AJ and Cia, please contact me at mistressnonny@gmail.com for your prizes.

For those confused, SSR is a prequel to my Shadowguard series that I’m offering for free. It’s about Arielle as a broke college kid trying to make an extra buck offering psychic services — except she’s not expecting to get involved in a murder case.

If you missed the first chapters, they’re located here.

CHAPTER THREE

Samuel crossed his arms over his chest, glaring. “You gave me the brush-off, told me to get counseling, and take it to the cops that wouldn’t help me in the first place. Why the fuck are you back here now?” He said the epithet like it was one, unlike the rest of the school who used it as often as a 90s valley girl said ‘like.’

I winced. I’d known this was going to happen—and I couldn’t blame him. I’d be just as pissed if I were in his shoes. Now, the question: Tell the truth, or make up an elaborate lie?

I opted for truth. Lies are a pain in the ass to remember, not to mention a sin—but I’ve got bigger sins under my belt. “I admit it. I wrote you off as a grieving guy desperate to believe his girlfriend hadn’t killed herself. But…”

“What?” He leaned forward, suddenly curious. Amazing, that.

I explained what I’d found in my dorm yesterday and my altercation with the cops. “I don’t think Kristen’s death was a suicide, and what are the chances of two suicides occurring on the same college campus within 48hrs? Not very likely. It’s highly suspicious.”

He still looked doubtful. “But why do you care? What’s it matter to you? You’re not involved.”

“Well, actually, I am.” I told him about the rose and showed him the note. “I think whoever did this wants to keep me away from it. I don’t know why, but I intend to find out.”

“You’re crazy.” Samuel stared at me like I’d grown three heads.

I shrugged. “I’m a psychic. I have to be, right? But that doesn’t matter. Do you want me to find out who killed your girl or not? The door’s right over there, and I can walk out just as easily—”

“No!” he cut me off. “No, no. I want you to help me. It’s just… I didn’t expect this.”

“Neither did I,” I said dryly. But when you’re in my business, you learn to expect the unexpected.

“So… what do we do first?” he asked hesitantly.

“In order to get a good reading on Nancy’s energy, I’m going to need some of her personal belongings. Is there anything she was particularly attached to? A stuffed animal, maybe?”

He thought for a couple moments. “Yeah. We’ll need to get it before her parents come down here though. They’re supposed to be here tomorrow.”

“No time like the present then!” I clapped my hands together and stood.

“Umm.” Samuel looked at me strangely. “She had a private room, and I don’t have the key. How are we going to get in?”

I smiled wickedly. “Don’t worry about it.”

“But…”

“Trust me. It won’t be a problem. I promise. Psychic’s honor.” I mock-saluted.

Samuel shook his head like he wanted to argue but didn’t dare. “Okay. Whatever you say.”

This was going to be fun.

*          *          *

It didn’t take long to get to Nancy’s dorm. Fortunately, the place was all but deserted, so there were no weird looks when we came into the hall. I followed Samuel through the building until he stopped in front of a door. “Here it is. Work your magic,” he said with more than a bit of sarcasm in his voice.

I chuckled and rested my hand on the doorknob, whispering to the lock’s mechanism. Something people don’t understand is that everything has a spirit—and spirits can be coaxed.

This one, however, was particularly stubborn and took several minutes of wheedling—interjected by Samuel sighing and rolling his eyes—before it finally clicked open.

Samuel’s eyes popped and his jaw dropped. “How—?” he squeaked.

I flashed a grin at him, stepping into the room. “Magic.”

The inside of the room looked like a Goth’s wet dream. The walls weren’t painted black—I imagine the college administration would have a shit fit if she’d gone that far—but the curtains had been replaced with black ones, her bedding was black, the walls were covered with posters of vampires, fake witches, and the occasional bad-in-black band. The number of skulls around the room was a dead giveaway, too.

Samuel closed the door behind us. “She called it her sanctuary.”

I closed my eyes and breathed in the energy of the room. Despite the dark exterior, the energy was clean and free-flowing, filled with enthusiasm and joy. Not the type of energy you’d find in the home of somebody suffering from depression bad enough to commit suicide.

