The Trials of Marrying a Vampire: Keeping it Professional


Sharon’s Note: Working with your spouse can be weird. Unless you do it regularly, it’s like there’s a whole other side to the person yo love that you’ve never seen. It can be rough and bring about disagreements, but with proper communication they can be just disagreements, not fights. Warning: A couple talking to each other instead of at each other.


Ansie looked at her phone. The vampires had kept her waiting in the lobby for close to an hour. The city’s vampire government worked out of a nice building downtown that could easily have been a high priced lawyer’s office. She wasn’t about to leave, but she was about to march past the poor receptionist and tell the acting liaison that she was going to see him now. 

Somewhere in the city there was a vampire breaking the rules, and people were dying.The hunters had a deal with the vampires to stay out of each other’s way as long as the vampires took care of vampire problems. With six people dead in five days, someone had to do something, and if the vampires couldn’t move fast enough the hunters would.

Either the secretary could tell that Anise was out of patience or she had phenomenal timing, because she cleared her throat politely. She was new, and didn’t know Anise yet, so was making a point of being polite. The other secretary had known her for years, and would have spent the entire time shed been here telling Anise about her grandkids.

“The liaison can see you now. He’s in meeting room three. If you’ll follow me . . .”

I waved her off before she could stand up. “Don’t worry. I know the way.”

I braced myself for a possible fight as I walked down the quiet hallway. Both Dimitri and Susa were on duty tonight. If I was talking to Dimitri, this would all go smoothly. He was a decent guy. If it was Susa. . . well, it would be an interesting night. The new vampire hated me because I was a hunter. 

When I turned the corner into meeting room three I froze. “Jack? I thought you weren’t working tonight.” 

He blinked in surprise. “I wasn’t, but they called me in to deal with the hunter liaison since Dimitri and Susa are out hunting the rogue. They didn’t tell me the liaison was you.”

“It originally wasn’t supposed to be, but Jeff got called home because there was something up with his kid.” I sighed. “This is slightly awkward.”

“Yeah.” Jack nodded sympathetically. “We’ll just keep to the rules we set if something like this were ever to happen. We do our jobs the best we can and don’t bring it home in the morning.”

“Right.” Anise shot her husband a quick smile before resuming her game face and sitting across from him at the table. “Now, I’m going to assume you’re up to date on the rogue situation?”

“Yes.” Jack folded his hands and assumed the absolute stillness that vampires sometimes did and Anise wasn’t used to seeing in him. “I understand that the death toll is alarming, but we are working on it. It’s the reason the other two liaisons aren’t here tonight. The master of the city is applying all his resources to this hunt.”

“Not all his resources. He hasn’t called on us for a joint operation,” I countered. 

“No, but we don’t feel it’s necessary at this time. We will catch the rogue.” 

“Time is of the essence here. I understand that most of your people don’t feel comfortable working with us, but this guy kills too fast to be timid about this. We can’t risk rumors of a serial killer getting out. The media would explode.” I tapped my finger on the desk like the ticking of a clock.

Jack sat silently for several seconds, deep in contemplation. Finally, he said, “Would you give us tonight? We’re hard on the hunt, but if we can’t catch him tonight, we’ll let you know before we retire for the day. You can pick up the hunt in the morning and we’ll join you to combine forces at sun down. Is that acceptable?”

Now it was my turn to consider. The rest of the city’s hunters had really wanted to start on the hunt tonight, but if the vampires really were closing in on the rogue we could do more harm than good. 

“Alright. You have a deal.” Anise rubbed a hand over her face. “Do you ever get annoyed at the fact we can’t do this over the phone?”

“You know the master is paranoid about technology.” Jack shrugged. 

“And with reason,” I agreed, “But this was a long way to to drive for a less than five minute conversation.”

Again, Jack shrugged. “Well, I only had to work long enough for this meeting tonight. Can I take a pretty lady to dinner?”

Anise smiled. “Yeah. Just let me call in about our resolution, and we can head out.”

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Witcher Man and the Case of the Wolf that Wasn’t: Part 20


Jame’s Notes: Finally we arrive at the climactic battle, where we get to find out if Daniel is as smart as he thinks he is.


