Sorry I have been absent as of late. As many of you close to me know, I recently had a piece of lattice bonk me right on my noggin which sent me immediately to the hospital to receive staples. Luckily, for my beauty's sake, my hair covers the majority of the damage. Unluckily, I had intensive headaches that practically incapacitated me for days, delaying the ending of Soul Stalker. I am officially back to work on the book and have decided to give the fans a sneak (unedited) peak of two scenes from Soul Stalker AND I'm giving away two free copies of Shadow of the Sun which you may enter by going here: http://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/show/4669-shadow-of-the-sun!
On another note, the cover for Soul Stalker is rumored to be finished this week and I will post immediately. Trust me when I say WOW! It's amazing and is being worked on by Igor Scekic, the graphic designer who made the first cover for me. Check out his amazing work here: http://fusionfactory.net/profolio/.
One last thing before we commence with the Soul Stalker goodies . . . I will be on the road from July 6th-11th on I70 between Kentucky and Utah. That includes Southern Indiana, Missouri, Kansas, and Colorado. If you are interested in meeting for lunch or to watch me purchase gas, let me know!
Now onto the first Soul Stalker scene (very unedited):
The fact that I even thought about hitting—or possibly breaking—someone’s knee caps made me feel out of my element. Again, what part of a dungeon-like prison, Shadow guards, and a soulless leader was in my element? Actually, I thought about doing a lot more than hurting a few knees around here. The wave of violence that burned within me was new. Since I had become an angel, violence seemed to be the only thing on my mind; usually vicious thoughts when people felt the need to attack me and those I loved. And no matter how foreign the emotion was, I embraced it this time.
Joseph went for the door first and I practically yanked him back and shook my head. For a whole minute we silently argued, bent down like waddling ducks. He made gestures of how he was male by flexing his bicep and pointing at it, then he nodded and yanked his finger toward the door saying that he should go first. I shook my head, rubbed my fingers together to make a small electric spark, and stabbed my thumb toward the door to tell him I should go first. He didn’t agree, snapped his head left and right fiercely to say no, made his hand into a gun and blew over his pointer finger as if he had just shot a real gun. I rolled my eyes at him as I pointed to his empty holster, not like bullets did anything to the very immortal angels. He put his hand over it and grimaced when he realized it was empty and then he thrust both of his thumbs into his chest and literally—no joke—hit his chest like a wild caveman. I blinked at him as he continued to flex his biceps. Finally, I pointed at my chest to say I should go first and then I drew a halo above my head with my finger. He thought it was funny and then made horns on his head like a devil and stuck his tongue out at me.
The door creaked open and Joseph and I both jumped, startled, when we noticed Patrick lit from the sliver of light that came from the hallway. He shook his head at our muted conversation in slight humor and exasperation as he held the door in his palm. From the outside, I was sure we probably looked like a pair of pantomimes. I looked up toward Patrick and shot him my best glare for opening the door while Joseph craned his neck to see what was behind door number one. Patrick signaled for the all-clear and we all stood. Zola had been leaning against the wall, but seemed to regain some buoyancy at the thought of being free. Being imprisoned for a couple-hundred years and finally realizing it might all be over with would put a smile on anyone’s face. But we weren’t free yet, and somehow I was sure she knew that.
Second Soul Stalker scene (very unedited):
There was a blast of electricity that exploded out of my body, the screech of tires, and the jerk of something around my torso. My head slammed against something and my vision came back to me, as if a hypnotist snapped his fingers and I woke up from a trance. The car moved slowly for a moment before it stopped completely.
The annoying dinging sound a vehicle makes when the door is open and the vehicle is still on was going off. Both Patrick and Joseph’s doors were open but they were missing from their seats.
“Joseph?” I called out as I put my hand to my head, dazed. There was a sore spot at my hairline and it was wet. I pulled my hand away and looked down at the blood. It wasn’t silver, but it wasn’t red either. It was a strange shimmering, pink-tinged mixture that made my heart thud forcefully against my ribcage.
My door opened and I fell backward, my seatbelt catching me. Joseph was at my ear. “Are you okay? Oh shit, your head.”
“I’m fine,” I assured him.
“Sure ya are, Zinger.” The nickname surprised me and I gave a low chuckle. Joseph reached over and unbuckled my seatbelt. I rested against him for a few seconds.
I recognized Patrick’s deep voice. It grew louder along with a voice I didn’t recognize. “Really, it’s no big deal,” the guy said. “That’s what insurance is for.”
“Is she okay, Agent?” Patrick asked.
“I’m fine,” I repeated.
Joseph’s chest shook with laughter. “She’s bleeding, but she’ll be okay.”
“Can she walk?”
“Guys, thanks for the concern but I’m fine.” I rose up in my seat and swung my legs around so I could climb out. Joseph held his hand out and I took it gratefully. When I was on my feet, he let go and my knees went out from under me. Patrick caught me, moving so quickly I blinked up at him a few times, confused. He had this look on his face that I couldn’t quite place; I’d say it was concern, but it was a deeper emotion, one I couldn’t quite understand. “Thanks,” I said softly.
“I—” he cut himself off and his eyebrows came together. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention and I just ran right into another car. It’s all my fault.”
“It’s okay. I’m—”
“Fine?” Joseph chimed in. “Obviously not. You need to be checked out by a doctor.”
“I am a doctor.” I rolled my eyes at him, but that didn’t deter him from his train of thought.
“Not that kind of doctor.”
“What is ‘that kind of doctor’ going to say when they see my SHIMMERING PINK BLOOD, Joseph?” I changed my voice to mimic one of a concerned doctor. “I’m sorry ma’am, you appear to be suffering from a mild case of Pretty Pretty Princess syndrome? Have you ingested any magical woodland faeries recently?” I tapped my fingers on the top of the car.
I could tell he was trying not to smile. “Oh, and I suppose you’ve examined your share of supernatural head trauma cases?” He raised one eyebrow at me and then pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and began to practically shout orders at someone. I was sure he called someone at the FBI headquarters instead of a regular ambulance.
All right. There ya have it people! Hope you enjoyed it, and you'll be hearing from me again very soon!