Saturday, January 7, 2012

Going Underground in the Netherworld



The first of this new series is out, and I’m so excited for you all to finally read it.  I can’t begin to tell you how much fun I’ve had creating Netherworld and the characters that fill it:  Brandilynn Payson, the ghost of a dead escort; Dan Saling, the sexily rugged ghost with a dark past; Tristan Keith, the gorgeous vampire leader of Fulton Falls; Augustus, the griffin oracle who speaks in enigmatic riddles … and so many more.

Most of you are familiar with my sci-fi series, Clans of Kalquor.  Obviously, Netherworld is going to be a different group of stories.  Besides being paranormal erotica, Netherworld also has repeat characters who return in each installment, unlike Clans of Kalquor which focuses on a new clan in each story.  Also, Clans of Kalquor tends to be a darker series, whereas Netherworld has some humor working for it (at least that’s what I intended).  At this point I have five books planned for Brandilynn and company, with the second now about to go to the publisher and the third in outline.  Who knew being dead could keep a girl so busy?

I love characters who can’t be cast in shades of black and white.  The people of Netherworld are definitely in varying shades of gray.  Brandilynn slept with men for money, tends to be somewhat shallow, and has more baggage than an airline.  Dan did something in his life that even he can’t wrap his head around the horror of.  Tristan, being a vampire, has probably killed an innocent or two though you won’t hear this from him.  These are usually good people, but they’re all guilty of doing bad things.  At times they even try to justify less than ethical actions.  But that’s the human condition, something we’ve all fallen into the trap of.  What separates the good from the bad are our attempts to be honest with ourselves and to right the wrongs we’ve committed against not just others, but also ourselves.

At its heart, however, the Netherworld series is simply my attempt to write you fun stories that will entertain, excite, and entice you to grab your favorite sex partner for some playful romping.  I hope I succeeded.  And now for one last excerpt:


