2 Cents Blog and Review

Sunday, November 16, 2014

Happy Birthday Amber Kell!

Happy Birthday Amber!

Thank you for inviting me to participate in your November Birthday Bash! It's a pleasure to be here and spread the love and lust for all things paranormal and male.

It's always hard finding just the right gift. There's always the cute teddy bear and champagne...

But knowing you, I think you'd appreciate something more like this...

So here's to wishing you another wonderful year of balloons, cake and frosting. Oh, um... the pin is in the mail. 

Surprisingly enough, the couple I get the most comments on is Evan and Adel from Adel's Purr, my Elements of Love series. I have to admit, I really enjoy this couple. Evan is a very strong character and Adel, well being a gargoyle gives him a unique view of the world. 

Birthday Balloons

Adel sat perched on the balcony at Doc's residence and hospital. It was the wee hours of morning and Evan slept in one of the guest rooms maintained by the daemon. The warehouse assault that had freed many of the people now filling the hospice rooms Doc maintained had not saved everyone. Many had died both in the conflict, some from injuries that Doc was unable to cure and others like his friend and fellow gargoyle, Finn was still missing. The archbishop having escaped through the black blood spells and sacrifice of the lives of his priests had left them few clues as to where he could have disappeared. 

But these weren't Adel's current worries. It had begun a couple weeks back while they were sitting in a restaurant in Rome. It had been a rather strange meal. Evan had refused to enter the Vatican proper, but upon Jude's prompting they had journeyed from Paris to Rome to meet with the Pope. The man had been much younger than either he or Evan had expected. They had been seated at a table outdoors, enjoying the day, with the Pope's personal guard surrounding them, protecting their leader. It had been so surreal because in that moment, regardless of his abilities, he'd realized if the Pope had wished them ill, he could have done as there was no way for him to extract Evan from all those men.

"I'm so glad you agreed to come to Rome." His Holiness said after some awkward introductions and the pontiff had requested they be seated at the table. His certain members of his staff entered the restaurant, emptying it of customers and staff except for the cook. Then his staff took over the duties of waiting on them and making sure the meal wasn't tampered with. "I apologize for all this, but as you are aware, someone is trying to kill me. So my staff takes my security rather extreme."

"No, that's quite alright, your Holiness." Evan frowned slightly and peering at the man who sat with them dressed from head to toe in a white suit, instead of the usual cassock.

"You're wondering about my attire?" The Pope chuckled. "It's an attempt to disguise myself and blend in. But surrounded as we are, I doubt very much it will dissuade anyone as to who I am."  

"Well if you had come without the guards or maybe with one or two, and not taken over the entire downtown area in order to do so, I'd have said you might have been somewhat successful." Evan grinned at the man, who appeared to be only a few years his elder.    

"I guess my days of slipping around unnoticed are past." The Pope said with a certain amount of chagrin.

"If you don't mind my asking, sir, how old are you?" Adel inquired from his standing position over Evan's right shoulder. The entire situation made him uncomfortable and so he remained on guard, ready to grab Evan and launch himself into the air at the first sign of deceit.

"I am 28 years old." The pope flapped his hands a bit at Evan's gasp and Adel's dropped jaw. "I know, its rather unheard of for one my age to become pontiff. But the church is not the same as it once was. I was raised knowing I would become pope and I was inducted into the roll when I turned 21. Much as my counterpart in India, the Dahli Lama, once his reincarnation is found, the child is raised with the knowledge that he is ruler of his people, I have been raised with the knowledge and education of our people."

"I had no idea." Evan frowned. "I just assumed you were chosen by the cardinals."

"I was, in a manner of speaking. I was a child among thousands seeking to enter the seminary in Rome. I tested highest among my peers for aptitude, was multilingual and one of my tutors later told me I have a peaceful countenance about myself. I'm not sure what he means, but somehow it aided in their decision and I was chosen at the age of 7 to become who I am today."

"I would never have considered the cardinals taking such a drastic change from the usual method." Adel stared out over the crowd as he spoke. "Not that it negates who you are in any fashion, it is just surprising."

"I believe it may be part of the reason I am being targeted. Even among the Cardinals, there is ambition and in making me pontiff, they circumvented the aspirations of many." The Pontiff sighed. "How about you, how old are you Evan?" he asked, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

"Twenty five, soon to be twenty six." Evan chuckled.

"Ah well if you are still in Rome, you will have to invite me to your birthday celebration. Although I suspect circumstances will have you back in the America's by that time."

"As you ..."   

Adel ran a hand over his face and sighed, staring up at the clear star filled night sky. The day had come and gone, amid all the turmoil of Jude's disappearance and then his need for assistance and Finn's kidnapping... he'd simply forgotten and missed Evan's birthday. There had been no celebration of his heart's birth into the world, not that he would know what to do for a birthday celebration, in any event. 

Skye twittered and rubbed against his thigh, the young griffin gargoyle seeking his attention like any youthful creature, with a desire to play. Of courses, where Skye could be found, Gabe was never far away. The griffin shifter seemed to find solace in the company of the hatchling gargoyle simply because of his form. Griffins weren't solitary creatures, usually found in large prides.

"What has you out here moping around by yourself while your mate sleeps?" Gabe asked. 

"I'm not a very good mate." Adel grumbled and glanced over his shoulder at the large muscular blonde man behind him.

"That's not true. I've seen the two of you together and you dote on Evan. That man wants for nothing and seems supremely happy. Are you fighting?"

"No, but..." Adel wondered if he could talk to Gabe about his failing. If he didn't do something soon to fix things, Evan would notice his melancholy and realize it was more than just the fact Finn was missing. "Evan turned twenty six recently and I forgot his birthday celebration. I didn't even mention it on the day of his birth or wish him well."

"Yep that's a crime." Gabe chuckled sitting down cross legged alongside Adel. "But its not too late. It's never too late, especially when its someone you love."

"Are you sure? I mean the day is past. Don't I have to wait until next year?"

"No. Birthdays are a celebration of the people we love. The day on which we choose to celebrate that person's life and show them what they mean to us is truly insignificant to the celebration itself." Gabe grinned at the gargoyle.

Adel fluffed his wings and resettled them about himself as he considered, "But how does one celebrate a birthday?"

"It is different for each culture, and it was generally a celebration for children. A time when a parent would give toys, games or books to the child. Once past the age of adulthood, many no longer celebrate, or if they do, its necessities that a parent may gift to their offspring. At least those were the celebrations of the past. In this time where most children are raised by people other than their own relatives, may never even meet their mothers, few actually even adhere to the old ways of celebrating birthdays."

"But His Holiness made it sound like a birthday celebration was an automatic thing." Adel grumbled as he tried to understand.

"The Pope is a monarch and as such it probably is an automatic thing and has been for his entire life. The rest of humanity, I would guess it isn't something that is done anymore. If you don't have parents because your mother was a breeder in the temple and your father a sperm donor, who will care if you turn another year older."

"Yes, I can see that. Evan was raised by his uncle." Adel rubbed his chin.

"He may have grown up celebrating his birthday. You would have to ask him." Gabe smiled as Skye curled up in his lap, and he scratched the small griffin behind his feather tufted ears.

"So what is customary at these celebrations?" Adel asked. If the day wasn't overly important, but the acknowledgement was the important part, maybe he could still show Evan how much he loved him. How much it mean to him that his mate and rescued him from his own death.

"There was usually cake, presents and balloons." Gabe chuckled. He hadn't participated in many birthday parties as he'd lived his life as a loner for a long time before being accepted into Nico's family of paranormal's. 