I glanced over at the black-lace-trimmed bed and raised my eyebrows. A stuffed animal was set against the pillow, but it wasn’t like anything I’d ever seen. It looked like several different animals sewn together by blood-red thread into a black patchwork teddy bear.

“Nancy called it her Frankenbear,” Samuel said. I hadn’t even asked, but I guess the question had been obvious. “It was her favorite.”

I picked it up, feeling the energy within. One word, and only one, would suffice: Love. If she had been depressed, it would’ve exuded sadness and despair, the energy darkness bleak enough to make the color of the toy pale in its wake.

There was one more thing I had to check first. “Did the cops take Nancy’s backpack? The stuff that she had on her the day she—” I didn’t finish my sentence.

“No.” Samuel shook his head and brushed past me. He rummaged under her bed and pulled out a large backpack—black, but no surprise there. “They said she died around 9pm. By that point, she’d already dumped it all here and gotten dressed nice to go out.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Date with you?”

“No,” he said, and his eyes darkened. “I don’t know the name of the guy, but like I said the other day, she’d been seeing some other dude. A buddy of mine told me he’d seen her at this night club with him more than once. I didn’t like the idea that she was two-timing me, which is why I came to you in the first place—”

“Do you know the name of the club?” I interrupted. I didn’t need to hear the ‘woe is me, my girlfriend is a cheater’ spiel.

“Shadowscape. It’s pretty far from here, in downtown LA.”

I nodded. Getting there wouldn’t be a problem. Between the car and Google Maps, I’m all set. “I’ll check it out.”

Then I had a thought. “Um. How trustworthy is this buddy of yours?”

He looked surprised. “Very. Why?”

Oh, boy. I suppressed the urge to groan. “Are you trying to tell me your high school didn’t have boy/girl drama?”

“I was homeschooled.”

That explained a lot. “All right. Here’s a scenario. We’ve got a boyfriend and a girlfriend who are deeply in love with each other. Then we’ve got this unscrupulous fellow over here—could even be a girl, but let’s go with a guy for this example—who is madly in lust with the girl and wants to break them up. He gets close with the guy and starts telling him stories about seeing his girl with other men and shit like that. Maybe the boyfriend breaks up with her on the spot, but let’s say he doesn’t. Let’s say he asks his girlfriend about it and she insists nothing happened. What’s dude to think but she’s a liar?

Samuel’s jaw was making out with the floor again. “I—I’ve known Chuck for months. He’d never do anything like that.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

“How can you be positive?” I folded my arms over my breasts.

Samuel wiped his forehead, muttering something under his breath. “Okay, look, you can’t tell this to anybody because he would kill me if it got out, but…”

“But?”

“He’s gay.”

“Okay. Let’s change the scenario. Maybe he’s trying to get you to break up with Nancy so he can have you.”

Samuel smacked his forehead. “God! Will you knock off the conspiracy theory shit? Chuck’s got a boyfriend already. They’re serious about each other. Real serious. I mean, they’re even talking about transferring to a college in Massachusetts so they can get married.”

Well, that answered that. It was still theoretically possible that it could all be a ruse, but if he was that involved with somebody else, it really wasn’t likely. “Okay, so Nancy was going to a club with another guy. I’ll check it out and see what I can find. Now…”

I trailed off, bending down to the backpack. I riffled through the items within, and I didn’t find any trace of emotional distress. I did find strong traces of lust and anticipation, which went along with the whole cheating theory. They could possibly be for Samuel, but since she was supposed to have a date with another guy that night, it wasn’t too likely.

In the bottom of the backpack, I found a silver bracelet that exuded an entirely different energy. Deep, masculine, heady. If it were a cologne, I’d be rubbing my face all over the guy just to get more of that delicious scent. That wasn’t like me.

But, it explained the cheating. I have strong willpower, and if I was tempted by the mere scent of the bracelet—then it would be nearly impossible for a girl with less strength of will to resist. I wasn’t going to tell Samuel that, though.

I held it up to him, even though I knew the answer. “Was this hers?”

He took a close look at it and shook his head. “No. I’ve never seen it before.”

