So you know I homestead on a small scale. You may know taht I teach Middle School. I think you also know that I write books and am an avid reader. My author newsletter has a Tuesday Teaser email I send out each week. It seems only fair to share it here, too.

So my next release, In Blood We Trust (part of The Cursed & The Chosen collection), will be available late spring or you can gain early access as I write on Ream.

In Blood We Trust

Vampires are always given the wrong side of things. Everyone thinks we’re blood sucking evil doers. Unless they happen to find a demon or two around. Then occasionally we rate higher. The only thing other than demons (and some mother-in-laws) considered worse than us are vampyres. Most people don’t know the difference though. It’s funny, cause actually we have strict codes and a very strict council enforcing those codes. The fae on the other hand. They do whatever the hell they want, any time they want, with whomever they want. They have no qualms about destroying someone, or watching them be destroyed, for their own gain. So I’m really grateful that you’re taking time to hear our side of things. You’re the first human to do it in um…hmmm, quite a while. Actually, I’m not sure I even remember the last. It might have been Boudica – she was an amazing warrioress. Willing to get her hands dirty and always willing to learn as much as she could about everything, even vampires.

Chapter 1 – A little history

We get a bad rap, y’know, but literally we were born into these families just like other paranormals were born into theirs. The only difference is that I can choose to Turn someone into the family instead of Marry them into it. Same thing, just mine is forever, there’s no divorce except for beheading or a silver stake through the heart (no, not wood, not if you want to be sure). Sunshine hurts us, garlic is gross, silver is what is painful, but you take the head off any living thing except a worm and you pretty much can be sure you killed ‘em. I kinda wonder why metal collars aren’t a fashion statement with us.

So, let me take you into the scary underground world of vampires, actually I hate being underground, but you get the idea.

 First, let’s get you settled as my guest. You’ll have to trust me as we travel through the Gates, but by all means, let someone know where we’re going so you know they can send a rescue party. I’m fine with that. No different than the rescue text on a blind date. I get it.

So we’re gonna travel through the gates to my place. No it’s not a haunted mansion or a gothic castle. It’s actually a really nice condo in a laid back community. We have a whole mix of paranormals and shifters there so it’s really very non judgmental and easy going. There’s a spare room you can stay in, with a real bed and everything. I don’t sleep in a coffin either, by the way. Tonight we’ll go to my friend’s restaurant. He’s a vamp too, but he can cook the best damn steak you’ll ever eat. Tomorrow we’ll have breakfast at the Shifter Diner – spoiler, it’s a bunch of shifters who work there. And you’ll want a firm grasp on your wallet because the clientele is rather…shifty. No loose jewelry either.

I had to do some fast talking and make some heavy promises but then you get to come with me to the casino. There you will pretend to be my understudy, do you know anything about poker? Texas Hold-em? You’ll spend the evening with the heavy players. There will be a variety of species playing and suddenly they don’t have a problem with vamps when they want to play our games or borrow money from us.

Yeah, anyway. We’ll see how you’re feeling then, if you want to tag along for a second day. Sound good? If you’re too scared, or this isn’t what you want, now is the time to back out. No harm, no foul. I’ll make sure my cousins know you left with no animosity between us. But truthfully, and I’ll always be brutally honest, truthfully, I really want you to come see our world. See how we are shunned for actions that fairytales have made up. Stupid storytellers. Taking “little liberties” and making up “small details” to make the stories “better”. Then somehow all the fae are amazing or haughty and aloof, and vampires are sneaking through shadows, hanging out with bats, and preying on innocents. Although the stories do give us good looks and superstrength. Too bad the shadow hopping isn’t real either. About the only thing those fairytales get right is the intelligence. I will say that both vamps and fae believe in educating our young. Plus we live a long time, so we end up pretty darn intelligent.

“Ok, ready? Let whomever know that we’re going through the Castle Draug Gate today. Tomorrow, we’ll travel through the centaur’s gate at House Briarthorne. He lets me keep a car there to drive into the city.” I consider it a minute, then add “I’ll go over there and grab us a couple coffees while you make your call. Give you some space. How do you like your coffee, or would you rather tea?”

