like how fast the bus was going, and how many precious seconds she was wasting. She thought about the study group again, realizing that she had just paid for an extra review of European history with her life, and she had a moment to be filled with unbridled anger at this unfair price. For a moment, she hated the sun for blinding her, she hated the bus driver for not seeing her sooner, she hated the hill that prevented her visibility, she hated college and history and all of Europe itself –

And then the impact. But from behind? Moments passed in dazed confusion which felt like eternities as she waited for the pain, for the end. First her arm began to hurt, but in a slow, meaningful way unlike what she expected as the pain of death. Then her spinning vision began to steady around an ache in her head, and a few moments of time registered belatedly. When the impact came, was there a crack in the air, like lightning? If not, what was that smell? Her nostrils felt assailed by the scent of ozone although her eyes saw only a cloudless sky.

Then a man appeared looming over her. She stared up at him with dazed wide eyes and noted his face quite clearly, straight-nosed with a high brow and chiseled jaw, clean shaven, his wide mouth set above a solid chin. His eyes were strange, somehow. But she couldn’t focus, squeezing hers shut to steady her mind again.

“Are you all right?” he spoke then, and she realized only seconds had passed. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes,” she said, and felt shocked that her voice was not a terrified croak. “What…”

“You stepped into the road,” he said. “I had to knock you out of the way lest we both be killed.”

His voice held a note of aggravation and she looked at him again in confusion. “You… knocked me out of the way? But where did you come from? There was no one else at the corner…”

“I was there,” he said, and leaned back out of her field of vision. “Now, sit up.”

Only when she was sitting did she realize he had put his arm beneath her to lift her upright, and she looked at him again in amazed confusion, because she knew absolutely that there was no one else at the corner where she had been. If someone else had been there, they would not have let her walk so far across the road against traffic. They would have grabbed her before she took more than a step – especially someone already willing to dive in front of a bus. “You saved my life,” she managed. “What’s your name?”

He pushed a forelock of black hair back from his face and looked at her again, and his eyes were dark. She felt positive that his eyes had been different somehow a moment ago, but now they were fixed on her face and so dark as to be almost black. “Joseph,” he said. “Now, can you walk?”

She had expected him to ask her name, and felt miffed that he did not. “I think so.” She took in her body with an amazed glance that it was all in one piece. Her arm was hurting and she looked at it now to see a long scrape down her forearm, though her shoulder hurt more. Her messenger bag was still strapped across her chest.

“Come, then,” he said, and helped her to her feet. After she had taken a few dazed steps she looked at him again.

“Where are we going?” He was taller than she had expected, and lithe.

“To tend your wounds,” he said, prompting her to continue walking with a hand between her shoulders. “It is not far.”

“But…” she couldn’t process the situation. “Who are you?”

“I am Joseph,” he repeated, giving her a stern look. “Have you hurt your head as well?”

“What? No, I mean… I don’t… but you couldn’t have come so quickly,” she managed. “It’s impossible.”

“I was at the corner,” he repeated calmly. “Please, just walk for now.”

No one had ever seemed so strange to her before. Was he worried about her, or annoyed that he had to help? She noted he didn’t carry anything with him. Now as they walked down a side road the sun slipped beneath the buildings and the city was cast in a gray shade. In a few more minutes, it would be dark.

Almost as though he thought the same thing, Joseph quickened his pace, and she examined her arm as though she’d never seen it before. The length of her forearm had been scraped in a long, dirty gash; her shoulder hurt as though badly bruised. This was all that remained of what she had expected to cost her life? Just this? She cast a furtive glance to the man beside her and wondered again where he had come from, but felt willing to accept his poor story for the sake of gratitude.

In another minute the pain of her arm had begun to cut through the shock of having lived. But as she grimaced and examined the oozing scrape again, Joseph abruptly stopped, and she stumbled a step when he gripped her uninjured shoulder. “What?” she snapped instinctively.

