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Sharon’s Note: I got really lucky with the in-law lottery. Mine are awesome, but I’ve heard other people’s horror stories. Good or bad, it’s always unnerving when you meet your significant other’s family for the first time. Having them be a master vampire probably makes it worse. Probably. Warning: Scary people acting surprisingly normally.

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“This isn’t going to be awkward, is it? Me being the only one eating?” Anise shifted uncomfortably as the elevator climbed. 

“Only if you make it. Joseph really wants to make this as comfortable for you as possible. He likes you.” 

She ran a hand through her hair. “I can’t imagine why. Rupert seems to be of the opinion that he doesn’t like hunters.”

“I’d say it’s more that Joseph doesn’t like Rupert.” Jack flinched when he saw Anise’s expression and backpedaled. “It’s not that your boss is a bad guy, it’s just that they’re both strong personalities, and I think they rub each other the wrong way.”

“Rupert can be a little abrasive,” she admitted, then then wrapped a hand around her husband’s arm. “Thank you for putting up with his BS. I know he gave you some hell, but he only did it because he cares about me.”

Jack pulled her around so that she was facing him and placed a light kiss on her lips. “Well, we have that in common, then.”

The doors opened, and of course Joseph was standing right there. The elder vampire smiled softly. “Well, I never pictured my elevator as being particularly romantic, but I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Jack blushed. “Sorry, sir.”

Joseph waved the apology aside. “Don’t worry, now, come with me. Dinner is ready.”

Still blushing, Anise followed the master, holding Jack’s hand. They made their way through the immaculately decorated apartment to a table by a glass wall that had an amazing view of the nightime city. She was sitting at one end with Joseph sitting opposite of her and Jack sitting between them. A man in a black suit sat a plate in front of her with a large rack of ribs.

“My favorite?” She raised an eyebrow.

The master smiled. “I had Jack help the chef create tonight’s menu. Now, I hope you don’t mind if we talk business while you eat?”

“Go ahead.” Anise stabbed a piece of roast potato with her fork. 

“So, I just want to get this out of the way; I give my permission for Jack to make you a vampire.” As soon as Joseph said it, Jack let out a breath. The master vampire chuckled. “What? You thought I was going to deny you the means to be with the woman you love forever?”

“Honestly, I thought you were going to,” Anise said. Joseph raised an eyebrow, and she shrugged. “From what Jack said, you weren’t the biggest fan of us getting married.”

He shrugged. “You were an unknown quantity. At first I thought you were just an agent that Rupert was using to get to me through Jack. I thought he was tired of our arrangement. After a while I realized that your love was genuine, and I was happy for you both. Now that you’re joining our numbers, I was hoping to make you an offer.”

“Joseph-” Jack began, but the elder vampire held up a hand for silence.

“I’m just offering, there’s no consequence to turning it down,” Joseph said, and Jack relaxed. He turned back to Anise. “Your skill as a Hunter is impressive, and I was hoping that once you are turned you would consider coming to work for me?”

“What?” She raised an eyebrow.

“It would be a good position. You could work with your husband. I could even arrange for you to be his boss.”

“Wait, what?” Jack’s head snapped around to look at his boss. 

Anise laughed. “No. Rupert still hasn’t made a decision whether or not he’s going to let me continue working with the group after I’ve turned. Even if he decides against it, I’m still planning on patrolling on my own, keeping up the good work.”

“Well, you could continue that good work, you’d just be doing it for me. At least that way you’d be getting paid.” Joseph folded his hands on the table and smirked. “Feel free to take your time. Think it through for a few decades. After all, you’ll have the time.”

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James’s Notes: I sometimes think there are more people out there giving advice on writing than there are writers. As such, it can get terribly confusing. Especially when half the advice out there contradicts the other half. Here are a few thoughts to hopefully help you make sense of it.

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There is a ton of writing advice being thrown at new writers constantly and it can get confusing. 

Luckily, there are a couple easy ways to look at al this advice to make it useful rather than overwhelming.

1. These are not rules. These are tools.

There is no such thing as a rule of writing. Even the rules of grammar and spelling are just tools.

That said, they are very important tools. It is really hard to build a house without nails and just because it might be possible, doesn’t mean you should do it.

“Rules”, like show versus tell, different methods to tag dialog and things like deep perspective are just tools.

There is a time to use them, and a time not to use them. 

That said, you should never be afraid to learn about these new techniques and use them. Acquiring new tools can allow you to build new and awesome things.

2. If what you are doing is working, don’t change it.

You’ll always hear people tell you how to write a book. Things like, don’t edit until you finish the first draft, always make an outline, or that your plot should be in a certain structure.

Here’s the thing. Each one of those pieces of advice can be right for some people writing some books. For some, it’s going to be wrong.

If you’re writing a book, and whatever you’re doing is working, keep doing that.

If, however, you are writing a book, and it’s not working, that’s when you want to consider some of this advice.

If you’re trying to write a novel and keep hitting writer’s block, then consider doing an outline. Proper planning prevents writer’s block.