***

We walk through the Gate like we own the place. In a way, I do. These Gates, these Ways of Travel are built of the old magic. It runs in my blood. A lot of us have the old blood, even among the humans, most of them just don’t talk about it. One early summer day leads to another seamlessly. We walk along a stone paved path, past the benches for the readers and people watchers. Then down the little hill alongside the water and out under the trees and arch from the park. Suddenly, we’re in the middle of a small city. I guess it’s more of a suburb right here, but I like it. My condo is just down the road from here, an easy walk. Almost everywhere I want to go in this city is an easy walk from my condo. Tonight we’ll go a little farther to reach the steakhouse, that’s downtown, but everything else is almost within sight.

My little follower is pretty brave for a mortal. I gave her plenty of opportunities to let her people know where I’ll be taking her. I want her to trust me. I want her to be able to share our side of the story, so to speak. Sure there are bad vamps. There are bad unicorns, too. But most of us aren’t.

We walk in silence down the path, under the arch, and down the street. “It’s quiet here,” Emily comments.

“Yeah, that’s why I like it, I guess. It has everything I want to live near, but it’s not crazy busy.”

“Hmm.”

“Here’s our turn up here.” I point up to the wrought iron fence. I see her eyebrows lift a little even though she doesn’t say a word. “Iron is a myth. Like fae promises. Just some good details for a story.” I grab onto one of the pickets of the fence for effect. Luckily, she just nods and looks away. I flex my fingers a little. Iron doesn’t burn us. It’s almost the opposite actually, my fingers are stiff like they got really cold, but the effect wears off almost immediately.

Here I am talking about being honest and blowing it in the first ten minutes. But I wanted to show her proof, albeit a false one, that story details are not always true. And truthfully, not all vamps are affected by iron. It seems to only be a few of us that share some ancient DNA from the north. I dunno, but it was worth the moment of discomfort.

Her eyes widen seeing a medusa walking our way. “Hi Lilith,” I nod to the woman. “Just don’t meet her gaze, look at her ears or her neck or something,” I whisper to my new friend.

I hear her grunt a reply to me, and then a barely audible greeting to the gorgon as she walks by. They are a little terrifying the first time you see one with all her snakes writhing about. Lilith is a bit of a free spirit, and the only time I have seen her trap her little vipers down was when she covered them all in a very large hat on an unusually snowy day. I am sure it was only to protect them, not from any societal pressure.

“Remember, there are a variety of species who live here. When in doubt just smile and look at their shoulder. I’ll keep you safe if you do something stupid unintentionally.”

“Uhhuh.”

“No really, it’s a chill group of people who live here. We’re all so different, we all just live and let live, y’know.”

We walked up the path to my door. Actually it’s a door into an entrance hall and then my door inside there. “Just a moment, I might still have a ‘begone’ ward aimed at humans, let me check so I can disengage it.” I forgot about that, this morning.

“Why do you ward against humans?”

“Actually, I ward against almost everyone. I like my quiet. But the wards have to be set to specific species or attributes. They all are basically the same though, encouraging the visitor to go away.” I wrinkled my nose at the smell of cabbage soup coming through the air. “Sorry, the troll has developed a taste for cabbages. Come on in.”

“Troll?”

“Yes, why?” I asked closing the door.

“Trolls are real? I thought they were just made up monsters under the bridges.”

“There are a few under bridges I dare say.” I wish this one would cook his cabbages there. “But no, generally they’re right here with us. Many do use a little glamor to um…smooth their features. Their size is notable, but often they masquerade as football players or such. My neighbor apparently plays rugby.”

She giggled, “I see.”

I kinda like her.

Chapter 2 – What happens when you die?

“What else is real that I don’t know.”

“D-uhh,” I rubbed the side of my nose, “I really have no idea how to answer that since I don’t know what you think you know.”

She laughed again, “True. Never mind then.”

“Well, no,” I said, “That’s really kinda the crux of why you’re here. I want you to know what’s true and false, so we need to eliminate the fallacies these stories are built on. C’mon, let’s sit in the kitchen.” I led the way down the short hallway to the bright kitchen.

