Wordless Wednesday - 52

Screen captures from Robin Hood episode titled "Walkabout", shot by Gareth Hughes

Poetry Train Monday - 52 - Scandalous

A Piece of My Mind is taking a walk on the dark side this week. Care to join me?

To set the mood for our journey, I'm posting the lyrics for Scandalous by Prince. He was a trendsetter for replacing full words with abbreviated symbols, now common in the text message world.


Scandalous

Come closer
Feel what U been dyin' 4
Don't be afraid, baby
Touch it and explode
Understand, understand that I love U
Ah, but more than that - I want U
Everybody always told me good things come 2 those who wait
But I've got so much on the menu
I just can't, I just can't, I can't wait, baby
I can't wait, baby
Till I can wrap my legs all around U girl
Cuz sugar, U know U're just the kind of lover
That I've been lookin' 4
2night why don't we skip all the foreplay, mama
And just get down here on the floor

Scandalous - I'm talkin' 'bout U and me
Marvelous - baby, baby, can't U see?
Anything U ever dreamed of, I'm willing 2 be
2night is gonna be scandalous
Cuz 2night I'm gonna be your fantasy


My dearest, my dearest

Whisper a question
With my body, I'll scream a reply
Anything's acceptable
Just ask me and I'll try it
2 hell with hesitations
2 hell with the reasons why

Baby, baby, baby

Oh girl, the things U make me do
Genius is the only way 2 describe U

Anything U ever dreamed of, baby
Just ask me - I'll do, I'll do, I'll do it 4 U, baby
Anything at all
Spirits rise and spirits fall
Anything U ever dreamed of, I'm willing 2 be
2night is gonna be scandalous
Cuz 2night I'm, 2night I'm gonna be your fantasy!

Scandalous
Marvelous

- Prince, 1989

Illustration by Boris Vallejo
for the cover of Barba the Slaver by Dael Forest

Here's an edited version of the song.

"None can see the wind but in its effects on the trees. Neither can we see emotions but in their effects on face and body." - Nathaniel LeTonnerre

'There is no joy in Mudville,' as Ernest L. Thayer would put it. And in Cole Harbour, Nova Scotia - hometown of Sidney Crosby - there's even church signs trying to cheer us up.

My post for today is a look at the emotions swirling through Sidney as he plays his longed-for first Stanley Cup playoffs, only to shake hands with winning Detroit goalie Chris Osgoode before withdrawing to the locker room.

To make life nearly unbearable, the CBC is threatening to let the license lapse on its Hockey Night in Canada theme. Just watch the reaction of these two toddlers on YouTube when they hear that theme start up on their TV.




If Sid could keep it together after seeing the Cup go to the Red Wings, he would crumble into tiny pieces if Hockey Night in Canada ditched its iconic theme.

Thursday Thirteen - 58 - 13 Reasons to Read Law of Averages by Wylie Kinson

Law of Averages is Wylie Kinson's second Ellora's Cave release, and I was squealing like a fan girl when I got a chance to read it. With a British rock star as the hero, I knew I'd fall in love with him even before I read the first sentence. I have a soft spot for sexy musicians. My high school boyfriend was a bass player, so you see where I'm coming from...

1 - I discovered Wylie Kinson as a fellow blogger. She's one of the Sexies at Six Degrees of Sexy, along with my fellow Romance Writers of Atlantic Canada writer Renee Field, and fellow blog buddies Christine d'Abo, Red Garnier, Amy Ruttan and Robin Rotham.

2 - Even before I realized the crowd she hung with, I'd noticed her witty zinger comments at creative goddess Rhian's blog, From My Brain To Yours. When Wylie wandered over to my blog, I was thrilled to make such a wonderful connection. I was even more thrilled when I got a chance to meet Wylie face to face at the October 2007 meeting of the Toronto Romance Writers. What a joy to meet a blog buddy at long last.

3 - So how fabulous is Law of Averages? Read on, darlings.

Part of the Ellora's Cave Contemporary Short Novel category, the heroine is the manager of a world-famous restaurant who personally can't cook. The hero is a tattooed, eyeliner-wearing musician who shows up unannounced at the Bermuda retreat she's been sent to for some serious R & R.