Barreling down the dismal alley came my favorite slavering beast. I felt a little bad, because in all likelihood my spell had caused him to transform. After all, I was summoning the beast, not the man. I hoped he hadn’t harmed anyone getting here. Just as I started to be concerned that he appeared to be charging right for me, Dimitri gently swept me aside and stepped in front.

The slim, dapper old man stared down the werewolf with unflinching eyes the color of ice. I swear I could hear the silence as all the werewolves hold their breath. The raging death machine, finally free of its compulsion now that it was in the presence of the circle that had summoned it, reverted to its other drives and leapt through the air at Dimitri. 

What happened next can only be described as the type of poetry in motion you normally see in the ballet. Dimitri’s arms, and only his arms, transformed. They became long, muscled, and covered in silver hair. With one hand he easily palmed the face of the charging werewolf. The other anchored him to the ground, his huge talons digging into the concrete.  With a graceful pivot he transferred the momentum of his opponent and sent him slamming into the nearby brick wall with the force of an Indy car collision.

In a movement that would have looked like a blur even to the assembled werewolves quicker perceptions, Dimitri pounced on his fallen foe. Only his hands were transformed now, as he braced his legs against the werewolf’s back and used his monstrous hands to strangle him. The werewolf thrashed and snarled but seemed unable to escape Demetris vice-like grip. 

Every time it would try to regain its feet, Dimitri would make slight adjustments that would cause it to lose its balance and stay on the ground. Before long, the werewolf had ceased to struggle and lay imobile on the floor. 

Dimitri stood carefully, brushing off his suit and producing a small pocket comb that he used to fix his slightly ruffled hair. I glanced at our quarry and saw that he was transforming back into a human.

Dimitri threw the unconscious man over his shoulder, careful not to muss his jacket. 

“Is he going to be all right”, I asked.

“Do not worry, my dear Daniel. While that amount of oxygen deprivation might kill you, it will merely render him unconscious long enough for me to get him someplace safe for us to have a reasonable discussion.”

Meanwhile, the werewolves seem to have found their nerve, and were approaching.

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Part 11    Part 12    Part 13     Part 14     Part 15     Part 16     Part 17     Part 18     Part 19
Part 20     Part 21    

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Hard Hunting: Pt 6


Sharon’s Note: Still with me? Awesome! We’ve all had a good cry, so now it’s time to get on with the story. Warning: Author taking maybe a little too long to get to the inciting event.


I laughed and pushed myself to my feet as Seth rolled out of my way. I did need to go clean myself up. If nothing else, even though I hadn’t gotten any snot on Seth’s shirt, I was going to end up swallowing some if I didn’t blow my nose. 

Hearth was an oddly constructed building. The Operator’s area had been specifically designed for its purpose. The bullpen was a large room with computers along one wall, book shelves on another, and four large tables spaced throughout. Currently, there were three people around one table, seriously studying a map. That was the purpose of the bullpen. Operators were the ones on the other end of the coms from the Hunting teams. We were the ones that found solutions to the problems Hunter found in the field. If our team ran against something troublesome that they didn’t know how to kill, we found a way.

Off of the Bullpen, there were a series of small offices. These were for the operators currently supporting their teams directly by com. I shared one with Phagan (Not his real name), and Marion (Unfortunately his real name). Marion was finishing up his shift.

I’m sure Marion had been picked on a lot as a kid. He was 5’3, slightly built, and his name was Marion. This explained why he had grown up with a compulsive need to shoot things in the face. Fortunately for all humanity, he had directed this urge towards things that tended to eat people. Eight years ago he had been nearly crushed to death by a giant snake. Most of his rib and arm bones had been reduced to the consistency of grape nuts, but somehow he had survived. He was even mobile after a few rigorous year of therapy. He just wasn’t field stable. This had only served to make him angrier. 

As I walked into our office, he chucked the headset at me. “Here, Joy. Talk to this moron. I’m sick of arguing and am going home.”

Marion pushed to his feet, snatched his own cane, and wobbled out the door. For an operator to leave without a report like that meant that nothing even remotely interesting was going on.

 I plopped carelessly into the chair and put on the headset. “What did you say to tick him off?”

“Nothing!” Ethan protested. I rolled my eyes. Ethan was new to my team. He wasn’t a bad kid. Even though he was only 18, he was a reliable Hunter, but sometimes he could be such a thoughtless ass.