If you find yourself never finishing your project, then consider completing your first draft before you even think about editing.

If you find the pacing in your novel is off, and parts of it are boring, then maybe learn about three act structure, hero’s journey, and other ways to structure a plot.

3. Never wait to learn the rules, start writing now.

There are tons of writing advice that will absolutely make you a better writer.

However, you need to start writing right now. Don’t wait to learn the rules, you’ll learn those as you go.

Besides, you’ll understand that much better after you have some finished works under your belt.

Just remember, as a new writer, your job is to write lots of terrible things.

Don’t worry. Future You, who will have more experience, and actually understand all this confusing writing advice, will fix it for you.

Trust Future You and get started right now.

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Sharon’s Note: Once again, this is based on my journey and observations. Your experience and mileage may vary. Warning: Any resemblance of the Author to a puppy of purely coincidental.

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Physically, I’m kind of stagnant. I do what I can, but it is what it is. Mentally, this takes a toll. I’ve had my share of days where it was hard to get out of bed because ‘What was the point?’. I get anxious, and start thinking unproductive thoughts. Nothing really bad, but nothing helpful. 

So, this sounds unrelated, but stick with me.

Most any type of pet can have behavior problems due to anxiety. Dogs will start chewing or digging, parrots will pluck out their feathers, stuff like that. Destructive and self-destructive behavior. What do most experts suggest? Stimulation. 

Exercise is one I see most recommended, and it does help dogs and people alike. There’s a problem for me, though. I’m limited in the amount of physical activity I can do. It leaves a lot of room for thoughts to stray.

This leaves mental stimulation. Learning something new is good mental exercise, as long as you’re actually working at it. There has to be a certain amount of strain to see the benefit, like using weights. Or, you could polish an existing skill. It requires more work, but I think it’s worth it, so that’s what I do.

I’ve been writing inconsistently since junior high. Once I got out of college, I stopped writing for a while because I let life get in the way. Fast forward to when I was diagnosed with MS, and I lost my job (unrelated). I wasn’t in a good place, and if I didn’t do something it was going to get worse. So, I dusted off my writing skills, and wrote a book.

I’d never finished anything more than a short story before this, but I wrote out an outline to follow, gave myself a minimum word count per day to put a little stress on myself, and pulled the trigger. And you know what, it was hard, but I did it, and I felt better. As of the time I’m writing this, The book is getting beta read, and after I fix a few issues, I’m sending it out to agents.

 I keep writing because it’s good for me, but occasionally I can feel my brain misbehaving and I plan another heavy writing binge. I did it last year, and wrote a book in a month. I’m fixing to do it again to finish the sequel of the first book I wrote. It’s a never ending thing, but I see that as more of a cause for joy than dread. It’s a lot like life that way. In both cases, you just have to keep on going.

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Sharon’s Notes: Meeting your spouses’ family is terrifying. You want to make a good impression because these people are important to the one you love, but also because they can make your life miserable. In most cases there isn’t a danger of being shot. Well, maybe in my family. My husband is a brave soul. Warning: Over protective family.

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“Your family hates me.” Jack couldn’t stop fussing with his tie. 

Anise sighed. “They don’t hate you, they just don’t know what to make of you.”

“They look at me like they want to stake me.” Jack got out of the car and straightened his suit again. 

“They don’t want to stake you.” Anise grabbed the pie from the back seat. Her husband raised an eyebrow at her, and she sighed. “Okay, maybe Graham wants to stake you, but he’s a psycho, and everyone knows it. We only keep him around because we’re afraid he’ll start killing civilians if he didn’t have keepers. The rest of them just don’t know you.”

“I’m going to be a vampire at a hunter’s Christmas party.” He rubbed his forehead. “This is a horrible idea.”

“You’re my husband coming with me to a Christmas party with the people who I’ve come to think of as family.” She put the pie on top of the car and walked to Jack. When she wrapped her hands around his lapels, he met her eyes. “Hey, if you want to go, we can go. I’ll call Polly and tell her I’m not feeling well. We can go home, I’ll make myself sick by eating this entire pie, and we can binge watch something all night.”

He took a deep breath and smiled. A stray hair was hanging by Anise’s chin, so he tucked it behind her ear. “No. I’ll stop being a chicken. I’m just nervous. It’s just that these people are important to you, so their opinions actually matter.”

Anice planted a light kiss on his lips. “It will all be fine.”

With one hand she grabbed the pie off the car and with the other she grabbed Jack and led him into the hall the hunter’s had rented. She did not mention to him that they hadn’t had the party at headquarters because they knew she was bringing him.

“Anise!” As they opened the door, Rupert walked towards her, arms extended for a hug. Anise gave her mentor a big squeeze. When he turned to Jack, his smile faltered a little, but the vampire stepped forward and offered a hand.

“It’s good to finally meet you, sir. My wife has told me so much about you.” Jack gave his best closed lipped smile, the one that hid his fangs. 

The senior hunter hesitated for a moment, and the entire room was focused on him. Graham in particular was grinning like the lunatic he was and fingering a large hunting knife at his waist. Rupert glanced back at the other hunters, then at Anise’s pleading face. He sighed and took Jack’s hand. The room relaxed.

