Friday, August 26, 2011

The Devil Wants a China Doll

“What are you looking at?” I slurred, evil eying the guy on his way into Booze and Bitches behind me. “My eyes?” I swiped at the hair hanging in my face, giving him a better view. “There, you see? You like it? Come closer and check it out.” He hurried past and I snorted. “Yeah that's what I thought,” I mumbled, looking away, “Run run run just as fast as you can.”

I looked at the bottle of Jack Daniel in my right hand and my knife in the left, trying to remember the reason that had my ass on that curb to begin with. It was something very very important, cause I didn't drink. Something to do with my demon. I nodded slowly, “Always something to do with that fugly bastard.”

My head dropped to my chest and the mush in my brain finally formed an entire memory. “Ahhhh yeah, now I remember.” I raised my finger, “'Spose to get your ass drunk so you couldn't rudely interrupt my...going away party.”

Well shit happens all the time, just not magical shit like that, not with me.

I spent ten seconds searching for my ear and finally pushed my hair behind it, mumbling, “You let me have the high this time, how sweet. Think you're so smart?” I set the bottle down on the dizzy ground, getting back to buisiness. “Watch. Watch if I don't finish you.” I squeezed my hand around the handle and moved it very carefully to my right arm, remembering now what the problem was. Keeping hold of it.

As if on cue, the knife fell. “Fffffuck!” I stared at it, five feet in front of me like I'd thrown it. Goddamn demon. I slowly leaned forward and lunged in case it tried escaping. The cement bit into my knees and chin, blasting the wind out of me. I flipped onto my back with a groan then turned my head and stared at the knife. Ready or not, here I come. I swung my arm down on the blade and pushed through the bubble of force around the handle that repelled my touch. Repelled, but not prevented. A minute of grappling later I barked a laugh, “Got you!” Slippery bastard.

Rolling onto my back, I panted up at the starless sky, funeral hymn grinding from the little hell joint a few yards away. I grunted my way to all fours, ignoring the thick smell of skunky beer, locking my vision on the blurry curb.

Seemed like an hour later that I managed to secure that curb under my ass. I guided the blade to my arm and sliced cuts all over my skin like a naughty child, laughing gleefully at the flow of blood. “And I got the right side this time—that's your ass. I raised my knife and wagged it.  “Five minute eviction notice…” I stifled a belch, “better start … looking for another soul to jack off in cause, I am so, so done.”

Roan, please, I love you, I want you.

The memory burned in my head and I pushed it away. But it returned. Returned, returned.

I clenched my eyes. The knife, the vein, cut it. Cut it hard. I gazed down at the cut marks on my arm. “No, no, no,” I moaned, closing my eyes. I opened them again but it didn't change. The cuts still spelled out my curse. Asmodeus.

A suction formed in the center of my being and my hands trembled. The knife fell and I held my head, resisting what was coming. “No, please, don't...don't make me go back.” The whisper strained as the demon shoved me ruthelessly into my hellish past.

The power of Hell shall be in his kiss, damanation in his seed.

“Look at me.” Sarah's voice whispered through me with longing.

I groaned and held my head, resisting the demon's pull. Not there, not there.

“Look at me.”

I tasted her sweet breath and turned. Sarah smiled, licking her lips, and my gaze zeroed in on the shiny invitation. So full, slightly curved in a smile. She moved toward me and my heart raced as she bit her lower lip and climbed on me, maneuvering my butt over so she could straddle me in the front seat.

“God no, no, stop,” I groaned. But the memory continued.

She stared into my eyes, first the hazel one then the bright blue one that I always hid. She kissed along the burn scar over my blue eye, from brow to cheek. “So beautiful,” she whispered, “looks like a music note.” She traced the scar with the tip of her finger, ending with a silky stroke over my lips. Just a week before she loathed me. My second shield created a detestable aura around me that protected women from the demon's lure. But I was so tired of being hated by every woman, I just wanted a friend, I didn't really believe what the coven said, I didn't believe the demon could really hurt anybody.

I fought the memory of her sweet tongue, the way it felt on mine when I discovered it with bold silky strokes. “Make it stop,” I begged the shield.

Another pressure entered the darkness surrounding me and latched onto my throat. Get me out, get me out. Everything in my head and body pulled toward that pressure until I gasped in the cold night air on the sidewalk. I held my abdomen as the liquid giggles of the demon rumbled in my head before he gave me one more parting gift in realtime quality.

A young girl was found dead in a hotel room...friends say she wasn't herself...on a sex spree...”

No, no, no. I rocked and moaned, trying not to hear.

