War in White Chocolate - Chapter 2

Here's the next chapter of the current wip!

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After carpooling Derek and the other three Soccer Moms of the Apocalypse’s kids to school, Wila went home and managed to get through her daily yoga session in the family room and into her meditation before Gammy woke up and came downstairs.

“Morning, baby girl,” she said cheerfully.

Wila opened her eyes. “Morning, Gammy.”

“You still going to help me with those greens?” With that tone, Gammy wasn’t asking a question.

Of course I am, Gammy.” Wila climbed to her feet. “Don’t we need to get you a decent colander first?”

Her grandmother frowned. “Don’t get smart with me, young lady.”

“I wasn’t.” Wila hugged her grandmother and kissed her cheek before she crossed to the kitchen table. After sitting down on one of her intact chairs, she pulled on her athletic shoes. “I need to pick up a few things at Arrow, too.”

“You’re not going to wear those pants to the store, are you?” Gammy scowled at her.

“What’s wrong with them?” Wila looked down at her yoga pants expecting to see a stain or a tear.

“First of all, it’s November, and it’s too dang cold.” Gammy scowled.

“It’s been in the sixties the last two days.” In fact, the unusual warm snap had both the local Oakfield weather reporters as well as those in the Chicago metro area making jokes the end of the world was near. As if the dead walking around weren’t enough. “I don’t need anything warmer.”

“Well, they are too tight for you to be wearing them out in public,” Gammy admonished. “I admit you’re fine looking woman, but boys will think you’re a female of loose morals.”

Wila finished tying her shoes and stood. “Gammy, styles have changed a little bit since you were my age. And as for loose morals—” She concentrated and manifested her flaming sword. “If anybody thinks they can try anything with me, this will make them think differently.”

“All right, but don’t blame me if you get stared at for wearing tight pants while swinging a flaming sword,” Gammy muttered.

“You didn’t mind Errol Flynn in tight pants and brandishing a sword in those old black and white movies,” Wila teased.

“That’s different,” Gammy mumbled, looking everywhere except at Wila.

She laughed as she grabbed her keys off the breakfast bar. “Get your jacket, and let’s get that colander.”

##

Wila offered to let Gammy push the shopping cart through the big-box department store.

Gammy waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t need it for support anymore, baby. It’s strange, but my joints aren’t hurting me like they used to. The Lord has taken my pain away like He promised in the good book.”

That was one of the small blessings of the risen dead. And it was fun watching her grandmother’s amazement at some of the new tech that had come out in the last ten years.

“Now why on earth does anyone need just one cup of coffee?” Gammy said as she stared at the row of tiny coffee makers on the shelf in the kitchenware section. “I would have thought those things would have died out by now from all the waste.”

“Derek doesn’t drink coffee, and there’s no sense in making an entire pot for me,” Wila said. “Mine comes in handy.”

“If you make a full pot, you’d have enough for both of us for the entire day,” Gammy insisted.

“And it tastes like burnt sludge after it sits for that long,” Wila protested. “I never knew how good coffee could taste until Penny opened Java’s Palace.”

Gammy snorted. “I can’t believe your friend makes a living selling expensive, fancy coffee and breakfast foods the entire day.”

Wila laughed. “You need to hang out with her father-in-law Edward. He agrees with you.”

“I am not spending time with a married man,” Gammy snapped.

“He’s widowed—” Wila stopped herself. “Actually, I’m not sure what a person is if their dead spouse comes back to life.”

“I already feel bad enough for Laura.” Gammy said softly. “I don’t know what I would have done if I found out your grandfather was keeping time with another woman.”

“That’s not really fair though.” Wila sighed. “It took Edward two years to finally move on with his life, and he just started seeing Marian shortly before the Apocalypse started.”

“I suppose that’s true. Is Penny will bringing Laura along to your girls’ night on Wednesday?” Gammy asked with a hopeful tone.

“I’m sure she will.” Wila chuckled. Her grandmother was old enough to be Laura’s mother. But the two of them had bonded over their resurrected status.

“I wonder if Otis will show up at our old house in Chicago,” Gammy murmured.

“Turk promised to call if Pappy does.” Wila’s cousin had bought Gammy’s house on the Southside after Pappy died because she didn’t have the money to maintain it. However, Wila was pretty sure Turk hadn’t believed a word she said when she called him about Gammy’s resurrection.

Wila and Gammy turned down the next aisle of housewares. Different utensils hung on the walls. Each grouped by designer color instead of function.

“Now, why does anyone need lime green spatulas, hot pink mixing bowls, and purple paring knives?” Gammy didn’t wait for an answer to her rhetorical question. Instead, she glared at the labels for each utensil. “And these prices are just plum foolish!”

“I hate to tell you, but this is one of the cheapest stores these days.”

Gammy picked up a spatula that matched the purple paring knife. “And these plastics are so thin. We had much sturdier Tupperware in my day.”

“They’re silicon, not plastic, and I thought we were looking for large colander,” Wila said wryly.

You watch your mouth, young lady.” Gammy tried look over the reading glasses that had been normally perched at the end of nose when she was alive, but since she rose from the grave, her eyesight was twenty-twenty. Wila had even taken Gammy to the opthamologist who rented space in this store to make sure.

Gammy marched down to the end of the aisle where the stainless steel kitchen utensils shone under the store’s fluorescent lights. She picked up a large colander and shook her head. Wila pushed the cart in the same direction.