Anise broke into the brightest smile and went to put her pie on the buffet table. The buzz of conversation started up, and Rupert pulled Jack close like he was going to give him a hug too and whispered in his ear.

“Look, I know my girl loves you, so I will play nice. I also know that she plans to become a vampire for you. I don’t like it, but it’s her choice. You better make her deliriously happy.”

Jack swallowed hard. “That’s my plan, sir.”

The hunter grinned a toothy smile that would have made the vampire jealous if he wasn’t terrified. “Good, because if you ever hurt her, we’ll stake you out for the sun. Even if it’s a hundred years from now, and it’s our descendants, we will kill you. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Rupert thumped him hard on the back. “Now go mingle, and stay away from Graham. He might stab you accidentally.”

“Yes, sir.” Jack almost ran to Anise’s side.

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Sharon’s Note: So, I got this idea from a marble James found. He dug it up in the garden while planting a lemon tree. It’s now sitting in a flower pot on my porch. I don’t completely understand how that turned into this, but hey, that’s how it goes. Anyway, Enjoy! Warning: Be careful what you wish for, you might not like how you get it.

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So I made the weird decision that in order to be a more assertive, less anxious person I needed to confront some of my childhood fears. I don’t know why I thought this was a good idea, a shrink didn’t tell me to do it or anything like that, I just suddenly thought that if I could get a hold on some of my demons from my past I would magically be able to get a hold on my future.

The first part went well. I confronted my childhood bully, who still lived in town and had become a teacher of all things. I had contacted him on social media and arranged to meet him at a coffee shop. He apologized for everything before I even got a word out. We then had coffee while I heard about his cheating wife and messy divorce while I came to realize that this guy was just an average person. He didn’t deserve a place of infamy in my head. I won’t deny that I got a little bit of petty satisfaction from turning him down when he asked me out.

My next conquest was supposed to be the Underhill Cemetery. That went . . . Well, let me tell you what happened. You won’t  believe me, but here it goes. 

When I was eleven or twelve some friends had talked me into going there at night. It was a stupid kid thing. The Underhill Cemetery was a little family plot in the middle of the woods. No one had been buried there in over a hundred years. The house had been abandoned since the 70s, but we stayed away from there. That was high schooler territory, and intrusion guaranteed at least a minor beating.

The cemetery was spooky, and that was the point. I’d brought my lucky shooter, a giant blue marble that had belonged to my grandfather. Grandma had said that keeping it with me would mean that Grandpa was always with me, watching over me. I usually didn’t carry it, but it seemed like the perfect talisman to bring with me to an old graveyard. 

I won’t go over what happened that night because honestly, I don’t remember it that well. Bits and pieces sometimes come back to me in nightmares. There were sounds in the dark and lights in the woods. Things chased us and we ran, lost among the trees until the sun rose, even though we couldn’t have been more than a mile from the house. Those are only fragments I can recall from dreams though, and how reliable can that be, right?

So anyway, the facts that I do know are that most of us woke up just behind the big house at dawn, Jesse Something-or-Other (I can’t remember her name) twisted her ankle, I looked like I had picked a fight with a rosebush and was missing my lucky shooter, and Kelly Morehead was missing. She showed up three days later, claiming not to remember what had happened either, but perfectly fine. I’d been grounded for three months, but it wasn’t much of a punishment because I didn’t want to come out from under the covers, much less leave my room.

That little episode stuck with me for, well, ever. I never stopped being afraid of the Underhill Cemetery. Somehow, I got it into my fool head that if I wanted to reclaim my power, I had to go back to the cemetery, after all, I had been a kid. Nothing weird had really happened, right?

Right.

So, I walked out to the old cemetery. I even went at dusk, because if I was going to do something stupid, I was going to do it properly. Initially, it was less than impressive, just a bunch of old headstones that were too weathered to read sticking out of grass up to my knees. I don’t know who mowed the grass, but they hadn’t been in a while. I got a wild hair, and even though I knew there was no chance of finding it, I started looking for my shooter. 

Darkness crept up on me, and I ended up trying to find my way back to my car by the flashlight on my phone. Except, I couldn’t find the path back, or the house, or the road, and suddenly the trees seemed way too tall. Light hugged the trunks and bended off in improbable angles. And then the noises started. 

Something crashed through the foliage, something bigger than a human. It made these chuffing and wheezing noises, then these long high pitched giggles. I hid behind these ancient trees and hid the light of my phone in my pocket. I could hear its huge feet crunching on sticks and leaves as it passed me by.

Lights started winking in the darkness and whispers came from everywhere. One came from just behind me, and told me to run, so I did. My feet found every raised root and bramble patch. I caught my toe on a vine and fell face first into some blackberries. Somewhere in the scramble to get out I dropped my phone and I couldn’t find it, even though it should have still had the flashlight on.

The only things I had to navigate by then was touch, and those little, firefly-like lights. I steered away from them, because I didn’t know what they were. It seemed like whatever was out there had been waiting until my light was gone to really start screwing with me. 