“He was trying to convince Marion that he should use the name ‘Ron’.” Mike sounded like he was trying to keep his laughter to a minimum. “I tried to tell him not to mess with Marion.”

“I wasn’t.” There was a chorus of chuckling from the rest of the team over their coms. “I was just trying to be helpful.”

“Yeah, here’s a tip from your Operator,” I picked up the nightly report in front of me and began browsing through it. “Don’t even lightly tease Marion about his name. He will punch you in the nose hard enough to break it even if it will break every pin in his arm.”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the attention light start to flash. It was a small yellow rotating light that went off when an Operator needed help. I heard a scuffle of people moving in the bullpen. One of the Hunters who was temporarily helping out while his arm healed held up a yellow writing pad with a message written in fat blue marker “Shanda’s got a werewolf downtown. Can your team help?”

Hard Hunting
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The Apocalypse We Chose: Take the fight to the woods


James’s Note: There are a lot of no win situations in the apocalypse. This one was a really close vote, and I can see why. A shoot out among the pine trees may have been the best call. Let’s hope your wood craft is up to it.


Sitting here and getting shot at sounds like a stupid plan. Besides, maybe you can draw fire away from your Jeep.

You get low and peak under your Jeep as shots fall around you. You think you make out four guys, armed with handguns as far as you can tell.

You decide you’d rather fight the men in the woods than out here in the open. Crouching low against your Jeep, you get ready to dash to the treeline. You hear the gunfire stop and hope to God they’re reloading.

Rifle pulled tight against your body, you run. Your heart is pounding in your ears and you find yourself praying these guys aren’t crack shots. Just as you reach the woods edge and dive behind a pine tree, you hear a bullet crack into the wood.

You take a minute to steady your breathing and calm down. The men are shouting in the distance and you hear them crashing through the trees. They’re definitely coming for you.

You get low and stay quiet. You try to tell yourself that it’s just like deer hunting with your dad, but a part of your brain reminds you the whitetails weren’t carrying Glocks.

You move a little deeper into the woods, trying to get away from the spot they saw you enter. Getting off the X is the first rule of a fire fight.

You catch sight of a big man carrying an even bigger revolver. He’s shouting at one of the men over his shoulder. He never sees you as you bring the rifle up to your shoulder. Your hand starts to shake, just like it did when you shot your first buck. You breathe deep and squeeze the trigger.

You were aiming for his center body mass, but the bullet goes high and you catch him in the throat. Blood starts spraying, splattering the foliage with red.

You keep moving. You know they heard that gunshot. You circle around, keeping the dying man in your sight. Your great-uncle always told you that in Vietnam the enemy prefered to wound a soldier rather than kill him, because that means his buddies would have to come help him.

I’ll be damned, you think to yourself, Uncle Jack was right. 

A man with a black bandana runs straight for the one you just shot. He crouches down beside him, trying to stop the bleeding. You take another breath. You take another shot. The bullet takes off the top of his head.

You move around, quietly as you can, listening. Back towards the road, you hear someone cursing. You see a man in a black trench coat, a Glock in each hand, running full speed towards the shouts of his friends. Your shot takes him square in the chest and he goes down hard.

You try to stay quiet, but your breathing is ragged. You rake your eyes over the woods. You know there’s one more of them.

Suddenly you feel like there’s a rock in the bottom of your stomach. Someone is behind you. You spin as fast as you can, barely in time to stop the knife from plunging into your neck. Instead, you catch it in the upper bicep.

Damn, this guy was quiet. 

Before he can pull out the blade and stab you again, you ram your knee into his groin. He doubles over in pain and you grab the hatchet out of your belt. You realize almost too late that he’s going for a boot knife. Luckily, he never gets it out. You sink the hatchet into the top of his skull. His bloody knife gets dislodged in the struggle and falls to the forest floor.

You pull a bandana out of your pocket and tie it around the wound in your arm. Exhausted, you stumble back towards the road. You see the woman rifling through your Jeep. When she notices you, she screams and takes off running.

What do you do?

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1. The Apocalypse We Chose
2. Go for the Jeep
3. Head for the Deer Camp
4. Approach with Caution, Gun Ready
5. Take the Fight to the Woods
6. Loot the Dead

Little Haven: You pick up the book


Sharon’s note: Felt like taking a chance? Awesome. Now things are about to really get interesting. Warning: Author is totally willing to poke readers to get a reaction.


