Sapphire - Chapter 2

On the flight home from a writing craft class last Friday, I started re-reading the Oz series by L. Frank Baum. I read so much faster now than I did when I was seven. I got to the part in the first book where the Wizard has gifted the Scarcrow, the Tin Woodman, and the Cowardly Lion their desires. I finished it last night while catsitting my niece's feline, and started The Marvelous Land of Oz tonight while Miss M sat in my lap and purred wile I stroked her fur. I don't I could have had a better hour. I got home, ate some supper, and finished Chapter Two of Sapphire. All in all a very good start to the weekend.

For those waiting for the other promised books, I am working on them. This is the project of my heart I save for an hour or two on the weekends.

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Bright morning sunshine filled Allophane’s laboratory, sending sharp glints through the crystal beakers and delicate glass vials before being reflected by the magic mirrors. Even the metal instruments reflected the light, giving her a sense of hope. The fireplace remained unlit on such a warm, glorious day. She had opened the laboratory windows to clear out the noxious fumes from her latest brew. But the light and fresh air meant nothing if she and her sisters couldn’t find a cure for the king.

The clock on the mantel ticked away the time with its silver pendulum. Shadows and reflections shifted across the room as she measured and stirred and poured. Heating part of the solution over a silver Bunsen burner until it turned pink. Cooling another part in a silver bucket of winter ice from the laboratory’s icebox until it also changed from clear to blue.

Her stomach rumbled, but she couldn’t stop working. The Kingdom of Oz could fall into civil war if King Pastoria died, especially with his daughter and only heir merely a few months old. Two of her sisters, Beryl and Willis, had proposed the sisterhood should take control and act as the princess’s regents until she reached the age of majority.

Allophane knew exactly how the governors of the four lands of Oz would react to that idea. It was the same reaction she had when Beryl and Willis proposed their plan. Power of any kind could be misused. Magic most easily of all. With the queen’s death from delivering her daughter and the king dying of what everyone assumed was heartbreak, the princess needed love and care, not to be a pawn among the nobility or the witch protectors.

Allophane shooed away her wayward thoughts and concentrated on what she was doing. She carefully poured the now-cooled pink liquid into a clean empty vial before she added the chilled blue solution.

The two liquids swirled together until the lavender mixture started fizzing. It bubbled and foamed while she carefully fed her magic into the potion so it wouldn’t run over the top of the vial.

At the rapid knocks on Allophane’s study door, her concentration shattered. So did the glass vial holding the potion she’d spent the morning brewing. The contents spilled across her work table, searing the antique wood. Drops of her elixir dripped from the edge of the table, splashed upon the flagstones of her study, and spread across the floor until the brew ignited the small blue braided rug by her favorite chair.

Holding her breath against the billowing acrid smoke, she summoned a tiny raincloud to extinguish the flames before she stomped across the drier parts of the floor. Her azure skirts and white apron whipped around her ankles with the force of her bootsteps. She yanked open her study door.

“What?” She glared at Jamina. The diminutive maid wore her household uniform of navy dress, matching leather boots, and her pale blue apron.

“This just arrived from the capital, madam.” Jamina dropped a curtsey as she held out the pure white envelope, its surface marred by a blob of brilliant green wax. In the middle of the seal was the stamp of the royal vizier, not Pastoria’s personal sigil.

With dread dragging down her soul, Allophane broke the wax and scanned the contents twice. She was too late. The king was gone.

Her entire body sagged, and she grasped the edge of one of her cabinets to remain upright. “Wh-when?”

“The messengers literally just arrived,” Jamina murmured.

“Does my sister know?”

“Jellia took Lady Beryl’s envelope to her.”

It was the mannerly thing to do. However, worry twisted Allophane’s innards. What would Beryl and Willis do with the king dead? And which way would their sister protectors jump?

“And the messengers?”

“The human is caring for his horse,” Jamina reported. “The poor thing ran for three days straight.”

Allophane nodded. “Please see that they both are given a gold coin for going above and beyond their duties.

“Yes, m’lady.” The maid curtsied for a second time before she left and closed the laboratory door.

Allophane made her way to her chair by the dark fireplace and dropped onto the soft cushion. Her tears rolled down her cheeks. How could this have happened? She, Locasta, Amber, and Glinda had been researching and brewing and—

It had all been for nothing.

Now, the baby princess would grow up without either parent. Would she even have real love with the governors and the protector witches fighting over who would be the girl’s regent until she was old enough to take the throne.

A horrible thought occurred. Would the child live long enough to become queen of Oz?

Someone knocked on the laboratory door. Someone with force. Someone who didn’t bother with respect. It could only be the one person in Munchkin Country who didn’t respect her.

Allophane wiped the tears from her cheeks with the hem of her apron before she strode across the floor and yanked the door open.

Beryl took one look at her and sniffed. “You had to have expected this news, sister.”

“Just because your compassion is non-existent, it doesn’t mean mine is,” Allophane murmured.

“This needs to be a private conversation.” Beryl stepped into the laboratory and yanked the door from Allophane’s tight grip. Once the door was closed, Beryl whirled to face her again. “This isn’t the time to wallow in emotion. The deaths of the queen and king will throw the nation of Oz into chaos.”

“Excuse me for taking a moment to grieve the passing of a good person.” Allophane glared at Beryl.

“If Pastoria was good, he would have put aside his own grief to care for his child and his people,” Beryl snapped. “Instead, he wallowed so deeply he died of a broken heart. He is at fault for the current crisis!”

“I don’t wish to argue about this right now.” Allophane looked over her shoulder at the mess in her laboratory. “Give me an hour to clean up here. I’ll have Jamina and Jellia pack one bag each for us.”

“We’re not taking a proper carriage?” Beryl’s expression turned from her typical haughtiness to outright annoyance.

“This is too important for a three day trip to the capital,” Allophane pointed out.

“Not all of us have adorable silver shoes with which to travel in an instant,” Beryl sneered.

Allophane lifted her right eyebrow. “I told you I’d help you enchant a pair.”

Beryl made a very unladylike sound deep in her chest. “Fine. I’ll make my maid packs appropriate mourning clothes.”

“Her name is Jellia,” Allophane retorted. “She’s more than a maid.”

“I don’t know why you care so much about servants.” Beryl yanked the laboratory door open and flounced out of the room.

“Because you don’t,” Allophane whispered.

And suspicion at her sister protector’s behavior dropped a seed in her heart. What if Pastoria’s death wasn’t from simple heartbreak?

A Cup of Conflict - Chapter 2

Here's the second unedited chapter of the newest novel at the Justice series!

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The next day, folks from the area farms started arriving when they noticed the billowing smoke from the funeral pyres. A dozen dead renegades and nine dead guardsmen would have attracted attention in other ways if we hadn’t burned the bodies. The caravanserai director explained the situation an equal number of times before he finally posted a sign at the gates.

Which only triggered more questions from the locals. Apparently, a good many of them were illiterate.

Which prompted me to ask Shi Hua, Po, and their family about the education situation over our morning meal of porridge and boiled eggs.

“The Temple of Knowledge has been trying to continue educating the children, but many of the peasants protest against it,” Shi Hua said.

“Why?” I laid my spoon in my empty bowl and started cracking the shell of my first boiled egg now that it was cool enough to touch.

“They don’t see the purpose of it.” Po shrugged. “There wasn’t a known demon attack during my mother’s entire reign. Reading, writing, and sums were only important against demons.”

Shang snorted. “It didn’t help that the School of Sorcery wanted an ignorant peasantry to help them gain power.”

“An ignorant peasantry?” I asked as I peeled off the last of the shell of my egg.

“It’s part of the various philosophical schools attempts to discredit the Temples,” Yin Li explained. “The farmers complain there’s too much work to be done. The wise men of the philosophical school commiserate and ask why are your children not helping in the fields or with the herds? Because they are at the Temple of Knowledge half the day, the farmers complain. The wise men clasp their bosoms and say reading isn’t necessary to pull weeds and learning the continents and seas means nothing when one never leaves their province. Or even their village.”

Yin Li’s exaggerated manner of portraying both the farmers and the sorcerers of the various philosophy schools was hilarious. But the actual contents of her speech concerned me. It sounded like one of the renegades’ whisper campaigns. Refusing to listen to clergy placed a major wedge in the civilians’ trust. And with Jing losing clergy at a similar rate as we were in Issura, this tactic would sorely affect the next generations of humans.