“The energy doesn’t feel like the rest of her stuff. I think it might be from the guy she was seeing. Mind if I keep it? It might help me identify him.” Or it might help me trace him, if it came down to that.

Samuel shrugged. “I don’t care. I don’t want it.”

Big surprise there. I slid it into a Ziploc bag and put it in my backpack, then continued to scan the room. On her desk was a professional studio picture of a young blonde woman dressed in black, but lacking the characteristic Goth makeup. Probably to appease the parents. I took the picture in hand and asked, “Is this Nancy?”

“Yes. It’s about a year old, she said, but she doesn’t—didn’t—look much different,” he said, his voice breaking with pain when he made the correction.

“I’d like to take it with me so I have something to show people at the club.” I took the photo out of the frame and dumped the cheap piece of junk in the trash. My eyes set on a hairbrush filled with blonde hairs. I grinned. Jackpot. “And this, in case I need to do any spell-work.”

“Spell-work?” Samuel looked at me suspiciously. “You’re not going to do anything that could harm her soul, are you?”

I made a face. “Of course not. But hair is a physical tie, whereas everything else is emotional. I might be able to use this hair to identify the killer, if he still has anything of her on him.”

Or I might be able to use it to call up her spirit from the dead to answer vital questions, but Samuel definitely didn’t need to know about that. Contact with the spirits of the dearly departed is not exactly conducive to the mourning process.

“Okay,” he said. “Take whatever you need. Anything that will help. I just want to find out the truth.”

I put the items in my pack, took a deep breath, and turned to face Samuel. “There’s still a lot I don’t know, but I can tell you this with absolute certainty. Nancy did not kill herself. There are no signs of depression or emotional distress in any of her belongings. I don’t know what happened to her, but I will do everything I can to find out.”

“Thank you,” he said, the gratitude plain in his voice and face. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

I waved him off. “Don’t thank me until after you’ve seen my bill. I don’t work normally work murder cases. I could be risking my pasty white ass here.”

“If the note’s to be believed, your—err—ass is already at risk,” he pointed out.

“Don’t remind me,” I said with a sigh and left the room.

~*~

I made my way to the bar, squeezing my way through the throng of people. “I hate crowds,” I muttered under my breath, strengthening my shields so I didn’t enter the TMI zone. Sometimes being an empath sucks.

Eventually, I got to the bar and let out a sigh of relief. The bartender came up to me, a cheery grin on his face. He almost had to yell to be heard. “What’s your poison?”

“None, thanks,” I yelled back. I fumbled in my pocket for the picture of Nancy and held it up to him. “But I was wondering if you recognized this woman?”

He took a closer look. “Oh, Nan! Yeah, she’s a regular here. Doesn’t dress like that, though.”

I glanced at the frilly white pinafore she wore in the picture and laughed. “No, I would suppose not. When’s the last time you saw her here?”

He held up his hand and walked over to the other bartender and said something to her. She nodded, and he came back to me. “Let’s step outside, where it’s quieter.”

“Great idea,” I said, and followed him outside and down the street a bit. I shivered; it wasn’t that cold outside, but compared to the heat of the club, it might ’s well have been the Arctic.

“By the way, I’m Jared,” he said with a smile.

“Arielle,” I offered in return, then decided to get the discussion back on track. “So when’s the last time you saw Nancy?”

Jared rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Last Saturday. She didn’t show on Wednesday, which had some of us concerned. She almost never misses a day unless something’s really wrong.” His eyes snapped to me. “Is that why you’re here? Did something happen?”

I bit my lip. Great. Time to drop the bomb. “Nancy died Wednesday night.  The cops ruled it a suicide, but her boyfriend and I don’t think that’s true. We think something else happened.”

His face went pale as a china teacup. “Oh my god. I had no idea.”

Oh, great. Jared looked like he was about to cry. I felt awkward as an anorexic hippo performing Swan Lake. I don’t do comfort well. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I wish there was something I could say.”

His eyes snapped to mine. “There isn’t. But there is something you can do.”

“What?”

“Find out who did this and bring them to justice.” Jared set his jaw, eyes blazing with fury. “It’s too late to save Nan, but maybe you can save someone else from ending up like her.”