"I have seen cake. I've never eaten one. Evan tried to teach me to cook. Our oven has never been the same as I didn't know what a timer alarm was and attacked the stove when it went off. Evan cooks and I watch or help if I can." Adel snickered. 

"I can just see that, you smacking the hell out of an oven while Evan comes running into the room upon hearing the crunch of metal and glass." Gabe broke into belly laughs that had him wiping tears from his eyes.

"I have nothing for him, no present."

"Although it has been a number of years, I think if we go down to the market, we might still be able to purchase balloons." Gabe grinned. "They use them for weather predictions and to test the winds for balloon travel.

"Lets go." Adel stood, picked up Gabe and Skye in one swoop and launched himself off the balcony.

"I can fly myself." Gabe growled, grasping onto Adel's shoulders as Skye squawked indignantly and launched himself into the air.

"Then you would have had to get undressed and redressed to enter the market. This way at least you will be able to enter the store." Adel knew he made sense, but didn't think Gabe liked flying when he wasn't in control of the action.

"Just land already!" Gabe shouted as Adel hovered well above the large well lit store, keeping to the shadows.

"Keep your voice down. I'm just looking for a dark place nearby." Adel tsked banking slightly to the right and setting down in the alley.

"Never again. When we go back, I'm flying myself." Gabe groaned, holding his stomach. "I never knew people who flew with me got that kind of ride. I will never make fun of them again."

"Oh come on. It wasn't even a bumpy ride." Adel crossed his arms over his chest, his frustration with Gabe extremely evident.

"Just give me a second." Gabe complained as he straightened. He took a few deep breaths, obviously needing to regain his composure. He shook his head and stepped out of the alley into the light of the street in front of the market.





"Why did you let go?

"I thought you had it."  


Evan sat up in bed. It was barely dawn. He was still exhausted, but something was definitely going on.  He could hear voices and the occasional bang was disconcerting, especially since his mate was missing. 

"Damn it!" 


At first he'd thought it was just someone dropping something. With all the wounded and sick that were being cared for by Doc, there were a lot of people in the building. 


"I give up." 

Evan got up and walked over to where his clothes were laid over a chair off to one side. He pulled on his jeans and t-shirt, forgoing his socks and shoes as the voices were obviously out in the main living quarters of this suit.

"What's going on out here." Evan said as he stood rubbing sleep from his eyes. Adel stood gingerly holding a red heart shaped balloon to his lips, still in the process of blowing it up.

"Umm... Happy Birthday! Bye!" Gabe hollered and then quickly ducked out the door. 

Shards of colored rubber from the obviously popped balloons covered the armchair and coffee table. Evan watched Adel purse his lip, and pinch the end of the balloon. 

"Its a birthday balloon. But every time I try to tie it shut, the pressure on my fingers causes my claws to come out and... Bang." Adel frowned. "Gabe had the same problem."

"I didn't know he had retractile claws." Evan shrugged his shoulders and held out his hand. Adel gave him the balloon and he knotted the end. "Very nice, who's birthday is it?"

"It is for you. I... I missed your day, but Gabe assures me that it is the thought that counts."

"For me. I haven't had something like this since I was a child." Evan grinned and stepped into Adel's embrace. "Thank you!"

"I don't have any presents for you. I'm sorry." Adel rubbed his face on the top of Evan's black dreadlocks. "You already have my heart, my strength and you know you are my life."

"Then I already have everything I need." Evan tipped his head back and pursed his lips expectantly. Adel didn't leave him wanting, but lowered kissing him gently.

Evan let go of the balloon, wrapping both arms around Adel's shoulders. A hissing sound followed by anxious chittering and more hissing interrupted their ardor. Adel released his mate just before...


"Skye!" Adel snarled and Evan laughed. The little griffin gargoyle looked like he'd pounced on the balloon. He and Cela, Evan's little dragon gargoyle were standing staring startled at each other with bits of red rubber covering feathers, fur and scales of both gargoyles. 

"Best birthday ever." Evan clung to Adel and pulled him down for another kiss before whispering against his lips. "Now come back to bed. I want my present." Evan abruptly let Adel go and turned away from him, walking back towards the bedroom, putting a suggestive sway in his hips.

The End!


I hope you've enjoyed this little birthday interlude. Keep an eye out for the next book in the Elements of Love series, Gabe's Song. Coming in 2015.

Happy Birthday Amber!!

Friday, September 5, 2014

Blood Ties - Changing Moon 3 - Releasing TODAY!

Greetings Loved Ones!

Today!!  It's Today!!  I'm so excited and I hope you are too!

Lance and Andrew are back and they are bringing with all of their friends as well as a few new characters! You'll also hear from Stephon and Quinn and their budding new relationship... well budding that is if you consider its been on hold for a couple hundred years because of Quinn... well I'll let you read and discover just what that's all about. 

Here's the blurb and an excerpt from the story. If you are interested in a family tree for the characters, head on over to my website at SuiLynn.com  to see how they all fit together.

When Lance is kidnapped from his adopted grandfather’s home, Andrew believes there is a traitor among Lord Basil’s drones, despite the fact that the born vampire supports Lance and Andrew’s crusade to free shifters from vampire subjugation.

Lance awakens to finds Andrew's baby sister, Angela, and a young boy shackled to a wall next to him, and a corpse nearby. Brad, a former drone of Basil's, tortures them in an effort to drive Lance insane and prove that pureblood shifters are unstable and need to be destroyed before he gets them all killed.

Stephon comes home after a trip to an orgy disguised as an unbirthday party. His mate, Quinn, shows up uninvited and is angry at the perceived infidelity. It isn’t easy to rekindle a relationship after a 270-year separation. As old arguments and insecurities resurface, Quinn decides the only way to keep Stephon safe might be to force the stubborn older vampire into hibernation, until he can defeat his father, Lord Rufus.


A Night in Andrew’s Bedroom

Seventy-four years in the past….

“MAMA… MAMA… Mama… Mama… Mama….” Andrew giggled and ran through the house, down the hallway, and into the kitchen, dragging a stuffed wolf along by the tail in his wake.

“I’m in here, little cub.” Laura Reed turned from the sink. She wiped her hands on the dish towel, having finished the cleaning in the kitchen, and then focused on the naked young boy who had wrapped his arms around her knees.

“Love you, Mama!” Andrew smiled up at Laura.

Laura reached down and pulled the boy up to sit on her hip, his arms draped over her shoulders and the wolf toy dangling down her back. “I love you, too, but aren’t you supposed to be in bed? Where are your pajamas?”

The sound of slow shuffling footfalls coming down the hall preceded Max as he entered the kitchen. He appeared a bit frustrated and tired. “I thought I heard voices in here. The little hooligan escaped when I turned my back to get his pj’s from the dresser. I turned around. He and Scruffy were gone, except for the sound of giggling and the thumping of running footsteps down the hallway.”

Laura laughed softly. “Your son is as stubborn as his daddy when it comes to wanting things his way. But, cub, it’s time for you to be in bed and go to sleep.”

Max wrapped his arms around both of them, nuzzled his wife’s neck, then gave her a kiss on the cheek and a gentle hug before accepting the handoff of the child back into his arms.

“But I don’t want to go to bed. I’m not tired, and Scruffy wants to play outside.” Andrew frowned, his bottom lip sticking out in a decided pout.

“It’s dark out and time for cubs to sleep,” Laura insisted. She ruffled her son’s hair.

Max turned and walked from the kitchen, a squirming Andrew in his arms, Laura following close behind.

“I don’t wanna…,” Andrew whined.

“Too bad. Boys go to bed when they are told,” Max huffed, obviously getting tired of his son’s incessant complaints.

“Mama….” Andrew began to fake cry, rubbing his eyes with his little fists, as if trying to make the tears flow.