Hands shaking, I reach out and pick up the book. The cover writhed under my hands for a moment before going still. The tapping stopped and the flowers went out, their scent quickly fading from the air. Even the blood disappeared from the floor. 

“My, my. I think you and I could have some fun.”

The voice wasn’t something I heard with my ears. It was in my head, but that didn’t stop me from asking out loud, “Who’s there?”

Whatever it was didn’t have a chance to answer as the front door opened and Lorena walked through. A few strands of hair had escaped their confinement and she looked vaguely annoyed. I got the distinct feeling that this was as frazzled as she ever got. Or that was what I assumed until she saw me standing there with the book in my hand.

“Oh, you moron!” She hissed. “You couldn’t just sit there for a few minutes?”

“The book was bleeding and. . .” 

“And you thought it was a good idea to pick up the bleeding book?” She rolled her eyes. “I suppose it spoke to you as well? Promised you things?”

“Might have done.” I mumbled, looking at the floor.

“Well, you’re screwed now. Congratulations.” Lorena stalked across the room and grabbed my plate and water bottle, even though I wasn’t finished. Guess I had lost my cookie privileges. 

“What do you mean, I’m screwed?” I followed her into the kitchen. It was decorated in the same mixture of mundane and occult as the living room. There were strange looking idols and a stone knife next to a cookie jar shaped like a rooster. 

“I mean, you accepted a pact with a bound demon. It will slowly seduce you with evil and power until you are corrupted enough for it to switch places with you and steal your body while trapping you in the book.” She angrily dropped my cookies and water in the trash before starting to wash the plate.

“She’s lying. Don’t listen to her. I’m your friend.” I’m guessing it was the book talking in my head. It probably was a demon. That made as much sense as anything else tonight.

“Look, you’re not looking at an easy road. I only know one way out of this deal, and that’s if you die before the demon corrupts you.” Lorena put the plate in a drying rack, then turned to face me while leaning against the counter. “If you want to tough it out and try to find a cure I won’t stop you. I’ve seen crazier things happen in this town than someone getting out of a demon deal. The other option is to just get it over with right now. Give me the word and I’ll do it for you. It’s probably what I would do and I can promise you that you won’t feel a thing.”

I was too stunned for the moment to say anything. The demon book didn’t have this problem.

“Don’t listen to her. You’ve seen all the strange things she keeps in her home. She’s a vampire and she likes to collect powerful objects. She’s held me prisoner here for almost twenty years. She’ll kill you no matter what you say. Use my power and we can kill her instead. Then we’ll both be safe. What do you say?”

 

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Hard Hunting Pt 5


Sharon’s Note: I cried when I wrote this. I hadn’t cried about my condition in a long time, I didn’t realize I needed to. I’ve always loved the saying that writing is easy, you just sit in front of a typewriter and bleed. I did that, and I have to say I felt better than I had in a while. Warning: Mind the emotional blood on the pages.


“Good.” Seth nodded, then broadsided me with, “So what’s actually bothering you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You let Fank get to you. Normally, you’re better than that. So what’s bothering you? It looks like you’re walking ok today, but are you actually having a bad day?” Sometimes Seth was too observant. He could tell just by watching me cross the floor how exhausted I was. When I was having a bad day, one where my body just didn’t want to listen and I had to fight to walk, I couldn’t hide it from him. I could forget trying to hide any emotional problems. It was a good quality in a leader, but I hated it sometimes. It was bad enough I couldn’t lie to him, but he wouldn’t even let me lie to myself.

I sighed heavily. “No, I’m actually having a pretty good day. Maybe that’s the problem. I’m doing all my p.t., and my therapist swears I’m on track, but . . . I have this feeling that I might me reaching my limit. What if this is as good as it gets? What if I never get any better than this? There’s so many things I can’t do, Seth. Every second of every day, I have to plan, because if I don’t I’ll wear myself out accidentally, and I’ll be useless for the next day. Maybe multiple days. I’ve never been much for spontaneity, but there’s none in my life now. 

“Every morning when I wake up, I’m either in pain, or weak, or so stiff I have to fight to make my way to the bathroom. I used to be able to run. I used to be able to fight. I was a Tae Kwon Do national champion, for christ sake. That’s all gone now. Do you know what I’d give just to be able to jump again? Some days I get too exhausted to move around the house, I have to grab onto the furniture and hold myself up, or use the damn walker. I’m not old. I shouldn’t have to use a freaking walker.

