Protected by the Damned BoxedSet 1

by Michael Todd

  “You are simple,” she said, smiling. “You deserve a simple punishment.”

  “You are a b—”

  “Hey, hey, watch it,” Korbin called.

  “What?” Derek looked around. “I was going to say ‘beautiful lady who deserves to be treated as one.’”

  “Yeah, right.” She laughed, shaking her head. “I still love you.”

  “My foot doesn’t return the feeling,” he said, groaning.

  The other guys took a step back and put up their hands, laughing at Derek. Katie loved the guys, but this box was not for them.

  Since she was the only girl—besides her demon, of course—she would have to enjoy her spoils in the privacy of her room. She grabbed the box, then turned and stuck her tongue out at the guys.

  They all looked completely defeated, like she had stamped out their sunshine.

  “Oh, come on, boys.” She laughed. “It came from a store. It’s not some secret prize. If you want to open packages, spend your money on more than booze and women.”

  They looked at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter. She straightened her face and shook her head.

  These guys would never learn.

  “Can’t you just give us a hint?” Calvin asked.

  “Or lie, even,” Derek suggested. “Just tell us it’s something super-cool or rare, like a Dead Sea Scroll.”

  “Or the first issue of Playboy magazine,” Calvin offered.

  “Or a rare copy of The Raven,” Damian interjected.

  “Or a custom tactical knife!” Korbin exclaimed.

  “If I lie and say it’s something like that you’ll want to see it, but it would be a lie so you would still be let down.” She shook her head. “I could just tell you that it’s all of the above and let you revel in the idea that I have all those things—minus the Playboy, you pig—secretly hidden away from you in my room. Then I will find you guys breaking into my room, wearing my clothes and playing with my knives, and we will have a big weird mess on our hands.”

  “Wow,” Derek said, shaking his head. “You are strange.”

  “I know.” She sighed, then turned and walked down the hall. “I’m off for some me time, so leave me the fuck alone.”

  She smiled warmly and opened her bedroom door, shutting it hard behind her and chuckling to herself. She walked farther inside and set the box down on the bed, taking a deep breath and looking around at how homey she had made her place.

  She finally felt like she belonged there—not just in the room, but in the life she now had.

  Please tell me that is my box, Pandora said. I feel like one of those chubby little kids opening presents on Christmas morning. Only I don’t celebrate Christmas for obvious reasons, and I hate children, and I hate joy, and I’m allergic to pine trees.

  Well, you sure know how to suck the excitement right out of a situation, don’t you?

  I am the Grinch, she said, only I don’t just strike at Christmas. I strike whenever and wherever it is needed.

  Great. Katie sighed. Just don’t start stapling bones to animals. That’s just creepy.

  Hey, if I did it, you did it, too, she said. Just remember that.

  That’s terrible, Katie said. I would never.

  Maybe not under your own control. She laughed maniacally. One day when you are out at the store, I’m just going to take over and make you breakdance in the bread aisle.

  Please don’t, Katie begged, then, I need something to open this box with.

  It’s about damn time this box got here, the demon said. I mean, it’s only super-late.

  First of all, it wasn’t that long, Katie replied. You’re just very impatient.

  It took f o r e v e r, Pandora whined.

  You have to understand that this request was not only very unique and very exclusive, but it was also VERY expensive, Katie explained. This was probably the costliest payback or IOU I have ever fulfilled. I had to search out the people who could create these, negotiate a price, send all the information they needed, wait for them to make the things, and then they had to be shipped all the way from Italy. Not only that, but I was using a fake name and a business address, so it got caught up in customs. I almost had to tell Korbin what it was, but luckily I happened to find out we have a teammate who has connections with customs. It was a rollercoaster of cash and emotion to get you exactly what you wanted.

  I don’t know why you’re complaining, the demon said. You get to enjoy them too. In fact, you get to enjoy them more, because you have the physical body. I am just a voice in your head and a tinge in your liver.

  You’re right, Katie said. And I just want to take a minute and tell you how much it meant to me personally that you kept your side of the bargain. I know that was hard for you. It’s not in your nature, and I know you really don’t like me.

  Oh lord, the mushy stuff, Pandora whined.

  That’s right, she said. You’re the only one I can get mushy with, so just take it and smile, dammit. I will always and forever remember the scene in the park with Garrett and his family. It was seriously like the most epically emotionally moment I’ve ever had. I never thought I would be able to affect someone’s life like that, and I couldn’t have done it without you. While there is no way I’m ready to die today, if I did I would die happy, knowing that I made a difference in at least one person’s life. I know you have no love, or empathy, or excitement except for clothes and men, but you should be proud that you saved a man’s life. That you gave him the ability to be with his family, which is something we all want but may never have again. Making a difference is seriously one of the best feelings ever. And I think that no matter how spicy you are, somewhere deep down inside that dark nothingness you are proud of yourself. And if I’m completely wrong, I am still proud of you.

  You’re getting more and more long-winded by the day, Pandora said. A simple thank you will suffice next time.

  I will make a note, Katie replied.

