'Twas the Darkest Night
Page 53
He gaped. Dumbfounded. And snatched the newly materialized bow from between his eyes. “Are you crazy?”
“Does anyone care that we’re running late?”
The golem shook Gillian like a porcelain doll. “Does anyone care that I have this witch?”
Blue eyes bright with a coming storm blustering across the Northern Mountains, Brenda pointed to the tops of her boots. “You see the blood on my shoes? The only thing I give are fucks and ass-kickings—I’m fresh out of fucks. And I just popped some Molly, so believe me,”—she ripped the shiny jacket off her broad shoulders—“I’m gonna roll this shit.”
At the mention of drug use, Gillian ceased the march of bubbles, black cherry lipstick dipped into a frown. “Seriously, Brenda, I thought we agreed you would stop.”
“No,” Brenda dropped her jacket like a threat. “You talked, you agreed. I did the smile and nod thing. Or weren’t you paying attention?”
“Yes, I…” Gillian fell silent, eyebrows knitting together with genuine confusion. “I can’t remember. Remind me…what was I reading then?”
“Lord Jesus.” Astrid dragged her hand down the side of her face. “This really ain’t the time…”
“She started it.” Brenda tugged at her black leather fingerless gladiator gloves. “Likes to talk all kinds of shit, but can’t do the fucking dishes the one night of the week she’s supposed to.”
Gillian folded her arms and turned up her nose in a sniff. “Listen, if people would stop writing naughty books and making cheap wine, I’d have time for dishes.”
The golem’s mouth mounded in a sandy frown. “Why do I feel like I’m being ignored?”
“Oh, I haven’t forgotten about you.” Sable leather whined as she closed her hand into a brutal fist. “You’ve got five seconds”—she narrowed her eyes—“to pray.”
“Take care with my dress”—Astrid motioned over the elegant halter number—“it’s new.” She tossed back the rest of her drink and shattered the glass against the pavement. “Amen.”
Bubbles carried into the heavens as they laid waste to Maximus’ puppet. The wizard put up a decent fight, but it was a moot point. The Dweyer sisters weren’t the kind of women that ran off screaming into the night. Nor did they need saving. These were brutal, walking, talking pieces of feminine magic. They were a natural trinity, and it was going to take real hell on earth to best their combined might, the hellfire of their wrath, the sheer gravity of their bottomless love. But, hey…
The brave could certainly try.
Their sweet black door was always open. If a man thought he could step to their bleeding black altar and hold his own, that was just fine. Mother’s other little boys could hold their shit and brace themselves, because these witches—these were absolutely not to be fucked with.
All they needed was a reason. Just…one.
Six-feet-under screams, blood-zinging brushes with brutal black magic, and the kind of godless heathens who weren’t concerned with trivial things like karma. No one heard a thing. In the back of Club Brimstone, a scream was like a whisper.
Heard. And then, forgotten.
In the smoking aftermath, Gillian found herself standing in a puddle of glittering sand. What was left of the golem wafted away on the faint breeze, and she blew her last bubble as a prayer for the wizard that lay dead somewhere miles and miles away. Maybe someone would find his body soon.
“Amen.” With a shrug, she tossed the bubbles over her shoulder and shook out the last bit of dust from her skirts. “Do you know what this needs now?”
“No, Gill.” Astrid doubled over and snatched up her cracked tea-shades from a vat of stale blood. “What?”
Tiny irises spiked with a rainbow of color, Brenda emerged from the mist, one of the golem’s buttons in her bloody fist. “Cake.”
***
Hope you enjoyed!
Expect this release sometime Summer 2014.
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BETA READERS: WANTED!