The tactic might even help the demons to win the war.

While most people considered Knowledge to be the weakest Temple, they were the bedrock of our civilization. They complied and disseminated all information. The brothers and sisters analyzed every report from the other Temples and bureaucrats. They saw trends in harvest and weather long before anyone else did. And their predictions were often correct.

It wasn’t a matter of precognitive talent or pretending the heavens could foretell the future. Knowledge paid attention to the cycles around us. The rhythm of the earth. The song of the universe.

And it made me wonder if Yin Li and Shi Hua had been held back from being tested for their talents by their own village elders. Granted, Luc’s father Itzel hadn’t presented him to a Temple until he was eight winters, but as merchants, the family was often on the road between nations. However, Itzal did so as soon as he saw Luc entertaining his sisters with animals he fashioned from light. Shi Hua had told me she hadn’t left her village until she was seven, but only because her aunt Yin Li had pushed her sister over Shi Hua’s distance speaking talents.

“But surely the recent demon attack on Chengzhou would convince them—” Luc started.

“One would think.” Shang’s emotions felt…haunted was the best word out of all the languages I knew. “But not even the wardens and soldiers with us could conceive we were under a demon attack until it was too late.”

Yin Li laid her hand on his shoulder, lending her strength to him. “You need to tell the emperor what you told me, my love. He needs to know what he faces.”

The porridge and eggs curdled in my stomach as the Conflict priest related how Reverend Chen and his army encountered our foes in a desert valley. Realizing his people was outnumbered, Chen signaled a retreat, only to be caught in a pincer attack from the rear. However, the Reverend Father didn’t panic. He ordered a charge in a desperate attempt to break through the demon lines. Shang estimated that twenty percent of the expedition fought free of the enemy, but most of them had been wounded, and they lost all but one healer.

For the next two weeks, the demons chased the remnant of the Jing forces. People and horses died because there was no rest, no food, and no water. They couldn’t even stop long enough to burn the dead. Then, they had the demon-animated corpses chasing them as well as the demons themselves.

When they encountered a defensible stand of rocks, Reverend Father Chen ordered Shang to take the few able-bodied priests and wardens east to seek assistance. An animated corpse had stabbed the Reverend Father in the gut. He knew it was a matter of time before he and the other injured survivors would die. Shang left the last canister of flash powder with Chen. The survivors heard something two days later, but they couldn’t be sure if it was an explosion or thunder.

Eventually, Shang and the last dozen survivors encountered Darys’s army. The Skoloti had been warned of the demon army by their Reverend Mother of Balance, who was one of their seers. The talent to see the future was incredibly rare, even amongst those of my order.

“The Skoloti fed us before transporting us to their closest Temple of Child.” Shang scrubbed his face with his hands. “Their army encountered scattered groups of demons and eliminated them. They never found any more Jing survivors.”

Grief filled all of Po’s party. I never knew the Reverend Father, but Shi Hua had told me of her encounters with him. However, he must have been very imposing to a fourteen-year-old Light novice. To me, it sounded as if a devoted priest had chosen the only path he could after losing thousands of people.

Fat yellow tears rolled down Shi Hua and Yin Li’s faces. Po rolled the beads of his moustache so fiercely, I fear he’d twist the blue hairs out by their roots.

“Your Majesty?” I murmured.

Po’s head jerked up. We had so rarely addressed each other by titles for the two months we were at sea. “Yes?”

“You need to speak with every village elder and Temple clergy on the way Chengzhou.” I stared at him. “You need to tell them what happened to you in Tandor. The renegades. The skinwalkers. The demons. All of it.”

“You truly believe tales of my torture and our starvation will entertain my people?” he mocked, but I recognized the flicker of fear in visage. I was sure my own countenance held it from time to time.

“He can’t,” Shang protested. “Doing so will make him look weak.”

“He survived the demon siege of Tandor,” Luc said. “He helped us save our citizens. Without him, Issura would have fallen last year.”

“Twelve help us, was that only a year ago?” Po released the beads on his moustache. “It would be an excellent task for Reverend Father Biming.” He smiled. “And an excellent use of his particular talents.”

“He might deem such a task as an insult, my husband,” Shi Hua said softly.

“Which is why I’ll address him personally about the matter.” Po raised her right hand to his lips. “If you’ll excuse me, my empress and my guests.” He rose and strode from the room the caravanserai director had assigned Po for meeting the local leaders.

Shang eyed me from across the table. “You hold a great deal of our emperor’s esteem.”

“I also noticed you didn’t mention reporting to Reverend Father Chen’s replacement in Chengzhou,” I replied.

“Ah, the vaunted logic of Balance.” He nodded. “We did, along with an emissary of the Skoloti. However, no one in Jing besides Reverend Father Fu, his head of household, and his chief warden are aware of our survival.” He shrugged. “Until now.”

“If it needs to remain a secret, speak with the empress’s head of security Mataqai,” Luc suggested.

“Do not worry, High Brother.” She Hua grinned. “I already have. As far as anyone else is concerned, High Brother Shang, Sister Darys, and their party are part of the Empress’s Guard.”

Death Goddess Walking - Chapter 2

Here's the next unedited chapter!

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We pray, oh Lady, protect us from the venom of our enemies. – Prayer to Selket, The Mortuary Temple of Hatshepsut, Deir el-Bahri, Egypt


The creatures’ bones poked through the scales covering the majority of their bodies. Tufts of hair or possibly feathers stuck out in odd places. The elongated snouts seemed a cross between canine and reptilian, with nasty looking fangs that matched the talons at the end of their forearms. The forked tongue of the first creature flicked out, testing the air.

Billie gulped frigid oxygen and reached under her wool coat for the handle along her spine. Panic threatened to shut down cognitive function. These monsters looked so freaking real. She didn’t for one minute believe her knife would affect these things, but maybe she could buy the children escape time.

What the hell was she thinking? The ghost children were already dead. She wasn’t. She eased the steel from the sheath anyway.

A high-pitched scream broke the stand-off. The nightmare on the angel launched itself at Marcus.

“No!” Knife in hand she leapt at the monster, blocking it from the paralyzed ghost. The nightmare backhanded her. The blow drove all breath from her lungs. She slammed into the same marker it had perched on and dropped to the ground. The nerves in her hip and ribs howled at the impact.

The attack on Billie spurred a reaction in the terrified ghost children. Screaming and crying, they raced in different directions. The other two creatures chased after them, reminding her too much of the coyotes that had gotten into Grandpa’s chicken coop one night.

Billie crawled to her fists and knees. Somehow her right hand still gripped her knife. Her diaphragm ached from the thing’s blow. Lungs cried for air.

The creature ignored her and reached for Marcus. Her own gut twisted in response the boy’s scream as the talons seemed to cut into his ectoplasmic skin. Forcing herself upright, she jumped on the thing’s back.

Shock filled her at the monster’s solidity. The heat from its scales burned white-hot compared to Sarah Jane’s touch. What the hell were these things and why were they chasing ghosts in the cemetery?

The creature roared at Billie’s weight and dropped Marcus. Flinging itself around, it tried to dislodge her. She clung to the gyrating creature, brought the knife up and plunged the steel into its back. Instead of the scales deflecting the blow as she half expected, the knife sank nearly to its hilt.

Another roar shook the night. The creature bucked and heaved, throwing Billie to the ground again. Despite the air driven from her lungs a second time, she rolled away as it tried to stomp her into red jelly on the ice and dead grass. Foor talons dug furrows across partially frozen sod. It clawed at the wound on its back and bellowed its agony to the universe. Then it focused on her, stalking her across the torn ground.

Amazement flickered through her fear that the hunting knife remained in her hand. She crawled away from the furious creature until her back ran into stone. Maliciousness shone in the thing’s eyes. It loomed over her, its jaws open wide.

Desperation drove the knife through the upper jaw and what she prayed was the brain.

The thing paused, as if surprised. One last metallic screech sent a wave of fetid, hot breath across her face.

Then the creature simply shattered. Pieces of it rained over her, hot shards getting in one last blow by singeing her face, hands, and coat.