“Sometimes my foot drags like it’s dead, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t get it to lift like a normal human being. Sometimes my mouth stops working and my jaw gets heavy, and the best I can do is slur out words. Sometimes I can’t speak at all and I’m afraid I won’t be able to ever again. I spent a month not able to speak, Seth. I couldn’t tell everyone how much it hurt, or how scared I was. I still can’t, because they’ll either tell me to suck it up, or worse yet, they’ll feel sorry for me. You know why people feel sorry for you? Because you’re broken. I’m not broken. I can’t be broken. 

“And I know there are people out there that have it worse than I do, and I think that makes it worse, sometimes. How can I tell them how bad I feel sometimes? I’m ok, and I know I’m ok, but sometimes . . . sometimes . . .” It happened then like it had happened before. I couldn’t speak, but I couldn’t tell if it was because my mouth freezing or because I was crying too hard. My breath hitched and my hands shook and my tears were falling so regularly they were running into my open mouth as I gasped for breath. It was like tasting sea water.

Seth didn’t say anything, he just rolled around beside me and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. I cried against him. It was only for a few minutes but I felt better. You can’t cry forever, but sometimes you have to let it out. It’s good for the soul.

“Bad mental days are bad days too.” He murmured into my hair. “Never be afraid to come to me if you need to talk, ok? I don’t care what it is, if you think it sounds selfish or stupid. If you need to say it, I will listen. Now, I want you to go to the bathroom and splash some water in your face. After that, let me know if you can go on to work, or if you need to go home. Do you want to talk to Miranda?”

Miranda was one of our on site psychologists. It wasn’t that I had a problem with talking to her. Everyone knew how important it was to look after your mental health around here. Those who didn’t, didn’t last very long. I just didn’t feel like talking anymore and I shook my head. “Nah. I’m good. I just needed to get that out, I guess. Sorry for getting your shirt wet.”

He glanced down at it, then shrugged. “There’s no snot on it, so we’re all good.”

Hard Hunting
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Witcher Man and the Case of the Wolf that Wasn’t: Part 19


James’s Notes: In this episode, we get to meet Dimitri, a dapper, older Russian gentleman that I think you’re really going to like. He may be more than he appears, though…


I finally bid my two friends farewell and allowed Damien to deliver me to his Alpha. He was a little grumpy on the way, after being backed down by Ollie, but he didn’t mention it, obviously hoping I wouldn’t either. He had no idea how lucky he was. If Tasha had walked in to find him threatening her sweetheart, Damien would have found himself on the floor. Drowning. Possibly in his own blood.

The meeting with Wolfgang was painful in creative new ways that set it apart from all the kinds of pain I had experienced over the last couple of days. Unlike Damien, he was unfailingly polite. He was actually as smooth as the beta thought he was. 

Like Damien, however,, he was an arrogant douchebag. Our conversation was full of him making little power plays that I resolutely refused to acknowledge. That’s why at one point I could count his nose hairs, since he kept trying to take my space and I just stood there like a hickory stump.

“My pack thanks you for your help, Witcherman, and you will be paid for your time, but that’s it. Your involvement in this matter is at an end. We will handle the creature.”

“Oh how full of crap you are, let me count the ways. First, calling him a creature is really rich coming from your royal furriness. Second, he will eat your sack lunch if you try to take him on in a fair fight.”

Wolfgang was a lot better at putting up with my crap than Damien. “And you think you can take him in a fair fight?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous”, I smirked, “I’ve never been in a fair fight in my life.”

The upshot of the whole meeting was that after a lot of haggling, I gave up a good chunk of my fee to get the right to handle this in my own way. Wolfgang is proud, but he’s also a cheapskate, so he finally caved. I really didn’t want to give up the cash, but I’d rather take a loss than have a few dozen dead werewolves on my consciousness.  That’s the sort of burden that can end up weighing more than a feather.

After all the arguing and drama, it lead up to me standing in the same darkened alley were just two days ago my mini had been so brutally assaulted. Wolfgang’s pack was gathered here, but keeping a safe distance, per my instructions. It wasn’t as hard to get them to do that as you might think. The main reason for this being the man standing beside me.