“That’s the plan.”

~*~

Check out a few of the other Excerpt Monday pieces here:

Mel Berthier, Urban Fantasy (PG 13)
Bryn Donovan, Paranormal  (PG)
RF Long, Paranormal (PG 13)
Crista McHugh, Paranormal  (PG 13)

Evie Byrne, Historical Romance (R)
Grace Draven, Fantasy Romance (R)
Cate Hart, YA- Paranormal  (R)

Aislinn Kerry, Paranormal (R)
Kirsten Saell, Erotic – Fantasy (NC 17)

Yay! Release day! The Twilight Deception is officially out from Liquid Silver Books.

When the FBI receives word of vampire-related murders, they order tough-as-nails resident witch Arielle Thompson to investigate. But the last thing Arielle expects is to have her butt saved by a friendly vampire who claims he’s tracking the master vamp responsible for the murders.

Despite her wounded pride, Arielle can’t help her inexplicable attraction to this sexy-as-sin vampire who calls himself simply “Jackson.” He reluctantly informs her that their enemy is far more powerful than reports said — and his powerbase is only increasing.

Arielle and Jackson must team up to stop him, before he grows too powerful to defeat.

I hope it sounds as interesting to y’all, because I certainly had fun writing it.

Now, the contest…

Everyone in the last contest gave me some great ideas, and I think I will be using a particular one credited to Warinbear over at LiveJournal: poetry. Or, pooh-etry, if you prefer.

Limerick, haiku, sonnet, whatever. Be creative, and make me laugh. But it must match a theme: Darkness, hope, vampires, paranormal, blood, love. Mix, match, however you please. As long as your masterwork has some relation, it’s wide open for the contest.

The winner will receive a free copy of The Twilight Deception and mention in the acknowledgments of the sequel (or, a named walk-on role, if preferred). I’ll name the winner one week from today.

Have fun!

My contribution is part of a 20k novella about Arielle, heroine of my Shadowguard series. It’s a prequel, beginning when she’s a poor college kid trying to make her way with a bit of psychic work on the side. Until her roommate is murdered by preternatural means…

Here’s a snippet:

Great. That was a waste of two hours. I glowered, shrugging my backpack over my shoulder, and stalked out of my class. For the millionth time, I wondered what I’d been thinking when I picked my major. Apparently, I hadn’t been. The only thing psychology courses taught me was to hate people even more than when I started—and that took some doing.

But, three years into my undergrad, there’s not much I can do but suck it up and hope I can use the fancy schmancy piece of paper to find a decently paying job.

I slid my PDA out of my pocket and checked the calendar. No more classes today—yay—but I had an appointment in forty minutes with one Mr. Samuel Derkin. Bet everyone calls him Sammy.

That gave me enough time to dump my heavy-as-hell backpack (God, what is it about professors that require you to bring the damn book to class?) and get a shower in before I met the guy. He’d sounded scared and urgent on the phone earlier, but so does every kid that loses some precious knick-knack and thinks a psychic has a better chance at locating it.

Fortunately, I’m very good at finding lost things. Good enough to bring me in a decent supplementary income above the money my great-grandmother left me.

I sucked in a breath, pain surging in my gut. She’d lived a good life, and been more of a mom to me than my real mother. Everyone “knew” it was coming. I mean, when you’re over one hundred years old, you’ve gotta croak sometime, right?

Somehow, my sixteen-year-old self thought she would live forever, an immortal among men. Then she died. Peacefully, in her sleep. Her children and grand-children fought over her belongings and sold what they didn’t want. They didn’t give a shit if I wanted it, and I watched some of my beloved keepsakes, things that had been promised me, go up on the estate sale.

The dead have little influence over the decisions of the living. But my family couldn’t touch the money that Grandmama put in a trust for me. She wanted me to have the education that my mother would never provide.

Pity they don’t offer classes for psychics. That would rock.

Someone bumped into me and made a derisive comment about standing in the doorway. “Sorry,” I mumbled. I didn’t mean it a bit, but I took it as a hint that if I wanted my shower, I’d better stop thinking about the past and get a move on.

Interested? Read the first two chapters here!

