Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Have I Invited Demons Into My House?

While writing She Who Hunts I had an idea in my head, one of those 'what if' moments. I remember watching the news and after a murder had happened the news anchor interviewed a neighbor of the suspect. "He was such a nice guy," the neighbor said. It always seems that after someone commits some heinous crime there is someone in their lives who declare this person was such a wonderful person, the kind of person who would do anything for anyone. But, how the hell did the person just snap and become a serial killer? My first thought-maybe they became possessed.

Now, as I'm working on the second book, I've become almost obsessed with the idea of demon possessions, and evil walking among us. I have to admit there are times when it feels like someone is in the room with me, and not just the characters who are busily chatting it up in my head. Sometimes, when the house is really quiet, and I'm really into a scene, it seriously feels like there's someone standing behind me. I whip around, ready to yell at whatever kid snuck in and was now reading over my shoulder to find an empty room.


Have I possibly brought the demons from She Who Hunts into my own life? Or has the story just become so alive to me that I keep waiting for those things which go bump in the night to tap me on the shoulder? How about you? Ever get so creeped out by something you wrote or read that you checked under your bed before climbing in?


Friday, May 4, 2012

Stop giving your friends great reviews!

I've been thinking a lot about book reviews lately. Every author - especially debut authors - need reviews on their books. Book reviews sell books, as does word of mouth. But, it seems to me more often than not, friends and family of the author are posting reviews, rather than your everyday reader.

I've gone book pages on Amazon and looked through reviews of authors I'm familiar with. One particular book had seven reviews - three five stars, one four stars, and three two stars. The higher stars were from other authors from a writer's forum most of us frequent. The lower three were unknown to me.

This particular situation got me thinking even deeper about reviews; would I want good reviews only because someone knows me, or because they like my work? I think the answer is obvious here.

And here's another question: Can the good reviews on a bad book lend discredibility to the reviewers' work? Will someone realize that Joan Smith - author of Blah, blah blah gave a good review on a bad book and question their talent?
Okay, now that we've delved into this little arena, how about unsolicited reviews? When one reaches out on social networks and begs  asks their "friends" to read and review their work, does this seem desperate, or like someone truly believes in their book and wants to know the opinion of the general public?

What about you? Do you read reviews before buying books? And, if you're a writer, do you seek out reviews from bloggers and book reviewers?

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

Excerpt from She Who Hunts


My hands were warming on the sides of the mug, the smell of the coffee filled my nose, but I was uncomfortable. My skin felt ready to crawl off my body, like insects were roaming just under the surface of my flesh. I hadn’t felt that feeling since…yesterday morning.

“Claire, get up!” I screamed as I jumped to my feet. There was a demon somewhere outside. I couldn’t tell how far, or which direction it was moving in. I only knew there was one nearby, and it more than likely sensed me just as I had sensed it. This damn energy sensing talent of mine was also a curse. I wasn’t able to suppress the energy I put out, it was far too easy for others to find me…if they knew what they were looking for.

I bolted to the windows, searching the woods with my eyes as Claire shuffled out of her room. “Where’s the fire?” She asked, her voice hoarse with sleep.

With one glance from me she knew where the fire was…we were standing directly in it. “Oh shit! Again? Here? Where? Who? Where the hell is Jason?” Her questions rolled one on top of the other. She was asking the room as much as she was asking me.

“I don’t know who or where it is, and I don’t know where Jason is,” I said.

“Then how do you know it’s one of them?” She asked. She had backed into the kitchen, and pressed her back against the far counter, probably wishing she could disappear into the wood and granite. She slid down the counter, landing hard on her knees. Her eyes were wide, filled with terror, as she shook her head from side to side. “Not again…not again,” she whispered over and over again.

“Just stay down!” I whispered. The windows were only about two feet from the ground, ducking under them wasn’t totally possible, but I crouched as low as I could while still watching through the long row of glass.
“Where the fuck is Jason?” I whispered more to myself than out loud. He was supposed to be protecting us. Then again, I was supposed to be the offspring of two of the best Hunters through history. Yet, here I was, ducking under the windows, whispering like a kid hiding from the monsters.