Sucking in a deep breath, she sat upright, only to find she’d attracted the attention of its compatriots. Now, they ignored the children, including the weeping Marcus sprawled a few headstones away. Their focus carried a malignant air. She’d killed one of their own. These two wouldn’t be as easy.

Not that the first one was a piece of cake. She climbed to her feet, and adrenaline shook her knees so hard she could barely remain upright. Ignoring the part of her psyche that screamed this couldn’t be real, she tightened her fist around the knife handle.

From the corner of her eye, a shadow appeared at the top of a nearby mausoleum. The shaking moved from her legs to her arms. Crap. Another one of these monsters?

The shadow leapt from the mausoleum. Darkness resolved into two large pointed ears, a long snout, and a tail. Gold eyes reflected the ambient light bouncing off the low, wet clouds. A dog. He trotted to her side, tongue lolling when he looked up at her. His tail gave a friendly wave before he turned to the remaining creatures. An ugly growl began low in his throat, a sound that made them stop.

Strange hissing ran between the creatures. Why would a dog make these things hesitate? He barked, but the sound was more a high-pitched yelp. His hackles stood straight up, and his ears flattened.

The two monsters seemed to take the threat seriously and shifted apart. One feinted at the dog. He sprang at the creature and leapt back, keeping himself between the lizard creatures and Billie. He started shaking his head, almost as if he was having a seizure.

Only then did Billie notice the black ichor running down the creature’s arm and dripping from its talons. The dog was literally trying to shake the taste of the monster out of his mouth. She couldn’t stop the burble of nervous humor that erupted from her throat. The giggles died as abruptly as they started when eyes the color of neon pus glared at her.

More hissing between the two creatures accompanied by fierce looks at her and the strange dog. Then the leader spat a noise at the canine who made a weird chuffing. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought the dog was laughing at them.

The lead monster pointed at her and snapped its jaws, the warning unmistakable. It wanted revenge for its fellow she’d killed. Its malevolent gaze turned from her to the prone, crying Marcus. A vicious kick tore another scream from the dead child before it loped into the night. Its partner added its own kick at Marcus before it ran after the first.

Billie looked down at the dog. No, not a dog. While definitely canine, the shape was wrong. The legs too long. The ears too big. “Thanks.” His tongue hung out of his mouth, and he nodded.

No, he could not have possibly understood her. Once again, she pushed another disconcerting thought away because if she thought too much about what just happened, she’d turn into a quivering mass, too.

Billie limped over to Marcus, the dog-thing padding after her, and knelt next to his head. The boy’s sobs racked his whole body.

“It hurts, Miss Billie! Make it stop!” he cried though gulping breaths he no longer needed.

Right. Like she had a clue of how those things affected a ghost to begin with. Much less how she’d managed to kill one on the monsters. How the hell was she supposed help Marcus?

Guilt seeped through the adrenaline rush. Damn, she couldn’t even hold the boy’s hand for comfort. Only the older ghosts, like Sarah Jane, could manifest their ectoplasm to resemble a solid. Not knowing what else to do, she whispered over and over again, “It’s okay, Marcus.”

White light spread through the night, bouncing off the marble mausoleums and accumulating snow. It rendered Marcus practically invisible.

“Might have known you’d screw over someone else’s kid.” Cyrus Johnson glared down at her.

Queer Eye for the Super Guy (888-555-HERO #11) - Chapter 2

While I'm still working on taxes, here's the next unedited chapter of Queer Eye for the Super Guy!

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Harri knocked on the door of Aisha’s loft. When no one answered, she punched in the keycode. The pad flashed green, and she rolled back the door. To her left, Aisha’s dining table had been commandeered by a sewing machine and loads of fabric. A dressmaker’s dummy stood guard over the organized chaos. To her right came Molly and Monica Reinhold’s voices. It sounded like another mother/daughter squabble. Harri locked the door and headed down the hall.

“Mom, you’ve got to eat something.” Molly wasn’t whining, but there was a subsonic burr in her voice that grated on Harri’s nerves. It also meant the superhero known as Nix was about to lose her temper.

“I didn’t ask for you to babysit me,” Monica snarled.

“Would you like to stay at Grandma’s?” Molly shot back.

Whatever Monica was about to say to her daughter was silenced with the snap of her teeth at Harri’s appearance in the doorway to Aisha’s spare bedroom. The normally immaculate supervillain Miss Purrception lay limply in the twin bed like a rag doll that had been run over a few times by Julio and his garbage truck.

“How are you feeling today?” Harri asked.

“I’m just peachy, counselor,” Monica sneered.

“That’s good because I have a headache.” Molly stormed past Harri and out of the bedroom.

“What do you want?” Monica pushed her dark, dirty locks out of her face. Flecks of silver and white shone along her scalp. The vain supervillian had been on the run at least a month if she hadn’t bothered touching up her roots. She hadn’t given anyone much more information other than her own mother Margaret Reinhold, AKA Rue Liberty, had shot Monica after Rue had killed Byron Trubble, the former head of the black ops organization known as Corvus.

Harri leaned against the doorjamb, crossed her arms, and watched her former client. Her own emerging gray hadn’t bothered her. She let Jeremy or Leo color her damn hair every six weeks just to get them to shut up about it.

“Molly’s right,” she said. “You need to eat.”

“So you can send me back to Mauvaises?” Monica mocked.

“We both know you’ll be dead within a week if I do that.” Harri sighed. “But if you don’t eat and do your physical therapy, you’ll never be able to escape the Lechuza Building and rub it in Tim’s face.”

“Sometimes, I don’t know whose side you’re on,” Monica spat.

“That makes us even since I’m never sure which way you’ll jump in a given situation,” Harri responded.

“Then what do you want?” Monica leaned back wearily on her pillows.

“Would you happen to have any more bullets like the ones you were shot with?”

“Just the ones Serena pulled out of my chest and gut.” Monica’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“They were designed to fragment upon impact—”

“And tear up the target.” Monica sighed. “Those things are available at any ammo store in the U.S.”

“Tim thinks there was something inside the ones you were shot with,” Harri said. “Something that’s impeding your super healing ability. You should have been up and around—”

“And escaping?” The smile on Monica’s face was only a whisper of her usual sly smirk.

“At least five days ago,” Harri finished. “That’s accounting for both the damage and Serena’s initial attempt to heal you.”

The physician’s assistant at the end of the block had nearly burned out her superpower in trying to help Monica. Harri wondered if the supervillain even appreciated what Serena had done for her.

“All I wanted from the kid was a patch job and enough painkillers to get me down to Mexico.” Monica wouldn’t look at Harri anymore. Instead, she stared at the steel rafters overhead. “I didn’t ask her to heal me. Or to call O’Brien.”

Doctor Hannah O’Brien ran the neighborhood clinic where Serena worked. Both Harri and Rey made regular donations to keep the clinic open since most of the folks in the Canyon Block didn’t have health insurance. If they could only get a dentist on this side of town…

“I’m the one who called O’Brien if you want to get pissy,” Harri said dryly. “And if Rue wanted you dead, she would’ve shot you in the head, then decapitated you.”

“She tried the head shot.” Monica lifted a section of lank hair by her left temple. What looked like a fresh burn scarred her scalp. “I got lucky, or she’s getting old. Either way, she missed.”

Barely, but Harri kept that opinion to herself. “If Rue has developed bullets that can hurt supers like you—”

“Of course, she has.” Monica squeezed her eyes shut. “It’s always been about power for her. She’s got to be top dog.”

Her act almost made Harri feel sorry for the woman. Unfortunately, Monica had lied too many times for Harri to ever trust her again.

“I’ll say it again,” Harri said. “Cut a deal with the FBI. Consuelo has cleaned up her office—”

A sharp bark of laughter erupted from Monica that led to a coughing fit. Harri didn’t try to assist the supervillain. Not that she didn’t have any compassion for the injured woman, but she knew Monica would respect her attempt if she did.

When Monica’s fit died and she collapsed back on her pillows, Harri said, “So you’d rather cough out a lung, then to help us stop your mother?”

“Tell Tim, there’s modified bullets in one of my old safe houses.” Monica smirked. “The first one I let him see.”

Harri wanted to beat the smirk of the supervillain’s mug. She didn’t have to ask why Monica left the bullets in that particular place. It was her little dig that she had her claws in Harri’s husband long before they got married.