“...multiple partners...gruesome suicide...strong drugs...throat and wrists cut...strange word carved all over her body...Asmodeus...autopsy shows...bled to death...bled to death...bled to death.”

I growled my way to standing right as the demon filled my blood with another round of Jack Daniels. He was serving it to me in stages so I didn't keel over. The universe spun, uniting my face with the cement again. But it didn't bite into my flesh, it squealed words in another language before gasping, “You are bleeding!” Warm breath hit my mouth and I stared down at the person beneath me. Needing air. “You are bleeding!” she repeated.

More warm breath— warm...and good. I tried to think about her words, but I was distracted. “Why...are you wearing...swimmin' goggles.” My head dropped to her shoulder. “Shit.” I tried to move off but only rubbed my forehead on her. “Goggles are fine, nothing wrong with...goggles.” I felt her trying to move me and wanted to help but...“So comfortable.”

She grunted and struggled, rolled me off and even managed to sit me up. Small hands pushed on both my shoulders and held me in place. “Why are you bleeding?”

Damn, I was stinkin drunk again. I raised my blurry vision at her thinking about how she talked. She spoke her words distinctly and clearly. Made her sound soooo....something. I forced my eyes open for more than two seconds and stared at her face next to me. “Why...are you wearing goggles?” 

She shook her head, insisting, “Why are you bleeding?”

“Okay, you first.” Why was I bleeding. I struggled to keep the words in my brain long enough to understand them. I finally shook my head. “what the hell...are you talking about, I'm not bleeding, why are you wearing goggles,” I demanded, contemplating them. “S-kinda cool actually.” I grinned at her for several seconds. “You-look-like-an-alien,” the words slurred and my eyes closed briefly. “No, like a swimmer. An alien swimmer. don't- look- like- a demon.” I assured.

She lifted my arm and I stared at the bloody evidence and raised my brows. “Ahh, yeah.” My head dropped in a nod but was too heavy to lift back up. “'Jus' some scratches.”

She held onto my arm. “These look very bad.”

I barked out a ha! and lifted my head. “Bad? That's not bad, wanna see bad?” I grinned at her, struggling to locate the hem of my t-shirt, “Watcha this,” I mumbled, wrestling it over my head and slamming it to the ground. “There.” I pointed sloppily to the burned image. “This really really, really bad.” I looked down at it then back up. “'Sa picture. Of a man.” I snorted a long silent laugh, shaking my head. “'snotta man, I lie. A monster... ” my body swayed left, then back. “With a buncha horns.”

She spoke some words in that other language before asking, “How did you get this?”

I grinned at her tone, my brows raising. Like she might want to deal with the ones who'd done it. “Not tellin.” I leaned toward her and whispered, “'sa secret. Like your goggles—are you—like a—Chinese person or somethin'?”

“Chinese yes,” she nodded, “I will help you.” Quick movement then ripping sounds.

Next thing I know, she's at my arm, tying a black strip of material around one of the cuts. I watched the nursing show for several seconds, then looked up at her. “Hey,” I said softly, leaning in, “I'm invisible.” 

Thursday, August 25, 2011

Why Demons for Paranormal?

Why demons for paranormal?  Mostly for believability.  Vampires, shapeshifters, faries, elves, etc., seem to fall in the Santa Clause, Tooth Fairy kind of category in most people's minds, I think.  It does in mine, anyway.  When  I read about vampires, I don't "worry" about running into one.  But when I read about demons and angels, I step into another realm.  Maybe the one between humanity and vampire possibility.  Or alien possibility.  I mean, who's to say vampire like creatures don't exist?  Well, if seeing is believing, then that's where they lose.  But demons on the other hand are belived to exist in that space we can't see but know is there.  And they've been seen moving in and out of people.  Influencing them.  At least that's what appears to be happening.

And that's why I chose demons.  The question is, how much influence can they have?  What can they do?  What is their power? 

Many people believe in the supernatural.  They may not believe in vampires or shapeshifters, but they belive there is more in existance than humanity.  Where are they?  What keeps them hidden?  Why?  Are there possibly governing bodies behind the veil of life? 

These are the concepts I love to explore in my writing.  A second ingredient that I've added to my paranormal romance that I wish there were more of, is a strong, hero-centric voice.  I'm thinking, "let's hear it from the guys" for a change.  I mean who better to hear from than a guy possessed with a demon of lust whose kiss holds the power of Hell, making women crazy with lust intil they go bezerk unless they sleep with him?  And if he does, his demon steals their soul?  Thankfully he has a cool shield that makes women hate his guts.  But too bad it doesn't work on Sheeku.  And yet, too good.  Being celibate and hated by women for twelve years, does take its toll.