Sophie Avett is currently building a beta-reader “focus group.” The purpose of these select readers is to help her test the magic via reading pre-release review copies and giving feedback. Don’t need to be a professional. Don’t need to be a grammar stickler, blah, blah, blah… You just have to like reading Sophie’s craptastic literature and have lots of opinions. If you’re interested, please contact the author via the contact form on her official website: http://www.sophieavett.weebly.com
Other Books by Sophie Avett
Sinister Stitches Series
Bodice Ripper
Other New Gotham Fairytales
Cry Wolf
Iron Will
About the Author
Sophie Avett is kind of a nerd. Like not even one of the cute, hip ones everyone brags about nowadays. More like the socially awkward hippie who eats way too much bread and dreams about being a dragon from behind towers of mythology books. Um…yeah. Picture old, tattered paperbacks and comic books—mostly Batman and Wonder Woman—dwarfing a tiny desk, with just barely enough room for the troll who writes there and the 70 pound hell-hound that insists on laying its wet nose on top of her bare foot.
Granted, not the most exciting existence, but she tries to make up for it by writing romances populated with her own peculiar ilk of paranormal beasties. Trolls, wyverns, the obscure Nordic brownie—she likes to keep things interesting. And bloody. (And mostly naked—but, we'll keep that bit between us.)
Sophie Avett loves to hear from her readers. (Hi, mom.) So if there's something on your mind, feel free to leave a message after the scream.
(Mom, you can just call me. Seriously.)
Dedication and Acknowledgements
Dedication: I would like to dedicate this book to Cherish N.K. Happy 23rd Birthday. We should all wear red like you.
Acknowledgements: First and foremost, I must thank the people who’ve fed and housed the starving artist. You know who you are. If it wasn’t for you guys, I’d probably be dead. Secondly, I would like to thank the pixie. She is the only reason this wretch manages to ever finish anything she starts. You are forever the tact to my sarcasm. Thirdly, I must thank all the special people who helped me put this book together like For the Muse Designs and Rebecca, my editor, and a special thanks goes out to Zunny Di for all the lovely artwork. Lastly, but certainly, the most infamous and beloved, I must give thanks to Uncle Sam’s Bobby and his particularly colorful gang of waitresses: Cha-cha, ChrisTina, Terrayaki, Jelly, Rachey, Taylor, the Minions, aka. The Hosti—you girls are a monkey dish of awesome. (Hi Doug!)
In regards to the quotes and cameos featured in ‘Twas the Darkest Night:
A book is a masterpiece and every author is a quack with a paint brush. My color pallet has been influenced by many and I make it a point to pay homage to utter brilliance whenever I can. Therefore, you’ll note that many of the structures in New Gotham are bolted with gilded gold plaques featuring quotes, names and, sometimes, titles. To those featured in this book, don’t read this nonsense! What the bloody hell are you doing with my book?! My goodness, go do something productive and write me something fantastic to read with my barrel of chocolate and tears. Sheesh, the nerve of you people.
In regards to the riddles featured in ‘Twas the Darkest Night:
Many of the riddles used in this book are well known. In fact, I’m sure you’ve heard most of them at some forgotten point during childhood. Riddles are universal like that, but I must give thanks to the school website that had them all neatly posted in very BRIGHT red font. (Wow, how the font scars even now.) Thanks guys! You guys brought my sphinx to life!
In regards to some (not all) of the dresses featured in ‘Twas the Darkest Night:
Oh…the dresses. Sigh. You’ll note that I despise anything but sweatpants and pencil skirts. (Shoes are always very important though. Very.) Therefore, while many of the designs came straight from a candy witch’s i
magination, others are the result of the tireless efforts of the ravens sent to scour the internet in search of fantastic threads. Therefore, I must thank the folks at Pinterest, Gothic Shop and Sinderella. You’re a dream come-true. (Facebook, get your shit together.)
Did you find a typo?
Typos are the jack-in-the-boxes of the reading world. There you are, reading an amazing story, when suddenly—BAM! A typo rips you right out of the groove. At Skeleton Key Publishing, our editors do their best to correct the typos that slink by our authors, but sometimes they escape and go on their ruinous rampage.
So here’s the deal. If you found any typos, go to our website and report it. Every month we will put the names of everyone who reported a typo into a hat and pick one out. That person will then be offered a $25 gift certificate to either Barnes & Noble or Amazon.
That’s right…you can win a gift certificate just for reporting a typo. If you find more than three typos, send us a copy of your receipt and we’ll send you an updated version of the book.
Thank you for helping us improve the reading experience for later readers.
- The Skeleton Crew