How Nina Got Her Fang Back: Accidental Quickie (Accidentally Paranormal Series Book 13) (25 page)

I don’t believe in destiny. I would prefer to think that we all write our own future. But what if someone or something decides to interfere? Would we even know? Maybe I am right, and we
are
in charge of our own destiny. Now here’s the wildcard—that doesn’t mean we all don’t play a role in shaping each other’s future. As they say, no one person is an island. I’m perfectly fine with that as long as everyone is playing nice, and we help write each other’s
Happily Ever After
.

So the big question comes down to this—what if that someone or something that pokes around in your destiny is anything
but
nice? And they write
your
future to fulfill
their
dark plans? Can you take back control of your own destiny? I was about to find out firsthand. On an adventure that would carry me and my friends to the other side of the world to battle an evil witch and her dark minions. No shit.

Two Books In Progress

A
fter I returned from New Orleans, I spent a good deal of time talking with Hunter on the phone. He was excited about the new police academy program he was in, even though it felt to me like he had been shipped off to some far away country. I’d have to wait until the first week of August to enjoy the feeling of being wrapped in his arms once again. I needed to fill my time with something constructive—creative.

I came across an online advertisement from one of the smaller subsidiaries of a big publishing house. Their imprint was strictly for the mass market romance books, the kind you see in supermarkets and variety stores. The ad was a solicitation for submissions in a few of the more popular romance subjects—paranormal shifters, billionaires, erotic, and cowboys. I couldn’t think of a more fun way to pass my time than to write. I figured I could kick out two short books and then submit them. My urge to write was renewed. With the exciting possibility of getting one or both picked up for publication, it gave me a little incentive to complete a manuscript and submit it. My dream of becoming a summertime slug was in peril from my own hand, and my secret aspiration to become a best-selling author.

I sat down and talked it over with Luna. “So, which of these themes should I pick to write a story about? I’ve read some of the billionaire books, and they rank as some of my favorites.” It’s true. Let’s face it. It’s easy to get caught up in the fantasy of a hot romance story that involves a man with unlimited resources. The kind of man that can wield the kind of power that transcends the limits of us mere mortal, working class people. And not only did they ooze money and power, they were incredibly handsome men with impeccable taste. The key thing to getting yourself into those books is to first imagine that you’ve gone through a magical metamorphosis so you actually look the part. You know what I mean. It really kills the fantasy when you suddenly get an image of yourself disembarking from a multi-million dollar yacht in Monaco—yet you see yourself dressed as you are, in your faded comfy yoga pants—that have never met a yoga mat—and that old friend, the t-shirt so perfectly worn out that you could eat a pygmy hippo and it would still feel relaxed. If you’re like me, you may even have a couple of fresh drops of ice cream on your chin. I eat it right from the container when I’m reading. Yes, generating that kind of visual completely breaks all the rules of fantasy. It kills the mood, dead on arrival.

While I loved a number of the billionaire series, I didn’t want to get caught in the trap of having a story that would be too close to something written by my favorite go-to romance authors. “Hmm…I like to write erotic, but I need a good premise. Erotic, yet something with paranormal.” I asked Luna, “Another shifter story, maybe? But it
has
to tie into the billionaire theme.”

“Meow. Meow.”

“Billionaires. Werewolves. Were-naires?”

“Meee-oww.” It was a very disagreeing meow.

“I know, that sounds like a name for some weird body hair removal product. Ugh.”

“Meow.”

“I got it! Billion-weres!”

“Meow, meow.”

And that’s how I came up with my newest work,
Bangin’ the Billion-were,
an erotic tale about an extremely wealthy werewolf.

The other story had been something I thought about for a couple of months. It started one night when I was thinking about bats. They scare the hell out of me. I hate walking in my neighborhood at night because I would always see those furry, winged, rodent bastards flapping around the streetlights. So, I was trying to remember.
What time of the year do the bats start to leave for the caves for their winter hibernation?
The whole biology of hibernation has always fascinated me. I thought about Gertie and how she had been frozen. If she could be frozen for so long and then be just fine, there must be some method inside of all humans to be able to hibernate, just like those bats in their caves. Who knows? Maybe it’s something that at one time humans developed to get through the ice age. Later on humans would have lost the ability, because they just didn’t need it anymore.