4 - We meet Megan Frost, who worked ninety-three days without a break when the restaurant's executive manager had a double bypass operation. Her boss flew in from London to thank her personally, sending her off to her private home in Bermuda to recharge. Maybe even find herself a vacation fling.

5 - The Dark Angel of Rock steps off the plane and heads for the private home of his London financial advisor and school mate from Eton. He needs to take a breather before coming up with more material for another recording session, and his well is uncharacteristically dry. But his friend hadn't actually checked with his wife as to house occupancy. Gabriel Law - aka Dark Angel - discovers his hideaway comes complete with its own woman.

6 - Normally Gabriel would have turned in the doorway and fled. Normally he would have had to. He would have been chased by a rabid fan or instantaneously propositioned. But Megan clearly doesn't recognize him. And Gabriel can't resist the sweet allure of the chance to park the rock god and be himself for a change.

7 - I really, really love the way Wylie ties all of her scorchy scenes to Megan's and Gabriel's emotional states. Megan is so genuine, there's not one of her emotions that I couldn't relate to. Her encouragement of Gabriel when she thinks he's basically a working musician on the club circuit is so healing to a tired mega celebrity. And his desire for Megan is tied in every way with how she makes him feel, how she helps him to reconnect to why he became the Dark Angel in the first place.

8 - The sexual desire between Megan and Gabriel is as lush and exotic as their Bermuda retreat. It's not a competitive tension, but a letting-their-hair-down exploration by two hard-driven professionals. For Megan - Average Megan - this vacation fling with a gorgeous British musician with an even more gorgeous voice wasn't even on her radar. More touching for me is the acceptance Gabriel feels in her presence. His celebrity persona had overshadowed his own personality for so long, he hadn't realized it was missing in action - until Megan brings him out of hiding.

9 - Wylie's wit is sprinkled everywhere throughout this book. As in:

His chest was bare but for that line that gathered around his bellybutton and headed down the center before disappearing…

Don’t go there, Megan. Bloody hell! Read the book. Read the book! I’m reading my book. Dum de de dum de dum, just reading my book. Where the bloody hell was I?

Shit. Now her inner voice was speaking with an English accent.

10 - Wylie really knows how to end each chapter with a hook. Like this, for example:

" 'I thought I heard you giggling. Were you reading?'

'No,' she said, wiping the water that had spewed out of her mouth in surprise. He heard me? Had he heard her whispering his name over and over like a stuttering parrot? Had he heard her murmur 'Megan Frost Law'? She watched him put the glass to his lips and decided to confess to the lesser of two evils. 'I was…oh God, if you really must know, I was imagining all the naughty, dirty, illegal-in-thirty-two-states things I wanted to do to your body.'

It was Gabriel’s turn to spew.

'Hell,' he croaked between coughs. 'I’m too old for this kind of teasing.' He grabbed her around the waist and hoisted her up onto the breakfast bar so they were eye to eye. Gabriel spread her knees and stepped between her thighs, leaning in close so their foreheads touched. 'You should have called for me. I would have happily added my suggestions to your list.'

'I gave you plenty of signals last night, Gabriel, but you didn’t touch me.'

'I was fighting with my conscience.'

'Oh? Who won?'

'You did.' "

11 - Wylie ties a Bermuda sea myth into the romance between Megan and Gabriel beautifully. It doesn't spin this contemporary into a sudden paranormal, but it laces the mystery and charm of the edge-of-the-Caribbean island throughout the book like an ocean breeze.

12 - Wylie captures perfectly the Cinderella moments that women dream about when Megan allows herself to be wooed by Gabriel. He takes her sailing on a private yacht which he explains away as a gift from the Bermuda homeowner. At first she wonders if she should pay for half of the cruise, seeing as he's only a club musician and all...

Most wonderful is the gorgeous bathing suit, gossamer cover and wide-brimmed hat he gives her to wear on the boat.

Megan’s heart started beating out a little calypso tune of its own as she walked toward him. The island, the outfit, the man, all brought out a confidence she’d never had. She felt as if she were dripping diamonds when she walked.

13 - I leave you with an excerpt. Enjoy!

