It's Beer-Thirty...

I <3 my job!

The word of the day...

...week...month...year...decade...whatever...is "clusterfuck!"

The Nameless - Sneak Peek!

This is it, Xenalia thought, the end of it all.  Of course, she knew that wasn’t entirely true.  The Nameless would always be around — there would always be sorcerers who took their power too far and were cast into The Outlands.  It was part of human nature — there would always be those who hungered for more and more power, never satisfied they had enough.

Normally, their narcissism kept them solitary.  True, they were dangerous, but on their own they could only take on small caravans at a time.  But every few generations, there would be one cast out who could organize them all, creating an army capable of destroying entire cities at once.

This was what she now faced…

Sneak Peek - But I have no title!

New story sneak peek - but, I haven't come up with a title for it yet.  Leave your suggestions in the comments!

There was a knock on the door; Rachel looked up from the book she was reading and called, “Who is it?”

“Hong Kong police,” came the reply — in a quiet man’s voice.

“Jesus Christ,” she swore, “is this some kind of joke?!”

“No, Ms. Lane, this is not a joke,” said a different man — this one with a harsher, more familiar New York sound.

She wasn’t stupid — there was no way in hell she was opening the door.  “And who are you,” she asked the second man, “Paris police?”

“NYPD,” he replied.  “Please open the door.”

“Shit,” she swore under her breath.  Then, to the two men at her door, she said a little angrily, “Look, I haven’t done anything.  And I haven’t even been to Hong Kong since I was 15.  So unless you’ve got a warrant, you can just leave.”

“You are Rachel Lane, aren’t you?” the first man asked, sounding a little puzzled.

“Yes, I am.”  She started to say something else, but he interrupted her.

“And your sister is Cherry Yen?  Married to one of the Chinese ambassadors currently here — Bai Yen?”

“Yes,” she replied hesitantly.  Of course, Cherry was a Hong Kong cop, too, but she would’ve said something if she knew something was up.

“Ms. Lane,” the New York cop said again, “we need you to open the door right now.”

The Hong Kong cop cut him off.  “I am not here to arrest you,” he assured her.  “I am here about your sister.”

She was still puzzled, but the Hong Kong cop sounded like a fairly nice guy.  She looked out the peep-hole of her apartment door.  “What about my sister?” she asked suspiciously.

“May I come in?” he asked gently.

She paused.  “You can,” she replied.  “But he can’t.”  She gestured toward to NYPD cop.

The Hong Kong cop nodded to the other man and said, “Thank you for your assistance.  I can handle it from here.”  The NYPD cop looked disappointed, but he tipped his hat and left.  As soon as he was gone, Rachel opened the door for the Hong Kong cop.

When she did, he looked surprised.  “What?” she half-snapped at him.

“I…I’m sorry,” he stammered.  “It’s just…you don’t look…”  He shook his head.

“I don’t look Chinese,” she finished, sounding slightly bitter.

“Yes,” he conceded.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean —“

She shook her head and interrupted, “No, don’t worry about it.”  She sighed.  “Come on in.”  She shut the door behind him and muttered, “Guess they don’t have the fact that my mother’s a slut in your files.”  When she saw the uncomfortable — but unmistakably puzzled — look on his face, she continued, “Cherry’s technically only my half-sister.  We don’t have the same father — mom was always sleeping around, and I’m the product of one of her many affairs.”  She sighed again.  “So, you’re here about my sister,” she said, changing the subject.  “What about her?  I mean, I thought she’s one of the best cops on your force.”

“Yes,” he replied, “she was.”

“Was?” Rachel exclaimed.  “What do you mean ‘was?’  I just saw her yesterday; she didn’t say anything about quitting!”

Again, he looked both uncomfortable and puzzled all at once.  “You mean you haven’t been told yet?” he said carefully.

“Told what?!” she barked.

He hesitated.  “You should probably sit down,” he replied gently.

“What happened?” she demanded.