Hands reached out to pull my hair and flick my ears, but when I went to swat them away they were gone. The whispers got louder, telling me that I shouldn’t be there and that I was going to die. One of them told me that I was very pretty, and it was going to wear my face. Something that felt awfully like a tongue wrapped around my ankle, squeezing the scratches there until I cried out, then let me go.

The last time I tripped, my foot turned funny and I ate dirt. At that point I figured there was no point in running. If something was going to eat me, it was going to eat me. I sat against a tree, drew my knees against my chest, hid my face, and waited for whatever was going to happen. The whispers got really close and there were sharp pokes at my legs. I whimpered at every one, then all of a sudden they stopped.

The woods were dead quiet. No forest was ever that quiet. Then there were footsteps. They were all even and normal, just footsteps over dried leaves. They came right close to me and the edge of a foot tapped my own. I kept my head glued to my knees and my eyes closed tight. Something flopped on the ground to my side, and the footsteps walked slowly away.

I stayed still until I heard the birds singing and could feel the sun warm the top of my head. It had to have been hours. Finally, I looked up. I was sitting at the edge of the Underhill Cemetery, with the trees all normal and the world looking like nothing had ever been wrong. My phone and my old lucky shooter lay in the grass next to my feet. I wasn’t about to press my luck, so I grabbed them and got the hell out of there. 

So, I’m never going back to those woods. That’s going to remain a fear that I can’t conquer. Funny thing, though. I kept the old shooter. It’s always in my pocket, and whenever I get upset or anxious, I give it a rub. I remember that night in the woods, and nothing seems as scary in comparison.

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Sharon’s Note: Full disclaimer on this: These are my own opinions and experiences, and things that have worked for me. I’m not a psychologist or anything like that. I’m not telling you to do anything or how you should feel things. If your experience is different, cool. Everyone’s is. Leave a comment if you want to talk about it, or heck, send me a message. I’m always up for a chat. Warning: Author putting on paper yet another conversation she had with her husband.

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So, I’m disabled. No big surprise there, I talk about it a lot and it’s a big part of my life. I’ve had a string of neurological issues that have degraded my health since I was 20 years old. At 38 years old, I have problems walking, get tiered very easily, and if I’m having a particularly bad day I can barely get out of bed and can have problems speaking. I’m not saying this to invoke pity or to seem brave, I’m saying it so that you’ll have a good basis to understand what I’m saying.

Sometimes I have problems dealing. I get sad because there are things I can’t do. I get depressed (not the same as Depression) that I have to cancel my plans and stay in bed. I get frustrated because my mussels spasm and cramp, and there’s not much to do about it. I get angry because I hurt. There’s nothing wrong with any of that, but I like to say that negative emotions are a little like hell. It’s not a place you really want to live, and the only way to get through it is to go through it.

Short version: Negative emotions suck, but they are there to be worked through, so do that. 

A big part of my mental health is writing. When I started writing Hard Hunting, I wasn’t in the best place. I was frustrated that I had hit a plateau physically, and then I had a relapse. It was like I was starting from zero and it made me sad, and angry, and I was having trouble dealing with it. My husband was the one who insisted that I keep writing it, so I did. 

I’m not going to lie, it hurt. I talk about some things in there that really bother me, and I cried more than once while getting it on the page. After writing a particularly emotional scene I was so upset I was shaking, but after I calmed down, I felt better. I read through the section again, and it hurt a little less. Actually, the more hard scene’s I went through, the less it hurt to go through them again. Some people need to talk about their demons, which I had done and had helped a little. For me, getting them on paper worked better than talking did.

Now, Hard Hunting is fiction and that is by design. I’ve actually had people criticise me for this, saying that I needed to put my story out there as is. I disagree with this for two reasons (besides the knee-jerk reaction of heck with you, I write what I want). 

One: Making this happen to a character gives me a little bit of distance I need to tell all the worst things. It’s not really embarrassing if it happens to her, and not me. This is lying to myself in a way, but I love the old saying that fiction is a way to tell the truth through lies. I know it’s a lie, but the sugar coating of it happening to someone else makes it go down easier. I acknowledge that this is for me, not the reader, but readers are smart, and more empathic than you think. If you really feel it, so will they.

Two: I like fiction. I don’t write things I don’t read, and for the most part, I can’t get into ‘True Stories of the Authors Struggle with _____’. There’s nothing wrong with the genre, it’s just not my cup of tea. I like Urban Fantasy, so I like to write Urban Fantasy. If I’m going to rip my heart out and bleed all over the keyboard, I should at least have fun with it.

So, is writing your current problems fiction a good form of therapy? I don’t know, ask an actual therapist. It did help me a lot, though, and I recommend it based on that.

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Sharon’s note: So, this is one of those series I can’t stay away from. I love Jack and Anise. I love their relationship, because you see the hunter/vampire dynamic all the time, but you rarely see them working out their relationship beyond the initial decision to not kill each other, and oh yeah, they sleep with each other. Warning: People talking out their problems like adults.