He didn’t answer, staring fixedly ahead at the darkening street. Hannah had a moment to wonder where they were, but almost immediately recognized it as the road which held her apartment building. Her immediate unsettled response was momentarily set aside as she tried to read Joseph’s strange body language. He seemed to be nearly vibrating with tension, and though his fingers still pressed into her shoulder, she felt positive he had forgotten she was there.

All at once, he spoke. “I’m sorry. We must not go this way. Come, quickly.” And he began to pull her back the way they’d come.

“What?” she resisted, planting her feet. “What are you talking about? How did you know where I live?” she added, suspiciously.

His dark brow drew to a glare. “It is not safe this way. Perhaps you would rather I had let you walk into the bus, that a quicker end than what lies ahead?”

A lance of fear broke through her annoyance. “What? What are you saying? What’s…?” She glanced back down the road – previously a comfort seen as the final stretch toward home, now a menacing, dark avenue of fear.

“I feel I will be forced to explain all to you quite soon,” he said, and now she felt a tremor in his hand, but he did not seem afraid. “Please, Hannah. Come…”

“How do you know my name?” she exploded, scared again, breaking free of his grip and backing a step toward her apartment. “What the hell is going on?”

He made an exasperated noise. “There’s no time for this. If you value your life, you will come with me. If you feel any small gratitude towards what I have done for you, then you will come with me. If not, I will let you walk arrogantly to your own damnation.”

“Just tell me how you know my name!” she argued, glancing around for any passersby who could bear witness to whatever he had in mind, but the street was eerily empty. And silent. She realized then that no birds sang their usual evening tunes, and the trees were still as though it had not been a breezy day just an hour ago. The air was strange and heavy.

“You feel it. The evil is coming. Please, Hannah,” he added. “Don’t throw your soul away.”

What was there to do? Turn and run into the night, into the ominous dark, or turn to this brooding stranger who knew too much about her? She hesitated.

From further up the street, a crack of lightning came and startled her to a girlish yip. The stench of ozone came again, and Joseph’s expression hardened. “There is no time. I will save you once more, and after that you may choose your own destiny.”

She opened her mouth to ask what he meant, but he moved quickly, grabbing her arms and roughly pulling her against him. Pain lanced through her shoulder and she cried out again, but it turned to a gasp as another bolt shot out of the sky, and with an ear-splitting crack lanced through Joseph’s body. Small bolts of electricity danced across his skin and she wanted to cringe away from them, but none crossed over to her. He lifted her off her feet as though she weighed nothing as the electric shards coalesced behind him and turned to a pair of great, black wings. She opened her mouth to scream, but he leapt into the air, and the wind tore it from her throat.

Almost immediately they had reached a dizzying height and she was forced to cling to him, gasping with a hyperventilating terror. A single flap of his wings – his wings – and they shot across the sky like a meteor.

“What?” she managed. “What are you? What…”

“Don’t speak,” he instructed, looking down at her as though hurtling through the air was a simple task that did not require his attention. A bit of a smile played across his face as though her terror amused him. “If you faint, it will be harder to hold you.”

Wide-eyed she stared into his face, and realized then that his eyes were bright now, an icy blue ringed with black. Despite the darkness, his pupils had not dilated. “What are you?” she said again.

His fingers buried in her hair and turned her face away, pressing her into his shoulder. “All shall be revealed.” His arm tightened around her waist and though her legs dangled, she felt certain he held her safely.

Fainting tempted her conscious mind and she clung with all her strength to alertness, minding what he had said, terrified of falling from this height. All at once they were dropping through the air and she couldn’t help but gasp against him, too terrified to scream. Then his wings opened again with a snap and braced their descent. When he set her back on her feet it was with extreme care to be gentle, but her legs wouldn’t hold her weight and she sagged against him.

His hand moved through her hair again, affectionately, it seemed. “Come, now. We shall be safe here.” He pried gently at her fingers where they clutched his shirt tightly.

She painstakingly unclenched them and found the strength to stand away from him. His hands hovered around her anyway, as though preparing for her to collapse. No words would come from her throat. Too many questions piled up and none could escape so she simply stared at him.