“Fuck this.” I climbed to my feet and stood, fully visible to anyone outside who might be looking in. That wasn’t quite enough for me. I turned on my heel and headed toward the door, my feet thudding against the floor with each step.

“Tenna, what the hell are you doing? Get down!” Yeah, I heard Claire, but she might as well have been talking to the wall for all I cared. I was tired of being a victim. Tired of being afraid.

The door opened with ease, and made a loud thud when it hit the wall from the force of which I yanked it open. I stood in the open doorway, daring whoever - whatever - it was to show itself. Adrenaline singed its way through my veins, pumped my heart, and brought my vision into crystalline focus, my hearing so acute I swear I could’ve heard a bird poop in the woods.

Footsteps crunching on gravel brought my attention to the right, but the energy flowing from the source of the steps wasn’t what had me on edge. This was a soothing energy, Jason’s energy.

“What are you doing?” He asked. His eyebrows were pulled together, his mouth turned down slightly at the edges.

“Someone’s here,” I answered.

He stopped mid-stride, and focused his attention on the surrounding woods. “Where?”
"Don’t know…close.” I stepped though the door and padded, still barefoot, to stand next to Jason. He put a hand out, his arm stretched across my chest, and attempted to push me behind him, all while shuffling backwards towards the house.

“Stop. I’m not going back inside. I’m done running.”

“You have no idea what you’re saying,” he protested, his back still to me.

“I’m perfectly capable of fighting.”

He turned on me. “I can’t fight with you…”

“Shh. It’s here.” The energy that flowed across my skin now burned and froze my flesh. It wasn’t a sensation which could be described with one word, it was anything and everything you could think of when describing evil. It was the epitome of pain and torture. But I was accustomed, though not exactly used to the feeling. I always have, and always will hate the feeling of evil.

As if on cue, a man appeared through a thick spread of overgrown bushes at the edge of the tree line. He was no more than an inch taller than me, and thick around the waist. His hair was thinning which emphasized his bulbous nose and beady eyes. He stopped when he spotted the two of us watching him.
His hand moved forward and up, and he waved. He actually waved. It was an awkward motion, sort of a salute. That was a first for me. In the times I’d seen any demons they would either turn and run when they felt who I was, or they would try to kill me - as Paul had done on many occasions.

“What is he doing?” I whispered.

Jason raised his shoulders in a half shrug in response. Great. We’re both flying blind.

“Should we just go out there and kill him?”

He shook his head. “Could be a trap. Could be more in the woods.”

I felt my eyes go wide in unison with my accelerated heart beat. Wait, I would feel it if there were more.
“He’s alone.”

Jason turned his head to side just a fraction of an inch. “How do you know?”

“I told you…I can feel them. He’s burning my skin as we speak. If there were more, trust me, I’d know it.”

Jason actually risked a glance down at me this time. Just a quick shift of his eyes. But the man, the demon, took a step toward us, shifting Jason’s attention back to the doughboy in front of us. He was actually walking toward us. He’s got some balls. Gotta give him that much.

“Now what?”

“Find out what he wants. Then kill him,” his tone was flat, matter of fact, deadly.

“Why wait? Why not just go over there and release the human’s soul?” My voice held the same eerie calmness. Shouldn’t I be shaking in my boots, uh, if I were wearing any? But I wasn’t scared. Not in the slightest. I was angry and sad for the human soul.
Doughboy stopped within about ten feet of us. His energy scalded my flesh, indicating he’d been in this human form for years. He was well established in this form, and apparently had no intention of giving it up without a fight. At least that’s what I assumed; either that or he was utterly suicidal.

“Tenalucci. I’d heard you’d followed in your mother’s footsteps, but I had to see for myself,” the demon said.

“What is your name, demon,” Jason demanded. His arm was still out in front of me, shielding me.

“How do you know my name?” I asked.

The chubby demon shook his head and giggled. “We all know your name, Dark Slayer. But we were told you strayed from your namesake, yet here you are.”