" 'Where have you been?' He actually looked worried, standing on the top step in the dark as she approached.

'You’re Gabriel Law!' she accused with pointed finger. She pushed past him and stormed into the cottage. She rounded on him. 'Why didn’t you tell me?'

'Well,' he began, walking toward her slowly and gently as if she were an atomic bomb, 'I believe my opening line was indeed, "Hello, I’m Gabriel Law." ' He took the wine bag out of her hand and placed it on the counter.

'Yes, technically,' she took a deep breath, 'but you should have said, "Hello, I’m Gabriel Law, better known as Dark Angel"!'

He winced. 'Ah, sorry. I assumed you knew. Most people do.'

'Oh they do not! How many people know Bono’s name — '

'Paul Hewson.'

'Or Sting — '

'Gordon Sumner.'

'Damn you, Gabriel! Just stop it. You knew I didn’t know.' She wagged her finger at him. 'You purposely deceived me.'

She dropped her bags on the floor and put her hands on her hips. She felt so stupid! Stupid, stupid MEE-gan — brainless, naïve and completely gullible. He must be having the laugh of his life.

She took another deep breath and bit down hard, determined to stifle the tears that were making her throat tight. He reached out to rub the tops of her arms but she jumped back.

'Was this a game to you? Am I some joke that you and Grinder will have a good chuckle over? Really, Gabriel, I’m so disgusted I could spit!'

Her chest was so tight it was hard to speak. Or breathe. She couldn’t hold back the tears any longer so she ran to the bedroom and slammed the door. She barely made it before the sobs came. She held the pillow to her face so he wouldn’t hear her.

Bad choice. The pillow smelled like him.

When she’d typed his name into Google, she was shocked to see the header bar say 'Results 1–10 of 25,300,000 for Gabriel Law'.

That was the moment the dizziness began. Words swam in front of her eyes — Official Dark Angel Fan Club, Rough Cut Concert Listings, Gabriel Law, the Dark Angel of Rock…

Of course, his tattoo! The angel wing — and she’d been too thick to get it. She’d seen it on T-shirts and album covers, billboards! It was their trademark, like the Rolling Stones lips.

'Megan, can I come in?' Gabriel called through the door, breaking her out of her thoughts.

She quickly sat up on the edge of the bed and tried to swallow but the lump was still lodged at the base of her throat, making her sound like a frog.

'No.'

'Bloody hell,' she heard him murmur behind the door. He came in anyway.

Damn Ash and Gemma for not having locks on their doors.

'Look at me.'

'No.'

'You’re crying.'

'No, I’m not.' Duh! He was standing in the room. He could see the damn tears. 'Well, yes, but not because of you.'

'Why then?' She lifted her legs and swiveled her ankles, showing off the attractive pink rash. 'Poison ivy. The pharmacist said I have poison ivy, probably from hiding in the bushes at the park, and it’s itchy and I’m miserable.' She put the pillow to her face and let out another sob.

Damn plants. Damn Gabriel.

He got on his knees in front of her and took the mashed, wet pillow out of her hands.

He lifted her chin with his finger so they were eye to eye. She was surprised to find her pain reflected in his tourmaline eyes. She sniffed.

'Please let me explain, Megan.' He slid his hands up her thighs, but it wasn’t an erotic gesture — more like one of a man clinging to the side of a lifeboat. 'I was ecstatic that you didn’t realize who I was. A little shocked, sure, I mean, I do have an ego — quite a huge one, in fact. But if you had recognized me, I would have had to leave.'

'Why?' she sniffed.

He let a few moments pass before answering, his eyes on his hands sliding up and down the outsides of her thighs. He took a deep breath and looked at her. 'Megan, I’m tired of all this. I’ve been touring and partying and trying to maintain an image for twenty years. I’m burnt out and I desperately need a change. I don’t want to be Dark Angel anymore. Do you know how long it’s been since anyone has called me Gabriel? Just plain old Gabriel?' "

- Wylie Kinson, 2008


Join me next week when I review Jennifer Leeland's Resisting Command. Following that, I'll be reviewing Fox's Bride by Amy Ruttan.

