New #review
for Pandemonia: Fortuity, my newest rel w/ @Amber Quill Press."Intense,
brutal at times and fast paced. This story grabs your attention from
the start and keeps it until the very end. ... Great read." --Shorty,
MMgoodbookreviews
Earth of 4035 is a wasteland populated with sectors of penal colonies, seeded through the generations by its life-long inhabitants of criminals, lunatics, political prisoners, and DNA-spliced mutants, all ruled by a powerful conglomerate of scientific researchers called the Nucleate.
One such sector, Pandemonia, is situated on the former European continent in the vicinity of Paris, now a hunting ground of a world gone horribly awry.
When Dr. Swane Fox, a behavior scientist from the peaceful planet named Daudulis 40, enters Pandemonia to study its criminal society in an effort to save Earth, he is assaulted. Only a stroke of good fortune keeps him alive when a surly, uncommunicative prisoner named August steps in to save him.
Now, without a way out of Pandemonia since everything he owns has been stolen, Swane realizes his only hope of survival is accepting August’s offer to become his protector—for a price.
Both men have ulterior motives for joining forces, yet if anyone discovers their true goals, they will end up dead. Will lies, mistrust, and initial hatred prevent Swane and August from learning the truth about each other, to give in to their most passionate desires and perhaps even finding love in the least likely of places? Or will their destinies destroy them first?
Coming March 15th
In March, watch for the release of Pandemonia: Combustible, part of the AmberPax Kiss of Fire Collection, available March 15.
Earth 4025. A wasteland, strictly populated with penal colonies. Penal sectors that have become societies seeded through generation upon generation by its life-long inhabitants. Criminals, lunatics, political prisoners...and government-sanctioned DNA-spliced mutants. Ruled by a powerful conglomerate of scientific researchers called the Nucleate.
Passions mix with danger in an explosive and dangerous game, in a lawless world gone mad. No rules, no safe words. Only a fool would risk everything for a chance at love. Especially when that lover could just as well barbecue you as mate you.
Today I'm blogging. Melissa Schroeder was kind enough, or brave enough, to let me post about my Humanotica world, in celebration of the release of Haevyn today. Stop by and comment and be entered to win either a d/l of Silver, the first book in the Humanotica series, or an autographed copy of the paperback.
On Melissa's blog I'm talking about "Haevyn and the Dreaded Factorium." Please stop by.
I'm always delving into one research book or another. Last week it was a more recently published book, Werewolves by Jon Izzard. This week I'm reading a book on vampires. Vampires by Joules Taylor. I purchased both of these books several months back to add to my research shelf. Sadly, it was at the local Border's closing. But also I might add, I probably wouldn't have found these books if I hadn't been browsing at a local bookstore. I do love bookstores, and I did buy them on-site at the b&m. I didn't just buy these books because of the subject matter, they have a really nice heavy, glossy feel to the pages. Yeah, I'm into textures and dimensionality of things. Okay, that being said...
I've just come across a passage that seemed to resonate with something I wrote in Eternity. Here are two short passages from "Vampires" by Joules Taylor.
"... He feels drawn to life, to brightness, and to beauty and the human he pursues must be someone who is special, overflowing with a bright lively light..."
"...for a way to experience at second-hand the life he lost when he became a vampire..."
And here's the passage from Eternity that came to mind. I would caution this is an R-rated excerpt.
He cupped Andrea’s face and tilted it upward. Max’s cock popped out of Andrea’s mouth. Just at that moment Claudio swatted him again. More tears. Max leaned down to kiss Andrea, then licked across the path of tears, feeling his own tears wet his face in empathy.
He straightened away, and Andrea seemed to know exactly what Max would want. He sucked Max’s dick back into his mouth, fresh tears tracking down his cheeks.
Max felt the emotion of the human servicing him. He felt the pain, the pleasure, the extreme rapture of his submission to the two vampires. Max’s throat seemed to close up with theintensity that rushed through him like a fierce summer thunderstorm, flaying him with its passion.