“Your sister…was found dead this morning, along with her husband,” he finally said.  “I am very sorry, I thought you’d been told already.”

“Then why are you here, if it’s not to tell me that?” she snapped again.

“It appears they were shot with Cherry’s own gun,” he said delicately, trying not to upset her more.  “Unfortunately, the only fingerprints on it are hers; her wounds seem to be self-inflicted.  We were hoping you might have some information…”

“You think it was a murder-suicide,” she accused.  “No way.  Cherry would never do that, not in a million years.  My sister was murdered.”

He nodded sympathetically.  “I know it’s difficult to imagine,” he began.

“It’s impossible,” she interrupted, adamant.

“Do you know if she had been planning to go anywhere?” he asked.  “See anyone?”

As the reality of the situation finally started to sink in, she shakily lowered herself into a chair.  “Not really,” she replied.  “We went out to lunch, but she said she had to get back to the hotel early — she was going to an Embassy dinner with Bai.  That’s all I know.”

“Had she mentioned any threats against either of them?”

“No.  But she probably wouldn’t have told me if there were — she never wanted me to worry.”

Oracle - Sneak Peek!

Everyone had worried about nuclear war-but it was conventional weapons that did us in.  Cities were bombed, millions died.  The UN took over governing duties, but life would never quite go back to normal.

“Stop fucking with me,” Rabbit growled at the beady-eyed little man in front of him.  “I delivered your damn shipment.  Now give me my money.”

“Yes, you delivered my shipment,” the man replied patronizingly.  “Missing $250,000 worth of merchandise.”

“Bullshit!” Rabbit roared.  “If anything was missing, it’s because you got screwed over by your partners, not me!”  He was a fearsome looking man — six and a half feet tall, pure muscle, head completely shaved, covered in scars and tattoos.  And to top it all off, his eyes were a piercing steel grey.  He hoped it was enough to intimidate the man and his goons, but prepared himself for a firefight anyway.  The guy was a low-level gangster, trafficking only in drugs and prostitution, and his type was prone to hiring nothing but bat-shit crazy thugs for security.

But luck was once again on Rabbit’s side.  The man finally nodded and motioned to his guards to stand down.  “You’re no fool, Rabbit,” he agreed.  “So I have another proposition for you.”

“I’m not a damn hit man,” Rabbit snarled.  “Take care of it yourself.”  As his phone started to ring, he waved the man and his entourage off.  “Talk to me,” he said into the phone.

“Mr. Raibeart,” a woman’s voice said.  She didn’t sound anything like the people he was used to dealing with — in fact, she sounded almost refined.  “I’m told you’re the man to speak to about a job I need completed.”

“How do you know my name?” he demanded suspiciously.  He hadn’t used his real name in years, and kept it a tightly guarded secret.  “Who the Hell is this?”

“Just a client, Mr. Raibeart,” she replied.  “I have a very delicate, and very important...shall we say...package...I need escorted.  Are you interested or not?”

“How am I supposed to know this isn’t a trap?” he said.

“You’re not.  But I’m prepared to make it worth your while,” she responded.  “If you accept, $750,000 will be delivered to you tomorrow.  Upon the package’s delivery, you will be provided an additional $750,000.”

He hesitated.  Everything about this sounded suspicious-but that was a lot of money.  Enough to retire and get the Hell out of this God-forsaken shit-hole city.  “How far?” he asked.

“Singapore to Saint Petersburg,” she said.  “You will have ten days for the delivery.”

“That’s cutting it awfully close,” he reminded her.

“But you can manage it,” she responded.  “Do we have an agreement?”

He paused again.  All of his instincts screamed not to do it.  “Fine,” he finally acceded.

“Excellent,” she said.  She even sounded somewhat relieved.  “I will send further instructions with your money.”

Rabbit saw two women standing at the end of the pier when he pulled up.  One wore a long, black tunic over black leggings and boots, her hair covered with a black headscarf — the uniform of a New-Buddhist nun.  The other wore battered blue jeans, scuffed work boots, and an oversized hooded sweatshirt, her hands buried deep in the pockets to ward off the cold.  She also wore a scarf — much longer, and made of brightly multi-colored silk.  But it was wrapped so it covered most of her face and fell loosely enough over her hair to even hide most of her eyes.