But what if some humans had the ability to hibernate for as many years as they needed to? And what if these were the ones that survived the ice age, not by migrating south but by staying in the ice? Imagine this race of humans only came out of hibernation to go on a feeding frenzy, and then they went back to sleep. Now there wouldn’t be much to eat, so they would have to travel during this feeding. Perhaps they would attack other humans for their blood since they had become completely anemic from hibernating in ice caves. Their bodies would have developed accordingly. They would be spooky white with little to no hair on their heads. Pale, thin, and gaunt creatures that had a mouth full of sharp teeth, maybe they even formed fangs. I made myself shudder at the image I had envisioned. They’d probably have white eyes, maybe even red ones, just like an albino rabbit. My imagination terrifies me sometimes.

I thought about what I had imagined and realized something. These would be vampires, or at least pretty damn close. One night I had a dream about these creatures that had been hibernating since the ice age, but now that the earth was
warming
up, they were
waking
up. I was completely terrified and I swore I wouldn’t think about it, but I broke that promise quickly. In fact, I thought about it all the time, because I knew it would be an excellent idea to have in a book. I figured it might fit best in a dystopian setting that was the result of a cataclysmic climate shift, the kind that would pretty much wipe out known civilization. The vampires were awakened and they fed off of the humans that tried to survive. Maybe the humans even picked some of their own to hand over to the hungry vampires, in an attempt to appease them and avoid being attacked. The big decision was whether to write it as a young adult horror story or as a steamy romance. In the end, young adult won out over vampire smut.

I knew that I would be able come up with a very marketable plot by rehashing some themes of the most popular young adult, dystopian fiction. The title that came to mind was
Regurgitant
. I know, I sometimes disappoint people with my titles, but this one sounded perfect. It had a ring to it for some reason. I wasn’t sure if it was even a word. I looked it up and it meant
a backward blood flow
in a heart valve. Then I knew I had to use that title. It seemed to hint at the recycled dystopian theme. Better yet, it had to do with blood flow. Perfect!
Regurgitant
it was.

I could already envision myself getting a contract. Who knows? Perhaps there would someday be an entire
Regurgitant
trilogy. I spent the next few days concentrating on my stories, splitting my time between the two. Above all, I was particularly mindful not to use the names of
anyone
that I could remember, lest they become caught up in a real life story.

Only a week had passed since the coup d'état at the Witches Union. Luna and I were enjoying a quiet moment at the little table in my kitchen. I had a cup of tea and a stack of unread copies of the Chicago Tribune that had piled up. Luna was on the table preening herself. All cat lovers understand that it is a perfectly proper thing to have the cat on the table. And as long as you don’t have any company, it is perfectly fine for the cat’s tail to accidentally swipe the sugar bowl. I lazily flipped through the pages of newsprint with a sip of tea here and a bite of a bagel there. Luna pawed my phone closer to me, gave me a knowing stare, and then my phone began to ring. I nearly spit my tea across the table at her uncanny prediction.

And so it began with an early morning phone call from Kelly. I was immediately urged to get back into some spell crafting. My phone chimed again. It became a three-way call. Of course Lindsey was in on this conversation now as well. Luna turned her attention to the stack of papers.

“Leigh! Lindsey and I would like you to do a tune-up on Derek and Luke.”

“A tune-up?” I asked, and then Luna interrupted me.

“Meow, meow. Meow.” Luna was pushing a copy of the Tribune towards me. I glanced down and actually winced at the picture of a gorilla proudly urinating from atop the Buckingham Fountain. The headline read
Galloping Gorillas in Grant Park
. “Meow.”

“I know, Luna, I know. Also, that headline is a little cheesy for the Tribune, wouldn’t you say? Personally, I’d have gone with
Marauding Monkeys Mayhem on Michigan.
”

“Meow.”

“Are you talking to your cat again?”

