Real world stuff today:
First off, my publisher, Howling Wolf Books, has decided to hold off on releasing anything new until they can find a new print on demand service for paperback printing. So neither of my books originally scheduled to come out this year will be release as originally planned. Anything already released will continue to be available in paperback on Amazon and in ebook other places for now.  I'm told that, once they do find a new service for paperback printing, all the old books will be getting new editions with prettier covers. So I'm looking forward to that.
The thought, which I briefly discussed with sister author B. Heather Mantler, is creating a Facebook group or other (semi) private forum for the purposes of beta reading and sharing other writing. If anyone would be interested in this, either as an author or as a potential beta reader, please let me know in a comment on this post.

​One hundred and sixty-five years ago, the monsters came together to perform the Darkening, a curse ritual on the forbidden scale. The sky turned dark with thick, unyielding clouds and all celestial lights were extinguished. However, mankind is nothing if not adaptable and quickly found ways to survive without those natural lights. What they couldn't escape was the predators, the beasts and blood-thirsty who now hunted without restriction.
And now it's all come down to me, the last human to walk their world.

In the beginning, there was mankind. We walked the world, masters of all we surveyed. We created and destroyed, we loved and hated, we procreated and died. Then came the question: What happens after death? And no one had a satisfactory answer. Some suggested this life was all there was. Others developed unprovable theories about various after lifes. But without a concrete answer, death came to be feared.
Those who believed this life was all there was created the Deathbed Ritual and became the blood-thirsty. Their spirits remained in this world for eternity and they were strong or weak depending on their willingness to consume the blood of the living.
Those who believed in an afterlife created the Blood and Skin Ritual and became the beasts. They remained mortal, but with the ability to shapeshift into one animal of their choosing. They were strong or weak depending whether they preferred their human form or their animal form.
But some chose to carry on living as if the question had never been asked. We remained human and lived out our lives as we saw fit. However, we were the minority and preyed upon by both the blood-thirsty and the beasts. Still, we thrived for a time, being more willing to live in the full light of the sun, moon and stars. The beasts and blood-thirsty shunned the celestial lights almost as if afraid of something up there, watching them.
And then they came together and performed the Darkening, cutting off the celestial lights. The minority became the hunted and dwindled rapidly. Some chose to undergo the rituals and become monsters themselves. More were hunted and killed for the appetites of the blood-thirsty and the sport of the beasts.
A few of us learned to protect ourselves even in the darkness and built a hidden community where we were safe for a time. We discovered the weaknesses of those who hunted us and used them for protection. But our supplies, although carefully preserved, were not enough to last indefinitely and none escape old age. When our suppliers stopped returning and my father succumbed to disease, I didn't care to remain in that place. So I gathered everything I could and made a new place for myself. I have everything I need to survive and protect myself for the rest of my life. Unfortunately staying sane all alone could prove more difficult.

Somehow, it's now 2022. Happy New Years to everyone. I hope this year brings each of you something you need.
My current plans for this year include:
Two new novels published, one of which my publisher tells me is nearly ready to go and the other needs proofing yet.
Edits on several of my completed first drafts from the last couple years. i know some of these are going to be harder than others. I'm pretty sure some of those drafts are as rough as first drafts could possibly be.
Three to four new first draft manuscripts and some 'tales of'... maybe enough for a new collection. We'll see how things go.
All of this being dependent on my having the time to sit and work and be able to concentrate. We shall see how it goes.