“Thank you for your assistance,” Harri said. “Are there any new booby-traps he doesn’t know about?”

“No,” Monica said. “But he might want to take Steve with him. Tim’s getting a little slow in his old age.”

“So are you if a senior citizen got the drop on you, Miss Purrception.” Harri pivoted and strode out of Aisha’s spare bedroom before she said or did something she’d regret.

A Hint of Thief - Chapter 2

While the Midwest rushes around, wildly preparing for the oncoming storm and oncoming holidays, I'm huddled with my blankie and chipping away at both A Hint of Thief and Death in Double Mocha. Here's another taste!

And yes, my eye is much better! Thank you!

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Instead of being dragged to a goal cell as I half-expected, High Brother Gajoko bade his wardens to guide me to a bench in the Temple of Balance’s main courtroom. I sat with a contingent of wardens and clergy watching me while the Balance staff scurried off to wake whomever they needed to.

To my surprise, Chief Justice Fumiko entered the room on the arm of the Temple’s chief warden a few moments later. I stood out of respect, which caused the warden to shove me back down to the bench.

“You do have a reputation for causing a commotion, Chief Justice Anthea,” she said in Issuran.

“Surely, I would have thought my terrible reputation had circled the world a number of times before now, Chief Justice Fumiko. Forgive me for not greeting you as an equal, but your wardens seem terribly concerned for your safety.”

“Like your wardens would not have done the same if our positions were reversed?”

We both laughed. Switching to the Peaceful Sea trade tongue, she bade the wardens to remove my shackles, much to High Brother Gojoko’s consternation.

“Thank you,” I said while I rubbed my wrists. “Come with me, Chief Justice,” she said. “My Reverend Mother wishes to meet you while we wait for your compatriots.”

“You mean she doesn’t want a diplomatic incident with Issura.”

She laughed again. “Nor with the Jing Empire. I fear the Crown Prince and his lady wife were as distraught by you disappearance as your own people.”

I had brought Wardens Jonata and Long Feather from my own Temple of Balance in Orrin on this expedition because I trusted them to keep their heads in any occasion whether it be diplomatic or a battle. Which meant Luc had raised a terrible fuss when I disappeared through the portal.

“My acquaintance with Crown Prince began years ago when he was merely the Jing ambassador to Issura.” I shrugged. “I did not know of his regard for me until he asked Queen Teodora to allow me to accompany him to Jing for his coronation as the official Issuran representative. I sincerely apologize for any problems he or High Brother Luc may have caused in my absence.”

Chief Justice Fumiko bade High Brother Gojoko to return my blades to me. He reluctantly did so. His suspicions grated against my psyche, but no emotion showed on his visage.

As I sheathed my weapons once again, one of the Balance wardens stepped forward and bowed to me. “I am Warden Miyagi. It would be my privilege to act as your escort until your own wardens arrive, Chief Justice.”

My impulsiveness had already cause a bit of a diplomatic mess. I couldn’t chide the man for performing a traditional duty. Every other priestess of Balance, from the youngest novice to the Reverend Mother, depended on the wardens to act as their eyes. I was the only justice who could see.

After a fashion, that was.

“Your offer of service honors me.” I held out my left hand. He gently grasped my fingers and wrapped them around his elbow. I stood, and this time, the Death and Vintner wardens didn’t restrain me.

We followed Chief Justice Fumiko and her chief warden through the stone hallways of the first story of the Temple. Unlike the granite and marble used in Issura, they constructed their first floors with limestone. The upper floors were made of wood and paper. It sounded ridiculous at first until Sister Jasmine of Thief explained the prevalence of typhoons and ground quakes in in the Ryukuan islands.

The Ryukyuans also relied on Knowledge magic to light their buildings and streets. Given the construction materials and the nature of the islands, using such lamps reduced the incidence of fire when a fierce storm or a quake occurred as the lightweight materials prevented severe injury if they collapsed.

Not that I needed conventional light any more than I needed a warden to guide me. Well, that wasn’t totally true. The fogs along the western Issuran coast inhibited my sight as much as they did conventional human sight.

Two wardens stood guard in front of the door at the end of the last hallway. As in my own Temple, no signs marked any of the doorways to the private quarters. I had kept count of the steps and turns in case I was forced to escape. I prayed I didn’t need to do so.

On one side of Balance’s scales, I hadn’t spotted a demon or a skinwalker. But even my peculiar sight couldn’t penetrate the spells that allowed a demon to wear a human skin. I could be surrounded and not even know it.

One of the wardens on duty opened the doors to the Reverend Mother’s chambers and announced our presence. I think. He spoke in Ryukyuan so I couldn’t be sure, though he definitely said my name.

We entered a sitting room that was modest, but the few furnishings and decorations were made of the finest quality. An elderly woman reclined on a chaise of mahogany and silk. Several pillows propped her to a sitting position, and blankets covered her legs. Her hood was pushed back, and her scalp held only a sparse selection of white hairs. She had more strands on her wrinkled chin than the rest of her head.

I bowed along with Chief Justice Fumiko and the wardens who escorted us.

“Reverend Mother, the reports are accurate,” Fumiko said. “The Issuran chief justice has returned to Naha.”

Another’s mind touched mine. Not intruding past my outer thoughts, just enough to see my talents.

The Reverend Mother chuckled and spoke in the trade tongue. “I am impressed you not only survived the demon realm, but they did not corrupt you.”

For the first time, I truly believed High Sister Mya’s analysis of my emotional and mental health. Orrin’s seat of Child had spent two months caring for me after a demon grimoire impaled my psyche with its malevolent influence. I had been lucky Yanaba’s squire Ming Wei’s own empathic talents had ignited and saved my spirit.

“Forgive my correction, Reverend Mother, but I never reached the demons’ realm despite their intentions,” I said. “Brother Jin of Light killed the skinwalker who cast the portal spell. I believe a combination of his spell, the skinwalker’s, and my time spell at the same moment to kill the demon I chased disrupted the portal.”

The people in the room were totally silent for a very long moment.

“Where did you go, child?” the Reverend Mother finally asked.

“It’s very complicated, Reverend Mother,” I murmured. “May I beg your indulgence to wait until my associates have been notified of my whereabouts? It’s late, and I would much like to only tell this tale once.”

She said something to her aide, who bowed and exited the sitting room. “Shall we speak of more pleasant topics while we wait for our tea, Chief Justice?”

I inclined my head. “That would be more than acceptable, Reverend Mother.”

She asked me questions about my travel outside of Orrin. I did my best to give her pleasant descriptions, such as the sea wolves playing alongside our ship during our voyages, the stark and wild beauty of Diné, and the change of seasons during my circuits in the Gray Mountains.

The door opened, and the same warden who announced me only said a few words before the new guests rushed past him. I rose at the commotion and was immediately enveloped in hugs.

Luc. Jonata. Long Feather. Quan. Shi Hua. Even Reverend Father Biming, the head of Jing’s Temple of Thief. They embraced me, all talking at the same time, both out loud and silently.

And swimming in their love was the happiest moment of my life.

Death in Double Mocha - Chapter 2

Happy Wednesday! Here's the next unedited chapter of Death in Double Mocha to entertain you while I recovered from a nasty summer cold.

------------------------------

“An accident?” Dani tried to catch her breath and calm her heart. Thank goodness, Mark was already ensconced in his bedroom, and Thanksgiving break had started. He would stay in his room until noon tomorrow. “Are you hurt? I’ll take you to the ER. Let me grab my coat.”

What the hell was she thinking? She couldn’t take Heath to the hospital. They’d call the police as soon as the admitting staff put his name in their computer system. Heath had coded in the Oakfield ER after the accident.

“I’m not hurt.” Heath’s frown deepened. “I’m just really confused.”

“Honey, come inside. Let’s get you cleaned up.” She held out her hand. “We’ll double-check to make sure you’re okay. If you’re still dazed, it may be a concussion. I’ll call Wila—”

“Who?”

Crap, she’d forgotten she didn’t meet Penny, Wila, and Francine until after Heath’s death.

“Her son Derek is friends with Mark, and she’s an EMT.” She shivered. “Honey, it’s dang cold out here. Let’s go inside, and we’ll figure things out.”