I’ll be posting new chapters once a week until it’s completed.

YAY! *pops da bubbly*

I’m so looking forward to this book being out again. It’s the first in a series about Arielle, a witch reluctantly working for the FBI, and Jackson, the alien vampire that turns her world upside down. Murder, magic, mayhem — what more can you want?

(Oh yeah, hot sex. That’s there, too. Really!)

Anyway… as I do with all my releases, I’ll be holding a contest. But! I have no idea what. Yes, I’m drawing a blank. I want to do something that is creative, fun, and quick. I don’t want to stick with Ye Olde “Pick A Number” again.

So! This is where you come in.

Between today (May 30) and June 7, comment to this post with contest ideas. I’ll look them over, and my favorite will win a prize book from my backlist. (Or perhaps a gift certificate to an online booksteller, if the winner already has all my backlist )

Just a note — I’ll be running these contests concurrently on LJ and my blog. There will, thus, be TWO winners — one from each!

Sound fun? Okay! On your mark… get set… brainstorm!

Secondly, I have a new website design! If you’re reading this by RSS, please click over and check it out, because it’s gorgeous. I owe major thanks to Ilona Andrews for the header design, and to Rowan Larke for all the work she did getting the theme worked out and colored. Kudos and everlasting gratitude, ladies!

And best for last… *drumroll* I have a new cover!

Isn’t it gorgeous? Christine Griffin did an amazing job! If you’d like to see the full size version, click here. I know what’s going to be my desktop wallpaper for awhile!

~*~

Jackson stared at me like I’d grown a second head, then his expression softened. “She’s beyond help, Arielle. I tried to help when I first found her, but she attacked me and would not relent. I touched her mind. There is nothing there but a frenzied beast.”

“So there’s nothing that can be done?”

He shook his head. “No. The first twenty-four hours are critical. I found her too late.”

“I don’t believe it,” I said flatly. “You’re just trying to make excuses cause you didn’t have the balls to help her.”

Jackson snarled. Faster than I could track, much less counter in my state, he grabbed my shoulders and swung me off the toilet. My back slammed against the wall, and he held me a good foot off the ground. Pissed off, I aimed my knee at his balls, but he moved to the side and slid his hip between my legs, preventing me from striking out again–and exciting me more than a little bit. Bastard.

“I am only going to say this once,” he hissed, eyes wild with fury. “If there had been any hope of it, I would have saved her. Do you think I like what he’s done? He has no respect for human lives, nor those of his own kind! She was beyond hope when I found her, yet I tried anyway. There is nothing that can be done to save her.”

I struggled against him, trying to free myself. Not like it did any good. I’m not weak by any stretch of the imagination, but I’m not a vampire, either, and he had a good advantage on me. “How do I know you’re telling me the truth?”

His mouth distorted into a grimace. “Are you questioning my honor?”

Oops. “Look, I don’t know what it’s like on your world, but around here, honor’s just a dead horse that a few old geezers keep beating.”

Jackson tilted his head, blinking with obvious confusion. “Your people … have no concept of honor?”

“Oh, we have the concept. We just decided it was antiquated and tossed it out the window. We replaced it with Egocentricity 9.0.” I hesitated a moment. “Can you put me down now? This isn’t exactly the most comfortable position, you know.”

His anger given way to shock, Jackson lowered me to the ground. “I hear your words, but I … I cannot believe…”

“You really haven’t been around here long, have you?”

Jackson shook his head mutely, looking totally bewildered. Great. So not only is he an alien vampire, he’s a Klingon vampire with a bad case of culture shock. How lovely.

I clapped him on the shoulder, deciding to ignore the whole pushing-me-up-against-the-wall deal. At least for now. Like it or not, we had to work together if we wanted any chance at finding the dude. Afterwards, on the other hand … “Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it. Now. About that girl and tracking Eliro…”

~*~

If you’re interested in reading more snippets of great work, check out these other Excerpt Monday blogs:

Aislinn Kerry

Elise Logan

Crista McHugh

Kirsten Saell

RF Long

and check out the main Excerpt Monday page for a full list of participants! Enjoy!

What the hell? >_O

Now, to work on Book 2…