He held his hands up disarmingly and without noticeable effort drew his great black wings back into himself. She stared at him still and he simply waited, bearing her scrutiny. With the retraction of his wings his eyes had darkened blue-black again. She touched his shoulder lightly to reassure that he was not a dream; he was solid and warm as any person ought to be, but yet radiating some energy she couldn’t identify. “Where… where do they go?” she managed then, “where do your wings go?”

He smiled as though she was a silly thing. “They return into me until I need them.” Seeing her doubtful expression, he turned and showed his back, where not even a mark remained. His shirt was unscathed.

“But how?” she marveled.

“Come in and let me tend this and I will explain,” he said, lightly touching her shoulder. The throb of it had been ignored with wonder, but now she grimaced at the reminder, and looked around at their surroundings.

It was a rooftop bearing large cages constructed of chicken wire and weathered wood. Dozens of pigeons roosted, ruffling their feathers and cooing to each other in the dim evening light. Joseph guided her slowly past the birds and to an equally worn door. His hand passed over the lock and she heard it click open, but could not muster the ability to ask how. It was just another impossibility, and given the rest of what she had seen, it hardly seemed important.

Inside it was quite dark and she hesitated as he shut the door behind them. Then he touched a switch to one side and lights flickered on. It was one great room, where they stood was on a large platform overlooking a lower space she could not see. The wooden catwalk stretched around each side of the rectangular area, and it was lined with windows, each as tall as she.

“Where are we?” she asked finally.

“My home,” he answered. “Come, please.”

Reluctant now as she realized her vulnerable position in the home of a strange man, she took a few steps further in. He stopped at a staircase leading down, and looked back at her with confusion. “What is it now?”

Reminding herself that he did just save her life, and more so that he was not a normal man, she swallowed down her nerves and remembered that the pain in her arm couldn’t be ignored. Now that she was here, she wondered if she could leave without his help. “Sorry.” She followed him and he continued down the stairs. Once she was at the top she could see the rest of the room, and ogled a moment in surprise. Bookshelves outlined the room all the way around. At the far end was an array of leather furniture – a sofa, two chairs – clustered around an aged trunk serving as a low table, and two closed doors. On the left, a cherry-stained table was piled with what looked like maps and more books. To the right, a smaller desk held a laptop computer that looked completely out of place, as the whole atmosphere reminded her of some turn-of-the-century movie setting. At the bottom of the stairs, between the table and desk, he flicked on another light to the area below her, and waited there with a mild expression of impatience.

She continued after him. The rest of the space beneath where they had entered was a kitchen, the cabinets aged wood as she had expected. The counters were cluttered with all manner of objects, some of which did not seem as though they belonged in the kitchen at all.

“Sit,” he said, pointing to one of the chairs by the table, and she meekly obeyed. Belatedly she realized she still carried her messenger bag, and now gingerly removed it without causing her shoulder much additional pain. He began rummaging through the cabinets until finally producing a white metal box marked with a red cross. When he approached her again she felt cowed by his strange, stern black stare. All of her body ached, now, and she was starving even as the core of her trembled with the shock of the last hour.

He dragged a chair to face hers and pushed books aside to make a clear spot on the table for the first aid kit. The silence continued and she watched him remove a few bottles, arranging things neatly as he would need them. Finally he glanced to her face before reaching for her arm. His fingers encircled her wrist and he gently turned her so he could see the wound.

“It’s not so bad,” he said then, glancing at her again.

His nervousness was not lost on her, but she felt too drained to do more than just notice it was there. “I ache everywhere.”

He slowly began to sterilize it and though she knew better than to cringe, she couldn’t help it as the peroxide stung. His touch became even lighter, as though she would break apart in his hands. “I may have hit you harder than I needed to,” he said. “I was in a panic. I am sorry.”

“You saved my life,” she reminded. “But why? Who are you, really?”