“I-I woke up in the dirt,” Heath said. “I couldn’t find the car so I walked home.”

“I’m so sorry, honey.” Dani stepped closer, but he ignored her outstretched palm. “That must have been really scary. Come inside with me, and we’ll deal with it.”

He cocked his head and stared at something behind her. She glanced over her shoulder. The minivan. She had sworn up and down they were not going to be one of those couples when she was pregnant with Mark.

“Why is there a minivan in our garage?” Heath asked.

“I had a problem with my truck,” she said. “Please come inside, honey. It’s freezing out here.”

He continued staring at the minivan. “Neal Astin couldn’t give you a different colored loaner. Mark’s going to be teased by the other first graders.”

The scars on Dani’s heart ripped. “Heath, Mark is twelve now.”

That drew Heath’s attention away from the damn minivan. “What?”

“Honey, you couldn’t find your car tonight because you died in an accident six years ago.”

##

The truth stunned Heath long enough for Dani to guide him into the house. Part of her was glad she hadn’t moved though she’d thought about it after his funeral.

A lot.

She grabbed a clean washcloth out of the utility room, filled a bowl with hot water, and sat next to Heath at the kitchen table.

“I-I’m dead?” he asked while she washed the dirt from his face.

“Not anymore,” she said as she rinsed the washcloth. “It’s a rather long story, but the dead are rising from their graves because the Apocalypse has begun.”

“What?” Heath stared at her. “If that’s supposed to be a joke, it’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking,” she murmured while she worked on his hands. “Are you hungry?”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “But can we start this discussion over? I did have an accident, didn’t I?”

“Yes.” She focused on the dirt between his fingers. Heath’s fingers. The last time she touched him was when she placed his wedding band back on his finger before his funeral. It was still there. “Dani, look at me.” He tilted her chin up until her eyes met his. “Please tell me what happened.”

She swallowed the huge lump threatening to choke her. “You-you were hit head-on by a drunk driver going the wrong way on the interstate.” Admitting the facts brought all the old pain back. Tears spilled over her eyelids and rolled down her cheeks. She’d been frightened of Heath coming back since that day almost a month ago when Penny’s dead mother-in-law showed up on the Hudson’s doorstep.

“Oh, baby.” He reached up and brushed away the wetness with the backs of his fingers. “I’m so sorry I left you and Mark alone. I never would have done that on purpose.”

“I know,” she whispered.

“And the Apocalypse stuff?” He cocked his head as he cupped her face.

She laid her hands on his and gently pulled them away. “There’s no way for you to believe me without seeing for yourself. But promise me, you’ll be quiet because Mark is asleep upstairs.” At least, she prayed he’d fallen asleep while listening to his music.

He frowned. “Show me what?”

“What I’ve become.” She slowly rose from her chair. “What I am.”

Those big blue eyes remained locked on her. She released a deep breath, bowed her head, and let the power wash over her.

“What the—” Heath scrambled off the kitchen chair, knocking it over in the process. The wood clatter loudly against the ceramic tile floor. “Dani?”

“It’s still me, honey.” She hated the way her voice rattled when she was Death, but it couldn’t be helped. “I’m one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.”

“But you’re not a man,” he protested.

“That’s why we all ourselves the Four Soccer Moms of the Apocalypse.”

“The Four Soccer Moms of the Apocalypse?” He didn’t look too sure, but he no longer wore the expression of insane panic.

“It’s a long story, honey.” She shrugged. “How about I make us some tea while I tell you about it?”

He cocked his head in the same adorable way he had when she told him she was pregnant, trying hard to reconcile reality with his preconceived notions. “Does this mean you raised me from my grave?”

“No,” she said. “The Fifth Seal broke as foretold in the Book of Revelations.”

“The Fifth Seal?”

“The Four Horsemen, or Soccer Moms in our case, are the first four Seals. The Fifth Seal is the dead believers rising from their graves.”

“Aw, crap! Are demons running around town again?”

Dani whirled to find Mark standing in the doorway. She spread her arms in a desperate attempt to distract her son.

“What are you doing up?” she snapped. “It’s a school night.”

Mark crossed his arms. “I’m not the one banging around furniture. You woke me up. And you don’t run around with all skeleton-y if demons aren’t causing problems again.”

“Go to bed, young man,” she ordered.

Instead, he marched over to the utility closet and pulled out his bright yellow and orange Super Soaker. “I can cover the demon while you interrogate him.”

“Mark?” Heath stepped around Dani’s left side. “Is that really you?”

“Dad?” Mark dropped his water blaster and ran straight into Heath’s arms.

War in White Chocolate - Chapter 2

Here's the next chapter of the current wip!

------------------

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?”

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?”

Hero Ad Litem - Chapter 2

I've been sick as a dog for the last week and a half, and I'm still not one hundred percent. If you sent me a message, I'm slowly getting back to all of you. All I ask is that you give me a few more days.

In the meantime, here's a tidbit to tide you over...

------------------

Present Day

Sunday morning dawned bright and beautiful. However, Susan Kennedy was glad she wore jeans and a sweatshirt emblazoned with her law school alma mater. The light hadn’t burned off all of the desert’s chill fog when she exited the Lechuza Building, a little reminder that it was still technically winter.

She strolled down Sixth Street, her goal to pick up breakfast at Celia’s store. Traffic was almost non-existent this early on the weekend. Two doors from the bodega, she paused in front of what would become the first of Rey, Reuben, and Emilio’s restaurant empire.

“Eggsactly” had been stenciled on the largest window to the right of the door. The guys had already cut a deal with Celia for the recipes of her tamales and breakfast burritos. In addition to that revenue, Susan had found a factory to produce and package Celia’s spice mix. The breakfast place would be the third new business in the Canyon Block.

The downfall of Canyon Industries after the last scion of the Canyon family was accused of murdering his wife and son twenty-one years ago had left the northeast section of the city destitute. If Rey Garcia was going to save the Canyon Block and the people who lived in it as an investor and as the superhero Black Falcon, Susan would do her damnedest to make sure he had the tools to make both happen.

She grinned as she peered through the glass. Her next door neighbor Miguel Esperanza and his construction crew had done a fine job on the interior. Miguel respected the Art Deco designs of the surviving Canyon Block buildings. He worked with the architecture instead of making the storefront something it wasn’t meant to be.

“Susan?”

She slowly pivoted. The tall, dark-haired man behind her wore khakis and a polo beneath a navy windbreaker. Dark glasses shielded his eyes from the rising sun. None of which disguised the fact he was her law partner Harri Winters’ ex-husband, FBI Special Agent Edward Lewis.

“Doesn’t Sarah have an electric shock collar on you that goes off if you come to the Canyon Block, Eddie?”

A whisper of a smile floated across his face. “I’m still one hundred yards away from Harri. Besides, I heard through the grapevine she and Tim tied the knot over New Year’s weekend.”

“Is your current wife okay now that your ex-wife is hitched?”

Eddie chuckled. “Not one bit.” He sobered. “Unfortunately, I’m here on business. My boss wants your opinion on something.”

Susan folded her arms. “And why isn’t Special Agent in Charge Consuelo contacting Harri?”

“Because she needs someone who can keep their cool, and we both know Harri’s not the most level-headed attorney at Winters and Franklin.”

“And because Aisha’s in Paris.”

Eddie shrugged.

Crap. Susan expected something to hit the fan once the Garcia-Franklins left for Europe, but a summons by the head of the Canyon Pointe FBI on a Sunday morning was not going to be good. She eyed Eddie. “Can I get some breakfast first?”

“Depends. How strong’s your stomach?”

Nope, definitely not good.

“Shouldn’t you be calling in the NSB and a super?”

He gestured further down the street. She looked to her left.

Past the traffic light, another federal agent stood by a parked blue SUV. The woman was dressed similarly to Eddie, but she wore the black windbreaker of the National Superhero Bureau. The firm’s client Qiang Reilly AKA Sparx stood next to the agent. However, Qiang wore civilian clothing. Both woman were watching Susan with frowns on their faces.

Crap. This was really, really bad if the FBI and the NSB were working together on this one.

“Let me grab a tea at Celia’s for the ride if you want a coherent legal opinion.”