Jack leaned against the bar, twisting his glass so that the light played over the amber liquid inside. His other hand played with the gray, bone bead that hung from his necklace. It was almost icy against his fingertips, and he chuckled dryly.

“Penny for your thoughts?” The woman that perched on the stool next to his could have hopped straight off of a 1940’s pin-up girl poster. She was a little heavier than was currently popular, but she was well put together and had a sassy smile that demanded to be returned. 

“Oh, nothing worth mentioning.” Jack put down his glass. It wasn’t like he was going to drink it anyway.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?” She plucked his glass off the table and took a sip. “Sharing your burden with a friend can sometimes help.”

Jack chuckled. “I’m married, you know?”

“Is that the problem?” She offered the glass back to him, but Jack shook his head.

“It’s just . . . my wife and I are different, and the longer we’re together, the more I worry that we don’t want the same things anymore. I’m in it for the long haul, I want us to be together forever, I’m just not sure she is.” His stomach turned even as he said it, and he looked at the floor.

“Sounds like she’s not worth your time,” the woman purred as she leaned forward to trail a hand down his chest, drawing his attention back up. “See, I’m a ‘til death do we part kind of girl.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“How about I take you home and show you exactly how . . .” She looked him up and down, licking her lips, “dedicated I can be.”

“Sounds fun.” Jack slapped a twenty on the bar as he got up to follow her swaying hips. 

The air outside was stuffy and warm. She kept glancing over her shoulder to make sure he was following. “I live near here. Come on, we can walk.”

As she led him past the parking lot, Jack touched the bead at his throat again. It was still burning cold, hiding his power to make him seem human. They passed through an empty lot into an abandoned convenience store. He was a little rusty on this kind of thing, but the vampire remembered this kind of move, and hesitated at the door.

“What, are you saying you live here?” He made it a joke, but his eyes darted around for signs of ambush.

“I’m saying that I can’t wait anymore.” She grabbed the lapels of his shirt and pulled his into the dimly lit building. “Come on. I’ve got a nice comfy mattress in here.”

Eyes darting around to catch any movement, Jack allowed her to pull him in, resisting slightly to keep their movements slow. “You know, I never caught your name.”

“You don’t need it.” The smile fell from her face, and her jaw dropped. A long, black tongue lashed from her mouth, its barbed end going for Jack’s throat.

Jack threw himself backwards while pushing to make some distance. On his way down, he saw a blade swing out of the darkness and slid easily though the woman’s neck. Body and head thudded to the floor. Keening like a wounded rabbit, two halves of a long black slug oozed out of the bloodless corpse to thrash on the floor.

“Ew.” Anise wrinkled her nose as she removed the charm that allowed her to fade into the shadows. “I think we need to burn this thing to be sure it dies.”

“What is it?” Jack picked himself up off the floor, wiping his hands across his pants. Whatever grime that was on them wasn’t coming off easily.

“I forget the proper name, but the Librarians told me that it’s some kind of body snatcher boojum. It hops from host to host, draining them of blood completely before moving on. That’s why I asked for your help. It can’t latch onto a vampire.” Anise squished the end that was in the head with a steel toed boot before spearing the larger end of the worm. She waited a moment to make sure the flattened bit wasn’t still moving before motioning her husband to follow her. “Come on, there’s one of those metal sinks over here. Grab what’s left and some of that trash.”

 Nose wrinkling, Jack complied. “I feel filthy.”

“There’s a spigot at the back of the bar. You can wash up there a little bit before we get home, and you can have dibs on the shower.” She scraped the still writhing slug into the sink and stepped back to let Jack dump in his contributions.

“I’ll take you up on that, but it wasn’t what I meant.” He dropped everything on top of the slug thing, and started picking up more paper to throw in, specifically not looking at his wife. “The whole picking up someone at a bar thing. It felt wrong, and I didn’t mean anything I said, and . . . you know I love you, right?”

Anise chuckled. “I love you too. Welcome to playing the honeypot. It’s as uncomfortable as hell sometimes. As for what you said in there, I heard everything over the wire, and I think we need to talk about it.”

Jack snapped up, eyes wide in alarm. “I said I didn’t mean them!”

Having well prepared for this sting, Anise pulled a small bottle of lighter fluid out of her pocket and proceeded to liberally spray everything. “I know you did, and it got me thinking. I think we need to talk about timelines.”

“Timelines?” He immediately perked up.

She pulled one of the disposable lighters she always carried with her out of her pocket. “Yes, timelines. I know I’ve kind of avoided discussing it before, but I want to be with you forever, and I don’t want you to think otherwise. So, after your shower, we’ll lay out everything that needs to happen before I become a vampire.”

“Well, let get this over with then.” Jack beamed at his wife, and she lit a fast food wrapped and dropped it into the sink while what was left of the slug screamed.

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Sharon’s Note: I’m a sucker for a happy ending. I don’t always write them, but I always appreciate them. So here, I present the last part of this story, and unsurprisingly happy ending. Enjoy. Warning: No warning, just feels.