She blinked a little coming in. For some reason, my sunflower themed kitchen always surprises visitors. She stared for a moment at the little fountain gurgling on the counter.

“I used to have one just like that. The fountain, I mean, not the cat.”

I stood frozen in surprise. “You can see her?”

“Well yeah. I love gray tigers.”

“Me too.” I walked over and picked up the bundle of fluff. She stretched out, arching her back and yawning so wide I wondered if her mouth could flip inside out to swallow her head. I rubbed behind an ear and a rumbling purr started. “However, most people can’t see this fluffball. This little monster is actually a hellcat.”

“Yeah, right,” she laughed, and then stopped looking at me. “Wait, are you serious?”

“Oh yes. She will grow up to be one of the most fearsome hunters in the world.” Which was hard to envision as she had now dug her sharp claws under my arm and was hanging from the underside of my elbow, rumbling purr even louder than before.

“But she’s…adorable.” The little demon’s head popped up over my arm. She gave my thumb a quick sandpaper lick and then she leapt right for my visitor’s shoulder. Somehow she caught herself and precariously turned around. I couldn’t help but wince as I imagined the feel of the claws gripping into the shoulder to stop her sail through midair. A hiss was all the human let out. Tough girl – no doubt. And then the kitten started nibbling the human’s ear.

“I’ve heard of hellhounds, but not hellcats. Well…maybe I have actually., but-”

I groaned, “But you’ve only heard about them as a derogatory description of a feisty woman.” I shrugged, “ Not entirely inaccurate, although insulting. She’s just a kitten, imagine how ferocious she will be later when she’s all grown up.”

“Umm, yeah.” I looked over at her from the coffee I was making. The kitten was thoroughly licking her ear. She did that to me once. The rumbling purr is disarming until the sandpaper hits the inside of your ear canal and then you’re torn between pleasure and pain.

“That is a unique sensation, isn’t it?”

“Uhhuh.” Her voice sounded strained, and I empathized. “Her tongue and her purr combined were a weird mixture of pain and pleasure. You can pull her off, if it’s too much.”

I figured the mortal could handle my hell kitten for now, she was handling everything else well. So I said, “How do you want your coffee and then let’s work on more of these myths.”

“Um, cream and sugar, but not too much sugar.”

Again she surprised me. Mortal girls seemed to always like sweet frufru coffee drinks.

“Coming up. Cream and a little sugar.” I slid the mug onto the counter beside her, then I sat down at the table. She could stand or she could come sit, there was plenty of physical space and I wanted it to be her comfort choice. “Tell me your favorite myth, let’s start there.”

“Umm, ok we talked about hell cats and hell hounds. So what is hell? Or where is it? Which version is right?”

“Ahh, that is a good question. And you’re not going to like my first answer….It depends.”

She groaned and I grinned.

“Yeah, well,” I rubbed an ear, the scab itched from my last kitten bite. “So it depends a bit on your religion and your version of the Afterlife. For some people Hell is all about demons and brimstone torture. This is actually just a small piece of hell where torture actually occurs. How you get there varies whether it is the lowest level or the center level. Then there is the idea that there are multiple levels and some of those levels have you ‘paying for your crimes” if you will and then you move on to more comfortable levels. If we go all Viking then there are many Afterlife worlds each ruled by a different deity, some airy and summerish, some fiery, and some winterish.”

“Where do vampires go in their afterlife since you’re basically immortal?”

Dang she asks good questions.

“Ahh, tricky question mortal. Good question though.” I rubbed my thumb nail against my teeth, gently clicking. “This is a two part answer, so bear with me.”

“Uhhuh.” She picked up her mug and sipped, her eyes never left mine. Gorgeous eyes by the way, serious but not judging.

“So, when we’re temporarily unbodied, you might say killed. We regenerate pretty quickly. In that case we may or may not pass through an upper level of Hades. There isn’t any torture or brimstone. It’s just a place to reform. Remember Hades is like Valhalla, basically. Everyone dies and goes to a version or a level of it, but they’re like different worlds. Anyway, a brief embodiment may have us there to …recuperate, and then we pop back into existence in this plane.”