“I assume you’re the one I spoke to,” he said to the nun.  She nodded.  “Where’s the package?”

“You’ll be escorting us,” she replied.

“I didn’t sign up to be a damn coyote,” he growled.  “I don’t traffic in humans.”

The other woman chuckled, and he glared at her slightly.  “You’re a smuggler, Mr. Raibeart,” the nun began.

“You didn’t ask what that consisted of,” the other woman interrupted.  Even muffled by the fabric, her voice had a touch of an Eastern European accent.  “It’s your own fault for not getting the details of the job before you took it.”

“Csilla,” the nun rebuked quietly.  From the matronly tone of her voice, Rabbit could guess she was the older of the two.

“Listen, sister,” Rabbit snarled, “you want my help, you show me some respect.”

“I’m not your sister, Evandrus Pahana Raibeart” she said pointedly, carefully emphasizing every word of his name.  “And I didn’t ask for your help.”

“Csilla!!” the nun hissed in frustration.

“You’ve got some balls, girlie,” Rabbit snapped.  She was taller than the nun, but still a good foot shorter than him, so he pulled himself up to his full height just to make sure he loomed over her.

Finally, Csilla pushed back the scarf, revealing her face.  Her hair was dark brown — short, and slightly spiked — with blonde highlights dyed throughout.  But what caught his attention were her eyes — they had likely once been just as dark as her hair, but were now covered with a cloudy film.  Cataracts were common these days, especially in this area, but he’d never seen them so severe in someone so young.  “Look, are we done with this pissing match yet?” she sighed.  “I can’t see you.  You don’t intimidate me.”

Lessons from the Venture Bros.

Don't fuck with David Bowie!!

I am the Reverend Mother!

Yup, I am a nerd.

I think I should start claiming to be a "wild" Bene Gesserit.  I am apparently able to use the Voice to bend even the most difficult dealers (and dogs) to my will.  Here is a simulated exchange between a tech, a particularly crabby dealer, and me:

Tech: No, the software can't do that.  But I can put in an enhancement request so it can be considered in the future.

Dealer: This is inexcusable!  You need to wave a magic wand and make this incredibly useless feature that no one but me will ever use, and which will explode the size of our database, come straight out of my ass right now! (As a side note, I'd really like to make him say "INCONCEIVABLE!" too.)

Me (when he calls back later, thinking maybe he'll somehow get a different answer): No, the software can't do that.  But I'll put in an enhancement request so it can be considered in the future.

Dealer: Ok, great, thanks!  You're always so helpful.  And now that I know you're still taking phone calls, I'm going to ask for you every single time I call (which is often), no matter how trivial the question, even though you've told me you've actually moved into a different position and don't take support calls often.  Bye!

WTF?!

And as for dogs, the best example is a 125-lb. Rottweiler my uncle used to have (D).  He was an incredibly sweet dog, but he was also incredibly stupid.  Any training he got stayed in his teeny little pea brain for approximately 4.2 seconds, and then was gone.  Not to mention the fact that despite his weight, he didn't look it-long legs, long body, etc.  Except maybe his big ol' shovel head.  Pretty sure that's where most of the weight came from.  Anyway, he was big, but he literally thought he was the size of a teacup Chihuahua.  We had an end table that was maybe 2 ft. tall x 1 ft. wide, and he would try to hide under it-and then look bewildered when he couldn't fit.  I kinda think maybe he was a little retarded, even (not in a bad way, mind you).  And he was so friendly, he'd just go bonkers when people were around.  So one year, the whole family-my parents, my brother, 2 uncles, an aunt, my grandma, and 4 cousins-were at the other uncle's house for Xmas.  One of the cousins was only about 4 at the time, and he was all excited, and he'd been playing with D, plus with all the people around, D was just beside himself with rambunctious joy.  The uncle whose house it was also had a dog, which excited poor, stupid D even more (I expect that the only thing going through his head was PLAY PLAY PLAY PLAY PLAY PLAY!!!).  So my 3 older cousins (who were probably 19, 15, and 13, but were each well over 6' tall, and the 2 younger boys were/are football players) were ALL trying to hold him by the collar to keep him out of the way, and having a difficult time.  But when I walked in the friggin' door and told D to sit, his ass immediately hit the wood floor and he STAYED there (I should also mention this dog NEVER got a grasp on the concept of stay).  The boys were even able to let go of him, get dinner, and he didn't move! Honestly, I would've liked to get a picture of the look on everyone's faces, because they were just all in shock.