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The hospital room was quiet except for the distant, slow music oozed through the open door. Sarah knew she should try to sleep, but she just didn’t feel like it. She’d been sleeping so much, some of it due to the drugs the doctors were giving her, some because she was old. 

When it came down to it, that was why she was in the hospital. Fainting was just a symptom of that. The doctor could run all the tests they wanted, and attribute it to failing organs or whatever else, but the root cause was that she was just a month shy of ninety-eight. If this wasn’t her time, it was damn close.

Footsteps echoed through the hall, and Sarah glanced at the clock. It wasn’t time for the nurse to come around yet. One of her neighbors must have pushed the button. She ran her finger over the switch that raised her into a sitting position when whoever it was stopped at her door and knocked softly on the frame.

“Peter,” She said, breaking into a grin. “Did you have to whammy the nurses to get in here?”

“I did.” He entered the room and closed the door behind him, shifting the bouquet of assorted flowers around in his hand. “How are you doing, Little One?”

She shrugged and lifted up the tube that was all but duct taped to her arm. “About as well as can be expected. They don’t know what all is wrong, but they keep pumping me full of medications anyway. At least the food is better than when I was in here looking after Brian. Not that that is a very high bar.”

Peter laid the flowers on the nightstand and sat next to her. “Where are the kids? I thought Jeanie would have been here at minimum.”

“She was in earlier, but I made her go home. She’s got a brand-new grand baby to coo over. She should be making memories with him, not trying not to cry while fluffing my pillows for the millionth time.”

“What about Simon?” He gently stroked the petals of a carnation, oddly not looking her in the eye.”

“He brought the whole brood the day before yesterday. He would never admit it, but he wanted to give them a chance to say goodbye.” 

There was a moment of hesitation before he asked, “And Michael’s daughter? What was she going by? Tempy?”

“She goes by her full name now, though I can’t figure out for the life of me why. My son had many talents, but naming things was not his forte.” She smiled as she remembered the hamster affectionately named ‘Fatious’. “Apparently she isn’t mad enough at the rest of the family not to call me on my deathbed.”

Peter didn’t challenge her assertion that she was dying. Everyone else did. They kept saying she had years left in her, but she was almost a hundred years old. How many more years did they want? Maybe he had just seen enough people die of old age that he knew it when he saw it. He also knew her well enough that he knew she wasn’t afraid.

“I have something to discuss with you.” He looked her in the eyes, and the seriousness of his gaze stopped her from making the joke about being just in time.

“Alright. Discuss away.”

“I want you to become a vampire.”

Sarah sputtered. “What? Do you think I want to be an old lady for all eternity? No.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Do you think I was turned at my prime? I was almost fifty when I was made a vampire. We heal at extraordinary rates. It is quite literally magic. You’ll revert in age as your body heals itself.”

It was her turn to pause while she avoided eye contact. Being young again did have a certain appeal. She knew enough about Peter’s life to know being the undead had its downsides, but no more or less than being human. He’d also told her that there were changes coming to the supernatural world. Hiding was no longer feasible, so they were getting ready to announce themselves to the world. That way they would have at least some control over the narrative. Peter was massively involved in the preparation. Maybe it was something she could help with.

“Why now?” she asked, staring down at her wrinkly hands. Thanks to the drugs, they didn’t ache at the moment.

“Because you’ve lived your human life. Your kids no longer need you and Brian is gone. I’ve been working tirelessly for the past thirty years to make the vampire world a better place for you to live in, and it’s finally ready. Because I think you’re ready to move on to something else. But mostly,” He smiled wryly, “I’m selfishly not ready to lose my daughter yet.”

Sarah reached out her hand. He took it, planted a quick kiss on the knuckles, and tucked it against his cheek. “I should probably let the kids know first. Just so they’re not surprised.”

I was hoping you’d agree to do it tonight.” A sheepish grin crept over his face. “It’s purely just superstition on my part, but there’s an old saying that if you agree to become a vampire, then wait, you’ll die before turning.”

“What the hell then,” she chuckled. “It’ll be revenge for that horrible surprise party they threw me last year.”

Getting out of the hospital wasn’t an issue. Peter whammied one of the nurses into taking out her IV and helping her get dressed. As she walked down the hall, one hand tucked safely into his arm, she was reminded when he had walked her down the aisle. Once again, he was leading her into a big, exciting change in her life, and Sarah felt like the luckiest girl in the world to have her loving, supportive father by her side.

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Warning: So, I want you to do something for me. Tell someone you love that you appreciate them. A spouse, a sibling, a parent, a friend, anyone. It’s something that we don’t do nearly enough. Remember how lucky you are to have that person in your life, and let them know. Warning: Author is currently feeling fuzzy after finishing this scene.

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“How did you even find out my birthday?” Peter snorted as he looked at the neon pink envelope Sarah held out.

She rolled her eyes. “Many hours of research and international phone calls, which, I would like to add, I wouldn’t have had to do if you had just told me when I asked. What do you care? Open your card.”