Blog Blast For Peace - Dona Nobis Pacem - Grant Us Peace

Join with Mimi Lenox and a world of Peace Bloggers as we put our thirst for Peace into the Universe.

Wordless Wednesday - 51

Poetry Train Monday - 51 - Vampire Story Excerpt

Here's another excerpt from my vampire WIP. This scene takes place before the other two. You can follow the story if you missed them:
Excerpt 1
Excerpt 2

It's 577AD in Wales. Peredur is pulled from a battlefield which should have been his last. We join him as he makes the transformation from his human life to something else entirely. I've modelled Peredur after Gerard Butler. Enjoy!



The demon strode forward, standing before Peredur in all his terrible splendor. His face lit with a sinister smile. Raising a hand to indicate the newest member, the fiend said to the six, “Behold your Brother.”

He swept his hand wide to include the others. “Behold, these your Brothers. They have given freely of their blood to waken you from the sleep that transformed you. You have taken your first life and shared that freely with your Brothers. Now...”

The demon stepped closer, moving smoothly behind Peredur. “...the final step in your rebirth.” Iron hands placed themselves upon each of Peredur’s shoulders. “The brethren will taste of your essence and share with you this final act of becoming.”

He wondered too late what this essence could be that he must share. The demon pulled him to his feet in a smooth motion, as if he weighed no more than an afterthought. The others closed in as he felt the demon’s grip tighten, pulling Peredur’s arms behind him.


“I asked if you wanted another life,” the fiend whispered in Peredur’s ear. Two of the brethren knelt and sliced open his leggings, while the demon helped to pull his tunic off. Sharp nails dragged across Peredur’s flesh. He bucked and twisted, but the demon and brethren held him fast. Mouths descended on the beading lacerations, licking up the precious blood.

A groan escaped him. The power so newly won from the feast flowed out of him and into the others, racking his body with shudders. Each of the brethren sighed or moaned his pleasure, sipping from Peredur like kings from jewelled goblets. His energy ebbed so completely he sagged forward, hanging from the demon’s grasp.

The brethren raised him in the air. They turned him about in a slow arc, kneeling as one before the demon. Peredur felt displayed and presented like a stag before a banquet.

The fiend stepped forward into Peredur’s field of vision. Such a being. Power emanated from him in his every gesture. He smiled upon Peredur.

“Before I take your gift of brotherhood to myself,” he said, “I bow to your offering and receive it with humble thanks.” He swept forward in an elegant reverence. Raising his arms like a druidic priest, the demon cast his eyes to heaven. “You gave Yourself freely, offering to us what You held most dearly. You asked in return that we love one another as You loved us.”

Was this demon addressing the Roman God? Did he have no fear? Perhaps there was nothing to fear when the worst had already happened.

Pure crystalline dread took hold of him now. The fiend knelt before Peredur, turned now so that he faced the cavern floor and regarded the bowed head of the demon. “In our hour of death,” continued the fiend, “when we most needed Your Presence to guide us Home, each of us here cursed You instead.” The dread in Peredur’s gut grew worse. The brethren holding him in their grasp each shuddered as if they felt it, too.

Without warning, Peredur saw in his mind’s eye a series of battlefield deaths, each one featuring a member of this brotherhood:

One fell to a battleaxe, hurled from a distance. He never saw it coming.

One was thrown from a tower and impaled on a tree.

One slipped from a ship’s wreckage, no longer able to cling with numbed hands, within sight of the shore.

One writhed in the grip of poisoned wine on the eve of battle, served by an ambitious captain.

One shook with fever caused by festering wounds, left for dead by his own retreating force.

And the last, the demon himself, Peredur saw his death as well.

The demon had secretly loved the daughter of his king. Unable to keep one look of longing from escaping them, he’d been forced to watch her submit to cruel punishment. Then he was sent to his assured battlefield death in the knowledge she would be married to another. The curses that man had flung toward God. Peredur’s own surely paled in comparison.

He looked down now upon this demon/brother, upon the bowed head. He was filled with a curious compassion.

“We humbly beseech Thee,” the kneeling fiend continued. “Accept this new member into Your Brotherhood with our petition for forgiveness.”

“Forgive us,” the others intoned.