“Ok, so if someone, if I,” she smiled and raised her eyebrows, facial expression taking away all the threat in her words, “were to shoot you through the heart you would temporarily die, pass through Hades, and be reincarnated?”

“Right. Basically. Our bodies poof into ash, as we disembody, and then we reform in Hades. Sometimes it’s almost the blink of an eye. Sometimes it takes longer. Recovering from a barrel of acid for example is more time consuming than a regular old bullet.”

She nodded, “Mmmhmm.”

“Yeah, but if you do manage to actually kill a vampire, by beheading it, or silver through the heart for example, then we cannot reform. We still poof into ash and disperse. We just aren’t then.”

“But where does your soul go then? Or your spirit? Or your….whatever.”

“My dear, don’t you realize that we’re soulless?”

She raised an eyebrow. “But are you really?”

I blinked. “What?”

“Are you really soulless?”

“Are you really without a soul? You have the mental capacity to make your own choices, not follow mindlessly the directions of some greater vampire or demon, or whatever. You, at least, are kind, and I have met other kind and considerate vampires as well.”

My eyebrows lifted higher, “You did? Are you sure? We’re fairly well known to be self-serving. Usually we help only to also help ourselves.”

“No, she helped me simply because I needed it.”

“She?” There were even fewer female vampires. Often they stay holed up somewhere safe not risking becoming someone’s trophy kill. Which also meant that they tended to be quite old.

“Yes, she. She’s quite kind. And funny. And she helped keep me safe from a creepo guy.”

“Ahh, I see. Were you in a bar by chance?”

“Um, yeah. But does that matter?”

“No, I guess not. But I wonder if it was Maeve you met. She is perhaps the sweetest vampire I have ever known. Until she feels the need to protect someone. Then her fangs do come out, no pun intended, and it takes quite a while for her to settle back.”

“I didn’t see her fangs.”

“Did the creep back off pretty quickly?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s why. But I bet she made sure you had a ride home, or safely got to your car.”

“Yeah, she had the bouncer walk me out when I was ready to leave.”

“Uhhuh. I don’t know what kind of monster that creep was, but clearly she felt you being threatened. She is good like that. Don’t think for a minute she needed that bouncer either. That was just for the sake of her cover.”

“Her cover?”

“Yeah, most don’t know she’s a para, so keep her secret tight, yeah?”

“Para?”

“Sorry, paranormal. Most people don’t know she isn’t mortal, and they certainly don’t know that she’s a vampire. She keeps that close to the cuff. Respect her secret.”

“Of course.”

Of course, she says without a blink.. What exactly have I found with this human?

“Maeve is a good wench-”

“Wench?”

“Sorry, I don’t mean that in a bad way. She’s been a bar wench for hundreds of years. She’s a good lass. If she likes you, and apparently she does, you have an amazing friendship there. I’m glad; she doesn’t have that many friends.”

“Why not?”

“Mmm, that’s her story to tell. Or not.”

“Hmm.” She nodded and took another sip of coffee.

“Next question,” I said lightly.

“Did you finish that one?”

“Did I finish-? Yeah. We either regenerate in Hades or we cease to be. At least no one knows of any other…realm our soulless beings go to.”

“Huh.”

I raise my eyebrows at her and tilt my head.

“Ok.” She nodded and scratched the gray striped hellkitten behind the ears. “What is her name anyway?”

I know she meant my kitten, but it still caught me by surprise. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? What do you mean?”

“Well, I don’t just give her a name like a normal housecat. She has a name, but she hasn’t gotten old enough yet to tell me.”

“Tell you?”

“Mmm, sorta. She’ll be able to push it at me, or into me, it’s hard to explain. But you would know if you felt it.”

“Ok. But you must call her something.”

I chuckled, I did have a few rude things I had called her after some particularly painful claw incidents. “I guess I do, I just call her Kitten.”

The hellkitten meowed back then. “She probably has names for me too, but I don’t understand her.”

“Fair.”

“Yeah, next question.”

Keep reading through early access (as I write) on Ream.