“Although,” she went on, “perhaps it…would not be so bad if we were able to spend a little more time together.”
Now, he almost blushed as he hadn’t expected to hear that.
“Perhaps,” he said and wiped his palms off on the sheets of his bed.
Epilogue
A Hidden Location
Goran Petrović paused for a moment in the stone archway before the cavernous expanse of the chamber beyond. His host’s environs were crude compared to what he was used to in Europe but by American standards, respectable enough.
Thralls formed a corridor leading from the archway to the throne at the far end of the room. They stood in two long ranks, motionless, expressionless, and deferential.
He nodded. Moswen Neith, unknown quantity that she was, had at least some notion of proper etiquette. He stepped into the chamber.
It was, however, a little disquieting since the Vampiric Order had not specifically mentioned that it would send a representative to New York. The idea had been to surprise her.
Two of Goran’s own thralls followed closely behind him. He had possessed them for fourteen years each, a reasonably long time by human standards and enough to be sure of their reliability. They had also been empowered not only with his own strength but with part of the might of the entire ruling council of the Order.
In the luxurious chair across the room, elevated upon a low platform that rose from the floor, Moswen herself sat—or almost slouched, really. She appeared entirely at ease, relaxed and casual, and not even slightly shocked or flustered by his unannounced visit.
She was also tall and strong-looking. A vampire’s physical appearance had little bearing on their power, but he had to admit that it gave her a regal bearing. Recalling the grievous injury done to himself and to all members of the Order by a certain other, less-intimidating vampire, he felt a renewed confidence that they had made the right decision in coming to her.
Halfway through the hallway of her slaves, he paused to announce himself.
To his surprise and slight perturbation, she spoke first.
“Greetings,” she began in a voice that was resonant but with a curiously wispy quality like the blowing of dust in the wind. “Your arrival is not unexpected. I recognize you as the true minds and the true power behind the dwarven cartel overseen by the one known as Grayhammer, who was unfortunately destroyed so recently. I offer my condolences on your loss of a loyal ally.”
Goran was not accustomed to having almost half of his own speaking points recited to him before he had even uttered them himself. He reverted to formality. “Greetings, Moswen Neith,” he replied.
He then considered switching to another, more appropriate tongue, but the intelligence he had received suggested that Moswen, oddly enough, spoke only Hebrew and English, although one rumor held that she knew far more languages. Partially to play it safe, then, and partially out of politeness toward her residence in the United States, he continued to use English.
“I am Goran Petrović, ranking member of the Vampiric Order of Europe. What you have said is true and we thank you for your condolences. I have come to discuss the prospect of a mutually beneficial arrangement between us. Will you hear me?”
She smiled, and something about the expression reminded him of a fire spreading through desiccated brush.
“Yes,” she declared. “I will. Come closer, Goran, and tell me your proposal.”
He did as she said, although he wasn’t sure he liked the implied presumption in her words. She was at once gracious and arrogant. Part of him bristled but there were more important considerations than mere protocol. Besides, she did not come from the European establishment. Customs in the Middle East and North Africa were expected to differ.
When he’d crossed the rest of the chamber, he decided to test the other vampire slightly. He stepped onto the raised platform and stood before her at the same level, although he remained at the platform’s edge.
Moswen frowned. She did not otherwise react, but he had the uncomfortable sensation that she would remember that he had done this, possibly forever.
He began his pitch without further ado.
“We have all suffered from the recent foolhardy actions of the rogue vampire Taylor Steele and her incorrigible servants from various lesser species. We understand that she has deprived you of your own servants, and this is in accordance with complaints we received some months ago by another vampire, called Gabriel, who attempted—and failed—to supplant her.”
Goran ran a finger through his black beard and mustache and noted the way Moswen listened with a languid complacency.
“We have, until now, tolerated her illegitimate claim of New York City as her personal fiefdom due to her non-interference in our business. But now, she has annihilated the cartel upon which we relied for our profits. She could have made peace herself, even if Grayhammer was reluctant. But with his death in addition to Gabriel’s, it is clear that she has succumbed to hubris. She will kill anyone who challenges her even slightly and considers herself omnipotent.”
The woman smiled again and this time, her fangs showed. “She is not.”
“Of course,” he agreed. “Although neither is she to be taken lightly. She has threatened our continued prosperity and she has insulted our ancient honor and dignity. The vendetta that was Grayhammer’s is now ours.”
He paused for effect. “We want her eliminated.”
The Israeli vampire folded one hand atop the other in her lap. “Good.”
Goran raised a fist. “We make you this offer. Our complete support. All the resources at our disposal—everything we have available in America. Our full commitment to you, and to the cause of your usurpation. We would be happy to see you sit where she now sits in exchange for revenge. And the possibility of future business arrangements, of course. But first, she must die. No one has ever offended us to this extent.”
