This blog will largely be dedicated to posts about my quest to write and publish my first novel, teasers from my works-in-progress, reviews of books I've read, information about my foray into freelance copy editing, and general observations about the life of a writer living in the smallest state in the nation (yep, that would be moi).
To provide you with a warm welcome of sorts, let's begin with a little excerpt from my current urban fantasy work, Aequitas.
Summary: Themis is a Reaper - a collector of souls and a keeper of the balance between life and death, good and evil. She's good at her job, but she's always felt like a misfit. She meets Caelan - a vampire and her enemy - and suddenly puzzle pieces start falling into place. If that wasn't confusing enough for Themis, there's a war coming, and she's forced to play a major role.
Will Themis learn her truth? Will she be swayed by the enemy? Or will she prove that Justice, in the end, must be truly blind?
Excerpt: Rhythmic beeping from the machine slowed and then stuttered to one long blare in the otherwise quiet room. Themis watched, detached as always. No one cried for this man. No wife clutched his hand, whispering for him not to leave her. No grown children clung to each other for support at this, the worst day of their lives.
“Time of death,
eight-forty-seven.” The doctor said nothing else and left the room.
Beside Themis, the dearly
departed stood in his Johnny, visible only to her, as the nurses quietly moved
around the body, disconnecting the machines. He was hers now. But just for the
journey.
“So, now what?” His tone and
expression professed cockiness, as it had in life, but Themis knew better.
Reapers always knew a soul’s truth. It was a last unveiling of sorts—a preamble
to Measurement. His lack of surprise in seeing her also revealed his past: this
one had seen Death before. She closed her eyes briefly, dipping into the well
of shared knowledge among reapers. Yes, he had come close to dying twice
before. The bullet hole and knife scars testified to that.
“Now we go. You will be
Measured and then you will move on.” She took his tattooed elbow and led him
out of the hospital room. Outside, two uniformed guards were putting on their
jackets, getting ready to finally go home to their families. Which this man
named Michael—this soul—did not have.
“What’s going to happen to me?”
Now the man let his fear seep through. Too
late for contrition. The wheels of destiny had been set in motion long ago,
for this one. Still, it was sad.
Michael had no one. So many
she’d seen had someone.
“I cannot say. It is not up to
me. I am just ferrying you there. Come.”
Michael began to push against her, pouring every
ounce of his being into the effort. It was no use, of course. Themis continued
down the hallway with him as if he were a moth fluttering around her. She was
used to the reluctance, however. Souls could not bargain their way through
Measurement, a fact that always seemed to occur to them at this point. Perhaps
taking a walk with a tall, cloaked figure wearing leather armor and a scythe on
her back was a bit off-putting.
So... what do ya think?
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