I’ve never been one to shrink from bad news, even when every cell of my being screams for me to run like all get out.  I would face this head on too.  “Am I dead?”
Dan took my hand and tugged me to the couch.  We sat next to each other, close enough that our thighs touched.  He put an arm around my shoulders.  “You really are dead, Brandilynn.   I’m sorry.”
I looked at him.  Felt him beside me.  I sensed pressure, the sensation of touch, but no warmth from him.  “You’re dead too?”
“For the last 22 years.”
Dead.  I felt the truth of it.  I wasn’t having a nightmare.  I, Brandilynn Payson, had died.  Been murdered, in fact, by the vampire serial killer who left his drained victims in the pine farms all over Ford County. 
But it made no sense that I had crossed paths with the Fulton Falls Ripper.  I should have been safe because I wasn’t a street prostitute.  I worked as an escort whose clients were the most powerful men in Fulton Falls, as well as the rest of the state of Georgia.  I wasn’t one of those pathetic blood groupies who offered themselves to the long-toothed.  Still, the evil had somehow found me.
I was dead.
Okay, I’m not in pain, and I’m not burning in Hell.  This isn’t so bad.  I can handle it, right?  Yep, Miss Brandilynn is still here and still rocking this joint.  No problem.
Sure.  No problem at all.
To Dan I said, “This is screwy as heck.  We’re ghosts?”
He nodded and watched me, as if waiting for me to fly apart in a flood of tears. 
Not me.  Brandilynn Payson had her big girl panties on.  I may shed a few tears once in awhile, but I’m no wuss.
“I was killed by the Fulton Falls Ripper?”
“That’s right.”  His arm tightened even more.
I thought about it really hard.  I felt myself frown and automatically stopped.  No frown lines.  Then I almost laughed.  I was dead.  No need to worry about looking my best to survive now.  Survival was a thing of the past.
“I don’t remember being killed,” I told Dan.  “You know, I can remember my day-to-day routine just fine.  But I can’t remember anything in particular right now.”
He nodded, his expression grave.  “Traumatic death often results in memory loss of the event.”
I had the urge to kiss the seriousness right off his face.  He honestly looked that scrumptious.  And sex would be a wonderful way to delay thinking too hard about the implications of my situation.  Distraction beckoned, wanting to replace the rising terror.  Yes, it was much better to contemplate screwing the man beside me.  I dove headlong into the simplicity of lust.
Dead and horny.  How weird can a girl be? 
Fortunately, Dan felt awesomely right as he held me.  Bless his heart, he tried to shield me from the worst news a person can get. 
It hit me again.  I’m dead. 
I really needed to not think about that.
Dan stroked my hair.  He said, “We need to try to recover your memory of what happened so we can catch the killer and bring him to justice.” 
I had a vision of Marlboro Man riding the wild frontier, searching for the varmint who laid low poor little Brandilynn Payson, the saloon girl with a heart of gold.  I couldn’t help but snicker.  The notion of a ghost posse catching a killer tickled me.  “What do you do with him when you catch him?  String him up from a ghost tree?”
Dan chuckled at me.  “There’s a more permanent solution to that problem, especially since the killer is most definitely a vampire.”
“Which is?”
Another voice answered me.  “We stake his ass and burn him to ashes.”
I looked up.  My eyes widened, startled to see a man leaning on one of the long reading tables that stood nearby.  I froze like a statue as I recognized Tristan Keith, ruler of the Fulton Falls vampire clutch.
            I do not mix with paranormals, or as we refer to them, paras.  Especially not vampires.  The undead creep me out.
            Were-creatures are scary too, and I’d probably flip out if confronted with a dragon, harpy or gargoyle.  But when it comes to flat-out scary, vampires take the cake.  It certainly didn’t help my present frame of mind to realize one had killed me.
            Which brought up a new concern:  how had I ended up in the company of one to get murdered?  I would have never been an escort for one.  It’s even in my contract.  I might have been on a human client’s arm at a party where vampires attended, but I would have kept my distance from the bloodthirsty monsters.
            Dan stood, helping me to my feet.  “Tristan, this is Brandilynn Payson.  Brandilynn, Tristan Keith.
            Tristan stepped forward, his hand extended.  “I’m sure it’s no pleasure for you, Miss Payson, but may I say I’m thrilled to see you.  Good work finding her, Dan.”
            I looked at my town’s most well-known vampire with trepidation.  I had to admit he didn’t look terribly vampy.  In fact, he looked normal.  His hair was short in an old-fashioned haircut typical of the 1920’s, the decade he’d become a vampire.  Clean-shaven, looking not a day over 30, with sharp, handsome features.  Not rugged and somehow worn like Dan, but elegantly masculine in the way of old-time movie actors like Errol Flynn and Clark Gable.
            Okay, I’ll admit it.  The darn bloodsucker looked as scrumptious as my Marlboro Man.  I couldn’t discern the slightest bit of undead about him.  He inspired visions of naughtiness dancing in my head.
            I hesitantly accepted his hand.  In a move that made me catch my breath in appreciation, he kissed the back of mine.  No one did that these days, and I was impressed.  Mr. Keith had charm to spare.
            Of course vampires are known for their abilities to seduce.  That’s why so many of us humans fear their kind.  As a mortal, one could never truly know the trouble she was getting into until it was too late and she was woozy from a lack of blood.
            Or dead.
            I pulled my hand free of Tristan’s.  I wondered why I feared him.  After all, didn’t being dead mean I had nothing left to lose?  It wasn’t as if he could kill me again.
            “I thought vampires could only come out at night,” I said.
He smiled winningly at me.  Tristan Keith was the county commission’s only para member, and more than one of my clients had whispered the vampire had his eyes on the state legislature.  Considering paras had only been eligible to run for office for the last 30 years, that said something about his ability to charm. 