“Can you believe this thing costs more than I made in a week cleaning houses when your mama was a little bit?” Gammy shoved the price tag in Wila’s face.

“That’s actually a good price.” Wila flicked the metal with her forefinger. It pealed a bright note. “Decently made. Big enough for that mess of greens you bought.”

“B-but…” Gammy poked her head around the corner. “This is it. All there is.” Her shoulders slumped. “I can’t let you spend your money on this. I’ll make do—”

“Gammy.” Wila laid a hand on her grandmother’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I can afford it.”

“You’ve got a boy to raise, and now an extra mouth to feed, a-and—”

“Family looks out for each other,” Wila said fiercely. “Isn’t that what you always told me?”

“This wasn’t—” Gammy’s body trembled beneath Wila’s touch. “This wasn’t what I expected the afterlife to be like.” Gammy reached up and patted Wila’s hand.

“You expected bad coffee and cheap Tupperware in Heaven?” Wila teased.

Gammy laughed. “You are being evil, child.”

“No, I want to make my grandmother happy.” Wila gently pulled the stainless steel colander from Gammy’s hand. “Now, let’s get the rest of the things I need. Afterward, we’ll stop for expensive coffee and fancy sandwiches at Penny’s café.”

“Evil child.” Gammy snickered. “Evil, evil child.”

“With all due respect, that’s evil woman,” Wila shot back.

“What kind of evil things do you do?” a deep voice said behind her.

Wila whirled around to find a tall man with deep brown skin, equally deep brown eyes, and a high and tight cut. He was dressed in a medium gray suit accentuated by a scarlet silk tie. The man would be hot as hell if he didn’t have an ugly ass demon crawling under his skin.

“Well?” he asked. “I’m curious about what evil things War would do.”

Despite her heart hammering in her chest and the breath frozen in her lungs, Wila shifted so Gammy was behind her. She couldn’t, wouldn’t show her fear to this thing. “How about I simply kill you instead?” she forced out.

Except they were in a popular store, and it was getting busier by the moment. If she drew her sword, there would be too many questions. And the Soccer Moms already had enough trouble with reporters following Francine all over Oakfield after she was filmed turning into Famine during a confrontation with some vigilantes at one of the local cemeteries.

“What’s wrong with his face?” Gammy whispered behind her.

“He’s not a person. He’s Satan spawn,” Wila spat. She could barely keep her trembling in check as the panic attack grew, but the demon would take Gammy’s soul if Wila gave in to the fear.

The demon placed a hand on its chest. “Well, now, that hurts my feelings, War.”

Wila glared at it. “You don’t have feelings.”

It shrugged. “Well, that’s true.”

“Why are you harassing us?”

“Technically, I’m not harassing anyone.” It grinned. “Is that one of the evil things you like? To be harassed by a hot package like the lawyer I’m riding?” Its hand trailed down the length of the torso of the poor man it had possessed.

“Leave now, or—” Wila manifested her sword. “—else.”

“I love a woman who likes penetration.” It sighed dramatically. “But not today, my dear, I have my own business with you and your sisters.”

She frowned. It had to be lying. All demons lied. And they usually lied by telling the truth. Would Penny’s husband Gene prescribe her something to keep the illogically thoughts from driving her crazy? She’d been off the antidepressants since she found out she was pregnant with Derek, and she’d been doing okay without them for the last thirteen years, thanks to her yoga and meditation.

“Aren’t you even going to ask?” The demon seemed offended.

“I’m not stupid enough to bargain with a demon,” she said. “I rather like my soul, and I plan on keeping it.”

He smiled. “What if I offered my assistance to the Horsemen to stop the Apocalypse for something other than your souls?”

War in White Chocolate - Chapter 1

Now that Famine in French Vanilla has been released into the wilds, I'm hard at work on the next volume of the Soccer Moms of the Apocalypse. Enjoy!

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On Sunday evening, Wila Ardale sat in the lotus position on the thick, plush carpet of her family room with her eyes closed. Despite the nag champa incense wafting through the air and her yoga pose, she jerked when pots banged in her kitchen. Her role as War, the third Horseman of the Apocalypse, or rather Soccer Mom of the Apocalypse as her friends preferred to call themselves, seemed to feed on her PTSD. The same PTSD she believed she had mostly dealt with after she left the army nearly fifteen years ago.

Her right eye opened and peered up at Grandpapa’s antique clock on the stone mantel above the fireplace. Five frickin’ minutes. It had been five frickin’ minutes and she couldn’t even get into the first level of a meditative trance. Not with her grandmother rattling around in the kitchen.

Her recently risen from the dead Gammy.

Wila knew Gammy had dealt with her own stress by cooking when she was alive. Apparently, it held true in her resurrection. But the damn noise was driving Wila crazy. She was used to total silence on her days off work while Derek was at school or at his father’s house like right now.

And the ex-louse would be bringing her son home at any moment. She trusted Derek to remain silent about Gammy living with them, and the ex-louse avoided talking to her. He would probably drop Derek off at the door as usual.

“Me-arow,” Malcolm complained at another bang. Wila glanced at the couch. Her seal-point Siamese sat on his haunches on the middle cushion, cocked his head, and repeated his complaint. His blue-point brother Martin lay on the back of the couch and swished his tail in agreement.

“I know, I know,” Wila muttered. “I’ll go talk to her.”