Of course, this doesn't work at all on who/what I actually need it to.  Like, uh, the cats.

I could carve a better father out of a mango!

And now I can Google that phrase and have something come up.  Too bad I can't find any clips of it (Sealab 2021, kiddos).  Damn, and here I thought you could find ANYthing on YouTube...

Lila & Nick - Sneak Peek!

“Ready?” Marian asked, standing next to the door.

Lila glanced around at all the ridiculous black-lights that had replaced the spotlights over her paintings and sighed.  “Ready as I ever will be,” she replied.  She hated shows-she could never understand why her studio had to be transformed in order for her work to be appreciated.

Lila watched another group walk into the gallery.  Most of them were the usual type of patrons-rich playboys showing off for their model dates, middle-aged women desperately trying to be hipsters and beatniks, and self-proclaimed “art critics” who loved nothing better than to look down their noses at everyone else.  But there was one man mingling with the latter group that just didn’t seem to fit.  He was tall and thin, but he wore a close-fitting shirt with the sleeves rolled up that showed he was still definitely muscular.  He had dark hair pulled into a short ponytail-just long enough to show it was slightly curly.  His skin was a beautiful bronze-obviously Mediterranean-but paler than anyone she’d ever seen.  He wasn’t speaking much, and didn’t really seem to even be listening to the conversation, though he would occasionally absently nod his head as if in answer to a question.  She could only see the profile of his face, but the bone structure was perfect, reminding her of Greek and Roman statues of their gods.

“Who is that?” Lila asked Marian, motioning towards him.

Marian giggled.  “Gorgeous, isn’t he?” she sighed.  “His name’s Nikolai Romanov.  He’s Russian, I think-”

“Balkan, more likely,” Lila muttered absently.

“He’s a big art dealer in Seattle,” Marian continued, ignoring the correction.  “You’re pretty lucky to have him show up here-he rarely does shows.”

“Mm-hmm,” Lila replied, still distracted.  She just couldn’t take her eyes off of him.  Suddenly, he turned his head toward her and smiled slightly.  For a split second, their eyes met-his were dark, like his hair, but intense; she felt like they were burning into her soul.  Embarrassed, she quickly turned away.  Her face felt hot, and she was sure she was blushing-she felt ridiculous, like a teenager.  But somehow, she felt compelled to look up again, and was surprised to see him walking toward her.  He moved amazingly quickly, even though he didn’t seem to be rushing.

When he reached her, he held out his hand.  “You must be the artist,” he said.  His voice was low and quiet, but she had no trouble hearing him, even with the din of all the other voices in the room.  He had a strong, but not overpowering, Eastern European accent; combined with the steady rhythm of his voice, it was almost hypnotic to listen to him.  Now that he was close up, she could see his eyes were a warm chocolate brown, and his hair a darker shade of the same color.

For a moment, she just stood there, as if in a trance.  Finally, she took his hand-his grip was strong, but still gentle, and his skin was cool and soft-and he shook hers.  She could feel herself blushing again and nervously stammered “Lila...”

“Kelly,” he finished, smiling that slight, warm smile again.

Daggers in the Sands - Sneak Peek!