But now Ben's gone and Amy isn't acting like herself and our native guide is getting scared. We're in the middle of nowhere, on the wrong side of the lines in a war zone. It doesn't matter how many thousand people know where we are. None of them can reach us right now. No official in this country is going to spare time for a few foolish tourists. I almost wish I had taken my parents' advice to go back to school.
Almost, but not quite. I know we have to be getting close to our destination. And we were warned the area is dangerous. This isn't the first highly dangerous place we've survived. Maybe it's the first time things have been quite this bad. I'm not ready to give up. Definitely not ready to curl up and die. We'll find Ben, whatever his condition now, and we'll find what we came for.
I turn to the frightened looking native guide, "Keep her here. Sit on her if you have to, but both of you stay here."
He swallows hard, but nods and moves closer to Amy. I walk back over to the ledge and study what I can see below. It's mostly green... lots of heavy vegetation, but I can hear running water.
We have climbing gear with us, which I use to rappel down the nearly sheer stone below the ledge. The foliage below isn't as deep or thick as I had expected. Once I'm through the top layer of tree branches, I can see quite the picturesque little canyon.
There is very little for undergrowth and a good sized river running from a small falls at one end and draining into the ground at the other. Ben is laying on his back not far from where I land. His eyes are wide open, unblinking, but his chest is moving. He's breathing and doesn't appear to be bleeding. I can't tell anything more until I make a closer examination.
Before I can do more than look around, there's a cry from above me. It sounds more like the guide than Amy, but seconds later, a body comes crashing through the tree branches above me. All I can do is watch, stunned, as Amy lands on her back neatly beside Ben. Like him, her eyes are wide open and not blinking. Her chest is moving. Neither of them seems aware of anything.
I unhook the climbing harness from the rope and go over to examine both more closely. They seem to be uninjured despite the long fall. Pulses are strong and breathing is even. They just don't seem to register my presence at all.
Sitting back on my heels, I take a long look at my surroundings. The only things moving are a slight breeze, the water, and me. I doubt anything in the first aid kit in my pack would help my friends. I don't know enough about the area to even consider making use of local plants. There are no signs of local wildlife. I have no idea if there just aren't any down here or they've been scared into hiding by the noise.

To be continued... maybe

​I'd had what I would consider my first successful show. The exhibit of my paintings had been set up in a small community hall near my parents' home. I'd done as much before, but this time strangers and people from out of town had come. Several paintings had sold even, one for significantly above the marked price because two prospective buyers had bid each other up. Needless to say, I was higher than a kite without having ingested any foreign or illicit substances.
Amy was just as high. Both she and Ben were happy for me, but she gets exuberant, he stays calmer. We were sprawled across the battered furniture in the basement rec room of my parents' home. A table between us was strewn with the remains of a fast food supper and a few snacks, but we'd long ago stopped eating. Now we were settled in to talk and just hang out.
"Did you hear what they were saying about your work?" Amy grins broadly.
"Some of it anyway," I turn my head to her, "I got stuck listening to Aunt Bea for a while. She wasn't praising my work."
Amy rolls her eyes, "Why does she even come?"
I shrug, not having an answer.
Ben speaks up, "Have you decided what to do about that letter?"
I frown for a second before remembering which letter he's talking about. He means the response to my application to the best fine arts school in the country. They'd accepted, but also enclosed were some terms for students and a full listing of their sky high tuition and supplies costs. Makes me uncertain about actually enrolling there. It's my parents who think I should go back to school anyway.
"Not yet," I make a face.
"You don't need to go back to school," Amy shakes her head, "You don't need a degree to prove how good your paintings are. 'Sides, if you go back to school, it'll break up the company and we'd have to go back to school or something too."
"You've heard my parents on the subject of the company," I sigh, "Not a long term career prospect... whatever that means."
Amy makes a face, "It means they're stuck in a long past decade. But we all know a degree doesn't guarantee a good job anymore," She snorts, "Seems like nothing guarantees a 'good' job anymore. Everything's all part-time or temporary or outsourced."
Ben nods his agreement, "We've all looked into it before. The company's grown with every year we keep at it. My dad looked at the latest numbers and said he wishes he could do as well."
Amy nods, her grin returning as she looks at me, "Bet your parents wouldn't believe it."
"They don't," I can't help a sour expression, "But just one of the paintings sold today will pay off the last of what I owe them for our start up funding. That's in four years, not the ten they said I could take to pay it back."
"So we're officially out of debt?" Ben looks a little surprised.
"Well, as soon as I pay them," I nod in confirmation, "And I haven't had a chance to tell you, but there was a message came through just before the showing. We're wanted to visit and review several of Exotic Haven's resorts."
"Sounds like a nice, quiet break." Ben nods to himself.
"Sounds boring," Amy makes a face, "Do we have to?"
"The proposal is for ten resorts over the next five years," I inform her, "Even you need a break from the more exciting trips occasionally."
She continues to make a face.
Ben queries, "Are their terms in line with ours?"
"Slightly better than. But you know I don't accept contracts without you two."
"Good." Amy still looks unimpressed.
"I think this one's worth taking," I point out, "And it should be easy enough to fit in between other things."
Ben nods his agreement, "I'd say accept. Besides, I'm pretty sure we still have a long list of other requests and proposals."
"Not good ones," Amy retorts, "All these people and companies just want our stamp of approval on their safe, boring, little projects. Not what I signed on for."
"Maybe not," Ben shakes his head, "But they do pay us directly, and more than we get from hits on our site."
Amy snorts, "Long as there's enough to fund the next trip, we don't need to worry about them. 'Tween my novels and your photography and Elsa's paintings, pretty soon we won't even need the company."
I shake my head, "The company was formed around the things we wanted to do: Go on trips and share our experiences, write, create art. Reviews are the side thing for when we have time. 'Sides, some of those resorts and whatever aren't very good places. Remember the so called four star resort last year?"
Ben does a full body shudder. Amy turns just a little green.
"Honesty before money," I remind them, "Plus it might be the best time for the mountain trip we've been talking about."
"You've been talking about," Amy wrinkles her nose, "There's nothing exciting about thousands of years old ice and rock."
"Just glacial melt and avalanche risk and whatever might be contained in said ice and rock." Ben looks undisturbed by her skepticism. There's no change to Amy's expression, but I've yet to see Ben convince her of anything.
I glance over her, "So what do you think we should do next?"
"I want to see if there's any truth behind the celestial tribe tale we heard last winter."
Ben shakes his head, "It's in a war zone. We'd never get across the border."
"I bet we could," Amy's eyes meet his in a challenge, "The border isn't closed... not completely. Or are you two too scared to try."
Ben and I exchange a glance. We both know Amy's dares get us into trouble. And yet we go for it every time.