Martin sniffed to indicate he didn’t think anything Wila said to Gammy would work. With another round of banging from the kitchen, he had a point.

Wila stretched out for a count of fifteen before she rolled to her feet and padded into the kitchen. Gammy crouched before the open pots and pans cupboard, shuffling things around loudly.

“Whatcha looking for, Gammy?” Wila asked.

“Don’t you have a colander, girl?” Gammy straightened.

Wila walked around the breakfast bar. A large bundle of collard greens sat in the sink. Yep, her grandmother was cooking again.

“Gammy, I told you that you don’t have to cook every meal for us,” Wila said. “And especially not tonight. Derek is eating dinner with—” It took all her will not to refer to Deion as the ex-louse in front of her grandmother. “—with his dad tonight.”

Gammy shook her head sadly. “I can’t believe you and Deion are divorced. I remember you two being so happy that day your blessed little baby was born.”

“Well, that was before I found out he was screwing my best friend Rashida, our babysitter Kristy, and his secretary Eileen,” Wila grumbled.

“Eileen?” Gammy’s forehead wrinkled. “She’s your mama’s age, and she’s white.”

Wila crossed her arms and leaned her left hip against the counter. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Still need a colander for the greens.” Gammy waved at the leafy vegetables in the sink.

“I can throw in a pizza from the freezer for dinner.” Wila stalked over to her refrigerator. “That’s plenty for the two of us.”

“That processed food isn’t good for you,” Gammy lectured.

Wila took a deep breath before she turned to face her grandmother. “I can pick up soup, salad, and sandwiches from the café down the street. That would be healthier, right?”

Gammy shook her finger at Wila. “It’s a waste of money eating out all the time. How are you going to save up Derek’s education by spending willy-nilly?”

“The money for Derek’s education is already set aside.” That had been the one thing she refused to compromise on during the divorce negotiations.

“Fine, but that doesn’t take care of these collard greens, girl. And I bought a nice ham hock, too.”

Wila tensed at the reminder her friend Francine was doing more for Gammy than she was. Like buying Gammy clothes and taking her grocery shopping while Wila was at work. She didn’t need a white savior to take care of her own damn family.

“I have a strainer I use for pasta,” Wila pointed out.

“Too small.” Of course, the old woman wanted a bigger colander. She was used to cooking for her eight children, their spouses, her grandchildren, and all the cousins. However, Mom and most of the aunts and uncles had passed. Dad lived in Florida with his girlfriend. And all the cousins had scattered across the fifty states to wherever their jobs took them.

“How about we go shopping in the morning?” Wila said. “We’ll find you a colander you like, and I’ll help you with cleaning greens before I head into work. Then I’ll be out of your hair and you can cook to your heart’s desire.”

Grammy stared into Wila’s eyes before she rested a warm callused palm against Wila’s cheek. “You always were a good girl, Wila.”

Her eyes burned, and she laid her own hand over Gammy’s. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

Gammy laughed. “I admit I never thought the sounding of the trumpets on Judgement Day was going to be like this.”

“Those sounding trumpets are what we’re trying to avoid, Gammy,” Wila said sternly.

The security system beeped, and Derek shouted, “Mom, I’m home!”

“In the kitchen!” she responded.

He raced in, skidding on the hardwood, and hissed, “Dad’s here.”

His warning was too late to rush Gammy upstairs to her bedroom. Sure enough, the ex-louse walked in behind Derek. His confident swagger had first attracted Wila to him, but now, it just pissed her off.

She crossed her arms. “What do you want, Deion? None of your girlfriends are here.”

“Ah, Wila, always a pleasure to speak with you.” His equally confident smile faltered when he noticed who was standing beside her. “Gammy Latricia? B-but you’re dead!”

“You got no right to address me with any familiarity, Deion Jackson.” Gammy shook her index finger at him. “If my great-grandson weren’t standing right here, I’d be giving you a piece of my mind.”

Wila crossed her arms. “It’s been three weeks since the dead started rising from their graves. You may not have a lick of compassion, but I’m not about to turn my grandmother away from my home.”

Something alien shone from Deion’s eyes, but this was normal human malice. He wasn’t possessed by a demon.

“Derek, get in my car,” he demanded.

“What? No!” Derek protested.

“You had your weekend with him, Deion,” Wila said. “You’ve delivered him safely home. It’s time for you to go.”

Deion said nothing. None of his usual attempts to intimidate her or threaten her with legal action. Nor did he reprimand Derek for giving him lip. No, Deion pivoted and stalked out of her kitchen. She followed to make sure he exited her house, and she watched him back out of her driveway.

His silence indicated he planned something. Something she wasn’t going to like.

Too bad her flaming sword didn’t work on living ex-husbands.

A Quick Sales Update!

 Famine in French Vanilla dropped today in Amazon!

Pestilence in Pumpkin Spice is FREE on Amazon today and tomorrow!

All novel and novellas are 50% off at Smashwords! Short stories are free! The Smashwords sale continues until the end of July! Make sure you use the Sales Codes to get your discount!

That's all the news for now. I'm on the road today, so if you have any questions, I'll answer them when I get home tonight.

Thank you for your support!

Famine in French Vanilla - Chapter 4

Here's the last little tidbit of Famine in French Vanilla before it goes live on Amazon.

Next week, some sale news will be posted. However, I will be in hiding. I'm nearly 100K behind in writing for the year, and a retreat to a hotel for a couple of days is necessary to focus on writing. The last time I did that was in February of 2020. Both DH and Princess Bella have done their best to leave me alone, but I need a change of scenery.