His eyes remained on her arm as he continued. “Do you believe in demons, Hannah?”

“What?” But he was steadfastly silent until she answered. “Um… I don’t know. I’m not really religious…”

“I do not expect you to be. But do you believe in demons?”

She knew that the concept of such a creature went deeper than any organized religion, but to the root of humanity’s fears. “I don’t know,” she finally said. “It’s a cultural trend. Every population has a story of its own. A demon is just whatever you fear the most.”

“And what of angels?” he asked calmly.

She winced again and tried to focus on the question rather than the pain. “I don’t know about that. I’m sort of an atheist.”

“Yes, I suspected as much,” he said. “Hannah, there are many things in the world which do not make sense to a logical, scientific mind. What you would call a phenomenon, for instance. I am afraid that I must ask you to believe me without the solid evidence of science to support what I tell you.”

“I saw you get struck by lightning and grow wings,” she pointed out. “I’m not expecting science.”

A faint smile ghosted his features and was gone just as quickly. “There are demons in this world, Hannah. As you have pointed out, they are a part of every culture, religion aside. Demons which steal children from their crib, which pull a fisherman into the river, which suck out the soul of a sleeper in the desert. These are what you consider a demon, yes?” He glanced at her, so she nodded, and he went back to tending her arm. “Consider, then, that a demon may be a creature of earth magic. A manifestation of nature in some cases – the river given malicious intent, the desert’s cold night brought to life, or the fears of a parent solidified to a real creature.”

“Magic?” she echoed dubiously.

“Did you not see me sprout wings?” he reminded, and she closed her mouth again. At length, he continued. “Then, if you can see what I mean about demons, consider that there is a counter to them – in essence, the same creatures, the same demons, but given a different motivation. Just as your history of humanity is filled with warring factions – fundamentally the same, but driven to different means – consider that what you call an angel is just a demon, given compassion rather than ill intent.”

“Okay,” she said slowly.

“In this world, angels and demons do exist, Hannah, and not necessarily as servants to a higher God or Satan. Demons have always lived well at the core of your world. Humans, weak-minded as they are, serve to amuse them and serve them in some cases.” Again he smiled, only briefly and sadly. “Angels find their struggles to be commendable. Humans fight to survive despite their weak natures. Angels strive to protect all life and allow it to exist naturally without the corruption brought by a demon’s magic.”

“Okay,” she said again. The dreamlike moment made the next words simple for her. “So you’re an angel?”

His expression hardened. “I am… I am neither,” he admitted.

“Then…?”

“Remember that angels are the same as demons,” he said. “And so believe me when I say… that demons can change to love, and angels can fall to evil. Do you understand?”

He fixed her beneath his coal-black stare and she could only nod, but he waited until she spoke. “Just like… like how… humans aren’t born good or evil, but we can be either in the end?”

“Yes.” He nodded and drew back with a thoughtful look, studying her arm for a moment before reaching for a bandage. “Yes, exactly.”

When he seemed unwilling to continue, she finally prompted, “But you’re neither?”

“I… I am both,” he finally said. “My mother was an angel, and my father a demon.”

The sorrow in his voice was apparent and she was gripped with wonder at these words. “But you said they’re the same. What does it matter?”

His brow furrowed to a glare. “It does matter.” But after snapping these words he lowered his eyes again, anger cooling. “It matters more than it ought to. The angels do not welcome demons. Demons love to torment the pure angels. It is an endless conflict; it is millennia of tradition.”

She felt as though she had a revelation then. “Are you an outcast?”

Anger crossed his face again, but he did not snap a second time. “Yes.” She leaned forward to assist as he lined the gauze with shiny tape. “But that does not answer your other questions, I know. Why have I saved your life?” His fingers smoothed it down again. “In our world, Hannah, the world of angels and demons, we have our own history, our own traditions and myths. More than that, we have prophecies. As we have multiplied throughout the years, we have grown different and distinct from each other, just as any other species.”