  She walked over to the table and grabbed one of her knives, wiping it off on her pants. She cut the tape on the box, and slowly opened it to find an overflow of pink and yellow tissue paper. She pushed through the paper and pulled out the twelve individually wrapped packages. Carefully she opened each one, and laid the items out across the bed. In front of her were a dozen hand-stitched, expensive, and sexy-as-hell lingerie bras.

  If I could cry… Pandora began. Like if I had a body anymore and could shed tears, I would be weeping right now. Not just crying, weeping!

  I’m feeling a little emotional, too, surprisingly, Katie replied.

  See, Pandora said, jolting Katie. I told you that lingerie—well-made bras and sexy panties—can change your life. They make you feel all sorts of ways. And the construction, oh my God. They are double-stitched, and they used the best lace and satin, and the straps even have padding so you don’t get those unsightly notches in your skin. I don’t understand why every woman doesn’t have at least a dozen of these.

  Maybe because they cost more than my first year in college, Katie said wryly.

  Whatever. You made a ton of money after the commune even after giving half away to charity, which still boggles my mind, Pandora said. I have never understood why people give their money to the needy. Buy them some clothes, give them a bus ticket, and you did your good deed.

  Bus ticket? Katie asked.

  Yeah, Pandora said. Out of sight, out of mind.

  You are seriously one of the evilest people I have ever met, Katie told her.

  Good thing I’m not people. Pandora snickered.

  I might actually have to agree with you on that, she replied.

  Anyway, Pandora said, did you get the hangers for the bras like I told you to?

  Yes, Katie groaned. Twelve satin-covered cushioned hangers. I will put them up right now.

  Katie pulled out the specialty hangers and shook her head, smiling to herself. She had never bought anything like that before, but it felt good to treat herself for once.

 
She really had no idea where to wear them—or if any man would ever see them—but she was learning to love herself, not just everyone else. It had been a steep learning curve and it took constant reminders from the demon gallery, but she was actually doing pretty well at it.

  The one thing that really got Katie was that people spent years teaching themselves how to not be selfish, while she was over here teaching herself to be selfish. It was backward, but who cared?

  It was time to live a little.

  When she was done putting all the bras on the hangers, she went to her closet and hung them up, perfectly spacing each one an equal distance apart. Pandora was rambling to herself in Katie’s head, her equivalent of pacing.

  All right, Katie said. What do you think?

  Oh, she cooed. It’s so beautiful, so perfect, so sexy.

  I never had someone call my closet sexy before, Katie said without emotion.

  With those bras you can’t help but be sexy, the demon told her. So, where is the first place we will wear one? Oh, I know! Ops—we can totally wear those on ops, right?

  Katie laughed and rolled her eyes, pushing the closet door shut. She walked over to the bed and laid down on her side, staring at the desert through the window.

  The sun was halfway up in the sky, and she could see the heat waves rolling across the sand.

  Those dunes, those desert storms, and the way the sun warmed her room had become the little things in her life that she cherished.

  When she had first gotten there she had never thought there was any way she could keep up, but she had, and she now found herself inside this weird—and often dysfunctional but extremely loyal—family unit. In the little bit of time she had been with them she had lost people and found people, but most importantly, she had found herself.

  She rolled onto her back and looked up at the ceiling fan, smiling as she thought about Garrett and Armani: the way they had brought her into the picture and showed her friendship, then left her here in the care of people who would take a bullet for her.

  As she replayed different memories of her first few days at the base in her head, a click came over the loudspeaker. She sat up and listened.

  “Incursion call,” Korbin’s voice spoke as the light started to flash. “Suit up and be in the training area in ten minutes.”

  She smiled and jumped from the bed, grabbing one of the new bras and changing her clothes.

  Yessss, Pandora purred. I knew you would cave. Killing demons and slaying fashion every step of the damn way.

  Author Notes - Michael Todd

  March 10, 2018

  First

  THANK YOU for not only reading these stories, but also our author notes!

  (I’ll go into more info below, but the following was on the Protected by the Damned Facebook Page. Join us for shenanigans in the Facebook Group at: https://www.facebook.com/groups/320172985053521/ )

  #TheAuthorLives... Once upon a time, there was a guy who was doing...some shit he really doesn't want to remember. Anyway, he got a serious case of "cross shit off his bucket list" and wrote a bunch of stories.

  Like, a metric shit-ton.

  In fact, he became so busy, a few fans started following him, and then supporting him... And then they started camping out around his house, bribing the damned lawn pixies and shit in his backyard.

  Fucking hell, the little racist bastards attacked with no provocation at all.

  "Oh, you stepped on me cousin's third wife’s pumpkin patch, let me stab ye in the foot with me poisoned sword, ye big ugly giant!"

 

  Whatever…it fucking hurt.

  Now, THAT guy has a full time job, and fans adore him (lucky ass) except for the part where now they have Gott Verdammt vampire Rangers...(WHO THE HELL HAS VAMPIRE RANGERS FOR FUCK'S SAKE??) Always trying to keep tabs on him...

  So, he sneaks out and does “secret projects.”

  You know, Skunkworks (see below.)

  Now, his first and middle name's are (yeah, don't laugh, the story is true) named after one of Elizabeth Taylor's MANY ex-husbands (just because his parents thought the names sounded cool.)