I DESPERATELY need a change of scenery before I go mad.

Or maybe like Francine, I need my own box of chocolate Long Johns.

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Francine entered Penny’s kitchen to find Justine eating a chocolate-frosted doughnut.

“Thanks for bringing these,” the girl said around a mouthful of pastry.

“You’re welcome.” Francine smiled. “Do you have any milk to go with them?”

Justine swallowed before she said, “There is some, but it may be a little iffy. With all the trouble between Mom, Dad, and that Rimmon guy—” Frown lines ran between her eyes, and Francine’s heart went out to the girl.

Justine licked her lips. “Is he really dead? He won’t make Dad do bad stuff again?” Her voice ended on a warble that indicated she was trying very hard not to cry.

“Rimmon’s dead,” Francine said. “You don’t have to worry about him ever again.”

“Grandma was dead.” Justine’s lower lip trembled. “He might come back, too.”

“Oh, sweetie.” Francine pulled the girl into a tight hug. “Trust me. He is never coming back. According to my research, only the good people will be brought back. Like your grandmother.”

“Can Brittany come over? I’m a-a l-little scared.”

Francine smoothed Justine’s wayward curls back from her face. “Why don’t you video chat with her? Your mom and I need to talk. Would you like to spend the night at our house again?”

Justine shrugged. “I don’t know. I-I want to stay here with Grandma. I miss her so much, but—”

“I’m a little weirded out about this whole situation, too.” Francine smiled. “Why don’t you grab another doughnut and go talk to Brittany? Then we’ll make some decisions after your mom and I talk.”

Justine nodded before she retrieved a clean plate for the remaining half of the Long John she’d been munching on and selected another chocolate one. She disappeared into the family room.

Ah, to be twelve and eat everything again.

Except Francine could eating everything again, but it came at a price. Accepting the role of Famine and battling demons hadn’t helped to quell her insane hunger. She ate more in one day than her family ate in an entire month.

Unless she unleashed her hunger on the public. The one time she accidentally had, the police needed riot gear and tear gas to get the restaurant patrons in check.

Francine looked around the Hudson’s kitchen. Dirty plates and silverware still sat on the table, which showed how fast things had gone crazy this morning.

Her stomach rumbled. Loudly. She needed to take care of that first. When she retrieved the milk jug from the refrigerator and unscrewed the cap, the slight strawberry-like scent milk had right before it totally soured hit her nose.

Well, she’d take care of it for Penny. If she needed to stay and keep an eye on Penny’s in-laws while Penny made a grocery run, she would. And later this weekend, she’d make up for the ruined lunch and shopping trip she’d planned with Brittany. Their friends needed them right now.

Francine cleared the dirty dishes from the table and wiped it down before she sat down with the quarter-filled gallon jug of milk and started eating doughnuts. Unfortunately, every time Famine manifested, she left Francine starving.

Literally.

She was washing down her third Long John with the almost bad milk when Penny walked into the kitchen. She stopped and stared at Francine before she crossed her arms and said, “I knew one box of doughnuts wouldn’t be enough for you, but drinking straight out of the jug? That’s so not like you, Miss Prim-and-Proper.”

Francine lowered the milk and licked her lips. “It’s about to go bad. You don’t want Justine or Edward to drink this. On the other hand, I will take calories in whatever form these days.” She burped before she added, “What can I do to help? Besides the dishes once Laura’s out of the shower.”

Penny flopped onto the chair next to Francine. “I thought everything would get better after Wednesday. I had less than one day. Ugh!” She scrubbed at her face. “Let me guess. Wila called because she ran into a dead person.”

Francine nodded. “She and Brian answered a call this morning to the same house where the husband was DOA a year ago. Reading between the lines of what she could tell me, the husband crawled out of his grave and went home, too. The wife fainted and hit her head on the way down. The husband called 9-1-1.”

“What about Brian?”

Francine snorted. “He’s convinced himself the man who called in is the twin brother of the guy who died.”

Penny swore under her breath. “We need to warn Dani.”

Horror rippled through Francine. “Oh, god, I wasn’t thinking. She and Mark are living in the same house they had when Heath died, isn’t she?”

“Yeah.” Penny fished her phone out of her front jeans pocket. She tapped the screen before she set the phone between her and Francine on the table. The phone rang once. Twice.

“Hernandez Insurance Agency. Dani speaking. How may I help you?”

“Hey, girl. It’s Penny and Francine. Got a minute for some Soccer Mom issues?”

“Not really,” Dani grumbled. “But just a sec.” Something squeaked before there was carpet shuffling. With the second squeak, Dani said, “Sorry, I needed to make sure I had a little privacy. What happened? Is Pence there to arrest you?”

The police officer was absolutely sure there was something squirrely about Penny, especially after two of the people the demons had possessed were found dead.

Francine bit the side of her cheek to keep from laughing at Penny’s sour expression.

“Believe me, I wish it were that easy.” Penny sighed wearily. “The Fifth Seal has broken.”

“But the Fifth Seal is—ohmigod! We have zombies running around Oakfield?”

“Penny’s mother-in-law showed up at her front door this morning,” Francine said. “And Wila responded to an EMT call that was made by a guy she and Brian pronounced DOA last year.”