A slight violet glow rose behind his eyes as he spoke, the indication of an age-old, bestial rage at even the idea of being challenged. His personal desire to dispatch Taylor to oblivion was no less than any other member of the Order. Their hatred had become a driving force, a pure and singular purpose
Moswen spread her arms and stood. She was slightly taller than he was.
“I accept your offer without reservation, Goran Petrović. Be sure to give my deepest thanks to the Order. We shall become great friends. All of us.”
Something in her brown, almond-shaped eyes grew distant and faintly luminous. “Taylor will die, and I will rule New York. And beyond.”
The Story Continues
Look for book four in the series, Under Pressure, coming soon to Amazon and Kindle Unlimited.
Author Notes from Isobella Crowley (AKA Ell Leigh Clarke)
Written November 18, 2019
Thank yous
As always I’d like to thank MA for making this series happen. I’ve really enjoyed working on these characters, and MA is a fun collaborator. Plus, he let’s me take the micky out of him without repercussion. Which is good, else I’d probably be in real trouble by now… :-D Thanks, dude!
Lots of people go into making a series like this happen.
I’d like to say a massive thank you to the team of suppliers who made this book possible: Brittany, Chiara, Nathan, Philip, Moonchild, and MA’s editing team.
Thank you, guys. Your hard work, care and attention mean the world to me :)
Beta readers and JITers
Massive, and uber thanks also go out to our beta readers, led by Brittany, and MA’s JIT team led by their high commander, Zen Steve. Thank you for all your hard work in making sure the words are right and inconsistencies slayed. You’re the best <3
Reviewers
Mega thanks also goes out to our Amazon reviewers. It’s because of you that we get to do this full time. Without your five-star reviews and thoughtful words on Amazon we simply wouldn’t have enough folks reading these space shenanigans to be able to write full time.
; Truly, thank you… As of writing we have 20 ALL five-star reviews on book 1. You’re the best <3 Look out for your name and our thank yous on the fb page. You have no idea how much this means to me. <3
Readers and FB page supporters
I’d like to also thank *YOU* for reading this book. Your enthusiasm for the worlds and characters we come up with is heart-warming. Thank you for being here, for the giggles and interaction, for reading, and reviewing.
You rock.
And feel free to join the fun over on fb: www.facebook.com/ellleighclarke
We have a fb page as Izzie too: www.facebook.com/IsobellaCrowley
Or the mailing list, for more fun and frolics into paranormal fantasy: www.isobellacrowley.com
If you’d like more of the insider lo-down, feel free to join us over at Patreon too.
We have a few things like a movie watch in the pipeline for all patrons… https://www.patreon.com/ellleighclarke
Why did he slit his writs?
So I finally asked MA about his new slap-dash approach to author notes. You’ll probably have noticed how this series instead of writing his own, he’s taken to just commenting on mine.
His response was something along the lines of him not having the fucks to be able to do it. Poor guy. He works so hard and apparently he’s handed multiple sets of author notes for all the books each week… He just doesn’t have it in him anymore. :-(
Maybe that will change with our next series? But for now, he says, and I quote:
“Why did he slit his wrists? No More Author Notes!!!! I’m done.” – MA.
I get it. It takes a lot to keep up with the wit and humor I lay down… And if you don’t got it… ;P
So, for now, you’ll just have to contend with me… and MA interjecting now and again.
This is probably a bad time to tell him that I’ve been told that people don’t read his notes anyway…
…
…
…
Hahahaha. I’m kidding, Anderle.
Seriously, I’m pulling your leg… (Man, I’m probably going to get some flack in his comments for that…!)
So you have to imagine how this is working. What happens with the ANs is that I write mine, normally several days ahead of publication. (I’m cutting it tight today though. Steve pushes the button tomorrow morning.) Then I send them to MA, and he comments in them, and then he sends them all to Steve.
Steve then reads them.
I hadn’t realized that this means Steve ALWAYS reads them… I thought it had meant that now and again Steve might cast his eye over some section of them, and that’s how he stays in the loop.
Nope.
It’s way more systematic than that. On his last podcast recording Steve confirmed that he reads every word.
Every word!
So I’m wondering… maybe Steve should start writing author notes for this series… Just while MA catches his breath?
Just a suggestion, Steve ;)
MA: "So you're a publisher now?"
As we began our call the other day, MA commented that he’d seen an email from me. “So you’re a publisher now?” he asked.
If you’re on my mailing list you will have seen the same email where I explained a few changes that have been going on for me.
I’d already explained in a previous message about how wearing spaceships on my t-shirt helped me overcome feeling like an imposter.
All in all, it took about a year before I really started telling people I was an author.
The readers who were around during that era REALLY helped: reading your 5* reviews and comments and banter on my Facebook page… you helped me get through some of the toughest challenges I’ve had to face.
Not that calling myself an author was a massive roadblock – but it was a psychological sticking point that was holding my back, keeping me playing small.
