by Unknown
I realised I was ready to make my way back to Lauren’s. I’d drunk enough brandy to sink a ship and was annoyed that it hadn’t had the desire effect. I was still standing.
I decided not to break up the party but just to slip away and I transported myself back home without saying goodbye.
I stood at the foot of the bed and looked down at my leathers, instantly transforming them into a siren red lace-up negligee, transparent and sexy as hell, and then collapsed on to my bed. I was hoping that it might life my mood. It didn’t. Sadness wasn’t something I experienced very often but I brushed it off and decided to go to sleep.
I pulled the covers over myself and lowered my head to the pillow, closing my eyes ready for sleep to take me. Suddenly, there was a loud bang and it sounded like it had come from the kitchen. I sat up quickly and listened.
“Natalia!”
It was Agnes. What the hell was she doing here? I climbed back out of bed and changed the negligee for pyjama bottoms and a t-shit then made my way down stairs.
I walked in to the kitchen to see Agnes swaying next to the upturned kitchen table.
“Why did you leave without saying goodbye? I wanted to talk to you,” Agnes slurred, putting her hands on her hips. Her cheeks were flushed, a dead giveaway that she’d had more than a little too much to drink. I walked over to the table and set it back on its legs then turned to the kettle and switched it on.
“So you decided to come and look for me? What was so important?” I asked, pulling the lid of the coffee jar.
She huffed and pulled a chair out to take a seat. Unfortunately, her aim was off and she landed on the floor. I ignored her and took two cups out of the cupboard. When I turned back, she was sitting looking comfortable with her legs crossed and her chin resting on her hand. Her hair sticking up at odd angles was the only indication that anything unusual had actually happened.
“I just wanted to see how you were getting on, I’ve missed you,” she said, pushing her specs back up her nose.
“Yeah, right,” I said, not believing her for a second as I stood the coffee carefully in front of her. “Careful, it’s hot.”
“I can’t drink it.” She looked wistfully at the cup. Damn, I forgot about that. I snatched the cup up and took a seat, leaving the other coffee on the bench. I was about to take a drink when the sad look on her face stopped me in my tracks. Bloody hell, this caring about people was quickly getting old. I stood up and walked across the kitchen, tipping the coffee into the sink.
“Alright, missy, I’m just going to come right out with it. I’m worried about you. No friends other than Selina and Lauren, you’ve already said you’re bored… I’m scared you’re going to decide to go back to Hell.”
“Why would you worry about that? You know that Hell is my home; I will have to go back one day. Hopefully when Satan has forgotten about the whole snowball incident.” I walked back and sat opposite her.
“Have you noticed anything about yourself, Natalia?” she looked at me with a puzzled expression on her face.
I looked back. Blank.
“No, what?”
“The more time you spend here, the more human you’re becoming. You’re learning to be compassionate.”
I stood up quickly and the chair slammed down on to the floor behind me.
“Take that back!” I snapped as she looked at me triumphantly.
“What’s so wrong with that? Are you telling me you were happier the way you were?” She pushed her specs back up her nose.
“Agnes, I belong in Hell. There is no room in Hell for compassion, believe me.” I could feel my eyes glowing red with anger and I tried desperately to take control of my emotions. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt Agnes. Oh shit! She was right!
I felt the blood drain from my face and Agnes ran round the side of the table, picking up my chair and helping me to sit.
“I know it’s a shock. Just take your time, breathe!” she coached. She started doing a weird blowing thing with her mouth “shhhhhhhhh shhhhhhhhhh hhhhhhhhhhooooooooo, shhhhhhhhh shhhhhhhhhh hhhhhhhhhhooooooooo”
I looked at her in disbelief.
“Agnes, I’m in shock, not labour,” I snapped.
I could see the relief on her face as she took her seat, carefully concentrating so as not to land on her arse again. I was grateful for that at least, I’d had enough of seeing her knickers to last me a lifetime.
“Look Natalia, I know you think about going back to Hell but is that really the place for you? You have options.”
“What options, Agnes? There’s only there or here. That’s it!” I stood up and walked to the cupboard, pulling out the brandy and taking a swig right from the bottle. I turned on Agnes as a thought suddenly occurred to me.
“If you can’t eat or drink, how come you’re drunk?” I asked.
She went blood red and fidgeted with her fingers. “I have to enter the body of someone who’s already drunk to get the effects.”
“Oh? And who obliged you?”
“Selina, but don’t tell her. She was having some pretty wicked thoughts about Zerachiel at the time and I wouldn’t want to embarrass the girl.”
I laughed but felt a strange disquiet in my stomach at her words. Selina and Zerachiel? Why I cared was beyond me, it wasn’t as though anything could happen between us. He was the enemy.
“…and while we’re on the subject…” she continued, looking away and pushing her specs up, a sure sign she was up to something.
“We are not on the subject, Agnes; we are not talking about that…that…angel!” I felt my eyes glowing red again in warning but she wasn’t looking at me.
“…he thinks you have potential,” she finished, pursing her lips and crossing her arms.
“Oh, I just bet he does!” I snorted and took another swig of brandy.
“Not in that way, silly, as in potential for redemption. You do know what he does, don’t you?”
“He’s an angel, what’s there to know?” I took a seat opposite her.