“Please tell me this is a practical joke.” A sound suspiciously like a sob came through the receiver. “Please, please, please.”

“My dead mother-in-law is cleaning off grave dirt in my shower right now,” Penny snapped. “We are not joking.”

“Where’s Mark?” Francine asked.

“Since there’s no school today, he and Derek are at my-my—ohmigod, I can’t breath.” Dani was obviously hyperventilating.

“Dani, listen to me,” Francine said gently. “Call Mark, and tell him I going to your house to pick up him and Derek. I’ll call Wila, and let her know what’s going on. Then I’ll swing by to collect Brittany and bring lunch to over to Penny’s. Can you take the rest of the day off?”

“Y-y-yeah.” A paper bag crinkled through the phone speaker. “I’ll tell Marty I have cramps. Th-that works every time with him.”

Thank goodness, Dani worked for her brother. Francine couldn’t imagine finding excuses to leave her job every time a Soccer Mom emergency came up.

“Hang in there, sweetie,” Francine said. “I’ll see you in an hour.”

“O-okay.” Dani sniffed. “I’ll see you later.”

The phone call ended, and Penny grabbed Francine’s hands. “You cannot leave me alone here. Gene will be home at any moment.”

“Listen to me, Penny,” Francine said softly. “You heard Dani. Imagine how Mark is going to react if Heath shows up at the Elante residence. Why do you think Dani was hyperventilating?”

Penny released Francine’s hand and place her own palms over her mouth. She finally lowered her hands. “Can I please trade jobs with you?”

“If Gene tries to hurt Laura or worse, you go Pestilence on his ass,” Francine said. “I’ll grab my coat. I should be back within an hour. You’re the strong one, Penny. You can handle this.”

“I really wish you three would stop saying that,” Penny grumbled.

Francine gave Penny a quick hug. “I’ll be fast I promise.”

When Francine entered the living room, Edward was still meticulously wiping sugary gunk from Gene’s book collection. He gave her the side-eye as she retrieved her coat and put it on. She grabbed her tote and turned to go when he said, “Are you sure that woman is Laura?”

She pivoted to look at him. “Why? Think she’ll interfere with your multitude of girlfriends?”

“Multitude?” He glared at her.

“Edward, I know about you and Deborah Gibson,” she hissed.

An alarmed expression crossed his face. “Penny told you?”

Francine rubbed her forehead. “Shit. Does she really know?”

“If she didn’t tell you, how do you know?” he asked.

“Deborah was boasting about it at the First Methodist pancake supper.” Francine shook her head. “She thought she’d become the new Mrs. Hudson.”

Edward pursed his mouth. “You can berate me all you want, but please don’t hurt Laura.”

“I have no intention of ruining her life—” She couldn’t help a little burble of laughter from erupting. “—or her death. Clean up that mess before I get back with lunch.”

He reddened. “I was changing diapers before you were born.”

“And I’m sure you were smearing the contents of your diapie on walls long before you smeared perfectly good Long Johns all over your son’s books.” Francine shot him a cocky smile. “See you in a bit.”

She gritted her teeth as she charged out Penny’s new front door and strode to her minivan. If Neal’s dad were half as obnoxious as Edward Hudson, she would have killed him years ago.

Famine in French Vanilla - Chapter 3

Here's another taste of the upcoming second volume of Soccer Moms of the Apocalypse. Please don't lick the creme filling off the books and carpet.

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“Justine, what does Wila need?” Francine asked.

Instead of answering, the girl threw herself into Laura’s arms, regardless of the grave dirt covering her grandmother.

“Penny!” Edward bellowed.

Francine jumped to her feet. “I’ll deal with him and Wila while you take care of Justine and Laura.”

The last thing they needed was Edward to have a heart attack or stroke from having his dead wife in the house. Francine strode out of the living room’s second entrance and shut the door behind her. She was supremely happy her parents and Neal’s were all alive and living happily in Florida. She couldn’t imagine how she would deal with a dead parent showing up on her front porch.

Francine charged into the Hudson’s kitchen to find Edward on his cell phone. “Give it to me.” She held out her hand.

Surprisingly, he complied without complaining. When she lifted the phone to her ear, it sounded like Wila was in a vehicle.

“It’s Francine,” she said. “What’s going?”

“I think the Fifth Seal broke,” Wila snapped. “I’m on a call—”

Francine rubbed her forehead. “Please tell me you’re not calling and driving your rig at the same time.”

“It’s on speaker, bitch.” Wila was silent for a moment before she said, “I’m sorry. I’m freaking out here.”

“Just tell me what happened.” Francine looked up. Edward was paying close attention to her conversation. Too close. She needed to be careful of how she worded things with Wila.

“Brian and I were sent on a 9-1-1 call this morning,” she said. “The husband called it in. The wife fainted and hit her head. They’re both in the back right now with Brian.”

“And?” Francine prompted.

“We had a call to the same address last year,” Wila bit out. “The husband had a cardiac event. He was DOA.”

Francine shuddered. “Didn’t Brian notice it was the same person?”

“He’s talked himself into thinking this guy is the deceased’s brother,” Wila said. “For now anyway. Is Penny okay?”

“No, she’s not.” Francine sighed. “The last three weeks have cracked her mental health, too, not just Gene’s.”

A concerned look crossed Edward’s face.

“I’m dealing with a similar situation here,” Francine continued. “Can you call Dani for backup? I don’t know how long Penny will need me to stay here.”