  Risa didn’t know how long she’d been wandering in the desert.  She knew it had been at least two days, but by now, she had lost all sense of time and direction.  Everything was blurring together.

  She had no idea how she’d gotten here-or even where ‘here’ was.  She’d had a long day at work-she’d just gotten an important promotion-then gotten into an argument with her mother over the phone, and had fallen asleep on her couch.  But when she awoke, she was greeted by only the harsh view of nothing but sand as far as she could see, instead of her comfortable living room as she’d been expecting.

  Not knowing what else to do, she’d began walking, hoping to find some sign of civilization.  All she found was more sand.

  “[Who are you?]” the older man demanded.

  “[Are you friend or enemy?]” said the other man.

  “I-I’m sorry,” Risa stammered.  She didn’t need to know the language to know she was in serious danger if she didn’t answer correctly.  “I don’t know what you’re saying!”

  “[She does not understand us,]” the woman said to her companions.  Then, switching to what sounded like a different language, she asked Risa, “[What is your name?]”

  “What?” Risa replied.

  The woman looked puzzled.  “[She does not speak the common tongue, either,]” she murmured, reverting to what Risa assumed to be her native language.  “Saya,” she said, pointing to herself.  “Janiq.”  She pointed to the younger man.  “Taqar.”  She pointed to the older man.  “[You?]”  She pointed to Risa.

  Risa pointed to herself.  “What about me?” she asked, still confused.  When the woman nodded, she realized what they were looking for.  “Oh, my name!”  She pointed to herself again and replied, “Risanna.”

  The two men recoiled in fear.  “[She is a demon!]” the older man-Taqar-cried.

  “[She does not know our language,]” Saya said, amused.  “[I do not think her name means the same in her own tongue.]”  Seeing Risa’s bewilderment, she pulled a knife from her belt and pointed to it, saying, “[Risana.]”

  Risa motioned to the knife.  “Risanna?” she repeated.  Saya nodded.  “My name means knife?!”  She shook her head, and then pointed to herself again.  “Risa.”

  Saya pointed to her and asked, “Risa?”  Risa nodded.  “[This ‘Risana’ is also called ‘Risa,’]” she said to the men.

  “[I do not like this, Saya,]” Taqar said.  “[It is a bad omen.  We should kill her; leave her water to the desert.]”

  “[You see bad omens everywhere, Taqar,]” Saya replied.  “[We will let the elders decide her fate.]”  She turned to Risa.  “[Come,]” she said, motioning to follow her.

  Risa hesitated.  She knew she couldn’t survive on her own in the desert, but without knowing their language, she couldn’t be sure she’d be safe with these people, either.  For all she knew, they could be leading her to some sort of ritual where she would be used as a human sacrifice.  Oh, what the hell, she thought.  I’m dead either way.  At least I’ll have a higher chance of survival with them.

  As she followed them, Risa was surprised at how quickly they moved.  While she struggled to keep her footing in the shifting sands, they walked as easily as if it were solid rock.  Every time she stumbled, she would earn glares from both Taqar and Janiq, but Saya simply patiently stopped and helped her up.

  “[She is slowing us down,]” Janiq grumbled.  “[We’ll never reach the caves before full sun now.]”

  “[She will not be left behind,]” Saya replied sharply.  “[Do you wish to challenge my judgment?]”

  Janiq tensed for a moment, but then his shoulders slumped in defeat.  “[No, Saya,]” he said.

  Risa of course had no idea what they had said, but determined from the exchange that Saya was the leader in this group.  She was somewhat amused by this revelation-since this seemed to be a primitive society, at least by the standards she was used to, she’d expected Taqar more likely to be in charge.

  As Janiq had expected, the sun was beating down with its full force by the time they finally came into view of a small outcropping of rock.  Risa breathed a small sigh of relief-she didn’t think she’d ever been more exhausted in her life than she was now.  Once they entered the shelter of a cave, she could immediately feel the difference in temperature, and it continued to drop as they descended farther down.