##

Three hours later, Susan watered some sage brush with her tea. When she was sure she had nothing left her stomach, she wiped her mouth on the back of her sweatshirt sleeve.

“Want some water to wash out the taste?” Qiang held out a bottle for her.

“Thanks.” Susan unscrewed the cap, took a swig, and swished the liquid around her mouth before she spit out the water in the direction of her vomit.

“First body?” the superhero asked sympathetically.

“How’d you guess?” Susan said bitterly.

The NSB’s special agent in charge for Canyon Pointe Wilbur Nesmith approached them. Susan had never seen the sixty-something man in less than a full suit, and he didn’t disappoint, even though they were in the middle of the Polvo de Oro Desert.

“You okay, Ms. Kennedy?”

“Just peachy.” She took a small sip of water to ease the ache in her stomach. “I am questioning your intelligence. You don’t need me or Ms. Reilly out here. You need a good forensics team and a lab.” She waved toward the techs who were taking samples of everything. “For all you know, this was a hiker or a motorist who got lost.”

The FBI’s special agent in charge Sylvia Consuelo joined them. “I would have preferred the Ghost Owl, but they’re out of pocket at the moment. You two are the next best thing we’ve got.”

“This is the one Sunday a month I have to run personal errands,” Qiang growled. “I’m the last person to suggest Harri be involved, but there’s obviously a reason you don’t want her here. I suggest you spill before I start electrocuting people.”

“Oh, my god,” Susan whispered. “You think that’s Byron Trubble, don’t you?”

The look Nesmith and Consuelo exchanged said she was right.

“So he was stupid and died out here.” Qiang threw up her hands. “You found him. You saved the taxpayers a buttload of money by not having to send him back to prison. Case closed. It’s Miller time.”

“Not exactly.” Nesmith scratched his chin.

“It looks like two bullet wounds to the back of the head,” Consuelo said.

“How do you know for sure?” Susan demanded. “With that much decomposition—”

“I used work in the Las Vegas office.” The FBI agent smirked. “I’ve seen more than my share of shallow graves in a desert.”

Susan glanced at the techs before she returned her attention back to the federal agents. “I still don’t understand what you want from us.”

“Has Harri ever mentioned her grandmother’s involvement with Eagle Forever?” Nesmith asked.

“No,” Qiang blurted.

“Mrs. Winters donated to his charities, but you have access to her tax returns.” Susan scowled at Nesmith and Consuelo. “Where are you going with this?”

“Considering Carol Inunza is doing time for attempted murder, that leaves two suspects who would want Trubble dead,” Consuelo said.

“Then I suggest you start with the supervillain who abducted him,” Susan shot back.

Qiang lowered her voice even though no one was near them. “You don’t think Trubble authorized the hit on Eagle Forever, and Seismic Shift was acting on someone else’s orders.”

Again, the two agents exchanged looks that admitted everything.

“So why not ask Harri about her grandmother directly?” Susan asked.

“One, we don’t want her going on one of her half-cocked crusades,” Consuelo grumbled. “Do you have any idea how many reports have crossed my desks that mention her name?”

“Two, we want to give someone at the Lechuza Building forewarning.” Nesmith’s gray hair fluttered in the chill breeze coming down off the mountains. “Lyle Baxter-Murray, aka Judge Pablo Inunza, wasn’t the only suspected super child who disappeared fifty years ago. We know Trubble was hunting them. And we also know an unknown party was hunting those kids, too. We think Eagle Forever was helping those families hide their kids, including his own daughter and grandson.”

“What does this have to do with Mrs. Winters?” Susan asked.

Nesmith blew out a gusty breath. “We’re concerned our third party may go after your law partner on the mistaken belief she knows something. We have reason to believe her grandmother was funding Eagle Forever’s underground railroad for supers.”

A Measure of Knowledge - Chapter 2

I will (*fingers crossed*) have some huge news in a few days! So, here's the next chapter of A Measure of Knowledge to tide you over until then.

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This was one of those times when I truly would have traded all my other gifts granted by the Twelve for the ability to distance speak in order to know what was happening in Jing. Together, Jeremy and I helped Shi Hua upright and to a chair.

High Mother Leocadia brought a cup of water for the distraught Light priestess. “Should we summon a healer?”

“No, and shield your thoughts. All of you,” Shi Hua snapped. “I need some breathing room.”

It wasn’t like the Jing woman to lose her temper, but only then did I realize how close our fellow clergy were crowding around us. The energy of their worry for her and concern about Justice Mei Wen’s warning was enough to set my own teeth on edge.

“You heard Sister Shi Hua,” High Brother Talbert said. “Everyone take a chair or a bench while we sort this out.”

Murmurs filled the room. With the mention of demons, unease filtered past many minds despite Shi Hua’s pointed request for the clergy shield their thoughts. But everyone did as Talbert asked except for the twelve Temple seats and Brother Jeremy. He fed his own energy into Shi Hua.

The rapid crimson throb of the blood vessels in her neck slowly dulled to her orangish-red hue now she was no longer subjected to Justice Mei Wen’s pain. However, she continued to rub her abdomen.

“Anthea, you should sit down, too.” Talbert pulled a second chair closer to Shi Hua. “We don’t need you passing out either.”

High Brother Han of Conflict firmly grasped my left elbow and shuffled me to the second chair. I had the impression he would have picked me up as one would a recalcitrant child if I had refused. Truth be told, my own knees were shaky from the intensity of the link with Shi Hua’s friend.

Once seated, I said, “Justice Mei Wen was definitely attacked by a demon.”

Talbert folded his arms over his chest. “Is she still alive?”

I looked at Shi Hua.

“I don’t know,” she murmured. Hot, red drops trickled down her cheeks.

“Who else can we contact in Chengzhou for confirmation of the attack?” I asked.

“Are you saying she lied?” Fury reddened Shi Hua’s skin to the point I could no longer see her tears.

“No, I’m terrified she’s dead, and we may have just lost Jing.” I looked up at Talbert. “Could you please send someone to the Jing embassy? Ambassador Quan should be informed.”

He turned and barked the order to his chief warden, Sabine. As I expected, she exited to the rear of the sanctuary. A horse would be much quicker, and Sabine was smart enough to take another warden or three with her to the embassy district. The Jing guards would take a squad of Temple wardens more seriously than a single messenger.

I took Shi Hua’s left hand in both of my own. “What about Reverend Father Biming?”

She shook head and wiped her cheeks with her free hand. “We weren’t supposed to speak until Third Evening on First Day. Things have been so quite lately with the fierce winters across the Northern Hemisphere—”

“That may be exactly what the demons were waiting for,” Han said.

“Are you saying we’ve been lackadaisical?” High Brother Jax of Wildling snapped.

“No,” High Sister Mya of Child said. She stood very close to Talbert, their robes touching, which allowed him to shield her with his quicksilver talents. It said how bad the emotions and thoughts were leaking from the junior clergy. No wonder Shi Hua lost her temper earlier.

“It’s simply human nature to relax when a supposed threat doesn’t materialize,” Mya continued. “Not even the creatures of the forests and mountains cannot maintain such vigilance indefinitely.”

“Neither the emperor or the Temple heads in Jing would simply let a demon army enter the capital,” Shi Hua said angrily.

“No one is saying they would,” Brother Jeremy murmured soothingly. “Everyone is upset, and they shouldn’t conjecture the status of Chengzhou before we have more information.” He looked up and glared at everyone surrounding the mother of his child.

“It’s better Shi Hua’s doesn’t try right now anyway,” Luc said. “If she were to do so, it could split the attention of the person while they are fighting for their life.”

“And that may be the critical moment where the tide of the battle is turned,” I added.

“So, what would you have us do, Anthea?” High Sister Mariana of Knowledge glared at me. “Nothing?”

Mariana and I were barely civil to each other after I called her out for shirking her duties last summer. She wasn’t a renegade or evil per se, just lazy and self-centered. And her laziness and self-centered behavior had cost lives in Orrin.

I bit my tongue before I said any of the thoughts about her racing through my mind. “No, But I’m not putting Sister Shi Hua’s sanity or life at risk until we consult with Ambassador Quan. He was gracious enough to petition the Jing Temple of Light on our behalf to allow Sister Shi Hua to supplement our own Temple after we lost so many of our own brothers to the renegades. I don’t wish to throw away either her life or our diplomatic relationship with Jing out of fear.”