Edward shuffled to the coffee pot and refilled his cup before he tottered out of the kitchen. Francine sagged in relief. At least, he wasn’t staring at her anymore.

“I’m finally alone, so listen fast,” Francine murmured. “Penny’s mother-in-law showed up here first thing this morning.”

“What?” Wila shouted. “She—we were at the damn funeral!”

Francine winced and held the receiver away from her ear. “I know. That’s why I have my hands full here.”

“Grandpa, no!” Justine shrieked. It was followed by a female scream that was abruptly cut off.

“I gotta go,” Francine said. “Call you when I can.” She ended the call, set Edward’s phone on the table, and raced for the living room.

Only to find Penny and Justine desperately trying to pull Edward off Laura. He wasn’t someone Francine thought of as a violent person, but the revelation he used to be a demon hunter for the Vatican showed how little she knew about Penny’s father-in-law, much less anyone else.

“Let her go, Edward!” Francine snapped.

When he didn’t, she stopped keeping Famine in check. Her jeans and favorite Halloween sweater melded into her black robes. The odd feeling of her skin tightening flowed over her body.

Penny and Justine backed out of the way as Francine strode over to the couch. She grabbed hold of his collar and belt and yanked him off Laura. Edward flailed. His kick sent the box of Long Johns flying through the air. The box hit the top shelf of the bookcase where Gene kept his collection of antique volumes. The white cardboard tumbled down, depositing frosting, crème, and pastry bits on the contents of the every single shelf until the last of the doughnuts splatted all over Penny’s brand new cream-colored plush carpet.

A weird gurgling sound came from Laura.

Justine rushed over to the couch. “Are you okay, Grandma?”

“Goddammit, Francine!” Edward shouted. “Put me down! We have to kill it!”

“Listen to me, Edward Hudson,” Francine growled. “Think about it. Demons can’t possess the dead. That is not a demon!”

His struggles slowed. “But-but—”

“She’s right, Edward,” Penny said. “If the first four Seals have broken, it makes sense the Fifth Seal would break.” She looked at Laura. “It seems sooner rather than later.”

On the other hand, Laura stared at Francine, shock muting her despite Justine’s repeated question about her status.

Edward stopped struggling. “Put your hair back on, Francine. I won’t fight you anymore.”

She set the elderly man upright. Obviously, he still wasn’t sure about having his late wife sitting on the living room couch, but he didn’t make a move towards Laura.

Francine took a deep breath and shoved her obscene hunger back into its hole. Her black robes faded into her jeans and black sweater with the Jack o’lantern family.

“What are you?” Laura stammered.

“I wasn’t joking when I said the Four Horsemen manifested three weeks ago,” Francine said. “As you could probably tell from my appearance, I’m Famine.”

She reached into her right jeans pocket and dug out her keys. “Justine, since your grandfather ruined this box of doughnuts with his homicidal tendencies, would you please grab the extra box sitting in my front seat?”

“Absolutely!” The girl grinned.

Francine tossed her keys to Justine, and the girl ran out of the living room.

“Edward, you are going to clean up the mess you made.” Francine waited for him to argue. He did shoot a pleading expression at Penny.

“Uh-uh.” His daughter-in-law shook her head. “You made the mess. You clean it up. And you can explain the damage to Gene’s books.”

“Francine’s the one who threw a demon through your front door!” he protested. “And I paid for that.”

“The girls are right. Clean it up, Edward,” Laura snapped.

“All right,” he grumbled before he shuffled out of the living room.

“I’m sorry for the way I acted toward you, Francine,” Laura said. “Or should I call you Famine?”

“Francine is fine.” She smiled.

Laura turned to her daughter-in-law. “Penny would you mind if I use your shower and borrow something to wear?” She brushed at the dirt on her left sleeve. “It seems digging my way out of the grave left my clothing rather disheveled.”

“Of course.” Penny started to leave but stopped and looked over her shoulder at Francine. “Is Wila okay?”

“For now.” Francine shooed Penny toward the door closest to their staircase. “Go take care of Laura and I’ll tell you the rest when you come back down.”

“I got the doughnuts,” Justine warbled from the front door.

“To the kitchen with those before there’s more chocolate stains on my new carpet,” Penny ordered from the landing.

Francine chuckled to herself as she headed to the kitchen, too. All her friends claimed she was the stuck-up one when it came to how her house looked. But she wasn’t cutting her chairs in half with a flaming sword or smearing Long Johns all over a priceless book collection and brand-new wall-to-wall Berber.

Famine in French Vanilla - Chapter 2

For those of you new to my blog, here's an unedited taste of the novel I'm currently writing.

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Francine set the box of crème-filled doughnuts and napkins on the coffee table, stripped off her coat, and tossed it on one of the blue-upholstered Queen Anne chairs opposite of the couch before she carefully sat on the other chair.

“How are you keeping Edward and Justine out?” she asked.

“I told them you were already here, and we needed some privacy to talk about Soccer Mom stuff,” Penny said.

“Are Justine and Brittany still playing soccer?” Laura brightened. “That’s cool. There were so many stupid restrictions on girls in sports when I was their age.”

“Yes, they are, and they’re loving it.” Francine opened the box. “I hope you don’t mind, but I haven’t had breakfast yet.” She reached for a doughnut. “And I’m starving.”