  Dimitri was a tall, thin man wearing a particularly classy pinstripe black suit. Everything from his carefully slicked-back hair to his pocket handkerchief was studiously maintained. His gray hair and wire frame glasses gave him the look of an antiquarian, or possibly the type of librarian it doesn’t pay to cross.

“ Are you certain you have performed the ritual correctly, Daniel?” His Russian accent was smooth and cultured, the kind that sounds most at home saying words like Tolstoy and Dostoevsky

 I had spent the last several hours drawing the Arcane Circle that stood on the ground before us. It was a type of summoning spell, not the type you would use on a demon that would cause it to appear in the middle, but the type that would cause the subject of the summoning to be inexplicably drawn to it. It did require a sample from the subject, but luckily blood, fur, and other bodily fluids had been abundant at the scene of our fight.

 I sighed heavily but did not roll my eyes, not wishing to give offense. “Yes Dimitri, I’m sure. He’ll be here.”  No sooner had I said that, then I could hear all the werewolves phoned seem to go off at once. It seems the scouts they had posted were calling in. I nodded to Dimitri.

“Showtime”, I said with a smile.

Part 1     Part 2     Part 3     Part 4     Part 5     Part 6     Part 7     Part 8     Part 9     Part 10
Part 11    Part 12    Part 13     Part 14     Part 15     Part 16     Part 17     Part 18     Part 19
Part 20     Part 21    

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The Apocalypse We Chose: Approach With Caution, Gun Ready


James’s Note: You decide, for lack of better options, to approach the situation on foot. You give up the mobility of your Jeep, but it’s kinda hard to drive and use a rifle at the same time. In case anyone was wondering, the rifle is an M4 carbine in 5.56×45mm NATO with a thirty round magazine.


The bloody woman continues to wave you over hysterically. You slow the Jeep while you think.

On the one hand, you have a bad feeling about this. This whole scene is setting off your Spidey Sense. On the other hand, you don’t really want to try to squeeze through that ditch in four wheel drive and it would be a long way around to double back.

Besides, she might actually need help, right?

You stop the Jeep and hop out, grabbing the rifle and chambering a round. You double check to make sure the safety is off. For good measure, you slip the hatchet into your belt.

Your heart pounds in your ears. This is just how your dad talked about feeling back in his Sherrif’s Deputy days when he’d make a suspicious traffic stop. You wish he was here now. You’re glad you hung on every word when he told you cop stories.

Rifle in a low ready position, you call out to the woman. “Ma’am, I want to help, but you need to walk towards me slowly, hands out where I can see them.”

Her voice is hoarse from screaming. 

“My baby! He’s stuck in the car! You have to help him.”

You breathe deep. Panic is contagious and your dad always said that keeping your cool is how you stay in control.

You take a few more steps forward. You hope your voice carries that smooth confidence your dad had when he did his cop voice.

“Ma’am, you need to calm down and come over here so I can help you.”

The woman is in a full blown panic, but you tune her out when you see movement in the trees. Your stomach turns to ice. Sun hits the shiny chrome barrel of a revolver. 

Fuck! Dad always did call this the oldest trick in the book. You dive behind the Jeep just as the men who had been hiding along the road open fire.

The woman, all panic suddenly gone, takes cover behind an immobile red sedan as soon as the first shot goes off.

You wince as a round ricochetes off the bumper of your Jeep. If they put bullet holes in your jeep, you swear to God….

What do you do?

Click Here To Read More of Our Stories

1. The Apocalypse We Chose
2. Go for the Jeep
3. Head for the Deer Camp
4. Approach with Caution, Gun Ready
5. Take the Fight to the Woods
6. Loot the Dead

Little Haven: And Now You Wait


Sharon’s Note: I see I have some Cabin in the Woods fans reading. “If they don’t transgress, they can’t be punished.” Good rule. Very true to fairy tales. Are you sure this is a fairy tale? Warning: The monsters might not have read the same books you have.


I took deep breaths, fighting for my composure. I drank my water and that helped too. The cookies were no longer oven-fresh but they were still delicious. 

Something thumped hard into the wall separating the two sides of the house and I nearly fell off the couch. Something screamed, but it couldn’t have been Lorena. A human just didn’t have that kind of lung capacity.