“You heard your father—to bed.” Laura chuckled at her son’s antics. “But once you are there, you may have one story, then lights out and time to go to sleep.”

“Yeah! A story!” Andrew cheered.

Max flinched, pulling his head away from his son’s screech of joy… right in his sensitive ear. “Tell me again, why did we want children?” Max grumbled as they walked into the powder blue playroom, scattered with carved wooden toys and a table covered with crayons and paper.

“Because you wanted a son and I wanted a family. Now hush,” Laura scolded Max. She pulled the covers back and watched as her son leaped from his father’s arms onto the bed. He dutifully held his arms up, and Max grabbed the pajama top and tugged it down over his son’s extended arms and then his head. Max handed him the bottoms. Andrew frowned as he inserted one leg through at a time with great care and concentration before pulling them up over his rump and scrambling to lie down with the stuffed wolf at his side. Laura draped the blankets over his little body and tucked him in before sitting beside him.

Max stepped back to stand by the door, as if guarding his most precious treasure, his small pack.

“Now, what story would you have tonight?” Laura asked as she brushed Andrew’s bangs to the side, away from his bright blue eyes.

“The First Prince!” Andrew begged.

“That old story?” Max watched his mate and his son.

“It’s kind of scary. Are you sure it won’t give you nightmares?” Laura frowned and glanced at her husband, who shrugged.

“The Prince… the Prince!” Andrew chanted.

“All right. But after this, it’s straight to sleep, my little cub.” Laura tucked the covers a bit more snugly around her son and grinned down at him. “Well, the story, as it was told to me by my mother, begins…. Long ago there were four magical races. Can you tell me what they were?” Laura prompted, knowing her son liked to answer that question.

“Shifters, vampires, the honored dwarves, and fae.” Andrew nodded solemnly.

“That’s right. Our people and the vampires were friends with the dwarves, but the fae were evil and manipulative. They wanted to rule the entire supernatural world and make humans their slaves. In those days, although we lived with the other tribes in peace, there were no governments, no rulers. The Vampire Council didn’t exist, nor had the royal family of the werewolves come to power. We were all just a bunch of clans, pressed up against each other for control of a territory and of the humans we hunted.”

“We used to eat people? Ewww!” squealed Andrew, giggling.

“No. We did hunt humans—they were looked down upon. Many of our ancestors felt humans were less than us, merely animals who could speak and reason.” Laura smiled down at her inquisitive son.

“We hunted them for sport and status. They made good prey because they were smart and were a challenge.” Max leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest.

“But now we know better and it is against our laws to hunt humans. We hunt animals to let our wilder, animal side out. For us, it isn’t the blood we crave, but the excitement of the hunt and the kill our beasts need in order to be whole and balanced. Vampires, on the other hand, require human blood in order to live, but do not desire the thrill of the hunt. So both our species have found ways to exist alongside humans.”

“But not the fae?” Andrew shook his head.

“No. The fae were vicious and blood crazed. They weren’t content with the land they controlled. They wanted more power and began trying to take it from everyone they encountered. First, they destroyed all the humans within their borders for the energy and power the blood gave them. Then they began attacking the villages of the dwarves and the wolves living along their borders. Nobody was prepared for the attacks, and entire villages were destroyed as the fae feasted on their blood, growing stronger and more deadly.”

“Nobody escaped?” Andrew’s eyes had grown wide, his voice a whisper in the quiet of his bedroom.

In reality, the first attacks had no survivors. It wasn’t until long after the fae had grown bolder, attacking large towns, that some were able to escape in the chaos of the fighting and raise the alarm. But for her son’s bedtime story, Laura skipped that part as she had no intention of giving him nightmares.

“Of course, some always escape in the chaos of a fight. They warned the others in the surrounding villages, who didn’t believe until they too fell victim to the fae’s fangs and claws. The lure of blood and power is such that the more you get, the more you want, and for the fae, there would never be enough. So the attacks became more frequent and more deadly.

“After a rather large town was attacked and destroyed by the fae, a group of vampires, dwarves, and wolves from the largest families met to decide what could be done. They decided the fae would destroy them all if left alone, and so they devised a plan to create a barrier, a place separate from everyone else where the fae couldn’t cause any harm to anyone but themselves. There they could live out their lives, fight their wars, and all without destroying the other peoples of the earth. It would take the power of all four of the magical races to create the barrier, but in the end, only three would be free to find a way to live in harmony with humanity and each other without preying upon one another senselessly.”

“What happened?” Andrew gripped the covers under his chin with his tiny fists, his eyes darting from his mother to his father and to all the dark corners of his room, as if expecting the fae to jump out at any moment.

“The dwarves dug deep into the center of the earth and brought forth a lodestone. They blessed it with great powers and sacrificed many lives in setting it in the proper place, so it stood on a ley line on the border between two realities. Most of the time, we don’t see other dimensions. If we do happen to come across a ley line, we feel a slight tremor—humans call it déjà vu. But with the lodestone in place, we see a curtain of power shimmering between the dimensions. It glistens at night, a slightly translucent barrier between our lands and those beyond, allowing us to see through the veil to the lush and green land beyond. Humans see nothing.”

“If it was so pretty, why didn’t we go there, instead of sending the fae there?” Andrew frowned, obviously thinking hard.

“Well, because at that time, both our people and the vampires were still dependent upon humans in one way or another. We didn’t want to leave them behind. The dwarves don’t require blood, as they have a different type of magic altogether. Their magic ties them to the land, and they need to have a connection to it in order to flourish. But of all the races, theirs was the most powerful. Dwarves created the veil that connected the realities, and with the blood of the shifters, the vampires, and the fae, the veil would be locked, preventing the fae from escaping back into our world ever again.” Laura grinned down at her son.

“So what happened?” he begged.

“Well, the vampires, dwarves, and shifters all sent fighters to be part of an enormous army and, when the fae attacked, they were ready for them. The battle took a very long time. Some say days, some say weeks, some say it was months of nonstop fighting and bloodshed. But in the end, the fae were subdued and forced across the veil, with the few remaining dwarves acting as guards. By this time, because of the organization needed to create the armies, our peoples had become much more centralized and, for each, a form of government was born. The vampires devised a council, which today governs us all. For us, our animalistic nature will submit to only the strongest and most alpha male among us. That man became king. His name was Henry the Gray.”

“But what about the prince?” Andrew giggled.

“Well, you see, now that we had the fae on the other side of the veil, the dwarves needed to return before the portal sealed and the fae regained their strength and tried to return. The fae are nothing if not tricky, and the elders were in a hurry to lock down the entrance quickly to prevent them from finding a way to escape. They gathered around the lodestone and began the ceremony, casting the spell that carved the words into the stone, which would seal the fae away for eternity. As the last drop of blood sizzled down on the stone, they realized there was a problem. The dwarves were coming back toward the barrier, but they seemed to move in slow motion, as if time itself were preventing them from reaching the boundary between the worlds.

“Prince Atol had become good friends with one of the dwarves named Ventall. In fact they were mates. When the veil began to crystallize into a solid form and disappear from our world, Prince Atol threw himself at the barrier. He reached through it with both hands, trying to grab hold of Ventall, to yank the dwarf back into our dimension. The two screamed that they would not let go. They would not be separated. The barrier could not be stopped. Atol’s father, the king, seeing that the barrier would cut his son in half before the dwarf would be drawn through, grabbed Prince Atol by the waist. He threw himself back, forcing his son away from the fading barrier. Prince Atol screamed and fought his father, but the barrier vanished from this world, taking Ventall, the dwarves, and the fae with it.