“Crap,” Penny murmured. “You should have taken the time to eat.” She jumped up from the couch. “I can warm up last night’s chicken and rice casserole. Or would you prefer scrambled eggs and bacon?”

Francine held up a hand. “I’m good. I’ve got an extra box of Long Johns in my minivan. Just in case.”

Penny slowly sat back down.

Francine held out the box to Laura. “Want one?”

“Those look so good.” Laura reached out, then jerked back her hand. “Oh, my god. My hands are filthy. I should wash up—”

“No need to leave.” Francine set the box back on the coffee table and fished the canister of wet wipes out of her tote. “Clean your hands and face. These are organic with all natural cleansers.” When Laura took the canister, Francine pulled out a plastic shopping bag from her tote’s side pocket.

“Are you sure you’re not one of Ed’s kids from another woman?” Laura said.

Francine shot a look at Penny.

“She’s joking,” Penny said. “I think.”

“Of course, I’m joking.” Laura looked at Penny like she’d grown a second head.

Once Laura cleaned her hands and face, she looked…alive, and much younger than Francine remembered from the funeral. She held open the plastic bag for Laura to deposit the used wipes. Her skin felt warm when their fingers brushed.

“I don’t understand why I can’t see my own husband.” Laura selected a chocolate Long John and took a bite. She chewed normally and swallowed her mouthful.

Once again, Francine exchanged a look with Penny. “We have to tell her the truth.”

“Oh, my god.” Penny’s head dropped into her palms. “Edward, Gene, and Theo are going to freak. And Justine’s been through enough.”

Laura finished her Long John, took a napkin, and dabbed the chocolate frosting and crème filling from the corners of her mouth. She gave Penny a measured look. “I already know someone else is living in my house. You’d better start from the top and explain everything, young lady, before I make a scene. Then everybody will know I’m here.”

Penny seemed frozen in place. The last thing they needed was for her mother-in-law to make good on her threat.

Francine cleared her throat. “What’s the last thing you remember, Laura?”

She blinked, then frowned. “That’s odd. I-I was in a hospital I think.” She looked at Penny again. “Did I have a stroke?”

Penny shook her head. “Do you remember being diagnosed with cancer?”

“I was?” Laura’s eyes widened. “I remember Justine having leukemia in first grade, but I don’t…” Worry creased her forehead.

“You had ovarian cancer,” Francine said gently.

“B-but I always had my check-ups,” Laura protested.

Francine glanced at Penny, but after the last three weeks, her practical friend had hit the proverbial wall. Francine cleared her throat.

“You had a very aggressive form,” she said gently. “The hospital you remember is probably the hospice you had to go to when the tumors in your brain made you unable to perform basic tasks.”

“We kept you at home as long as possible, Laura,” Penny blurted. “But you needed around the clock care. It was killing Edward. I’m the one who pressed the hospice issue, so please don’t blame Edward, Gene, or Theo.”

“I died, didn’t I?” Laura said. Penny couldn’t look at her mother-in-law.

“Yes,” Francine answered.

“I don’t understand.” Laura frowned. “I mean I believe in God…”

“The Four Horsemen manifested on Earth three weeks ago.” Francine sympathized with Laura. Wila, Dani, Penny, and she had nearly a month to get used to the idea. They were dumping a hell of a lot on Laura in only five minutes. “We think the fifth seal of the Apocalypse has been broken, and the dead are rising.”

“I need another Long John to deal with this.” Laura selected a maple one this time.

“Where’s Gene if only Edward and Justine are here?” Francine asked.

“He’s at Saint Michael’s talking with Deke, ur, I mean, Father McAvoy.” Tears welled in Penny’s eyes. She was trying so hard to be the strong one. It was going to break her if she didn’t let herself process all the stuff that had happened to them.

Laura swallowed her bite of doughnut. “Are you talking about Father Deacon McAvoy?”

“Yes,” Francine said.

“Edward and I used to know him years ago. Last I heard, he was…” Laura exhaled gustily. “How long ago did I pass away?”

“It was two years in June,” Penny said.

“What year is it?” Laura asked.

Francine told her, and Laura nodded.

“All right, so Deacon was supposed to be transferred to Saint James in Chicago four years ago.” Laura pursed her lips. “I don’t like the fact the last year and half of my life memories were taken from me.”

“It may be that Heaven excised those memories to make it easier on you,” Francine suggested. “You were in a terrible amount of pain during that period.”

“That makes sense.” Laura sagged against the back of the couch. “Has Edward, um, found someone else since I, ur…”

Once again, Penny couldn’t meet her mother-in-law’s eyes.

“He just started seeing a lady name Marian about a month ago,” Francine said softly. “It took him a long time to get over losing you.”

“And now, I’m back from the dead.” Laura shook her head. “I can’t even imagine how this will affect him and the boys.”

The door between Penny’s living room and her family room burst open. “Mom! Wila says you’re not answering your cell phone. She’s calling—” Justine stared at Laura.

“Grandma?”

Famine in French Vanilla - Chapter 1

Hero Ad Litem was released today on Amazon. The other stores are still waiting for me to upload it.

In the meantime, here's your first tast of the next Soccer Moms novel!

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The buzzing of her phone drew Francine Coy-Astin out of a deep sleep. The barest light passed through the sheer white drapes of her bedroom. God help her, she hated autumn. The shorter days meant she wasn’t getting enough sunlight, which in turn meant a lack of vitamin D and a corresponding lack of energy.