The demon raised his head and looked directly into Peredur’s face. The suffering, the longing Peredur saw there took his breath away.

Spreading arms wide to encompass them all, the fiend said, “Now you have seen us in our hour of damnation.” The demon no longer addressed the Roman God, but Peredur himself.

“God, in His mystery, has sent none of us to reside in the fires of Hell. We are compelled to walk amongst the living, though we no longer live as mortals. And as you can clearly see, we are not dead.”

Peredur felt a ripple of unrest in those who held him.

“You have shared your blood freely with the Brotherhood,” the demon continued, “as they have shared with you. In this way you are welcomed to this life.”

Peredur wondered just how freely he’d shared, when it was the brethren themselves who’d cut into his thighs and torso, helping themselves to his blood. He recalled the delirious joy as he’d sunk his own teeth into that poor boy’s neck. Even now the thought of it made him hunger for more.

Memories of these warrior’s deaths swiftly pummeled him over again. His body twisted as they buffeted his consciousness. Worst of all was the image of that woman writhing under her treatment in the tormented memory of the one who knelt before him. Peredur and the demon locked gazes.

Inhaling sharply, Peredur saw the lovers’ reunion in his mind. The demon had joined with her after his transformation. Somehow he knew it was true.

Tanwen.

The fiend nodded. If he shared his blood with this last of the brethren, he would one day hold Tanwen in his arms. For that he would gladly face this between-worlds purgatory. For Tanwen he would face anything.

“Peredur of Gwenydd.” Solemnly, the demon addressed him. “Do you give freely of your blood? In so doing, you will seal your fate to that of this Brotherhood.”

He felt the stirring amongst the others, a profound anticipation. “I asked once before,” said Peredur. “I must know - who do you serve?”

“The Brotherhood,” they answered in one confident voice.

“We merely serve ourselves?” he asked.

“The Brotherhood serves Him Who made us.” The demon gazed patiently at Peredur.

“To what purpose?”

“Who can say what purpose God sets down for us?”

Peredur looked again into those pale eyes. They gave nothing away.

“I can yet release you from this life,” the fiend offered.

“How?”

“None must join the Brotherhood who do not wish it.”

“If I didn’t?” Peredur asked.

"Merging your blood with mine is the last step. After that, nothing will release you from the Brotherhood. Unless God Himself wills it."

The only thing that seemed real to Peredur was the borrowed memory of this demon and his wronged beloved. To reunite with Tanwen was all that mattered. He would give himself to this demon and pay whatever price was required of him.

Peredur took a deep breath. “I give myself. Freely.”

A collective sigh escaped those who held him. Peredur raised his head and saw an irresistible smile creep over the lips of the demon. An expression akin to gratitude filled his eyes before they began to glow in that hellish way.

Peredur felt the grip upon him tighten. He tried to still himself but couldn’t stop from rearing back against the others as the demon crept imperceptibly closer, then lay on the cavern floor directly beneath him.


Peredur hung suspended over the demon, whose gaze bored deeply into Peredur’s own. In a swift movement the fiend drew a sharp nail across Peredur’s chest.

The cut bit. Peredur felt a wave of disorientation and moaned. His blood dripped quickly onto the waiting lips of the demon. Peredur fought to keep his eyes open even as his head swam. The demon closed his, threw his head back as in rapture and bared his teeth. They gleamed white between the gloss of Peredur’s blood.

The brethren growled in approval. Peredur writhed in their hands. The demon put his fingers gently to Peredur’s wound, tracing it. Opening his mouth wide, he collected the blood and swallowed, laughing throatily. He looked up once more as if into Peredur’s very soul.

He knew that the demon saw Tanwen, that the broad bloody grin was for her. Peredur’s feet touched the ground as the brethren finally lowered and released him.

Peredur sank to his knees, breathing heavily.

The demon raised himself to kneel as well. He took Peredur’s face in his hands. “Welcome, brother. I am Melnak.”

Peredur tried to speak but could not find the words. Finally he managed, “What have I become?”

“Vampire,” Melnak replied, voice thick with emotion. “You are now a vampire. Welcome to the Brotherhood of Blood.”

- Copyright - Julia Smith - 2008