  Complete letdown to this day.

  Anyway, his first and middle names are Michael Todd...

  And so, we have the Michael Todd stories, the first of which is the series Protected by the Damned: TORN ASUNDER coming at you March 12th.

  Because, you can't keep a wicked man down... Unless you over-carb his ass, then he sleeps like the snoring hippopotamus he really is.

  SECOND

  Michael Todd is my real name, just not all of it. My full name is Michael Todd Anderle… Or for those who follow me with Kurtherian Gambit or Oriceran books, Michael Anderle.

  I’m a full-time writer and publisher. My company, LMBPN Publishing has published about 170 books at the time I write these notes and that will go up another ten (10) books in the next 3-4 weeks.

  In December of 2017, it was time to consider what I wanted to do in 2018, and ONE of the items was get into IP that was “mine and all mine to play around in from time to time.”

  Most authors have this issue. As a fifty-year-old, I’ve been pretty good about not going too far afield.

  Usually.

  Yes, Kurtherian Gambit is my first love, and my first

  But, it isn’t the only set of stories I want to tell.

  I was speaking with Sarah Noffke (Collaborator first with her Oriceran Stories and now with Kurtherian Gambit stories) a little over a week ago. She mentioned something that resonated, and then told a follow-up story that makes the point (I hope) to make.

  She said, “Any stories in you when you die, die with you.”

  Sarah then explained that her brother had wanted to write music, and had songs in him, but never did it. Then, unexpectedly, he passed away in his sleep at thirty-five and all of that music he wanted to “eventually” do died with him. No one knows how his music would have affected others, and we will NEVER know, now.

  Sarah then went on to explain that was one of the reasons she worked her ass off to stay a full-time writer. She would rather get her stories out than take the easier route (full-time job and do stories part time) and perhaps die with stories in her.

  As for me, I’m already successful as an author and publisher. As Michael Anderle I have many many blessings and opportunities and by God, I’m going to grab them as hard as I can and keep working it like a man swimming ahead of the sharks.

  However, it’s ‘hard’ to do other IP (Intellectual Property) at this point as Michael Anderle, and I figured I would do a Richard Bachman here (Stephen King’s pen name) and work on secret-ish projects and release them as I can.

  Skunkworks or Skunk Works (From Wikipedia) :

  Everett Rogers defined skunkworks as an "enriched environment that is intended to help a small group of individuals design a new idea by escaping routine organizational procedures."

  The term originated during World War II when the P-80 Shooting Star was designed by Lockheed’s Advanced Development Projects Division in Burbank, California, under similar circumstances. A closely-guarded incubator was set up in a circus tent next to a plastics factory in Burbank. The strong smells that wafted into the tent made the Lockheed R&D workers think of the foul-smelling “Skonk Works” factory in Al Capp’s Li'l Abner comic strip.

  Since its origination with Skunk Works, the term was generalized to apply to similar high-priority R & D projects at other large organizations which feature a small team removed from the normal working environment and given freedom from management constraints.

  The term typically refers to technology projects developed in semi-secrecy, such as Google X Lab. Another famous skunkworks was the lab of about fifty people established by Steve Jobs to develop the Macintosh computer, located behind th
e Good Earth Restaurant in Cupertino.

  Collaborations, collaborators and content support.

  Michael Todd is not “just me.”

  I am the creator of Protected by the Damned. I’m also the main beats / script writer. I’m not the person who was responsible for turning the script into the longer story, but I am the person responsible for re-writes and edits to the story into what I wanted to see (sometimes again, or sometimes the story went in a direction I favored, and I allowed that to happen.)

  If you read my Kurtherian Gambit books, you WILL notice my writing in this story.

  I’ve figured out I have a somewhat distinctive voice and snark. I can’t help it – I like adding this shit and sometimes it only comes to me when I’m writing. I get that now.

  I like characters, and frankly I like situations that occur in real life, and sometimes that stuff (real life) is not politically correct.

  Take Katie and Pandora, for instance. I chose to put in a woman who is very comfortable with her body, and doesn’t want it changed whatsoever. And a woman (well, demon) that is so behind the times, it’s ludicrous.

  Nothing possibly could go wrong from this situation, right?

  It hasn’t escaped me that I have SO much opportunity for fun matching up personalities and demons that I can create character’s for years to come.

  (Woman-chaser with a succubus who wants guys, anyone? How about a real go-getter personality type with a major sloth-type demon? How about a human who is so opposite the demon, it drives the demon crazy and the demon is the one encouraging the human to go seek psychiatric help? “Just so I can start from ‘normal,’ get your ass to Dr. Benjamin’s at 2:00 PM TODAY!”)

  My creative juices are going “hmmmm.”

  Usually in The Kurtherian Gambit we have friends and family who stick around for a LOOONG time. While that is STILL my preference, we can never be sure what might happen.

  Because, Death is their Tribute.

  Laurie Starkey and I have known at least ‘of’ each other for about a year and a half. We met during an author event for those striving to push themselves. Later, we had a one-on-one meeting in Dallas discussing what was working for me and what she might consider doing.