Whoever it was calling her would leave a message. She snuggled deeper into the lavender-scented pillows and reached for Neal, but her body only met cooler sheets. That’s right. Her husband left early this morning for his monthly meeting with the sales team. Bless him, he’d managed to get dressed and leave without waking her.

Nor did their daughter Brittany have school today. Francine made a point of setting up all her appointments with Brittany’s teachers on Thursday so they could have this one Friday to sleep in a little.

The buzzing of the phone stopped, only to start again. Francine groaned and rolled over to reach for the device. If it was Mom calling to complain about the “hooligans” next door at their Florida condominium again, Francine would turn off the damn phone.

Instead, the caller ID said “Penny”.

That jerked Francine out of her semi-conscious state. Penny knew better than to call this early in the morning, which meant it was something she couldn’t handle as Pestilence. Francine sat up and tapped the answer icon. “What’s wrong?”

“My mother-in-law just showed up on my doorstep.” Penny sounded like she was about to hyperventilate.

“Girl, you had a nightmare,” Francine said soothingly. When the hell had she switched roles with Penny? She was Miz Practical, not Francine. “Your mother-in-law passed away. She’s in her grave in Oakfield Cemetery—”

“No, she’s not,” Penny hissed. “She’s sitting in my living room. Edward and Justine are eating breakfast in the kitchen, and they’re going to discover Laura any moment.”

“That can’t be.” Despite all the weirdness with demons over the last couple of weeks, this went one step too far. “She died. We went to her funeral—”

“Francine, what’s the fifth seal of Revelations?” Penny’s voice had an edge of hysteria.

The rising of the dead from their graves. That rhetorical question swept away the last sleep cobwebs. “Shit,” Francine muttered. “Let me get dressed, and I’ll be right over.”

##

After warning Brittany to stay inside and keep the doors locked until Francine returned, she pulled into the Hudson’s driveway fifteen minutes later. She wasn’t about to put her own daughter in danger if Penny’s zombie mother-in-law was actually inside the Hudson’s house.

Stopped at a traffic light, Francine’s favorite local radio station broke for news. She didn’t pay attention until the announcer chuckled. “On a local note, police arrested a man at the Oakfield court house. He claimed he was one of our city’s founders, Jebediah Hauser, and demanded that people get off his property. My assistant Kat did a little digging on this one, and Hauser did in fact own the land where the courthouse sits. His widow sold the property to Ebenezer Dorchester in 1799.”

Francine bit her lower lip. She didn’t find mental illness funny at all. She hoped the man got the care he needed. But what if Penny was right and the Fifth Seal had broken? What if the man the police arrested was the real Jebediah Hauser risen from the dead?

The light turned green, and Francine pressed the accelerator. Her skin tingled, an indication her Horseman Famine wanted to rear her ugly head. She tried to focus on the two boxes of crème-filled Long Johns sitting in the passenger seat to keep her alter ego in check. The other girls had to concentrate to bring forth their Four Horsemen personas, or rather their Soccer Moms of the Apocalypse as Wila liked to call them. Francine had the opposite problem. She had to concentrate to keep hers in check. As she found out the hard way when she accidentally started a riot at the Oakfield Buffet one afternoon with her supernatural hunger.

Francine pulled next to the curb in front of Penny’s house. The construction workers who replaced the splintered front door and its frame had done an excellent job. They just needed to be painted to match the shutters and trim, and no one would know anything had happened.

Except she did. She’d smacked Penny’s husband Gene with her scales right through the old door. The only reason he was still alive was thanks to the bastard demon who had possessed him.

Francine cut off the engine of her minivan, grabbed one box of the pastries, and a wad of napkins. Her seat vibrated, an indication Sable sensed something out of the ordinary. If Penny really did have her mother-in-law inside, Sable undoubtedly picked up on the dead woman’s presence.

“You need to stay here and behave yourself.” Francine patted the dashboard. “Penny would know if it was a demon.”

She exited her vehicle/horse and jogged up the couple of steps to Penny’s front porch. The wind carried that first sharp hint of winter and seemed determined to pull off the remaining red leaves from the oak trees along the street. Not bothering to ring the doorbell, she pressed the latch of the new front door and shoved it open.

The door to the formal living room was closed. Penny only closed off the living room when Gene had his medical colleagues over for one of their get-togethers. Muddy footprints caked the entryway mat, and more dirt was scattered on the hardwood flooring in a direct path to living room.

Francine closed the front door, unsure of how to proceed. If she knocked, she’d alert Edward and Justine something was going on. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, turned off the sound on the device, and texted Penny.

I’m right outside the living room door. Safe to come in?

A second later, Francine’s phone vibrated with Penny’s reply.

Yes

Francine sucked in a deep breath, pushed down in the latch, and opened the door. A woman with disheveled brunette hair and wearing a very filthy pale blue linen spring suit sat on the couch next to Penny. She resembled Penny’s mother-in-law if you erased twenty or thirty years and the ravages of her ovarian cancer. Both women clutched mugs of coffee, Penny’s favorite pumpkin spice and peppermint for the other woman from the odors.

Penny’s shoulders relaxed a bit at Francine’s entrance. “Thank you for coming over.”

The other woman looked at Francine and smiled. “Hello, Francine.” She may have needed a shower and clean clothes, but with that pleasant expression, she definitely looked just like Penny’s late mother-in-law Laura Hudson.

Francine held up her box. “Anyone want a Long John?”