With an identical roll of eyes, he took the envelope. He took out the card and wrinkled his nose at the bit of glitter that knocked loose and fell onto his pristine carpet. When he read the front, he scowled. “Did you have to scratch out the number to put my real age on there?”

Sarah shrugged and smirked. “Sorry. I could find a card for someone’s one hundred and second birthday. Just shut up and read it.”

“‘So I hear you’re turning a hundred and two.” He cleared his throat dramatically as he opened the card and continued. “‘Do you have any idea how freaking old that is?’ Really?”

Practically bouncing with excitement she pushed his hand up so the card at his face. “Read what I wrote. Read what I wrote!”

“Very well.” He cleared his throat again. “‘Peter, I know you’re moving soon. Don’t bother denying it. You know I’m a horrible snoop, and I’ve seen all the papers.’ Really Sarah, I locked that drawer.”

“And you left the key in the coffee cup on your desk. Do you think I wouldn’t see it? I’m not short anymore.” When he cast a dubious glance at the top of her head, several inches below his own, she made a noise like an angry cat. “I’m not short! Keep reading.”

“‘It should come as no surprise to you that Brian and I are moving too. As you’re reading this, feel free to glower at me, just don’t argue. The reason my husband isn’t here right now is because he’s finishing up the paperwork on the place just a block from your new house. There’s no good complaining, it’s already done.” Peter took her up on her offer, but didn’t bother to disagree. He knew it was pointless. “‘Now that’s out of the way, I need to tell you something, You mean so much to me. Ever since I crawled into your yard that day, you have shown me more care and consideration that anyone else in my life. You’ve been a better father than . . .”

Peter’s voice caught, and he looked at her with eyes wide. Sarah smiled warmly and put a hand on his arm, giving it a quick rub before nodding gesturing with her head for him to go on.

“‘You’ve been a better father than my genetic one ever was, and I love you for it. Through the years, you’ve taught me to be strong when I needed to be, compassionate when I wanted to be, and stubborn through association.'” He choked on a laugh. “‘I’m not ready to let that go yet. Especially since I’m now starting my own journey into parenthood.’ You’re pregnant?”

Sarah put a hand on her belly, not yet showing, and gave a shy grin. “Yep.”

Peter threw his arms around her, tucking her head under his chin as he whispered, “Congratulations, Little One.”

She pulled away, tears brimming. The vampire might have been crying too, if it was physically possible. “Go on. There’s a little bit left.”

He raised the card again. “So, I’ve talked this over with Brian, and we have just one question. Will you be the godfather?”

For a full minute he said nothing, and Sarah’s smile fell. Ice felt like it was forming in her stomach as she said, “Well, Uncle Peter? What do you say?”

Slowly, he raised his gaze from the card to her face, and the most beautiful grin she’d ever seen blossomed across his face. “Of course I will.”

Sarah squealed, and jumped up and down before hugging him as tightly as she could.

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Sharon’s Note: Whoo. This has been an emotional trip. I said at the very beginning of this that this has been a form of therapy for me, and I think it’s helped. Not to say that I didn’t cry while writing this last bit (I did. Like a baby), but I talked about some things I usually don’t mention, and it felt good. I hope you’ve enjoyed the ride as much as I have, and thanks for sticking with me. Warning: Some language, a little long, and one exposed heart.

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My knees were starting to pop. Everytime I put pressure on them to haul myself up, the edge of the step dug into my shin before I rocked to move the weight forward. It was so slow. I’d put my case several steps above me, then slowly crawl my way up to it. Would it be better to rest a moment, or keep going?

I hauled myself up another step, and my knee hit something sharp. I yelped and jerked back. My feet twisted and I slid backwards down the stairs. Panic closed my throat as I tried to turn all the way and sit to stop my fall and my hands flailed for a grip. I kept trying to get a foot out to brace, but they just weren’t responding. There was a cracking noise, and something stabbed into my hip. I screamed.

By pure chance, a foot caught the stairs and my hand found a ballister. The stop was almost as jarring as the fall. My hands trembled as they clutched at the wood and splinters dug into my palms. My bladder released, and I was too tired to stop it. Tears of pain and fear and shame rained down my cheek. I’d pissed myself. I hadn’t done that in . . . no. No. I had to get it together. I couldn’t afford this. Brian and all the other people left alive down there couldn’t afford this. I could cry and hate myself later.

Pain radiated from my left buttock, so I pulled myself over to the other side and felt for the problem. A shard of wood protruded through my jeans. It was probably only a few inches long, but the dull wood jabbing into my flesh was excruciating. I yanked it out and tossed it away. Let the hospital worry about getting out all the splinters. I’d be having a nice long stay with them after this anyway.

The crying wouldn’t stop. That was okay. I could cry all I wanted as long as I didn’t scream again. Didn’t want to draw the wolf. The pain in my literal ass was sharp and persistent. That was fine. Focus on the sharp pain. Ignore all the other ones. And climb. Don’t stop, Just climb.

I reached my case, and kept going. I couldn’t feel below my knees and my hands shook every time I reached out to haul myself up, but I kept going. Time lost all importance. All that mattered was that I kept going. 