Yes. This was why he took such pleasure in human contact. That blissful sharing of emotion, something that he had lost the ability to experience on his own. Oh, gods, yes.
This was his alone.
“Look at me,” he whispered. “Look into my eyes.”
When Andrea looked up at Max with his beautiful tear-filled blue eyes, it shot Max right over the edge.
I often have to really sit and "talk" with a character to get inside his or her head. They all have secrets, some darker than others, sometimes buried so deep they don't even know. I find the dark side to be wholly intriguing and I love exploring that love/hate, good/bad, evil/saint balance. But it's a scary place to visit, it's not for the weak of heart, yet totally worthwhile to really dig into your characters and find out what makes them do the things they do. What makes them "tick." And I love that aspect of storytelling. If it feels uncomfortable then you're getting there.
I'm working my way through the almost final draft of a WIP that's been making me crazy. I've been having conversations with three of the characters. So, there's Haevyn, who's in a newly-formed special branch of the Regulate military. A very special branch. She's secretive, she has been from the start. She won't even talk to me, the person who's transcribing her story.
"Why him, Haevyn? What is it about him that keeps you coming back?" I take a bite out of the double cheeseburger.
There's a look in her eye, I can feel those secrets there, hiding, cringing in the corner, in the shadows. Her whole demeanor goes still, almost like a statue. I bet she learned that stance when she was in training. But then she slides a glance toward me.
"Do you mean, Grisha?"
"Yes, him," I say, then take a sip of the coke. Mind you, I was having this discussion in a McDonald's at Walmart's. Call me crazy, but she finally opened up about Grisha. Why here, why now, in the middle of a freaking fast-food place, I have no idea. But, hey, I'm going with it. I rummage for the notebook, the pen, I'm ready. "He's just a simple fisherman, really has nothing in common with you."
I see a curl of the lip, but in contrast there's a sheen of tears in her eyes, and she gets that far away look. Whatever memory it is, this seems to be one of the good ones. "He makes me laugh. He makes me...safe."
"Safe?" I ask as I dip the tip of a really salty french fry into the cup of catsup and pop it into my mouth.
A tear rolls down her face. "I've known Grisha since we were school friends. He was there at the most embarrassing moments of my life. He was there...before."
"But he doesn't know everything about you, does he?" I offer her a napkin, which she refuses, lifting her chin, a rather stubborn, set look to her face. The cheeseburger is starting to taste like dust. I so feel for this woman. I have to keep digging because there are so many layers to her.
"He knows enough. I don't need him to know more. He makes me laugh, he makes me feel safe. And in Quentopolis, that's a damned hard thing to do."
"And the other one?" I can't help asking.
"The other one?" For a moment she seems confused and then a look of understanding comes into her eyes. The tears dry and now I see something different. A fire simmering just below the surface. "You mean the warrior...from cockrage. I only met him the other night."
"Yes, but, that was quite a meeting wasn't it? Does he make you laugh?"
A look hinting at different secrets comes into her face, the heaviness of expression, the sensuality is almost tangible. Something darker here, burning in her gut. "He's a warrior, he's seen battle, he knows. And my goddess, to see him fight, to watch him take a man." She releases a shuddering breath.
Is it hot in here or what? I hunt around for the fire extinguishers. I clear my throat. Okay. Keep the conversation going. "What does he know?"
"The secrets. He's been to the abyss. He understands the darkness, the danger. He understands the primal rage that tries to consume you. He's felt it, he's been there."
Ahh, now I'm beginning to understand. These two men are very different indeed. Hmm, wonder how this will all work out for Haevyn?
But, boy, am I glad she finally opened up about the men in her life. Damn, she's been close-mouthed.
Of course, there is that other dude who needs to open up more. Jericah thinks he's too high and mighty to speak with this writer. If he's such a damned powerful sorcerer, how'd he get stuck in such a predicament anyway? In your face, pal, start talking. He's going to have to talk to me one way or the other. I get them all to reveal...eventually. I'm darned tenacious about that. I've got some ideas about his secrets. We'll see how right I am.