My answer was obviously not the one Mariana was expecting from the way she shrunk back at my withering logic. She met the eyes of each our fellow seats, but she found no support.

Jeremy looked up at Luc from where the younger priest crouched next to Shi Hua. “Why don’t Garbhan and I take the sister back to our Temple for some rest?”

“No,” Shi Hua spat. “Chief Warden Sabine will bring the ambassador here, so I will wait for him. Here.”

Even I was taken aback by Shi Hua’s blatant insubordination. This behavior was not like her at all, which meant the short contact with Justice Mei Wen had shaken her far more than I’d realized.

Thank Balance, Cedar Grove approached their little group before Luc could open his mouth to reprimand the young Light priestess. “Shi Hua, would you please accompany me to my chambers while we wait for the ambassador? I have some private questions for you if you don’t mind.” She made a point of patting her own growing belly.

The Thief priestess’s attempted distraction didn’t fool anyone, but Shi Hua pushed to her feet. She pointedly looked at Jeremy and said, “I’d be glad to answer your questions concerning my experience birthing a child. Alone.”

Cedar Grove shot a look at Garbhan and shook her head. Both priests had the appearance of dejected suitors, which in a way, they were. The two women headed toward the doorway leading to the Thief clergy’s private rooms.

“What did I do?” Garbhan whined.

“You had the misfortune of being blessed with a penis,” I said.

A few of the people around us did a poor job of hiding their snickers.

“Anthea.” There was a warning in Luc’s voice. “You are not helping matters.”

“Someone had to lighten the mood.” I sighed and took the cup High Brother Xander of Death handed to me. The sweet taste of Pana red wine took the edge off my own nerves. “The rest of you didn’t feel what happened to Justice Mei Wen.”

“What did happen, Anthea?” High Brother Jax asked.

I closed my eyes and concentrated on the memory of the link. “The Jing justice is blind—”

“As a proper justice should be,” High Father Jerrod of Father scoffed.

I ignored his nasty comment and continued, “—so I have no visual clues. The Temple bells were ringing the demon alarm code.” I focused on the tolling Mei Wen heard, trying to identify each Temple. “Balance. Conflict. Mother, Father, Light.”

My limbs trembled as my mind replayed the slight, but intense, contact. “The Reverend Mother of Balance is shouting orders. Steel against stone. Shouts of pain. Mei Wen’s own warden is cut down. She slips and lands on marble flooring. Warm, sticky, copper-tasting. It’s her warden’s blood. Another human is dragging her away from the fighting. The rancid taste of demon magic. Fire across her belly—”

At the intense pain, my eyes flew open. I half-expected to see my own entrails spilling into my lap.

“It’s all right, Anthea.” Luc’s warm grip on my hands was far more reassuring than his words. “You’re here with me in Orrin.”

I gulped air. My face was wet from the other justice’s pain. “It feels like it was a concerted attack on all twelve of the home Temples in Chengzhou. The Justice wasn’t in contact with Shi Hua long enough for the alarms to cycle through, but if five were ringing at the same time—”

“It’s best to assume the demons struck all twelve at the same time,” Talbert said.

“Separate the imperial forces from the Temples, and the Temples from each other.” Han nodded. “Sound strategy.”

“What about Jing’s philosophical schools?” Leocadia folded her hands inside the sleeves of her robes, probably so the rest of the clergy couldn’t see them shaking. “Surely, they would aid both the emperor and the Temples.”

“Emperor Bao Chengwu already has executed any member of the School of Sorcery he can find after they sided with the renegades,” Luc said darkly. “While all the schools deal talent to some extent, I doubt the emperor has much faith in any of them, especially since his own father was a member of the School of Sorcery.

“You are correct in that regard, High Brother,” a familiar voice rang out behind me.

I turned to find Ambassador Quan stride into the sanctuary of Thief. He was accompanied by four of his own guards and his alleged concubine Yin Li, as well as the wardens led by Sabine.

“Our emperor only keeps his own father alive out of paternal courtesy.” Quan approached me and cocked his head. “What trouble have you stirred up this time, my dear Chief Justice?”

A Very Hero New Year - Chapter 2

I'm three days into National Novel Writing Month, and it's already kicking my ass. Sorry, I'm late again with the unedited next chapter. I'll try to do better next week.

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Still in her suit, Harri Winters flopped on her mattress, bouncing her fiancé Tim Canyon as he read on his tablet. Despite the cleaning she’d done to their loft last weekend, the entire place was still tainted with hints of sage, onions, and pumpkin spice.

Or maybe the last one was the cinnamon and vanilla-scented bath products their building manager’s sons had gifted her with for her birthday.

Tim looked at her over his reading glasses. “How did the interview go?”

“Urgh, argh.”

“That good, huh?” He snickered.

“Steve and Patty cannot get licensed fast enough,” she muttered.

“So what was the problem with this prospective associate?”

“Other than mansplaining superhero law to three of the attorneys who helped write the book on it?” She groaned. “I wasn’t sure if Susan was going to tase him or Aisha would punch him through the wall.”

“Have you had any problems with Travis?” Tim asked.

“Surprisingly, no.” She rolled over on her side and propped her cheek on her fist. “Even Aisha admits he knows his stuff. We haven’t had any issues with him not doing his work or the actual quality of his products. Plus, he’s been very careful to walk the fine line between being too deferential and acting like a know-it-all.”

Neither of Harri’s partners had been happy when she first suggested bringing Travis Beckham on board as an associate. Aisha more so than Susan because Travis had been promoted over her at Dewey and Cheatham, their previous employer. Between Travis busting his ass to prove himself and a couple of former colleagues confirming Travis’s story about him protecting his paralegal and secretary from the predatory excesses of the Dewey and Cheatham senior partners, Aisha’s attitude had lightened up quite a bit.

“Were there any other former Dewey and Cheatham associates of the same caliber as Travis?” Tim asked.

“By the time the bankruptcy trustee laid off the remaining attorneys, there weren’t that many left.” She rolled onto her back and stared at the exposed beams of the loft. “Any quality ones resigned and either got a job or got the hell out of the state once Howard was arrested.”

“What about someone you knew in law school like Susan?” Tim asked.

“They all want a bigger piece of the pie than we’re willing to give them, or they’re too scared of the targets we all have on our backs.” She kick off the sensible heels she’d worn to the interview dinner. They landed on the area rug with soft thunks. “It didn’t help when we declined to represent Captain Mojave.”

“I don’t know.” Tim chuckled. “Sourpuss seems to be having a great time on the talk show circuit, dishing about how he abandoned her and her sister after he knocked up their mother.”

“Don’t say that in front of Aisha,” Harri chided. “None of this revenge tour is sitting well with her.”

“Really? Wasn’t she and Jeremy the ones who destroyed Quantum Commander’s reputation?” Tim cocked his head. “How is that different than Captain Mojave getting punished for running around bad-mouthing the firm?”

“Quantum Commander’s children weren’t our clients,” Harri said.

“Kerry’s petty revenge stunt has nothing to do with needing an extra attorney,” Tim pointed out.

“Unfortunately, we still have the same original problem,” Harri said. “More billable work than four attorneys can reasonably do. Especially since the introduction campaign for Eagle Rising is about to start. Not to mention Aisha leaving in a month.”

Despite Aisha laying out everything Harri would need to do for Paul Inunza’s debut as a superhero, she still wished her best friend would stay in the U.S. long enough to hold her hand. The last thing Harri wanted to do was ruin the kid’s chances of being a positive influence in the city. Especially with his mom currently in prison and his dad losing his job.

“Are you planning to go apeshit on me when she and Rey head to France?” Tim asked.

“Yep, but I’m limiting myself to one day of crying, gnashing my teeth, and rending my clothes.” She grinned up at him. “Then I expect you to keep the freezer full of ice cream for the following week.”

“I can think of a good way to work off the calories and keep you distracted,” Tim said.

“I am not doing any extra workouts,” she snapped.

“Let me amend my statement, counselor.” Tim unbuttoned her blouse. “I can think of a much better way to work off the calories and keep you distracted.” And he did until the intercom by the front door of the loft buzzed.

Harri gently pressed her hands against his chest. “Wait. That may be important.”