“He’s God’s watcher on earth and he transports souls for judgment. He also looks out for children whose parents are sinners, just like you.”
“My parents are DEMONS, they’re supposed to sin,” I snapped.
“Beside the point, no need for you to follow in their footsteps.” She sat up primly.
“Agnes, we are not having this conversation. I am beyond redemption and I absolutely do not want to go to heaven.”
“Firstly, you are not beyond redemption and secondly, why not?”
“Because I don’t!”
“You’ve got to have a reason and I’m not leaving until you spit it out.” She folded her arms to make a point and stared at me, her glasses askew and her hair still sticking up.
I sighed and sat back in the chair.
“Look Agnes, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but honestly, heaven is not the place for me. I’m no good. I enjoy seeing people suffer!”
“Oh? What about if it was Lauren? Or Selina? Would you enjoy that?”
I stared into her eyes and thought about what she was saying. Anger burned in my stomach at the thought and I had to admit, she had a point.
“If anyone tries to hurt either of them, they will answer to me,” I said deflated. My shoulders dropped and I hung my head.
She grinned like she’d won the world cup.
“I knew it!”
“Sod off, I’m going to bed.”
I stormed out of the kitchen, leaving her there with her triumph.
Books by Sharon Karaa
The Last Challenge – (Northern Witches Series Book 1)
I thought I was normal, I really did, aside from the fact I had a penchant for naming the many facets of my personality. I was unlucky, I’ll grant you, but other than that, just your average twenty-five year old virgin.
Then my long dead ancestor turned up with a four-hundred year appetite, a passion for G-strings, and a scorching hot, male witch in tow.
Throw i
n an unadulterated bitch of a familiar, three spirits baying for my blood, a six inch tall Geordie man, and my best friend Selina, and before you could say “bubble, bubble” I was strapped onto the front of the roller coaster of my life, heading straight to Hell in a hand basket.
And the brakes were shot to pieces…
A Familiar Problem – (Northern Witches Series Book 2)
Let me give you a word of advice, be careful what you wish for. Trust me, I’m a demon, I know these things.
So how did I end up being a familiar? It wasn't easy, I can tell you! Making it snow in Hell was just the start of it. And where did it get me? Earth, that's where, and I'll tell you now, compared to Hell, it's...well, hellish!
Saved by a posse of witches, I made myself a new home, with friends (yes, believe it or not, demons can have friends!), but would my new life be enough for me or was there more I was missing? Life on earth seemed to be pretty damn boring at times.
Then along came two of the sexiest males a girl could ever dream of. The problem? One was an angel and the other was a demon.
Life was just about to get complicated.
Bite The Big One!
He told me he was a gardener; a landscape gardener, no less. Not once did me mention “slash vampire slayer”. I’m pretty sure if he had, the sexy eyes and bulging biceps wouldn’t have looked quite so appealing. Mind you, who was I to talk?
When I was a child, I wanted to be a ballet dancer, or a gymnast, or even a swordfish (admittedly I was suffering from hallucinations brought on by a fever at the time). I never, ever, in my wildest moments, thought that when I grew up, I’d be the chronicle of the dead. Nor would I have wanted to. The dead don’t keep office hours and certainly don’t respect your privacy when you’re on the loo. And they don’t pay. I had to resort to selling sex aids to geriatrics just to keep a roof over my head.
On the plus side, I was never out of work. There was always a queue of them (the dead that is, not geriatrics). Wherever you turned they were there, waiting their turn, wanting to pass on the messages they hadn’t had the forethought to pass on before they did. But someone didn’t want one of the messages to be delivered. Someone who wasn’t entirely in the land of the living themselves. Someone who was willing to go to extreme lengths to shut me up.
On top of all that, I had to spend my days dodging the ill-conceived spells my best friend cast in her quest to ensure I achieved the ultimate in sexual satisfaction (my advice? Don’t tell your friend if you’ve never had a Big O, especially if she’s a witch!). And now my dog’s back-answering me as well. As if I didn’t have enough to cope with, what with my father’s mid-life crisis and being stalked by said vampire slayer.
Someone give me fate’s address…I feel a strongly worded letter coming on!
About the Author
Sharon Karaa is a mass of contradictions but two facets of her character have always battled for supremacy; her logical self (let’s call him Frank, he’s male, I know that makes no sense but hey, this is my story!) and her artistic side (lets her call Misty). Until recently, Frank won every battle, forcing Sharon into a life based on most probable outcome, and to give him his credit, it has led to a fairly comfortable, if rather boring life so far. Then Misty took up kick boxing and gave Frank a good kick in the goodies.
Sharon is a full time IT professional from the North East of England, a place where you have to dig deep to find the magic, but it’s there!
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Acknowledgements
Many heartfelt thanks to my wonderful husband for having a hobby that left me with time on my hands! Seriously, for his support, for putting up with me sniggering away like a lunatic and for patiently listening to me prattle on about the characters, thank you sweetheart!
Thanks also to my exceptionally wonderful sister Selina (yes, you guessed it, she’s in the book!). She has always been, and always will be, my frame of reference for good and not so good; my very own little angel.
To all of my friends and family who have supported me, but mostly to you, for reading this book, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it.
Copyright
This ebook edition published 2014 Copyright © Sharon Karaa.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.