In the meantime, I've got to get the groceries. After all, that's really what I'm supposed to be here for.
Today I'm guest blogging at Gabriella Hewitt's blog, talking about my novel, Silver. Take a moment to stop by. Musings from my twisted imagination, one might say. Something to start your week out with. The Erotic Imagination of a Twisted Fantasy Writer.
The thirst for deliverance and absolution are transformed into the explosive flames of a glorious undeniable, and forbidden, passion when a mysteriously charismatic masked man encounters a brilliant and handsome composer. Four lives are intertwined and nothing is as it seems. Only the ultimate sacrifice will satisfy the greedy appetite of fate...
A Bit of Tasty Scene to Tempt You...
"You like being ordered, don’t you? You like men." His voice was a steamy intimate whisper against Carne’s ear. "My touching you is arousing. How many men have you been with, Geraint? And women? Have you a patron among them?"
There would be no prevarication. This man, in some supernatural way, would peel Carne’s secrets from his soul. And Carne couldn’t stop it from happening, he could do none other than yield himself. "I-I think you know my preference, Maître . I think you know it well enough."
His mother had thought it was the music tutor who had ruined him. She blamed herself for Carne’s eccentricities. But Carne had known from an early age, when he’d secretly watched the actors changing backstage, when it had been the men who he fantasized about, not the women. He had understood his predilection for men before his mother’s latest lover had seduced him. But he never told her the truth before she died of consumption in the poor house. He never absolved her of her false guilt.
But the women give you fine jewels, don’t they? Little gifts because you please them so very much. They yearn for you to spend time in their bed, they are eager for you to sleep with them, to show them even more of your secret magic. To ply your command of…instrument in a much more personal and intimate fashion."
Yes, but I don’t give them what they want. I’ll sire no bastards. Ever." He was never going to subject a child to what he had suffered. And since he had no plans to marry, nor a desire to lie with women, he offered them no encouragement to pursue him. "So maybe they want me more because of it. But the men. They can be even more generous than the women." Perhaps so generous because they sought to assuage their guilt for wanting him instead of the beautiful actresses for whom he composed his arias to make their voices shine.
"They can also be more brutal. Is that what you like about them?"
Carne didn’t respond right away. It was that, but there was more as well. "Not all of them are brutal," Carne finally responded. "Some of them are quite…feminine in their desires."
Maitre released Carne. He stepped away and folded his long limbs into an upholstered gold-and-black embroidered wing-backed chair. He crossed his legs and studied Carne. "Tell me," he encouraged in his intriguing smoothly alluring voice. "Tell me about the feminine ones. Stroke your cock while you tell me your stories." He skimmed his long index finger along the globe of the glass containing the absinthe. Carne remembered the taste of that finger inside his mouth.
Carne’s fingers curled around the breadth of his prick, stroked up and down. He’d spent enough time in the company of men to instinctively know what they wanted. How many "patrons" of his technique and talents had there been over the years? They all paled into significance next to this man.
There is a special excitement and anticipation in witnessing a story unfold as I write the first draft , channel the images and voices in my head onto paper (or my computer screen), and then embark on the journey of crafting it, shaping it into a tale of danger, passion, and adventure. As characters comes to life things change, motivations are revealed, and this fictional world reshapes itself.
When I research, I don't always use modern, politically correct, nor whitewashed and redacted materials. I dig into the past and comb through older texts on demonology, on the west through the eyes of those who lived it, on mythology, and on a different form of exotic loving and sex play. Books written in the 19th century and earlier fuel my imagination. I adore crawling through old texts. I flavor with more modern texts, stirred with a bit of having lived and traveled in Montana, Wyoming, Colorado, and the like.