​Until Ben threw himself over the ledge, we hadn't so much as suspected anything was wrong. Ben was the last person we'd have thought would harm himself. Quiet, caring, warm, supportive. The voice of reason every time I landed us in another of these messes.
Worse, after Ben, we noticed Amy acting strangely too. Both my closest friends in one day? Seems weird to me. But with Ben gone, Amy began to space out, wander away, even not recognize me. Usually, she's Ben's opposite in almost every way. She cares in her own way, but she's outgoing and likes to dare me into things.
I'll admit, we're in a mess of epic proportions this time. As usual, it began with a dare from Amy.

The colony on Enfer is something of an example of human refusal to die even when faced with a seemingly impossible situation. The world was supposed to be terraformed before the colonists arrived, but terraforming failed, leaving the surface barren. The conditioning attempted on the colonists also failed and technology was quickly redeveloped, based on the resources sent with the colonists, to the point of attracting the attention of the inhabitants of a nearby world. Except only those with wealth or connections were able to move planets. Everyone else was left behind, supposedly to die.
But water sources were found underground and used to build cavern cities below the planet's surface. Each city is effectively its own state because travel between is difficult and dangerous.
One other thing of note: The colonists sent to Enfer all came from French speaking regions on Earth.

​“Mama!” Kianna slips from the housekeeper's grasp and flies across the foyer. Her mother catches the child up in her arms and buries her face in the long, baby fine, silvery and pale green hair. After a long moment, the woman takes a deep breath and looks up.
“What has been done?” She queries of the housekeeper.
“The stable hands went after them,” The servant sighs, “They have not returned, your grace.”
“How long has it been?”
“Nearly a full bell, your grace.”
Hooves can be heard outside, then a scuffling, and finally two men enter the house. Both bow deeply on seeing their mistress.
“We're sorry, your grace,” One begins, “We followed them east on the old trade road until they vanished. They have most likely crossed into Tulia by now.”
“Thank you.” The duchess tells them as the telephone rings. Still carrying Kianna, she goes into the library to answer it.