“Prince Atol snarled that he’d never forsake his love and would wait for Ventall to return. He’d guard the stone forever, and, one day, the barrier would come down and they’d be reunited. That was the last time anyone ever saw Prince Atol. It’s said that on nights when the moon is full, if you see a lone black wolf and you hear mournful howling, it is Prince Atol crying for his missing mate, still waiting for the day the veil falls so he can be reunited with his love and the dwarves are freed from the fae.”

“Will they ever be free?” Andrew mumbled, his eyes drooping sleepily, as his father flipped the light switch off by the door.

“No. The veil is forever,” Max’s deep voice whispered from beside the door. “Now, go to sleep, pup. Tomorrow is another day.” Laura rose to her feet and joined her mate. He wrapped an arm around her waist and ushered her out into the hall.

“I can’t figure out why he likes that old story. He asks for it every night. It’s so depressing.” Laura frowned as they stepped into their own bedroom, and she felt her husband nuzzle her neck.

“Who knows what prompts children, but it’s the story he likes to hear and I see no problem with him learning our history. We were a proud, strong people once. We were an honorable race before…. Well, it doesn’t matter now. Let’s just go to bed.” Max sighed and rubbed the back of his head.

“Stephon?” Laura asked.

“Yes and no. He’s there, listening in, but it’s not like he’s protesting or anything. I think I need to shift and go hunting soon. My wolf is restless,” Max mumbled as Laura rubbed his back and the two settled down for a nice quiet night.

Chapter 1

Present Day

“ARE WE there yet?” I mumbled from under the blanket, curled alongside Andrew, my head pillowed on his lap as he drove toward Denver. The steady thump of the windshield wipers kept time with my erratic nerves and heartbeat, as the miles whirred by beneath the tires of the Dodge Ram. We weren’t alone, of course. My vassals, Charlie and Tim, were following close on our heels, protecting us as they always did. They gave us whatever privacy they could, but were never far from sight.

“No, Lance. Just try to get some rest. I’ll wake you when we get there.” Andrew brushed his fingers through my hair under the blanket I’d pulled over my head, his touch soothing the itch to bolt and run. He could always settle me. Regardless of how badly my nervousness grew, a simple caress grounded me more surely than chains.

The plan was to live with Lord Basil, my grandfather. Thinking of him as my grandfather was going to take some getting used to. I had family of my own now… family besides Andrew.

Swish-swish, swish-swish.

After my party, Stephon disappeared. Andrew told me he did this every year, something about a yearly sabbatical, which he usually returned from in poor spirits. Nobody could tell me when Stephon’s birthday was. Seems the old—and I do mean ancient—vampire, for all his talk about birthdays and parties, refused to celebrate his own. So Andrew and I threw him a party he would never forget.

Damn weird, though. I knew he was prissy and stuck on propriety, but he appeared to enjoy the orgy it ended up becoming. Then Stephon disappeared into the maze early in the evening. No one saw him come out. The following morning, after he inspected the grounds to make sure we hadn’t messed up his impeccable gardens, we were packed up and sent to Grandfather.

Swish-swish, swish-swish.

Since I’d mated with Andrew, our mind, experiences, and understanding had become one. The time he spent at university with Stephon pursuing various interests and hobbies, all the years of his life, it’s all in there for me. He saw my loneliness and isolation, my will to survive and determination to live regardless of what the humans had told me. He experienced it all as if he were me. We’re two bodies, but our thoughts and spirit are one. Before, I was alone. I was good at protecting myself. Now, there was more to fight for. More to protect. More to love. More reason to live. I refused to fail him or any of them. They deserved my best, and they would get it.

Swish-swish, swish-swish.

I was used to fighting to keep myself safe… to stay alive. I had only ever risked myself, but when others are involved, it becomes more complicated. I wasn’t exactly comfortable with the responsibility of caring for others, but I was a prince and my people were being persecuted. I had freed Andrew, but his family and our people as a whole remained veritable slaves. I was the means to their salvation… no pressure there.

The big question was how to free our people while attempting to keep Andrew’s connection to his family hidden? In truth, it might not be possible to do so for any extended period of time. I wasn’t looking forward to stepping outside my comfort zone and making myself a target. I didn’t want to paint a bull’s-eye on my mate’s back either, but it was unavoidable. I needed everyone focused on me, on us, and not on the others supporting me behind the scenes. The only way to do that was by making the biggest spectacle of myself possible. But what would come next? What would it cost? In my experience, being the center of attention always came with a price.

Swish-swish, swish-swish.

“Sit up. Seat belt. Now!” Andrew hollered, pulling me from my contemplation back to the present. I threw the blanket onto the floor, sat up, and peered around as he floored the gas and the truck lurched ahead. The unmistakable squeal of tires braking hard and the crunch of metal on metal had me staring out the back window.

“What’s going on?” I scooted over to my seat on the bench and buckled, turning to glare out into the murky gray of morning. A black car was trying to run Charlie and Tim off the road, clearly trying to drive the larger SUV into the ditch. As I watched, a Jeep joined in the chase, jumping the median from the oncoming side, barreling down the interstate after us.

“We’ve got company.” Andrew stepped on the gas, trying to put as much distance between Charlie and Tim and ourselves as he could.

“We can’t leave them behind! If they have an accident and the weather clears, they’re toast out here in the open!”

Andrew glared at me briefly before returning his attention to the road, and letting off the gas a bit. “I’ll keep them in sight. Call your grandfather and have him send out help. We’re in his territory by now.” He took his eyes off the road for a second to meet mine. “I am not stopping, and Charlie would thrash me if I did. You are the priority. We’re being attacked because they want to get to you. Charlie and Tim are just in the way.” I cringed as the sound of metal on metal assaulted my ears, and I gawked back seeing Tim had forced the SUV into the car.

My phone started ringing where it lay on the dashboard. Tones of “California Gurls” by Katy Perry filled the cab, and I smiled despite the situation. Charlie was calling. I’d chosen the song specifically because the woman was always dressed in black leather… well, almost always. She resembled a cross between Catwoman, Lara Croft, and Xena, with black vampire-drone eyes and white skin. But Charlie was far deadlier.

I grabbed the phone and answered. “Yes, my guardian angel.”

“We’ll take care of them. Don’t you dare stop, you selfish bastard,” Charlie yelled into the phone.

“Now that’s no way to talk to your prince,” I griped back. I was just being stubborn. I didn’t want to leave them. I worried about them. They were my friends, and I couldn’t spare any of them.

“Andrew, once you’re gone, they’ll let up on us. They’re after you, not us. We’ll catch up with you. We know where you’re going. Hopefully they don’t.” Charlie knew both of us would hear, despite the phone not being on speaker. Even without our mental link, shifter ears are sensitive enough that we could both hear her. Of course, drone ears were practically as sensitive, and she could hear both of us just as clearly.

“I understand. Be careful, you guys. You know Lance will never forgive me for leaving you behind if you get hurt. As it is, he’s pissed as hell.” Andrew’s smug snort as I hung up the phone had me wanting to snarl.

Yeah, he was right. I was pissed and worried. I stared as the SUV slammed into the black car. The scream of metal had me cringing as the car was forced against the metal guardrail and head-on into the cement barrier of an off-ramp. The car tumbled, back end over the top of the car, to flip off the interstate and down to the crossroad below. I hoped no one was driving below for them to land on. It was one thing for vampires to go through a car crash. Short of beheading, they could heal from almost anything. Humans were another matter entirely.