I always loved watching old westerns. But I also love watching and reading horror--particularly the classics. And sift that all together with a good romantic relationship steeped high in eroticism. Perhaps I've blended, mixed, flavored, twisted, pounded, reshaped, and then baked this all together. And Deadeye is one of those creatures invoked by...more spicy and peppered tastes.
My latest story, Deadeye, is now available from the Amber Heat imprint of Amber Quill Press. In writing Deadeye, it began as a paranormal shapeshifter story taking place in an old west time period. Well, that was at the point where this story was one-dimensional theory, before my imagination went to work.
The old west was a time of danger, rugged men, adventurous women, dangerous outlaws. In other words a perfect setting for a world of devious, decadent demons and delicious temptation to thrive.
It's only as I really begin to dig into the characters and their backgrounds and lives that the story surges to life. And that's what happened with this one. Who was Vitus? What part did Caecilia play? I knew Justus was special, but I had to dig deeper as to why. I knew these characters were complex and existed in a very dark dominion. And I knew I couldn't be afraid to follow them into Infernia.
The result of that journey, the outcome of that collaboration is here, in Deadeye. What are the motivations that bring these three together? What perils will they face? And how will love triumph in the end? Are you fearless enough to travel with them to Deadeye?
I invite you to join Vitas, Caecilia, and Justus as they traverse the dangerous and exotic world of Deadeye...
Title: Deadeye Author: Darcy Abriel Publisher: Amber Quill Press/Amber Heat Purchase Link: http://www.amberquill.com/AmberHeat/Deadeye.html Genre: (Historical / The Old West / Dark Fantasy / Witchcraft / BDSM / Voyeurism / Exhibitionism / Ménage [M/M/F] / Group Sex / Contains Bisexual [M/M] Activity) Author’s Website: http://www.darcyabriel.com ISBN: 978-1-61124-040-5
Advisory: This book contains graphic violence, hardcore bondage and punishment, torture and blood play. May not be suitable for the more sensitive reader.
Blurb:
Dark and deadly adventure awaits in Deadeye. Vitus and Caecilia must embrace a world of lustful and devious demons in order to succeed in their mission. And Justus, an incubus, son of the demon lord of Infernia, must shed his dark shadow in order to accept his destiny as a Nacraecian Dreamweaver Sorcerer. Three who meet, three who must face their duty, three who risk everything to be free.
EXCERPT:
Caecilia stumbled forward toward the edge of town, the echo of gunshot ringing in her ears, the laughter of evil men chasing her, the taste of dust in her mouth, clogging her throat.
Determined, she tried to step past the city marker but found she couldn’t, her feet were cemented to the spot.
“No!” She tried again, struggled impotently to step onto the Flats, her eyes focused on the Saguaro Forest beyond. She heard the sound of dragging footsteps and turned to see two chained hell-zombies dragging the dead body of the gunfighter behind them. How easily they breached the boundary of Deadeye, soon lost within the prickly trees beyond. She watched, somehow envious of the dead gunfighter.
She felt the pull of the incubus, drawing her away, back toward the town. Undeniable lust building, forcing her to return, to search him out. She fought his control—she fought herself. Her hand rose to curl around the talisman—which was no longer there. She stifled a sob. Waves of intense heat rippled through her. The carpetbag dropped into the dust. Caecilia fell to her knees. Arms wrapped around her as she attempted to still the sexual agony that gripped her.
“Caecilia.” Vitus gathered her up in his arms.
“Oh, Vitus, what have I done?”
He gathered her close, but still the pain would not abate. In this, there was only one creature who could help her.
She tucked her head against Vitus’s shoulder. She didn’t care where they went as long as she was in his arms. He walked for a time, turned and strode down an alley next to the general store. She lifted her head. He set her on her feet, then closed his eyes and waved an arm. The scene changed.
“You have this power?” she said. “How?”
She gazed upon the shimmering scene of where they had first made love so long ago. Back to Rome and the banks of the Tiber River. A time when innocence and passion had once belonged to them. He took her hand and led her onto the lush grass.