​Never trust a mad scientist. Thinking about it now, if someone had told me that fifteen years ago, I probably would have agreed with them. But nobody told me and, of course, I didn’t stop to think about it.
The offer looked really good back then: A child, trained in all the fighting styles and other skills I would find helpful in my work and raised to be obedient, in exchange for an errand or two. I completed the errands early on even though I knew it would be a wait when the promised child had yet to be born. I was even given progress reports over the years as the child grew. Until I ‘took delivery’, as the aforementioned scientist put it, it never occurred to me he might have overlooked a few basic points of child rearing. I was expecting a person, a teenager I could work with, perhaps train further; someone who could eventually be my partner and later, my successor. I got a living, breathing automaton.
I can’t fault her training. She’s at least as good as I am, if not better, at all the skills I specified and she fights like a demon. She also promises to become a very attractive woman in a few years. She has long, blonde hair with just a little curl to it; big, light blue eyes; flawless fair skin; and the lean, lightly muscled figure of a trained fighter. It’s too bad there’s no personality to go with all that. At least she’s intelligent and has some common sense, so maybe, just maybe, there’s hope for her yet.
I was informed, when she was presented to me, she was designated F086. It’s a mouthful when I’m in a hurry, but she doesn’t answer to anything else. I’ve tried any number of nicknames and once I even sat down and attempted to explain a few concepts to her, and she still won’t answer to anything except that cursed designation. I get ignored when I call her ma fille, which I keep doing just because I can’t stand to not have any name or nickname for her at all.
But for what I'm doing tonight, I don't want or even need her along. I leave her seated in a meditation pose. She'll remain that way unless, by some really unfortunate accident, someone finds their way into our home. I pity anyone so foolish.
La Grotte is quiet, with very few people out in the streets. I don't mind. Quiet streets mean less likelihood of attack before I reach my destination. Whether I find trouble on reaching it... well, that's an entirely different question.
La Grotte is the largest of the cavern cities remaining on this barren lump of rock we call l'Enfer. The surface has been unlivable since terraforming failed, but the underground rivers allow us to survive, if barely. La Grotte surrounds the widest, deepest of the rivers, l'Eau. L'Eau enters clean from the geological north, but exits far from clean to the southeast. Fortunately water regulations have remained strictly enforced despite the unstable nature of a governance by strongest.
Le Laboratoire du Genome is on just about the farthest edge of la Grotte from my home, which means a long walk for me tonight. And since it is headed up by a mad scientist, the security measures run on the far side of paranoid. To the point where the employees have figured out how to subvert them instead of going through protocol every single time they enter or exit the building and grounds. This works nicely for me because they've sabotaged the integrity of the system and, for someone of my skill, getting in is très simple.
He also runs things flat out at all times. There's no quiet in the halls or anywhere else. Fortunately there's a staff change room not far from the door I enter by. The single male employee inside goes to sleep without a sound and I'm soon walking the halls dressed as Pierre, docteur. Even better, his identification card is high enough clearance to get me into everything except the private laboratory and quarters of the head scientist.
* * *
The day F086 left le Laboratoire was the happiest day of my life to date. Of course anything which makes mon père, le salaud Docteur Sebastien, that upset is a good thing in my books. F086 is the one girl he least wants to let go, but she's also the one he promised to some city mercenary in exchange for a series of errands.
I've lived in le Laboratoire du Genome as long as there's been a le Laboratoire. Which is to say not quite as long as I've been alive, although I don't remember our home before this. Before the death of ma mère and the beginning of this insane experiment of Sebastien's. But, having lived here as long as I can remember, I know everyone else who lives and works here. Same as I know every crack and cranny of both sides of the complex.
So to pass by the records room and see someone dressed as Docteur Pierre, who is clearly not Docteur Pierre, tells me we have an intruder. Moreover, this intruder is so engrossed in whatever he is reading he doesn't seem to notice me creeping up on him