Andrew was already accelerating. We were leaving the SUV, now battling the Jeep, behind us. I held back a panicked gasp as I watched the door to the SUV open and Charlie climb out onto the roof. One of the people in the Jeep—another assassin, sent to kill me—climbed out onto its roof to meet her. I hated leaving her to fight my battle. Yes, she was my bodyguard, and as a trained warrior drone, she was the essence of deadly, but I would never get used to that.

“Just don’t kill yourself, Charlie. I need you.” I wasn’t sure she could hear me, since we hung up the phone, but the fervor of her attack seemed to become even more aggressive.

“Call your grandfather. He can send them help.” Andrew placed a hand on my thigh and squeezed before returning it to the steering wheel.

Taking a steadying breath, I dialed the number my grandfather, Lord Basil, had given me before he’d left Stephon’s after my birthday party. We’d spoken every day since our introduction, and I was growing to like the man.

“Lance?” Grandfather’s voice flowed over the line.

“Hi, Grandfather. We’ve had a bit of trouble out here. We are a couple miles west of Denver. Andrew’s trying to get away, and I’m scared for Tim and Charlie,” I babbled into the phone, staring back at Tim and Charlie, who were getting smaller as we sped away, leaving them behind.

“Are you all right?” Lord Basil asked.

“Yes, but Tim and Charlie are trying to keep our attacker busy so we can escape. I think they are going to need some help.”

“I’m sending out guards as we speak. Just keep coming. Don’t stop.” Lord Basil spoke calmly, but the sound of moving air and running belied the tone. “It will be all right. My men will be there very soon to help, so don’t worry about Tim and Charlie. They are my two strongest children. They will be fine.”

“Okay. Thank you, Grandfather.” I disconnected the call as Tim and Charlie disappeared behind us. Turning back around in my seat, I drew my feet up to rest on the edge of the bench, and rested my forehead on my knees. This was the part I hated most about my new life with Andrew. Someone out there wanted me dead… and that someone was Brad.

THE EARLIER rain had given way to a sun-filled morning as we pulled into Denver. The air had a fresh, clean pine scent to it, reminding me of the pine forest surrounding our cabin in the Black Hills of South Dakota. It was the only similarity as we drove deeper into the city and away from the natural world we were comfortable with. The industrial world of concrete and steel lined the roadsides until even the mountains were blotted out by human industry. A claustrophobic sense of dread took hold as I scrutinized the sterile concrete of the parking garage. We’d made it this far. We would survive this.

We arrived at Grandfather’s penthouse in Denver within the hour. Charlie, Tim, our guards, and two others who had to be Lord Basil’s men arrived within a few minutes of our pulling into the parking garage. We could have gone up to the penthouse without them, but after all the excitement, it was good to have a couple minutes of quiet before my nervous breakdown.

Charlie was right. We were the target. She’d called and informed me that when Grandfather’s guards had arrived and it was obvious we’d left them behind, the attackers had cut their losses and escaped. It was obviously lucky for them because Charlie would not have taken prisoners. As it was, they left without their dignity but still had their lives.

Saturday, August 9, 2014

Blood Ties - Changing Moon #3

Greetings Loved Ones! 

 Its finally here! Available for Pre-Sale!

Blood Ties - Changing Moon #3

Coming Soon from Dreamspinner Press!
Releasing September 5th 2014


When Lance is kidnapped from his adopted grandfather’s home, Andrew believes there is a traitor among Lord Basil’s drones, despite the fact that the born vampire supports Lance and Andrew’s crusade to free shifters from vampire subjugation.

Lance awakens to finds Andrew's baby sister, Angela, and a young boy shackled to a wall next to him, and a corpse nearby. Brad, a former drone of Basil's, tortures them in an effort to drive Lance insane and prove that pureblood shifters are unstable and need to be destroyed before he gets them all killed.

Stephon comes home after a trip to an orgy disguised as an unbirthday party. His mate, Quinn, shows up uninvited and is angry at the perceived infidelity. It isn’t easy to rekindle a relationship after a 270-year separation. As old arguments and insecurities resurface, Quinn decides the only way to keep Stephon safe might be to force the stubborn older vampire into hibernation, until he can defeat his father, Lord Rufus.

Thursday, January 23, 2014

Greetings Loved Ones!

I know it's been a long time. Life has been a crazy train of late, but I wanted to take the time to let you know that a favorite of mine is once again has been released with Dreamspinner Press. Yes, the Elements of Love series is alive and well and the first book Adel's Purr has been released as a 2nd Edition. The editors at Dreamspinner and I have gone through this story and refined it, making it better for everyone to enjoy. And the cover!  Oh me oh my... LC Chase did a beautiful job portraying Adel! It gives me goosebumps.

In this series the elemental powers that control the world come to life in order to remake a dying world. But the love between the Elementals who control the power and their mates will either be a force to create or destroy and humanity in all its selfish, manipulative, zealous and power hungry glory is trying to stop them at any cost.

Adel's Purr is just Book 1.

In a world recovering from a war that devastated humanity, Evan Halvard struggles to control a power he doesn't understand. Evan is a stone mason. He can give life to stone to create and awaken living gargoyles. When he receives a message that a large gargoyle is about to be demolished by the Church, Evan rushes to save it.

After centuries of sleep, the gargoyle has no interest in a present he can’t relate to. Yet, through the haze of his hibernation, a voice calls to him. He awakens restrained by those he swore to protect. Evan and Adel must work to understand the power connecting them and escape the evil hunting Evan, before the Church destroys Adel.

1st Edition published by Silver Publishing, July 2011

An excerpt from the book

Chapter 1

Gargoyle Lore

As written by the scribes and entombed in the Church Archives:

GARGOYLES ARE carved from a single piece of natural stone. Cannot be made of stone composite or molded. Their original form is carved. Their spirit is called to life by an Earth Elemental they call their Maker. They become living stone: stone by day and living, breathing flesh and blood by night.

May 14, 2215—just before sunset….

THE MODERN-day equivalent of a hermit, Evan Halvard lived by himself on a couple of acres of forested land in the mountains, far enough away from civilization that people couldn’t bother him. He liked to tell his friends he lived close enough to town to do business easily, yet far enough up in the mountains that people had to be determined in order to find him. The arrangement served him well, keeping most of the unwanted interruptions away and giving him a modicum of privacy.

Spring felt cool this year up in the mountains, but as Evan stood in his garden tilling the soil, nature spoke to him of green and growing things. Winter’s last bite of the season had come and gone. The tender seeds he planted would flourish. Most people would find the soil cold and painful, but Evan loved the feeling of the earth beneath his feet and between his toes. He’d told his father many times how, if he stood barefoot in the soil, the ground would speak to him, but no matter how many times Evan’s father had humored him, Evan seemed to be the only one who heard the earth whispering.

Evan stood and rested an arm on his hoe, smiling to himself as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a large, leather hair tie. He pulled back his unruly dark-brown dreadlocks and tied them out of the way at the back of his neck. He pulled off his T-shirt and wiped it across his face and chest, absorbing the sheen of sweat forming on his light-mocha skin. Evan worked as a stonemason and was accustomed to physical labor: repairing walls, laying brick, and pretty much anything that dealt with rock. Standing in the last rays of the setting sun bent over a hoe, prepping the soil for seeds, didn’t count as work but was a labor of love.

Evan smiled as he thought of how his father, Peter Stein, would’ve scolded him for doing what Peter would have considered women’s work. To his father, men were hunters and women were supposed to tend to the plants. Evan couldn’t help his love of nature. He loved caring for green things almost as much as he loved his stonework. Spring, his favorite time of year, spoke of awakenings, beginnings, and plantings. It was the personification of life. Since he had no intention of ever marrying a woman—he’d discovered long ago he was not attracted to females—he had to do his own planting to supplement his meals. He preferred to be as self-sufficient as possible.