“Do you remember, Caecilia? Do you remember how it was? Sometimes—sometimes I think it was only an illusion used by the gods to taunt me. But if it was all illusion, it’s the only thing that kept me from succumbing completely to Zevodious’s total domination.” He looked at her. “When the lust is sated, you are all that is left—all that I hold close. You possess my heart and you maintain a powerful grip. No matter what else happens to me, my love for you is all that really matters.”
“We have not spoken of that time you were sent to Infernia.”
“It is not to be spoken of.”
“Why did he let you go?” She had wondered because Zevodious was not known for leniency. Vitus looked into her eyes. She saw within them the flames of Infernia, ever present inside him. “He hasn’t released me. But I serve two masters, remember? On occasion when Zevodious summons me I’m still forced to obey. He allows only an illusion of freedom, just as Apollo does. He enjoyed the game of cat-and-mouse. The only reason I’m here is because Apollo commands. Even Zevodious recognizes my first obedience to Apollo. A god’s demand supersedes that of a demon’s pleasure. It just happens in this instance both masters are of one mind. How much amusement they must both take from this situation.”
“We’ll never be free. There is no hope for us. I always thought—always believed that someday we would be together. Instead they simply bind us more tightly. First to Diana, then to Aphrodite, and now…my body is enslaved to an incubus.”
He pulled her more tightly into his arms. “I won’t give up, nor will I allow you to do so.” He lay her back on the grass and slowly began to undo her dress. She stilled his hand. “No, it will shame me. I don’t want you to see the evidence of the incubus’s lust.”
“You have been witness to my shame. Do you think less of me because of the mark of Zevodious?”
“No, of course not. You did what you must.”
“In this place there is no shame, there is only us, Caecilia. Only our love.”
She knelt on the grass and reached for the buttons of his shirt. As he removed her blouse, she bared him. He stood and helped her up. She turned so that he could unfasten her skirts, and then her petticoats. He removed the bustle and tossed it aside. He turned her, knelt down, unfastened her boots and removed them. He removed the garters, rolled her white stockings down her legs and then removed them. He looked up at her. She cupped his face.
“Oh, Vitus, this is dangerous. They set so many traps for us.”
He rose, held out her arm, lowered his head and kissed one of her bruises. Her eyes opened wide as there was a flash of red light and when he lifted away, the bruise, and the pain, were gone.
“You have the power of healing?” she said, as she watched in wonder as each of the bruises on her arm vanished at his touch.
He looked at her. “It is a dark gift, nothing more. The bruises will not return, but within an hour the pain will. Such is this gift from Zevodious. I can offer you only temporary ease.” “And this place, the ability to conjure, is that a dark gift as well.”
He nodded. “To lure the innocent. To seduce and capture. Nothing more.” His smile was twisted. “Is it not working? Am I not succeeding in my seduction?”
He drew her close, kissed the bruises on her neck, even as he removed her corset and chemise. “His purpose in this gift is to prolong his games. To gift relief and to take it away. I’ve only found one way to bind it, and I can’t perform the ritual on you. It is a sadistic gift. I only offer it now to provide some measure of relief. I know the…first time you succumb to the darkness in your soul is…shattering. But you can survive it. You will survive.”
She knelt before him, lifted one of his feet, removed his boot, and tossed it aside along with the sock. Then she did the same with the other. She leaned up to unfasten his jeans and shove them down over his hips.
His cock sprang free. Her passion was dark and lustful, altered from what it had once been. She did not take him into her mouth—she dared not for it could not end there. But she inhaled his earthy scent. She smelled him, the grass, the water—all clean scents, remembered images and feelings filled her mind.
“I remember how it was, Vitus. I remember us. You are my heartmate, I recognized you at once. There will never be another for me.”