“Steve was going to a law school party tonight,” Tim murmured. “He’s probably drunk and hit the wrong button.”

She frowned. “While I’m glad you’re taking your superhero retirement seriously, I did go to law school, and it’s way too early for him to be home.” The obnoxious buzz filled their loft again. “We’d better check.”

Her phone started warbling the Dolly Parton tune, “Nine to Five”.

“That’s not a drunk Steve.” She yanked the phone out of her jacket pocket and tapped the answer icon. “What’s wrong, Patty?”

Patty Ames, their legal assistant and all-around Girl Friday, sounded terribly worried. “Turn on Channel 12. There’s a special report. One of our twins got busted for flying in his civvies at Canyon Pointe University.”

Harri’s fingers tightened around her phone as she launched herself from the bed and charged into the living room. It was a good thing she hadn’t turned off the lamp on the end table. She grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. Tim had programmed the channel into the quick buttons after Aisha became the station’s on-air legal commentator during the summer.

Shaky video appeared to show a Christmas party at the Madison Hotel’s rooftop restaurant, but it was the action in the background that worried Harri. A person in a hoodie and jeans stood on the exterior ledge of the roof for the Hardwick Building which housed the Canyon Pointe University Law School. Harri’s heart lodged in her throat.

A jumper.

Someone with dark hair leaned on the retaining wall near the jumper. The attention of the partiers at the hotel were drawn to the drama by someone pointing it out. The figure in the hoodie started to turn toward the person with them.

The jumper jerked as if startled, then they were falling. And the second person literally dived over the roof. The folks at the hotel party screamed. A fraction of a second later, both people from the law school reappeared in the video. The dark-haired person obviously flew as he carried the jumper back to the roof.

Harri looked up at Tim. “I told you Steve wasn’t home this early.”

A Very HERO Wedding - Chapter 2

Here's the unedited version of A Very Hero Wedding - Chapter 2.

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Harri stomped back into her office and slammed the door. Why the hell didn’t Aisha get the fact their fledgling law firm was too new for a partner to take a year off? Because no matter what she said about remote working from Paris while Rey attended culinary school, they couldn’t take the chance of Mitch developing his powers around some French au pair.

Which meant Aisha would need to be a full-time mother. Plus, there was the time difference between the western United States and France. There was simply no way for her to continue practicing law full-time.

Harri threw herself in her office chair and stared at the pile of paperwork sitting in her to-do box. The firm had too much business as it was. They had been turning away potential clients for the last couple of months after they successfully defended Ultramegaperson on charges of mass murder in the Golden Gate Bridge collapse. While she’d spent most of her professional life in the city legal department, she was all too aware of what happened to any type of business that grew too fast.

She’d thrown every last cent she had into starting up this firm. Worse, she knew she couldn’t do this without Aisha.

Sure, Susan was a decent IP attorney, but Aisha’s knowledge and expertise of superhero law outstripped both Harri and Susan put together. Not to mention the endorsements of Aisha’s superhero persona gave her a secondary income stream. Something Harri didn’t have.

Was that the real problem? Was she jealous that Aisha earned more money than she did? But Aisha had always earned more since they graduated from law school because she’d gone into the private sector. If it didn’t matter before, why did it matter now?

A slight knock on the office door intruded on Harri’s pouting fit. She took a deep breath before she called out, “Come in!”

The aroma of fresh-brewed coffee entered before Patty with a steaming cup. She closed the office door before she strode over to Harri’s desk and replaced the empty mug on the coaster with the fresh cup.

Harri looked inside the cup. It wasn’t her usual straight black. The liquid had a creamy brown appearance. She took a suspicious sniff. Cinnamon blended with the java. She eyed Patty.

Her assistant shrugged. “I’ve noticed someone else has been using the cinnamon-flavored creamer besides me. Given everybody else’s tastes, it had to be you.”

Damn. Harri rolled her eyes. She tried something new a couple of times, and now, Patty believed it’s what she wanted all the time. However, she couldn’t take her pissy mood out on the younger woman. She needed Patty’s skills even more than she needed Aisha’s.

“Thank you,” Harri said as she picked up the mug. “But next time, ask me first please. Did you need something in particular?”

“I thought you might want to talk.” Patty sat in one of the visitor chairs, her fingers clenched around the empty cup. “That was a pretty bad argument among you guys this morning. Not a good sign when all three partners are yelling at each other like that.”

“I know.” Harri sighed and sipped her cinnamon coffee. It was definitely a flavor that could become an addiction, though right now, she’d prefer a shot of whiskey in her mug. “I’m really sorry about that.”

Patty cocked her head. “Is this a serious problem, or is it your abandonment issues rearing their head again?”

Harri swallowed her defensive streak and considered the situation. Everyone in the building had called her on her emotional issues at one time or another, but only Patty had lost her parents at a young age like Harri had, and Patty was the most likely to listen instead of judge.

“It’s probably a little of both, but definitely serious if we lose a partner,” Harri admitted.

Patty cocked her head. “So why are you doing you damnedest to chase Aisha away?”

Harri paused in mid-sip. “I’m not trying to chase her away. I’m pointing out why this Paris thing isn’t a good idea.”

“You also promised to hire an associate this year, and it’s the beginning of September.” Patty crossed her arms. “Instead, you’ve been trying to push me to go to law school. You’ve dumped a ton of work on Steve, who’s not even a second-year law student yet. Not to mention, Aisha’s been pulling more than her fair share of the load while being a new mother and a superhero.”

Guilt poked at Harri’s conscience. Was that the problem? Aisha did everything perfectly. Sweet kid. Gorgeous husband. Awesome double career.

All while Harri could barely keep it together with one career and a boyfriend. It had been different when they were both freshly divorced, no kids, and no one else to lean on besides each other and Jeremy.

Then there was reality.

“Our firm isn’t at the point where a partner can take a year’s sabbatical,” Harri protested. “Our doors have only been open for a little over a year.”

Patty shook her head. “Will we ever be at a point were one of us could take some time off?”

“Probably not,” Harri reluctantly admitted.

“And that’s your personal insecurity talking.” Patty leaned her elbows on Harri’s desk. “What are you going to do when Arthur and I need time off for our wedding and honeymoon?”

“Did he pop the question?” The news yanked Harri out of her funk. Their IT guru was madly in love with Patty and adored Patty’s daughter Grace. He may be a genius, but his self-esteem when it came to personal relationships could be precarious at best.

“Not yet, and don’t you dare say a word to him.” Patty narrowed her eyes. “He’ll ask me when he’s ready. Not before. And that’s the point. I’m not letting my insecurities about abandonment run rampant when it comes to our relationship. Arthur loves me, and he shows me in a million ways Cade never could.” Harri took another sip of coffee to keep from reacting to her assistant’s statement. Patty’s ex-boyfriend, Cade Wilson AKA Black Death, had escaped from prison earlier this year. It was the first time Patty had even mentioned him since he killed Arthur last year. Only Baby Grace had saved Arthur, and none of their immediate circle understood why or how Grace’s powers had manifested that one time to bring Arthur back to life.

Even more worrisome was if Harri’s goddaughter could kill like her father could as well as heal. But if she brought up the subject, Patty would accuse her of deflecting from the more pertinent issue.

“Anything else you need to lecture me about this morning?” Harri asked.

“Yes, apologize to both Aisha and Susan before they quit, and find that associate you promised you would hire.” Patty rose to her feet. “Now, Aisha and have our own interviewing to do.”

“Molly offered to watch the kids—” Harri started. And Molly Reinhold AKA Nix had been rather put out when Aisha insisted the girl go back to college and earn her degree instead of babysitting Mitch.

“She needs her own life,” Patty snapped. “She’s only twenty-three.”

“So were you when Grace was born,” Harri shot back.

“I am not having this argument with you.” Patty pivoted on her sensible flats and marched out of Harri’s office. Surprisingly, she closed the door gently behind her.

Harri sipped more her coffee. What the hell was going on with everyone in the Law Office of Winters and Franklin? Did they expect her to be a figurehead? She was only looking for the most reasonable solutions to their problems, but everyone reacted like she was a tyrant.

She reached for the case file on the top of her inbox. Maybe the best way to deal with her irritation was to get some work done.