He didn’t know I was at Jason’s hiding from my possessed husband. Well, I wasn’t about to correct him. Let him fear me.

“Tell me your name, demon,” Jason repeated. His voice was flat, emotionless, but I could see the muscles tensing in his arm still stretched across me, his jaw muscle clenched under his skin.

With a quick flick of his eyes, the demon turned his attention to Jason. “Why should I tell you my name? You, of all people, should know that makes no difference. But, you may know this body’s former name. This poor schmuck was named Ralph. Fitting isn’t it?” He ran his hand over the protruding belly of the human body. Ralph was fitting for an overweight, middle aged man.

Jason’s arm wavered, then he dropped it. He still didn’t move his body, so I was partially shielded behind muscle and sinew. As I stared at the man in front of me something inside me woke. First, there was only the scalding against my skin from the evil pouring from the demon, then it was replaced by another sensation. Not replaced, soothed. I reached my hand out and touched just my fingertips to Jason’s. He turned his head immediately to look down at me, not bothering to watch what the demon may do. But I kept my eyes on Ralph. I don’t know how, but I knew what to do with the feeling running through my system. Jason must have felt it, too, because he stepped out of my way.

“You know my name,” I said rather than asked.

Ralph smirked and nodded.

I took another step forward, not slowly nor tentatively. His smug expression faltered, then fell. He knew. He knew just as Jason knew. “If you know my name, and you know who I am, then you know precisely what I'm capable of.”
My bare feet continued to crunch in the dry grass as I moved closer to Ralph. His eyes widened slightly, his lips twitched. I don’t know if he was trying to think of something clever to say, or if he was trying to find a way beg for his life. It didn’t matter. A part of me, deep down inside of me, wanted to free the soul of his human victim. I needed to set the real Ralph free and send this deliverer of evil back to Hell.

I was within touching distance of Ralph, and he didn’t move. He didn’t try to run, beg; nothing. He stood stoic, as if he’d accepted his fate. “I gotta wonder…if you knew who I was, why would you bother showing yourself to me?”

He shook his head to each side once, his lips still twitching uncontrollably. He was terrified…good. Then, just as I had thought it, I felt guilty - not for the demon, he deserved his death, but for the human host. There was no way to set his soul free without killing his body. The true Ralph would be released to move on while the demon would return to the Underworld. But, Ralph would be dead. His family would have to mourn him, if they hadn’t already.

“Before I take your life, do you wish to tell me your name?” I held my hand back toward Jason and felt cold steel slipped into it. Jason had given me his Blessed Sword to make the kill. Shockingly, he wasn’t stepping in to stop me or protect me.

“M…my name is Maul.”

“Maul, I will now send you back to the Hell to dwell for eternity. Ralph, I now release your soul. You may move on.” I didn’t wait for Maul to say another word. I didn’t hesitate to ask Jason’s advice. The demon attempted to turn, maybe he thought about running, but I forced my energy out and over him. He was frozen in place.
I bowed my head long enough to ask God’s forgiveness, and as I raised it, I also raised the sword, and thrust it forward, using my own weight to pierce through the human host’s ribcage and into his heart.

A rush of wind blew my hair away from my face, and made me sway in place. Jason didn’t budge. Must be nice to be as big as a tree. The coolness, the soothing sensation which had overcome me washed from my body, revealing the scalding heat still slinking over the surface of my skin. Within a heartbeat’s time, the sensation faded until it was nothing. The demon was gone, the soul departed. The body laying on the ground was nothing more than a shell…a rapidly decomposing shell. The demon had killed the human host years before and was maintaining its existence with human blood. When the demon died, the shell was no longer alive. The skeletal remains of Ralph lay in a thick, stinky pool of congealed blood. Who knows how many other people had died to keep this body alive as long as it had been.

That no longer mattered. Ralph was free, the demon was gone…and I was suddenly cold and dizzy.

I felt Jason’s touch on my upper arms, even knew when he took the sword from my hands. Jason’s heart was thumping against my ear, which told me I was in his arms, then...nothing.