His fingers threaded through her long white-blond hair. “Yes,” he said, his voice, deep and gravelly. She turned her head and was met with the mark of Zevodious. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to the outline of the brand. She traced it with her tongue. She heard his audible groan. He dropped to his knees, cupped her face, stared into her eyes. She saw the fire, saw the war of emotion, felt the heat that burned beneath his skin. His lips drew closer. She licked her own. She closed her eyes. He pressed his lips to her throat, her shoulder, across the ragged marks on her chest. She felt his cock pressed against her, wanting it to be inside her, filling her. She remembered the sweet ache of the first time he took her.
“Vitus.” His name was an ache of need upon her lips.
He wrapped her in his arms, she felt his hot, moist breath against her shoulder. Sighing, he pulled away. “Come lie with me on the banks of the Tiber. As we once did. Let me hold you.” She gazed up at him and finally nodded. They lay near enough to listen to the lulling sounds of the babbling water. She smelled the grass, inhaled its clean fragrance. Vitus spooned himself against her back, flesh to flesh. She felt the strong beating of his heart, heard his breaths, felt his cock lodged against her ass. He stroked her arm, down along her curved hip, again and again, until he had lulled her into a world of dreams where she could once again revel in his touch alone. For the moment the pain and the lust were quieted.
As with all things in Infernia, the illusion didn’t last. Caecilia awoke in agony, a scream upon her lips, as she writhed and clawed at the ground, unprepared for the violent lust that gripped her.
A vampire with a raging thirst for human blood and erotic pleasure; a man with a secret mission to find and destroy the undead. But lusty midnight passions defy logic, while boundaries and duty hold no sway on the decks of the Night Stalker. Captain Dont Lucienne is the vampire captain of the Night Stalker. His crew is human, men who serve the vampires of Noctra, providing sustenance, as well as loyalty. They are fighters as well as lovers, and devoted to their vampire masters. They would destroy any who tried to kill their captain. Skye Templeton is a man on a dangerous mission. Plucked from the swelling seas by the crew of the Night Stalker, he's exactly where he needs to be. Will he come out alive, or end up as fodder to the lust of the vampirate captain? His duty is clear, at least until he comes to know this licentious crew and their magnetic leader...until he comes under the supernatural, relentless spell of the Night Stalker.
EXCERPT:
"Why?" he asked Skye, pointing to the blood and hair-encrusted axe.
Skye shrugged. "It seemed the thing to do at the time."
"Do you know what they are? What they were?"
This time when Skye looked at Donté, the vampire captain saw confusion swirling within the blueness of his pupils. "No. I-I thought--"
Ah, revelation swept through Donté. "The axe was for me, wasn't it?"
Skye looked him square in the eye. "I thought you meant to kill all those people. You're a vampire, what else was I supposed to think?"
"My reputation. They all think the vampires of Noctra sail the seas in search of victims to gorge our thirst. Isn't that right?" Skye's hands tightened around the axe handle.
"What else are we supposed to think? Vampires trail a heavy reputation of killing in order to appease their hunger."
Donté started at him for a long time. His instincts told him Skye had been sent here to kill him. So why did he hesitate to have done with Templeton right this minute?
He nodded to the axe. "Well, here you are. And here I am. So why don't you finish the deed you've come here to do?"
"How do you know I was sent to kill you?"
Donté shrugged. "You wouldn't be the first."
"What happened to the others?"
Donté looked back across to the other ship. "A few are now part of my crew. The others," he looked down at the water. "A few have found everlasting peace or hell, depending on your perspective."
"You're a vampire. You have everlasting life."
Donté watched as Skye swung the axe from his shoulder and dropped it to the deck. Donté looked down at the discarded weapon and almost felt a twinge of regret. What he wouldn't give to have all of this done and over with. There was so little he found pleasure in any more. So many lovers dead, so many of his crew sacrificed. He felt the first heat of dawn's fingers against his neck. All he had to do was remain on deck and it would be over with once and for all. He looked at Skye.
"You could have killed me tonight. My focus was on the undead on the ship. My men might have thought it an accident in the surge of bloodlust and they would have let you go."