Half way up, I looked out towards Brian and the protective circle. I froze. I had a clear shot. Higher would have been better, but I could see everything from here. I planted my butt and ignored the pain. It wasn’t helpful anymore. 

I went slow. My hands were shaky, and I couldn’t afford to drop anything. With more diligence than I’d ever used before, I took my rifle out of the case. Loading took forever because I had to fight to keep my hands steady. I scooted so I was leaning against the tower. The recoil didn’t matter, but I needed to steady myself. I took the caps off the scope and layed the gun carefully across my lap before flicking on the coms. 

“Hey, Brian?” 

“Oh, thank God you’re still there. This circle thing feels horrible. It feels like it’s draining faster than when I picked it up the first time.”

“It probably is, but that’s okay. You’ll only have to hold it for a couple of minutes longer.” My voice didn’t shake at all and I was so proud. “I need you to do one last thing for me. I’m on the observation tower to your right. No, don’t look for me, I don’t think you can see me from that angle. I need you to get the werewolf’s attention. I need him at the circle, with all his attention on you. Can you do that?”

“Yeah.” There was the unmistakable sound of wetting lips. “Yeah. I can do that.”

While he paused to gather his nerve, I took the moment to stop and breathe. I could do this. We could do this. 

“Hey, asshole! Yeah, you! Over here! Come and get me you son of a bitch!” Brian’s taunts came distantly through the air as well as the radio. 

The wolf had been feasting on a body nearby, but rushed the shield at the sound of challenge. He thrashed and clawed at what looked at empty air, enraged by the audacity of the human that was meeting his eyes. It was a beautiful shot. 

I braced myself against the wall. Come on. One shot. I could stop shaking for one shot. Line up the sight. Freeze the muscles in place. Breathe in. Hold. Breath half way out. Squeeze.

The crack of the rifle by my unprotected ear was devastating, and for a second all I could hear was the ringing. The gun jumped from my hand, and I couldn’t stop it. My shoulder ached from being hammered against the wall. The rifle clattered down the stairs, but I didn’t bother to watch it go. All I needed to see was the fine red mist that was slowly raining down after the werewolf’s collapsing body. I closed my eyes and smiled, even as I slumped over. 

“Um, Joy? The . . . the werewolf just exploded.”

“Oh, just his head.” I rested against the stairs and didn’t care that they were digging into my side hard enough to bruise. There was nothing else I needed to do, and that felt wonderful. “You can put the circle down now. The retrieval team will be here soon, so just rest.”

I had no idea when the retrieval team would get there. Dawn, probably, but I didn’t know how far that was away. Brian kept talking, but I was starting to drift. It was a sensation between falling asleep and fainting. I let it happen, because I’d done everything I needed to do. 

I woke when someone picked me up. My vision was a little sleep blurred until I blinked it clear. It was a tall man I didn’t recognize with shaggy hair and a smile that was gentle and amused.

“I was wondering if you were going to wake up.” I recognized the voice. It was Bernard. He had come. “What are your injuries?”

“Nothing threatening, but I’ll need the hospital.” I squirmed, and my body didn’t want to move. That was okay. Bernard was carrying me like I was made of feathers instead of meat. I’d let him handle the moving for now. “What’s the status of everyone else.”

“Three living on your team, and four civilians. My team is rendering first aid until the medics get here. We’ll let clean up count the bodies.” He sounded oddly cheerful. I supposed finding anyone alive was more than he could hope for.

“Wait. I might not be thinking clearly, but three of my team? There were two in the circle.”

“And a third who they left at the cabins to stop any other civilians from wandering out into the night. His team leader had him sitting there with his coms off so that he couldn’t be talked into leaving.”

I rolled my head back with my eyes closed. “If Mike survives, I may kill him.”

Roland laughed. “He did save lives, but I still think I’m going to see that he’s removed from a leadership position.”

“That might be for the best.” I rested my head against Bernard’s chest, and it was nice. “I hope you don’t mind if I fall asleep again.”

“Feel free. You’ve more than earned it. I have to say, you’ve impressed me tonight. You’re quite the badass.” He smiled in a way that made me blush down to my toes. “I like badass girls.”

“Talk to me after I get out of the hospital,” I mumbled while staring at his shirt collar.

“I’d like to see you during, to, if you don’t mind.”

I had not been aware that I could blush harder. “Yeah. Sure.”

The journey that had taken me so long took no time at all with Bernard carrying me. One we were across the bridge where my car sat, still abandoned, he loaded me into a van where one of his team looked me over. Brian was there too. 

He held my hand while the van bumped over the rough park trail. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry I let you believe that there was a team coming.”

“Hey, you saved my life. I am not going to complain. Well, I am, but it’s going to be to a therapist, and it’s going to be about my new crippling fear of the dark, forests, and dogs.”

I snorted as the world started to dim again. “I can recommend a good one. Anyway, I’m gonna pass ou’ now. ‘Night.”

I curled up on the side that hurt less and let myself drift off. I had a big day tomorrow, starting the climb back up to where I’d been before this. I’d need my sleep.

Hard Hunting
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