Now he stood and she turned to watch as he went into the kitchen. He took a glass from one cupboard and filled it with a pitcher of water from the fridge, returning to place it in front of her. All at once she realized she was thirsty, and drank deeply. He sat again and opened a pill bottle as he went on. “We have our destinies. Some are born as warriors to keep the demons in check, or to battle against the angels, on the other side. Some are born as prophets, speaking warnings about the future wars, giving time to ready for them. Some are historians and teachers, continuing the traditions of our kind.” He placed four small pills in front of her. “It’s just a painkiller. Don’t worry,” he said, as an aside.

Of course she heard in her head the voice of reason reminding her not to take pills from a stranger. But her whole body hurt and she could not resist taking them, watching his face with wide eyes. Once she had swallowed, he sighed and began repacking the medical kit. “There are many more humans now than there once were. In times past, each man or woman might have had an angel to serve them, a sentry born to that one task. It is not optional, you must realize. It is our born destiny.”

She nodded again, though she didn’t fully realize what he meant, unwilling to interrupt until he was finished. “But now, in these times, there are not enough angels. The prophets dream of the future and see which humans must be saved, which are most important to the continuation of everything. As we – as the angels come of age,” he corrected, and she realized that he did consider himself as one of them, “we are inevitably… drawn to serve our duty. So many of us are invariably pulled to protect what important, fragile creatures as must be saved.”

Her mouth fell open as her brain made a connection. “Are you saying you’re my guardian angel?”

“I am not an angel,” he reminded sternly, but looked away again before continuing. “Otherwise, yes. It is my life’s work to protect you, Hannah, and only mine. I can only offer my condolences that your future is not worthy of a full-blooded angel’s life. I never wanted to reveal myself to you. I only could not stand by as you…” he trailed off.

Her head was spinning. “What do you mean, not worthy? What’s wrong with you?”

“I am tainted,” he growled, glaring at her and shoving out of the chair to pace the length of the room. “I told you. My father was a demon.”

“So… are you like… a million years old or something then?” she asked, for the moment ignoring the sensitive topic rather than drive him off answering any more questions.

His laugh was harsh. “Hardly. We grow quickly to adulthood, where we survive as long as required.”

“As long as…” she echoed dubiously.

“Yes. Once our purpose is served, we remain on Earth, in the human world, to die a hollow death without a ward to look after.”

“So if you hadn’t saved me?” she asked.

“That is not why I did so!” he shouted, whirling to her, enraged. His voice boomed with a power she could not believe, but had to.

“I just meant…” she stammered.

He wiped a hand over his face. “Forgive me. Hannah, it is not my wish to frighten you. It has always been my curse to frighten. It is why I have labored so hard to avoid showing myself to you. If not for the demon I sensed this evening, I would have left you believing me nothing but a good, human Samaritan.”

“The demon? You mean, that was the lightning we saw?”

“Yes.” He ceased pacing to cross his arms and study her harder. “Someone else was seeking you. I believe someone blinded you this afternoon with this specific intent of sending you into the bus. I do not know to what purpose.”

“Someone else? Like a demon?” A chill threaded through her spine.

“Yes,” he said, as though she were slow. “Something about your destiny has invited a demon to you, no doubt to prevent your future from unfolding. But why now? I have watched you for over eight thousand days, and no demon has ever…”

“You watched me?” she interrupted, dubious and embarrassed at the idea of this brooding, handsome stranger monitoring her daily activity. Did he mean he’d watched everything?

“It is my single purpose to protect you!” he exclaimed, spreading his hands helplessly. “How else could I serve you? The code of angels demands we not show ourselves to you, but I had little choice! I should have faced the demon in battle, but if I had died, you would have been helpless! At least here, you are safe, and if I find him, then he will not know where you’ve gone…”

She stared at him and he trailed off, closing his expression again angrily and continuing to pace. “What happens now?” she finally asked.

“Now?” He stopped again, and his eyes assessed her. “Forgive me. I did not realize you were hungry. I too could eat. I did not have time to prepare for this…” he muttered, stalking again into the kitchen.