"Yes. That's true."
"So, why didn't you?" He was curious to know the young man's answer. There was something that intrigued him about Skye Templeton. This was a strong, intelligent man, rather unlike the rest of his crew. Most of them had spent their lives following the orders of others. But not this one. He definitely felt a strong attraction for the man--and it was more than his blood. Yet, his attention was drawn to the purple vein pulsing in Skye's neck.
"I won't become part of your food stores, Captain."
Donté's attention refocused on Skye's face. "Do you think I need another?" He swept an arm in a semi-circle. "I have a crew of men more than eager to quench my thirst. Willingly. Do you think I need you?"
There was something indefinable in Skye's expression. Donté's attention turned to his mouth. Templeton meant to hold himself apart from the rest of his crew. But there was an element of desire and yet defiance in the way he held himself. A flagrant challenge to the vampire captain to force the young man's submission.
"You will yield to me. Eventually."
Those beautiful lips curved into a smile. A tongue slipped out to wet the elegant fullness. Suddenly, Donté swooped forward and possessed them, curling a hand tightly into the long blond locks. Taking what he wanted, tasting the sweetness of strong defiance in the young merchant's kiss.
Skye pressed forward, off-balancing the vampire, pressing advantage, forcing Donté against the rail, as he took control of the passionate kiss. He thrust his tongue between Donté's lips; his determined hands cupped the vampire's cheeks, facing down the danger of such a predatory master.
If Donté had a heart that beat, it would have drum rolled a fast and furious pace as desire roared for Skye Templeton. He pulled free from Skye's lips and stumbled away. He put the weakness that consumed him down to weariness from the night's battle.
Donté slid his tongue over his lower, engorged lip and felt a trickle of blood and wiped it away.
"You challenge what you have no understanding of," he said. He fought the desire to have this human in his bed right this minute. Bound to it, supping from him at his leisure. Or hanging on his wall, the bite of metal binding him in Donté's presence. There was something in Skye Templeton, something so different and so desirable. So forbidden.
"I'll give you what you need, my captain, all in good time."
"Your blood?"
Skye smiled. But it was a strange look of mastery to the expression. "Your marks will never mar my flesh, Donté Lucienne. But perhaps my marks will decorate yours."
As I prepare for the release of my story, Siren's Nocturne, published with Amber Heat, I thought I'd post a bit of background about the goddess, Hel, and her underworld domain.
A Norse queen of the underworld, Hel is considered to be a mother goddess. She is the daughter of Loki and Angrboda. Loki, a trickster and companion to the gods, handsome and amusing, but also sly, malicious, and evil. A restless being, a shapeshifter, married to the goddess Sigyn, he formed a liaison with the giantess Angrboda, and she bore him three children--Jormungand, Hel, and Fenrir.
So frightening in appearance, and being described as half dead and half alive, she was tossed into a province of the land of the dead, called Niflheim, which dominion would now be hers to rule.
Unlike the Christian form of Hell, Hel's underworld is a place where it is her responsibility to succor to all those sent to her--mortals who have died of sickness or old age rather than in battle.
But no dominion ruled at the whim of the gods is quite so simple.
Niflheim is also a place of spells and magic, where dreams can be interpreted and the dead summoned. And Hel's province within the land of Niflheim is called Helheim, and her particular dwelling place or hall, Éljúðnir--home of the dead. In my story, Siren's Nocturne, I've certainly taken liberties with the appearance of Hel, determining her to be a shapeshifter with beauty and seduction an elemental part of her arsenal of weapons to lure humans into her domain to serve her. Within her court of subjects are demons, such as Etienne Pierpont, who willingly submit to her command on earth. These demons travel freely between the human world and the underworld at the whim of Hel.
But what part will Lucille, the human Etienne has finally come to claim, play within Hel's dominion?