 I closed my eyes, squeezing my hands into tight fists. The smell of flowers and flame teased my nose. I opened my eyes and looked around frantically. The flowers hanging in front of the fireplace were starting to burn. There was no visible fire, but they were slowly turning to ash from the petals up like burning incense. 

Something was tapping. 

I looked at the window, expecting to see my land lady there, but there was no one. The tap came again. I scanned the room and finally saw where the noise was coming from. There was a mirror in the corner of the room. It had a heavy gilt frame and I could barely see the glass from where I sat. That didn’t stop me from seeing the elegant black gloved hand that tapped from the wrong side of the mirror like it was trying to politely entreat my attention.

I did fall off the couch then, and hunched down low so whoever, whatever it was couldn’t see me. The carpet squished beneath my fingers. I lifted my hand to see it coated with blood. Something was whispering. I couldn’t understand the actual words being said, but I felt what they meant. They promised safety in power and wealth from sacrifice. Slowly I looked up and I saw blood oozing from between the pages of the book. The red leather writhed like worms crawled beneath it. Scrambling to my feet to get out of the blood I:

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Witcher Man and the Case of the Wolf That Wasn’t: Part 18


James’s Note: I am a sucker for a good relationship. I just don’t see enough of them in stories. I also love the trope of the gorgeous woman with the funny looking guy who is actually awesome. I also like the reverse, but you hardly ever see that. Maybe I’ll have to write one of those some day…


Ollie rolled his eyes, “Picky picky picky. But yeah, I think I can come up with something. I’ve been playing around with some of those frag 12 shotgun rounds. I’m normally not allowed to sell them to civilians, but we’ve never let a little thing like federal law come between our friendship. They’re basically a grenade shoved into a shotgun shell, and I’ve added my own artistic flare.”

 Knowing Ollie, artistic flare probably meant extra high explosives, silver, and a live hornets nest for all I know. “Do you think it’ll stop a loup-garou?”

“Maybe”, he said, “if you emptied a whole magazine into his face. But I figure what it will mostly do is give you time. I’m assuming you have another plan. You always do.”

“Yeah”, I said grinning. I kind of like being famous for my cleverness. Sue me. “That actually brings me to the next thing I need. I need you to get in touch with Dimitri for me.”

Ollie groaned, “Dimitri? Really? You know that crazy bastard scares the crap out of me.”

“Yeah I know. And coming from a crazy bastard like you, that’s really saying something. But yeah I really need him and you calling in your favor is probably the only way I’m getting him Into the country.”

 “Yeah well”, Olly sighed resignedly, “it’s not like you don’t have plenty of favors with me you could call in. All right, I’ll call him. Although, in all honesty, when he hears what we’ve got, he just might hop on a plane anyway.” 

I smiled slightly. “That’s kind of what I’m hoping for.”

Tasha came back with my tea, and it really did make everything feel better. Not only did I feel like I was going to live, but now I actually wanted to. She fussed over me for a bit, making me blush so constantly that I could have passed for some sort of colorful songbird. Luckily, this is nothing new for her, so she politely declined to notice. 

You see, Tasha is, well, an interesting case. She’s only about half human. The other half is hard to pin down. My best guess is some kind of spirit. Once, when I really got her feeling talkative, she told me she was the River’s Daughter. 

 No, I haven’t the foggiest idea what that means and I’ve never wanted to press the matter. All I know is that she has more magic than I’ve ever seen in anyone who could pass for human. I’m not sure if her sex appeal is supernatural, or if it’s just a combination of her nearly perfect body and the fact that she is genuinely the kindest person I’ve ever met.

The whole time Ollie hung around, teasing me and making my blush a few shades closer to fire engine territory. You’d think he would be jealous, but you’d be wrong. The looks he gave her, especially when she wasn’t looking, were the kind of utter adoration that doesn’t leave room for the kind of doubt that allows jealousy. The really amazing part is that when he looked away, she was giving him the same looks. 

I totally understood. This funny looking little werewolf had a stronger character and a kinder heart than just about anyone. I guess the beautiful spirit princess figured there were more important things than looks.

Part 1     Part 2     Part 3     Part 4     Part 5     Part 6     Part 7     Part 8     Part 9     Part 10
Part 11    Part 12    Part 13     Part 14     Part 15     Part 16     Part 17     Part 18     Part 19
Part 20     Part 21    

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