Once I got through that though things were great. For a few months.
I embraced my quirkiness and accepted myself as a writer of stories.
I even grew in confidence to take on other writing projects.
But then, the landscape started to shift again.
With all the new projects I was working on, and new series I was leading, when people asked what I did, my “I’m a sci-fi author” response didn’t feel authentic anymore.
At this point I was also creating stories in Urban Fantasy. But – hey, your Lyft driver doesn’t care about that level of detail, so I either felt I was getting it wrong again, or… I turned into a babbling idiot trying to explain exactly what I did!
Additionally, I had already started transitioning into publishing and series creation rather than just writing. Subtle difference, but I was working on more stories, with other collaborators, than I put my name on.
Plus, I was kinda shy.
And being British, I didn’t need to be braggy, or have my name on the books. After all, why does it matter if I get credit for it or not?
Well, it doesn’t. That part is still true.
But the real way I’ve messed up is not letting you guys know that there are books here that you’d enjoy because even if I didn’t write every word myself, I’ve been running the team – kinda like a showrunner would run a writers room.
Not that I’m anywhere near the levels of story-genius my heroes: Stephen Moffatt and Josh Whedon are just amazing!
But they have influenced a lot of my thinking on how to get more stories out there, and how to think creatively.
During my most recent episode of “downtime” I realize that I’ve again, been hiding too long.
It’s time to come out of the closet and start acting like a publisher/ showrunner, rather than an author.
Over two years from when I started, I really need to make this transition.
As such I’m going to bring everything I’ve been involved in (contracts allowing) under the brand of Ellieverse Publishing. At the very least, then you’ll know that there are stories I’ve had a significant hand in.
It’s a quick way for you to see that if you’ve enjoyed my other series, (like Molly and Bentley), you’ll also probably like some of the other series I’ve been working on. I do believe that Brittany has finished getting the website up.
You can check it out here: ellieverse.com
(UN)Conferencing in Florida
This is un-conferencing. Not as in the United Nations of conferencing…. Although that would be amazing to be a part of!
If you follow me on The Facebook, you’ll have seen I posted a few pic about my fun plane ride across Florida and being at a swanky beach resort for a conference. The conference is called NINC. Don’t ask me what it stands for. I think the actual name is something like Writers Ink, so some people spell it Nink. Anyway, I didn’t care enough to investigate it, and it effects nothing ;P
All I cared about was finding the best source of coffee for the duration, and trying to deal with the craziness of being in such an intense environment. Psychically and psychologically there is so much going on at these things that it can be pretty overwhelming.
So anyway, it would be remiss of me to not explain a few things about this conference. It’s been going for a looong time. It’s an off-shoot of the romance writers conferences, so there are a lot of romance folks there – and everyone knows each other. On top of that, there is a qualifier to get in. You have to be making a certain amount of money form your books sales to go – so that means that there are no newbies. I like the concept, because it means that the talks and conversations can assume a lot more. Some folks take this as an indicator that they can let their inner elitist dangle out… which can be kinda gross to watch. But all in all, most people were super down to earth and friendly.
I found a good bunch of friends – who didn’t feel they always had to talk about books(!) - and we had a blast, often not turning in until the wee hours.
During this week, I realized something about myself. And anyone who has seen me at conferences has probably already noticed this…. I don’t do well sitting in the room. I get bored and fidgety – so I naturally have a resistance to going in. I tend to do what we call “unconference” – where we hang out at the bars and just socialize. I also realized that my only reasons for ever going in the room were to support my friends who were speak.
Feel free to replace the word “support” with “heckle”. It was a small enough conference for it to be appreciated… and heard. Some places it’s pointless because no one hands me a mic for the purpose of heckling.
(Hint, hint, Michael….)
We have Vegas 50 books coming up… #justsayin’
MA also suggested I tell you about the tiki bar. (MA went a previous year so he knows the drill.) After a certain time of day, when the sun is over the yardarm, everyone filters down to the tiki bar to continue the conversations and drinking. The tiki bar is almost on the beach with lots of tables around for sitting and talking, and the water just a short walk to dip one’s feet. This is where the real conferencing happens.
Also, the tiki tends to be open until fairly late – something that we count on, because who wants to go to bed when you’re in paradise and don’t have to get up and write the next day? (Okay, *some* diligent souls would get up and write each morning, but I justified it like so: I should probably be in the conference from 9am, so I wouldn’t be writing anyway. And I don’t sit in conference rooms anymore, so I’ll just be socializing. No one else will be up to socialize at 9am, so I may as well take my time wandering down in the morning. Ergo, staying up all night is a totally legit choice.)
Needless to say, the last night I didn’t sleep at all… And was still dashing to get my gear packed up for my trip to the airport.
A Girl’s Best Friend (Moonlight Detective Agency Book 3) Page 26