Ah, evening is upon me and day is dwindling away. This then is my virgin post. I learned some very interesting things as I was researching the subject of demons for my story Siren's Nocturne. Well, actually, I believe it was the other way around. I was researching demons which breathed life into Siren's Nocturne. Much fodder for many stories.
Demons--presently associated with evil, but before Christianity and in other cultures, demons were in the past and currently are, neither necessarily good or evil. There are a wide range of demons, both good and bad--just as there are humans.
Penetrating deeper into my subject,the word demon means "replete with wisdom." The Greek term daimon means "divine power," "fate," or "god."
A male demon is called an incubus, and incubi are certainly notorious for being extremely well hung. Probably part of the reason they are such delicious fodder for erotic stories. And then there's the dark, mysteriously passionate adventure, piercing into the seductive unknown that titillates many people, I think.
There are also many legends through history about fallen angels, particularly those known as the Grigori. Interpretation lends itself to the belief that some of these fallen angels are beings who have become distanced the farthest from God. Angels who became watchers--considered by some as a separate tribe of angels--and in human form very corruptible to the sins of the flesh--a lusty tenth choir of angels. This tenth choir, more human in form than not because of their close proximity to earth, and "physically intact," unlike many of their kind, are more than able to succumb to the seductive lure of tantalizing flesh.
And let's not forget the "Harlots of Hell" or Succubae--the female demons. More particularly, the first bride of Hell--the lethal, mysterious, and seductive Lilith, thought to have gone by many names in order to seduce her victims. Men did run for the hills when the name of Lilith and her followers was invoked.
In one sense these beings are considered to be a type of god with their divine powers. Another interpretation is that demons are intermediaries between men and gods, maybe a form of demi-god.
In the first hierarchy of demons resides the demon, Asmodeus, considered one of the demons of lust, some say of impurity. His association with lust may stem from the belief that he is a child born of the Hell-queen herself, Lilith. A Persian demon, he is also believed to be the demon in control of gaming houses.
In the second hierarchy of demons resides the demon Rosier, formerly believed to be a lesser-ranked angel, a demon of lasciviousness.
Friar Francesco Mario Buazzo, in the early 1600's divided demons into types: fire demons, aerial demons, terrestrial demons, aqueous demons, subterranean demons, heliophobic (only coming at night) demons. Possibly the heliophobic demons relate to the association with vampires.
Alphonse de Spina notes that there are ten species of demons, among them incubi and succubi, who stimulate lust and perversion.
Then there is the text at Project Gutenberg on Elizabethan Demonology which is an essay by Thomas Alfred Spalding, LL.B. (1880) that appears to indicate a very close association between fairies and demons and the powers they both possess.
So, as we see, it can be a very complicated subject, with varying interpretations on the subject of demonology and angelology.
In Siren's Nocturne, you will need to decide for yourself--Is Etienne good or is he bad?Or is he just a seductive demon trying to live his life? And find his mate. Will Lucille made the right choice in the end? And then one might consider, is it the right choice for you? Or for her?
A Dictionary of Angels Including the Fallen Angels by Gustav Davidson (c. 1967) Angels, An Endangered Species by Malcolm Godwin (c. 1990) The Encyclopedia of Witches and Witchcraft by Rosemary Ellen Guiley (c.1989)
Darcy Abriel delights in the stories that flirt with the dark side of emotion and passion. Going back to the days of Saturday Night Chiller Theaters, series such as Twilight Zone and the Outer Limits, toss in a dash of Alfred Hitchcock and these are the stories that have always fascinated Darcy. That edgy sense of danger that leaves one tingling. Be it a roller coaster ride, a Dracula movie, or a good erotic horror read at the darkest slice of night. Visit the dark side with mystery and passion, eroticism and tingling fantasy. Explore what makes your heart pump faster, your blood run hotter, and the adrenalin surge.
by its life-long inhabitants of criminals, lunatics, political prisoners, and DNA-spliced mutants, all ruled by a powerful conglomerate of scientific researchers called the Nucleate.
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