“No. Yes. I mean, don’t you think those poor guys have been through enough? Besides, you make them sound like a couple of cars that are overdue on their maintenance plan. Talk about objectifying the opposite sex!” I had to laugh about how Kelly could sound so matter-of-fact and desperate both at the same time.

Lindsey jumped in. “Enough? No. Not even close. They can handle it. And I would like to remind you that you met Hunter in a hunk line-up on my roof. If I recall correctly, you looked him over like he was nothing more than a horse in a livestock auction. About the only thing you didn’t check over were his teeth. Or did you?” Lindsey and Kelly were laughing at the memory of that day. I was laughing, too, but I was also picturing Hunter’s tanned and toned body. I shook my head and tried not to think about him for the moment. I missed him already.

“You know what we need?” Kelly asked.

“Straitjackets.” I quipped.

“And tranquilizer injections.” Lindsey interjected.

“Lunch and some shopping, smartasses. Well, lunch for sure. Shopping may not involve actually buying anything, if my credit card company has any say in it, but it would be good to get out and about and act like normal girls for a change. And then the obligatory slumber party. So, meet me at my place about eleven? No broom travel today.” I was quick to add the caveat about my broom. No need to be in a hurry to fire up that little pocket sized, catastrophe-causing, witchcraft powered technology.

“And let’s dress up just a bit. Have some fun.” Kelly added, but it almost went without saying. Getting the right mix of classy casual was an important part of our big girl outings.

“Mag Mile? Or Old town?” I asked.

“The Mile!” Lindsey yelped. This was exactly what we needed, window shopping on the Magnificent Mile, Chicago’s premier shopping district on Michigan Avenue. Overboard, top of the line, much too expensive and exclusive for us, yet it was still fun to dip our toes in the pools of consumer excess. We always dressed up, but it’s not like we could afford to look pretentious. Besides, we were taking the L. That’s what Chicagoans call the elevated rail. Women looking to purchase the latest fashions, fresh from the runways of Paris, didn’t arrive on the L. Nor did they hop into shady, questionable, smoke filled taxi cabs, which would complete our last leg of the window shopping journey.

“Whatever we end up doing, you are both staying here tonight. A good old fashioned sleepover would be fun. I have a few ideas rolling around for new books and I’d like to know what you think.”

“That sounds awesome. Lindsey and I have been collaborating on a little romance story, and we could use another set of eyes to look it over.”

“Good! Now I won’t feel like I’m the only one that dreams up crazy little love stories.” Once our plans had been set in motion, I went back to finish my tea and flipped through the papers some more. I looked again at the glaring words
Galloping Gorillas in Grant Park
and flipped it over. “Meow.”

“I agree. Fucking critics.” That one, which Luna had so blatantly pushed in front of me, was then quickly tossed in the trash. “Come on, Luna, help me pick out something.” We walked to my room and Luna sat under the dress that Gertie had made for me.

“Meow. Meow.”

I looked it over and smiled. I really missed Gertie, but I knew she had her hands full on her paranormal plantation, even with Randy there to help out. And that was another thing, Randy is a bit of a scatterbrain himself. There is no telling what level of chaos those two could achieve, and I really looked forward to learning every detail.

Day Tripping

K
elly and Lindsey arrived just before noon and to my surprise, they were wearing their Gertie signature line of summer dresses. Each different, yet all in floral patterns. I laughed when I realized that we each had the same idea.

“Did you notice it yet?” Lindsey asked me.

“Yeah, we all miss Gertie already.”

“There is that, but… check this out.” Lindsey made a poor impression of a model posing the newest designer creation. A very poor impression.

“I got it! You’re a tired and disgruntled waitress waiting on an order! No, wait. You’re a constipated school teacher!” I teased.

Lindsey grabbed the hem of her dress and shook it. “Damn! Why isn’t this thing working?”

I was really perplexed and worried about Lindsey. Kelly stepped into the middle of my living room and said, “Let’s try this. Lindsey, unzip me, please.” Lindsey hopped over and worked the zipper down on the back of Kelly’s dress. When Kelly pulled the dress down and stepped out of it, I was momentarily dumbfounded.