Besides, women were few and far between, and breeding females were even less available, as they were monopolized by the Church’s breeding program. Children were raised by the fathers or in fosterling homes if the father was incapable of caring for his offspring. The condition in these homes meant little to the Church as long as the population increased. Men whose seed was genetically predisposed toward female children were paid well for their sperm donations, as the female population of the earth was very small—one in every four children born was female. The hardest part was one out of every four females born was infertile, and others often had a hard time carrying their pregnancies to full term. It was an ever-declining cycle that the Church was attempting to fight at every turn, trying to prevent humanity’s extinction.

Some believed the human race was in the autumn of its existence. It had had a great and glorious run and now fought a losing battle to hold on to its existence, like a tree in fall trying to hold on to its leaves against the ever-persistent draw of gravity. A battle the tree couldn’t win. They believed humanity would pass into the annals of the extinct, like the dinosaur, just as inevitably as gravity.

Evan didn’t believe that. Mankind might be in a population decline and trying to resurrect itself from a destruction the likes of which nature could not have created, but Evan hoped it was not the end. Maybe this season of mankind wasn’t fall, but winter, and soon it would be the spring and a new beginning. He certainly hoped so.

If the death of millions of people in the great war—two thirds of the world’s population—couldn’t be considered the autumn of mankind and the horrible years after the beginning of winter, Evan didn’t know what could. In most of the places around the world, they were still rediscovering old technologies and relearning how to use them, all under the careful supervision of the Church, which determined the technologies that were safe to relearn and what had led to the evil downfall. All part of the perpetual winter of mankind. A winter Evan wanted to see come to an end.

He loved spring. The green things around him were connections to the earth, and they gave him a sense of peace and security he felt from nothing else. The earth’s awakening, as the frost of winter receded and things came back from that deathlike sleep, gave new life to Evan as well.

Evan watched the sun drop below the pine-covered horizon of his home in the Black Hills of South Dakota. The last rays of direct sunlight disappeared into dusk, signaling the beginning of night and the time when his closest friend awoke. He felt the familiar tingle at his throat and reached up to stroke the stone necklace, caressing warm scales instead of rock. A tiny, rumbling purr began against his collarbone.

“Evening, Cela.” Evan felt the little dragon unwrap himself from around his neck, stretch, and coo merrily.

As Evan stretched work-stiffened muscles, his awareness of the tiny points of consciousness that belonged to the minds of his other awakening friends grew. They were gargoyles, similar in some ways to Cela. He could feel their approach as they made their way from various daytime perches to venture into the night. He always knew when he was in the presence of gargoyles, even during the daytime. He could easily distinguish between living stone and statues. He’d been fifteen and an apprentice to his father the first time it happened: he’d discovered Cela. Well, he hadn’t really discovered Cela; he had awoken the dragon. He’d unknowingly called to the gargoyle’s sleeping soul, bequeathed to the statue by the artist who’d sculpted the dragon with loving care. And so Evan had given the statue life, awakening the gargoyle as living stone.


Ten years earlier at a cemetery jobsite….

“HEY, DAD, what’s that?” Evan asked.

“What’s what?” Peter asked, looking at his son, then following his gaze. “Oh, you mean the dragon statue. That’s a gargoyle, a guardian, and a pretty small one at that. They used to adorn many structures. Our ancestors believed they’d guard our souls from the evil in the night. You don’t see them much anymore. The hunters from the Abbey, under orders from the Bishop’s Service and their deputies, have smashed most of them. I guess it’s so small they must’ve overlooked that one.” Peter looked at the little gargoyle.

“What a beautiful dragon.”

“Yeah, and dangerous, just like their mythical counterparts. Just having statues that look like gargoyles on our property could bring the Inquisition to our door. They believe gargoyles depict mankind’s violent nature and are proof of his inherent evil. They believe they represent evil, or in the worst cases, are personifications of the Devil.”

“But, Dad, how can anything so beautiful be evil?” Evan asked.

“Sorry, son, I never did understand their logic. I just know not to question the Church. Few survive the Inquisition, and those who do are never the same. Come on, let’s get to work.” Peter and Evan went back to working on the crumbling stonework walls, repairing the damage done by time and nature.



“What are gargoyles like?”

Peter smiled at his son. Evan had always been inquisitive, and a little thing like the Church disliking something was incentive for him to ask questions. “Well, let me see. My father used to tell tales of gargoyles from before the war. Before modernization, gargoyles were the nighttime protectors of the people. They kept people safe from evil.”

“Really? Were they super strong and super fast?” Evan asked.

Peter chuckled. “Not that I remember him ever saying. They could fly, though. They could sleep for years in hibernation and then, when called at night, would awaken and protect the people.”

“Are they born?”

“No. Gargoyles are carved by artisans, like all statues. But there are special people in the world who have extraordinary powers. They are known as Elementals. Only a specific type of person can call the spirit to life and change a carved statue into living stone. Only a specific Elemental, an Earth Elemental, can make a statue into a gargoyle.”

“That’s so cool! Do you know any Elementals?”

“Maybe…. Hand me the mortar.” Peter held out his left hand so his son could pass him the bucket. “Get the supports ready.”

“Okay. Can they be killed?”

“Can who be killed?” Peter asked, studying the rock wall before him as he plastered cracks in the mortar. Evan shored up the broken wall, getting it ready for repair.


“They are immortal, but they can be killed. If the stone form is broken, then they can never awaken again. That’s how the Church eliminated most of them—destroying them while they were vulnerable and unable to defend themselves. They can also be killed when they are flesh and blood, at night.” Peter moved to where Evan had finished bracing the wall and had begun to add new rocks, placing them and then mortaring them into position. “Good… good. Keep at it. I’m going around to work on the other side.”

“So they don’t run around as hard rock, but they move at night?”

“Not from what your grandfather said. They turn to regular flesh and blood at night. They hunt and eat, just like any other beast, although he did say some of the older ones could talk. But I’ve never seen any larger than the little dragon you found earlier.”

Peter stood and stretched. As father and son completed their work, the sun set over the horizon, leaving everything bathed in the half-shadow world of twilight.

“Come on, Evan. Let’s get home before it gets too dark.” Peter patted his son on the shoulder and grinned. “Your mom will have dinner ready and waiting for us.”

“Okay, sounds good,” Evan replied, a little distracted. “Dad, can I go check out the dragon statue? It’d be a real shame if something so small and fragile got damaged.” Evan frowned, thinking in horror of someone intentionally smashing the little statue.

“Sure, go on. No one’s around, and I don’t think anyone here’ll report you for being interested in a gargoyle. Just keep the thing to yourself. I don’t want to know what you do with it. I’m going to the truck. I know nothing.” Peter smiled warmly at his son.

“Thanks, Dad.” Evan took off at a run to find the little gargoyle statue before his father changed his mind. He found the mausoleum easily; there was only the one crypt in the small cemetery. He looked up to where the gargoyle should’ve been perched, but the spot was now empty. No dragon roosted over the door.

“I could’ve sworn—” Evan mumbled to himself, looking around to see if he’d somehow gotten the location wrong. No, the gargoyle had to be here. Evan walked around the perimeter of the structure, looking for the little statue.

What could’ve happened to it? He and his dad were the only ones in the cemetery. Then he caught sight of a reddish glimmer high up in a nearby tree. Evan frowned and looked a bit closer. The glimmer blinked and the red glow flashed.