  Finally, they stopped inside a large cavern.  Risa immediately dropped to the ground and leaned her head back against the cool wall.  Saya looked at her and said, “[Janiq, give her food.  And water.]”

  “[I am not sure we have enough, Saya,]” he protested.

  “[Then give her my share,]” she snapped.

  He scowled, but did as he was told.  

Heretic - Sneak Peek!

  Heretic.  Murderer.  Every day, Izra heard them whispering it as she passed.  It was what had gotten her thrown onto this god-awful, piss-poor excuse of a planet.  She couldn’t blame them, really-after all, there at least was a reason she was here, even if it was horse shit.  And you miserable bastards all got stuck here with me, she thought.

  In the slums near Kanehani, young girls disappeared all the time-everyone accepted it as a fact of life.  Everyone knew where they were.  But no one was willing to stop it-they were all to afraid of the consequences of even admitting they knew what was happening.

  The truth was, the children were being stolen by a monster, one that hid behind his priest’s robe deep within the monastery.  The ecclesiastics protected their own, no matter how ghastly their appetite.  And no one went against the Church; to do so was suicide.

  But when Izra’s sister Priam went missing, she didn’t care what the cost was.  She was all Izra had left-their parents had perished toiling in the Fegueran mines years ago, leaving Izra alone to care for her.  And she was going to make the beast pay for his crimes.

  She’d taken a knife and managed to sneak into the priory.  It hadn’t been difficult to find the devil: sickeningly enough, she’d been able to hear Priam’s screams once she’d entered the hall near his quarters.  But by the time she broke through the door, she was too late-she was greeted by the horrific sight of the priest with his hands still clenched around the neck of Priam’s lifeless, naked body.

  Blinded with rage, Izra had flown at him with the blade, slashing every inch of flesh she possibly could before the others got to her.  When they’d reached the door, she slit the demon’s throat, slicing so deep she hit bone.  When they pulled her off of him, she was covered in blood, spewing curses at them for allowing this abomination to hunt freely.

  She’d expected to be executed for her “crime.”  But somehow, the Fates had smiled down on her, and the Premier decided to be merciful and spare her life.  Instead, he’d ordered her to be exiled to Azariah, the newly discovered planet far on the edge of the Empire.  The next day, she was on the first transport, filled with pilgrims praying for a better life on the new frontier.

Lamia Silvia - Sneak Peek!

  In the middle of the 21st Century, wars became commonplace; biological and nuclear weaponry advanced immensely.  In the year 2157, the crisis came to a head.  Nuclear war broke out, forever scarring the earth and triggering a permanent winter.  In an effort to survive, we began to build underground.

  Unknown to the survivors, an experimental virus was also released.  It spread fast, and with no record of its development, there was no way to stop it.  It mutated its victims’s muscles, making them unnaturally strong and fast, allowing them to see in extremely low light, and slowing-in fact, nearly stopping-the natural degeneration process.  But it also caused severe anemia, requiring direct ingestion of blood in order to maintain their red cell count.  The need was so great that those effected would resort to attacking other living beings just to obtain sustenance.  Myth had become reality-true vampires now hunted among us.

  Somehow, we persisted, despite the dual onslaught of Famine and Pestilence.  We learned to exist in, and even enjoy, the darkness that surrounded us.  After generations spent in a constant state of twilight, the color began to fade from our eyes; all that remained was a pale, ghostly blue tinge.  Oddly, skin pigmentation did not follow suit, though the vivid range of hues that had once existed was much muted.

  But humanity was not alone in its transformation.  As the the viral vampirism proliferation continued and the prey learned to fight back, the predators evolved (with the assistance of further mutations of the virus) full sets of fangs as a more efficient means of procuring nourishment.  Unfortunately, their new tools also came with a form of concealment-they were retractable, like the vipers of old, allowing them to easily camouflage themselves as just another part of the masses.

Oh, Wisconsin...

Why does your weather suck so bad?  End of April, and they're calling for snow all week.  Yeah, none of it's sticking, but still...

Thanks, cats...

I love you, too.