He said, “During the day when my body dies I am no more than a ghost, the same as you.  When my body re-animates, my soul is drawn back to it.”
“No wonder you don’t look vampy.” 
He grinned, not looking at all like a bloodsucker.  “Disappointed?”
I relaxed.  He wasn’t a fanged monster right now, and I could deal with that.  Especially since he was so nice to look at.  “I keep clear of vampires.”  At his raised eyebrow I added, “No offense.  I’m sure you’re nice enough.  The voters sure like you.”
Tristan chuckled.  “My kind has a reputation, especially among those who don’t care to get to know us.”  As I mused over whether or not he’d just insulted me, he spoke to Dan.  “Does she remember anything?”
“No, she’s still in shock.”
The last of my worry about talking to a vampire fled before a sudden spark of anger.  “I’m right here.  Don’t talk about me like I’m not.”
He gave me that raised eyebrow again.  “So you are.  My apologies.”  Tristan bowed a little.  Very courtly, but his dismissal had offended me.  Worse, I still sensed condescension. 
Incensed, I glared at both of them.  Dan looked embarrassed, but Tristan just seemed fascinated, as if I was a dog that had suddenly started talking.  I got angrier.  A girl true to her red hair, I meant for Mr. County Commissioner, vampire or not, to realize the error of his ways.
“Just because I’m an escort doesn’t make me an idiot.”  If I’d had fangs myself, I would have bared them at him.
Tristan finally looking chastened.  “Of course not.  I didn’t mean—” 
“Yes you did.  It’s just like a man to think a girl who gets along on her back is stupid, not capable of doing anything of merit.  For your information, I was my high school’s class valedictorian.”  I babbled, unable to dam up the stream of words pouring from my mouth.  “I went to college on a scholarship, Mr. Big-shot Vampire, and I have –  I had dreams that went beyond screwing for the capital to realize those dreams, and you should have a little compassion for someone who just died and found out she’s not going to realize those dreams and, and—”
Oh poop.  I was breaking down, my eyes filling with tears and tightness closing down my throat.  I fought it for all I was worth.  I refused to cry.   But both men had closed in on me, stroking my hair, patting my back, making comforting shushing noises that brought the pain ever closer to erupting in horrified sobs.  I clenched my fists and squeezed my eyes shut.
I’m tougher than this. 
On the other side of my closed eyes, Tristan whispered, “I’m sorry Brandilynn.  What happened to you is a travesty, one I’m trying to take care of before anyone else dies.”
His voice sounded so kind, totally different from the calculated charm I’d heard on television news soundbites.  I opened my eyes to see both men right there, looking down on me.  Over six feet tall, Tristan towered over me and Dan.  I found myself comparing them.  So different, but equally yummy.  I gratefully drowned the grief in pure, innocent lust, then thought twice about that solution too.
Turn your motor off, Brandilynn.  Have some self-respect.  You’re dead for heaven’s sake!
But flirting is as second-nature to me as breathing.  I couldn’t help myself, so I asked Tristan, “Are you this nice when you’re a vampire?”
“No.”  His handsome face turned dark, but he stayed utterly human.  “I’m very different when I return to my body.”
“That’s too bad.”  I meant it, because my word, he was gorgeous as all get out.  Looking at him made me feel a whole lot better.  I decided being horny did beat being hysterical with grief after all.
“What can we do to make you feel better?” Dan asked.
My Marlboro Man so shouldn’t have asked that question because of course my mind went where it shouldn’t.  How could it not with them both standing there, looking good enough to eat?
We needed to talk about the weather or the season the Braves were going to have this year before I humiliated myself.  But before I could switch the tracks my naughty brain-train ran on, Tristan flashed his devastating grin.  “Ah yes, the one thing that makes us all feel alive and well.”
The men exchanged knowing smirks and I wished the floor would open beneath me and swallow me whole.  How embarrassing.
Tristan laughed out loud, and his voice rolled over me, giving me shivers.  Darn, this man didn’t need the extra charm being a vampire would give him.  He had charisma to spare already.  Tracing a finger down my arm, he said, “Don’t look so horrified, my girl.  We all use sex here to affirm our existence.  The dead have nothing but time and little to fill it with, so lovemaking is a very casual affair in the netherworld.”
Trust a man to put the words ‘casual’ and ‘sex’ in the same speech.  The glint in Dan’s eyes told me he shared Tristan’s view.  Well, I wasn’t easy, and I’d never been cheap.  Not even with two bona fide hunks like these.
Loftily I informed them, “I sleep with a very select few of my regulars, but I never thought of myself as a real whore.  I’m quite particular.”
Tristan’s face turned sad as if breaking terrible news.  “You might not always be.  Not here, not when the centuries lie before you, dulling all with the neverending monotony of death.  Almost everyone here, no matter how prudish in life, turns into a whore just to fill the time.” 
His hand smoothed back up my arm, curling around my shoulder, sliding to cup the back of my neck.  I felt the strength in his grip and my lower parts clenched.   Oh glory.  I was in trouble here.
Dan looked back and forth between the two of us.  “Should I leave?”
Tristan answered.  “It’s up to you.  I don’t mind.”
Whoa.  My mind reeled as I contemplated the idea of enjoying both men at once.  Okay, maybe I was easy after all.  I’d never considered doing such a thing before … but then I’d never been faced with two gorgeous examples of the opposite sex willing to share before either.  Were there consequences to such actions?  What’s the worst that could happen to a girl who’s already dead?  

 Now Available from New Concepts Publishing

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