“It’s okay, I won’t hurt you. You can’t stay here. You’re not safe.” Evan spoke softly, trying to coax the little creature from the tree. “Come on, little one, Dad’s waiting for us.” He extended his hands to the small gargoyle. “My name’s Evan Halvard. Dad says my name means ‘rock defender’ in the old language. I won’t hurt you.” Evan crooned and babbled, remembering being told animals didn’t understand what you said, but your tone of voice could either soothe or incite them. He had no idea if the same applied to creatures of living stone.

Evan heard a couple of cheeps and whistles, which sounded vaguely birdlike, and the little gargoyle appeared, hanging on the central bark of the tree.

“There you are! Aren’t you cute? Come down. We have to go home. You can’t stay here. There’s no one to protect you.”

Evan watched patiently as the little gargoyle crept slowly closer to him. He looked like a dragon in miniature. He had four legs, tiny wings and a little spade tail, and sharp-looking little teeth and claws. How cute! He had shiny red scales that glinted in the light of the moon despite his dirty-brown appearance when Evan had first seen him perched on the mausoleum. Now his eyes glowed bright red, like rubies on fire.

“Please, we don’t have a lot of time, little friend,” Evan said urgently, trying to coax the dragon. Hesitantly at first, the creature crept down the tree toward him. Evan wrapped his arm with his jacket, fearful of the damage those sharp talons could do, and offered it as a perch. “Here you go.”

The small creature jumped from the tree and landed on Evan’s arm with ease. He chirped and whistled, tipping his head to look at Evan with his fire-filled eyes. Evan scratched under his chin and above his eye ridges. The dragon began to purr. He ran the length of Evan’s arm and ducked under his long brown dreadlocks, curling his tail around Evan’s neck. In his peripheral vision, Evan nervously eyed the gargoyle’s talons. One misplaced talon could slice open his throat like butter. Yet the small beast moved with care and placed his claws gently, seeming to realize the harm they could inflict. He clung to Evan’s T-shirt, blanketed by his hair, apparently content to curl against Evan’s warm skin.

“Well, I guess that’s as good a place as any.” Evan petted the dragon while he headed for the truck and his father.

“Did you find it?” asked his father, staring directly at the little dragon curled around his son’s neck.

“Nope, no statues.”

Peter laughed. “By the way, cool necklace.”

“Thanks. I think so, too.”

The little dragon didn’t move or make a peep as he peered from beneath Evan’s hair.

“Just don’t let your mother see it.”


Present day….

EVAN LISTENED to Cela, his little dragon gargoyle, croon and sing into the night as the others came running to gather about his feet. Evan found harmony and a gentle peace in the nature surrounding him. These were his friends, the ones he had been waiting to awaken throughout the day. The ones who gave his life meaning. The ones he risked his life for in an effort to keep their species from being exterminated. When they joined him, his loneliness faded, and until the rising sun, he would not be alone.

The path of Evan’s life had been decided that day, ten years ago, with the rescue of his closest friend. And Cela had remained with him every day since. His life, set in stone like the rocks he worked with, turned against the authorities and a belief system he couldn’t support. He would be criminal in the eyes of the Church if they knew about him. Evan Halvard became a rescuer of living stone, or, as his father had explained in one of his many lessons, gargoyles.

Before his death, Peter, who had adopted Evan as his own son when he’d been orphaned by the death of his biological father, Dustin, encouraged Evan to follow his heart. He and Dustin were half-brothers, born of the same mother, Patience, in the Church’s breeding program. Even though they had different fathers, they had grown up together in a fosterling home. The two of them were very close and had similar beliefs and eventually were recruited to the same resistance movement. When Dustin was killed by the Inquisition, Peter had chosen to raise Evan, as he hoped his brother would’ve wanted, educating him but allowing the boy to make his own choices. Yet he resolutely refused to assist Evan in anything remotely like what he and Dustin had been involved in, saying the Church had cured him of his rebellious tendencies long ago.

The brands on Peter’s arms attested to his punishment at the hands of the Inquisition, punishment that had killed Dustin, his wounds having become septic while serving his sentence in the reform camps. The brands appeared as two crosses on Peter’s forearms, seared far into the flesh, almost to the bone. The muscles had healed around the burns, leaving him with much less strength in his arms than he’d had in his youth. Yet he’d survived and excelled at his work. Upon his death, he’d bequeathed Evan a lodge in a remote part of the forest, away from prying eyes. It had become a sanctuary for Evan and his gargoyles.

Evan remembered the first time he’d entered the cabin, the day he’d buried his father. He had been struck by the state of it. His father obviously hadn’t been there for many years, as nothing had disturbed the thick layer of dust that covered everything like a shroud. On the kitchen table sat a cracked, leather-bound book, a diary. Evan ran a hand over the cover, revealing an embossed name: Elizabeth Peterson. She was Patience’s mother, and therefore both of his fathers’ grandmother. Peter must’ve meant for him to have it. He’d have to remember to read it later.

Cela had taken great joy in showing Evan what his father had begun for him. He’d found the trapdoor in no time, hidden in the kitchen under a dirty but colorful maze-print rug. The door opened to a dark staircase. After grabbing a flashlight, Evan proceeded down the stairs into a labyrinth of tunnels. Cela led Evan through a confusion of turns, guiding him to one of the many exits emerging from a combination of both mine shafts and natural caves beneath the cabin. Evan retraced his steps back to the area under the small house. As he looked around, he found a large side cave with a couple of secondary caves attached and decided this would be a great place to live. The major gift of living in the caves would be privacy, a commodity nobody took for granted when the Vatican’s Bishop’s Service could search your home for any reason and frequently did. The cabin above would be a stage, always appropriately set for potential Bishop’s Service visits. Down here, with some mo difications, he could relax and have his real home with his gargoyles, a truly private place of his own, safe from the Church’s investigations.

And soon, he’d begun filling those caves with family. Four winged, dragon-style gargoyles, each black but with a different undertone: one midnight blue, one forest green, one ruby red, and the last golden brown, soon joined Evan. Their jewel-tone eyes matched the under-color of their fur, while the brown dragon had golden eyes. The musketeers, as he called them, were each a bit larger than Cela, making them closer to the size of full-grown house cats. If allowed, this quartet would croon into the night, singing to the stars. They were never far from one another and seemed to carry an “all for one and one for all” attitude. So Evan named them d’Artagnan, Porthos, Athos, and Aramis, after his favorite childhood story, The Three Musketeers. His father had recited the story verbatim each time Evan had asked it of him.

Evan squatted down, leaning heavily on his hoe as his musketeers appeared, flying low over the ground in a lazy fashion, out of the night. The quartet was followed by a larger pair of Chinese lion-dog gargoyles Evan had rescued from a temple in New York City and named Yin and Yang. Regardless of the season, his friends always greeted him with enthusiasm when they awoke. It had become a ritual he thoroughly enjoyed.

“Hello, my friends. Be careful, it’s a new moon and a dark night.” Evan reached out to give each of the musketeers a scratch from their ears down their necks and to stroke between their wings. Then he treated the lion-dogs to a similar attention, ruffling their ears and massaging over their shoulders, ending in a rub on the top of their protruding muzzles, a spot they seemed to enjoy having petted the most. Yin and Yang’s appreciation could be felt as well as heard, their purrlike growls rumbling deep in their chests, reverberating through their bodies.

Evan stood up and watched as each of the dragons ran in a different direction while the lion-dogs trotted straight down the driveway of the cabin to stand guard at the entrance. He watched until his friends disappeared into the darkness of the night. He trusted they would be careful. They were gargoyles, guardians and eaters of evil. They would not be happy as his pets. As his father had explained long ago, gargoyles were created to protect the living through the night, to keep evil at bay, to keep it from accosting souls. So his friends guarded him and their sanctuary.