“Angels have to eat?” It seemed hard to believe given everything else he’d said.

“Yes. I, more than most.” He admitted it, and she felt again like she’d inadvertently reminded him of his weakness. But if he was born to protect her, then he must really be more like an angel, right? If he wanted to fight the demon, then…

She shook her head. The thoughts were too unbelievable. Angels, demons? Really?

“I will order food,” he announced suddenly. “Is that acceptable?”

“Um, all right,” she agreed meekly. “But I don’t eat meat.”

He smiled at her then and for the first time seemed only genuinely amused. “Of course you don’t. Haven’t you heard me?”

She felt oddly embarrassed again. “You know everything about me?”

His smile widened. “I do not know your thoughts, only what you do, and what you feel. When you’re upset, I must be aware so I can be sure you are not in danger.”

Well, that was some relief, she thought – that her thoughts were still her own, and if he used his weird magic to know if she was hungry or tired or whatever, that wasn’t so bad. “So you’re really telling me you’re my guardian angel? I don’t care if you’re half anything, you said yourself you only want to protect me,” she added before he could remind her again.

He was serious again. “Then, yes. I am.”

“Wow.” She rubbed her eyes. “Let me guess – I can never tell anyone, right?”

“It is never a good idea,” he said. “As I told you, there is no religious aspect to this – you will not be struck down by the bolt of God if you disobey. But no one will believe you. I don’t recommend you try.”

“Figures.” She crossed her arms over her stomach. “I thought you were going to order food?”

He seemed startled, turning quickly back to the kitchen and rummaging through another drawer stuffed with papers. “Yes, of course,” he said. “Would you like anything in particular? Spare no expense, please.”

I’d like a big helping of reality check topped with ‘what the fuck,’ she thought, and tried to focus only on her growling stomach. “Um. Do you like Thai?”

“Don’t concern yourself with me,” he reminded, and immediately produced a menu, returning to hand it to her. “Anything you like. I insist.”

She looked only briefly. “Don’t you already know what I like?”

“You order many things,” he said, perplexed.

She smiled. “Well, I guess that’s true. I want veggie Penang, if that’s all right.”

“Is that enough?” he pressed. “You seem quite hungry.”

“It should be plenty,” she insisted, handing the menu back. “Can I use your bathroom?”

“Yes! Of course!” He was across the room at an impossible speed, opening the door past the couch, to the right. “Please, make yourself at home,” he added, stepping back when she slowly approached. “What is mine is yours.”

She only nodded, unsure how to answer his vehemence. The bathroom was cluttered just like the rest of everything and now she paid more attention to that fact, as though being in a smaller room allowed her mind to breathe easier. Although it was not dirty, everything in the apartment was crowded with all manner of trinkets and objects. Here was an attractive wooden floor with stone counters and a claw-footed tub with shower attached. She marveled that a creature of magic required showers and food. Was he so different from her? But she dismissed the thought immediately – of course he was. Just look at him! She relieved herself and washed at the sink, trying not to disturb anything unnecessarily. The whole of her was consumed by the single thought: what happened now?

it’s from April 2011, at the wedding of two of my good friends.

-unimportant post end-

http://gamasutra.com/view/news/38401/Lack_Of_Subscribers_Forces_Lego_Universe_Offline.php

It’s pretty much how it sounds. Didn’t get enough subscribers. Unfortunately, this decision came at the end of a new studio design which would have had a lot of new games coming up in the future. I guess someone higher-up decided the math comparing TT games (i.e. LEGO Star Wars) to ours was just too sweet to resist.

So… what now? Well, that’s about where I’m at. Lots of possibilities. Lots of things to worry about, too. On the bright side, I should have more time for other things I have wanted to pursue professionally for months and months. On the other hand, I don’t get any severance. So that’s kinda shitty.

Whenever I sort out my brain I’ll be back to this blog. I might as well have committed to NaNoWriMo at this point…

NjYHh.png 688×1474.