Evan sighed with contentment and went into the cabin to find dinner and prepare for his trip the next day. He’d received a request to check out an old mausoleum in a dilapidated cemetery. Some long-forgotten documents made mention of a gargoyle being placed in the resting place of a cardinal who’d dedicated his life to helping troubled teens. Often these documents were wrong, the stonework long destroyed or moved to a new location, but he’d gladly check it out on the off chance they proved correct.


EVAN PULLED his battered pickup truck in to the cemetery at sunrise and reached for his work orders. He’d fabricated them to appear he’d been contracted to do some repairs on the O’Brian family tomb: that way, he’d have a valid reason to be on the grounds. He looked up in time to notice the black Lincoln Town Car with the red-and-blue light bar mounted on top and the insignia of the Bishop’s Service emblazoned on the side. It was parked next to a run-down mausoleum. The name over the door had long since deteriorated. Father Michael, the diocesan head of security at the Bishop’s Service, and his deputies were pulling out a large stone statue, trying to work together to get it out of the dilapidated gothic stone structure. They had bound and covered the statue with a black plastic tarp.

Evan cringed as the top of the statue missed the top of the seven-foot door by mere inches. This piece stood much taller than the ones Father Michael usually went after, well over six feet. From what Evan could see of the exposed stone at the base, the sculpture, done in a pristine white marble, appeared flawless. Pure-white marble was rare, especially in large quantities, and he could find many uses for it. The very ground around him whispered, telling him this was a gargoyle, not marble statuary. He assumed Father Michael would have his deputies destroy it as an abomination in the eyes of the Church. A gargoyle this large and ancient, a wonder worth sacrificing everything to protect, made him shiver despite the sunlight. I don’t have a choice, he thought, self-consciously stroking the sleeping Cela on his neck. He had to rescue this marvelous creature.

“Father Michael, how nice to see you. How are you doing these days?” Evan plastered a wide, friendly grin on his face and swallowed the bile that threatened to choke him. He willed himself not to be sick as the older man turned upon hearing his name. The priest eyed Evan carefully. Father Michael wanted him, and Evan knew it, regardless of the fact the priest always played at being a pure man of the cloth. His barely concealed and hardly controlled lust repelled Evan. And worse, Father Michael’s role in the Bishop’s Service meant he was a constant threat to Evan and his friends. Besides his downright hideous appearance, Father Michael gave off a vile, evil vibe that made Evan feel soiled just by being in the man’s presence.

“Well, if it isn’t Evan Halvard! Why are you here, boy?” Father Michael stood six-foot-four inches tall and skeletally thin. His too-large black robes hung loosely on his body, emphasizing his emaciated appearance. He wore a silver cross, which appeared more dagger than religious icon, on a heavy silver chain around his neck. What little hair he had wisped about him, thin and white, the scalp beneath showing. If this were anyone other than Father Michael, Evan would’ve thought them near death, but the Father’s eyes shone black, full of malice and evil beneath heavy lids. The man’s eyes, always staring, as if he were trying to see into Evan’s soul, made Evan’s skin crawl. He watched the priest lick his lips with just the tip of his tongue, as if he hungered for Evan. He always felt surprised when he saw that his tongue wasn’t forked.

“I’ve a commission in this cemetery. The O’Brian family has asked me to repair their family monument. The stone wall is crumbling, and I’ve agreed to do the work for them in exchange for some scrap slate they had lying around after a kitchen remodel.” He smiled widely because every word was a lie, but if he was asked to produce a work order, he had phony papers in his glove box. Father Michael rarely went that far in his interrogations. Usually with a bit of a smile or the sway of Evan’s hips, the man practically forgot his name. If the man were more substantial, instead of a walking skeleton, Evan would fear the day that Father Michael made a move on him physically. As it stood, the sick priest would have to have help before he’d be able to force Evan. But lust in the man’s eyes still made him nervous. A desperate man was a dangerous man.

“I see. Well, then, you had better get busy.”

“You aren’t looking very well, Father. Are you ill? You need to eat more.” Evan’s voice dripped with concern.

“I’m fine,” Father Michael snapped. “My constitution is very strong, and God looks out for his faithful.” As he spoke a snide smile curved the corners of his mouth, and he took a step closer, reaching out toward Evan with his right hand before he snatched it back and folded his hands firmly in front of him.

“Please, come out to the cabin sometime. I’ll make you a stew from wild venison and the spring potatoes from my garden, it’s sure to put some meat on those bones. You know we can’t have a prominent member of the clergy and an officer of the Bishop’s Service fall ill.” Evan spoke with innocence and false concern, frowning slightly as if the Father’s health truly troubled him.

“We shall see. I haven’t been to your cabin in some time. Maybe a visit is in order, but I couldn’t accept such hospitality. A conflict of interest, regardless of how fond I am of you.”

“Fine. Of course, Father. I wouldn’t want anyone questioning your integrity because of me. Will you have any spare marble from the statuary?” Evan inquired carefully. “What I can see of the stone looks like pure-white marble. Once ground, it would make a marvelous composite countertop, or floor, even. I wouldn’t have to treat the stone before being able to use it.”

“No, this isn’t marble, Evan. The Church has no use for regular stone. You understand, don’t you, Evan?” Father Michael came over and rested a hand on his shoulder, as if Evan were a young child needing guidance. The Father’s gaze hungered after Evan and made him feel even more uncomfortable. Then he put his arm around Evan’s waist. He grazed his hand across Evan’s buttocks before he pressed his palm into the small of Evan’s back, guiding him away from the statue. Evan struggled to keep from cringing away from the Father’s touch, and put a shocked and slightly horrified look on his face.

“Oh!” Evan exclaimed and crossed himself as if to ward off an evil. The Father smiled and patted Evan’s shoulder, ruffling his hair as he would a small child. Evan blinked innocently and glanced back at the covered statue, shuddering, watching carefully to make sure Father Michael got the whole show.

“Will you be removing and destroying it today?” Evan crossed his fingers and schooled his expression to keep the hope in his heart from betraying him.

He thought of a prayer his dad had taught him early on in his training. Father of the Heaven and the Earth, awaken this Guardian. Awaken his spirit of love and protection. Fill him with your love so he can fulfill his duty and honor your will. Guardian awaken! Evan chanted in his thoughts, directing his feelings of love and protection toward the gargoyle, praying the call would awaken him even if the words weren’t spoken aloud. Evan couldn’t work openly against Father Michael without forfeiting his life. He brought himself back to the conversation, trying to refocus on Father Michael.

“… too large to dispose of here, and we don’t have a way to transport something this size today. The truck from the Abbey will be arriving in the morning to take it for proper disposal. You’ve nothing to fear. I’ve placed holy wards around the area, and we’ve tied the creature down. When I leave this evening, the monks will stand guard to protect us from this vile monster,” Father Michael said confidently.

“Okay, you know best, but be careful, Father. I’d be very sad if anything happened to you.” Evan frowned, and then with a gentle sway of his hips, he stepped away from the priest, heading in the direction of the mausoleum. “I need to get to work. I want to leave this area as soon as possible and be out of your way.”

“Good boy. Go with God, Evan.” Father Michael looked reluctant to let Evan leave. He took a couple of steps, following Evan before shuffling to a stop. Evan continued to move away, fully knowing he’d be carefully watched until he left the area.

His plan was simple: the musketeers would distract the monks while he and Cela rescued the gargoyle and took it to the cabin. Of course, it was simple in thought only. The execution would take a lot more work. He’d been preparing for a job like this for some time. He sneaked a surreptitious peek over his left shoulder. The statue remained still and unmoving. Evan worked happily on the mausoleum, working out the kinks in his plans, certain that in a few hours he’d be able to prove his name and make his father proud.