“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.
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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
“What do you think?” The realtor parks at the curb in front of a neat white house with deep green trim. The front yard is equally neat, with bright flowerbeds and a low, white fence.
Keith and Beth glance at each other, then at their two children. Their daughter, Bethany, is gazing around wide eyed. Their son, Kevin, is absorbed in his handheld video game and doesn't appear to notice anything. “It's very nice,” Beth can't quite suppress her enthusiasm, “But what's the inside like?” “Just as nice,” The realtor assures her, “Come look.” All five get out of the vehicle and pass through the front gate. The realtor unlocks the door and ushers the family inside. The main floor consists of a living room, den, dining room, and kitchen. All the rooms are empty, clean, and brightly painted. One set of stairs leads up to a second floor with two good size bedrooms, a large bathroom, and a master suite including a bathroom and gigantic closet. A second set of stairs leads down to a finished basement divided into a rec room, workshop, laundry room, and storage. The back door off the kitchen leads onto a neat, sturdy sundeck. Beyond it, there are several nice shade trees and a garden plot. The lawn itself is short, thick, and free of weeds. The fence is higher than in the front, but not so high Keith can't see the next door neighbour working in his garden. The neighbour, a late middle aged man, seems to realize he is being watched, because he looks up. “Hello, sir.” “Hello.” Keith goes over to the fence. “Thinking of buying?” The neighbour eases himself to his feet. “Thinking of it.” Keith tries to sound non-committal. “You won't find a safer neighbourhood anywhere,” The neighbour smiles proudly, “Best place in the world to raise kids.” Keith nods. “Not many places come up vacant in these parts,” The neighbour continues, “No one wants to leave. This's as close to paradise as you'll get in this lifetime.” “Keith!” Beth's voice comes from inside the house. “Go on,” The neighbour smiles knowingly, “We'll be seeing more of each other.” Keith nods politely and goes inside to find Beth leaning against a kitchen counter. “Oh, honey, this's even better than I imagined,” She doesn't even try to contain her excitement, “I never thought a place like this could exist. It's perfect.” “And safe,” The realtor adds from the doorway, “I could quote you the statistics, but you wouldn't believe them.” “Nothing bad ever happens?” Skepticism dampens Beth's enthusiasm. “I wouldn't quite go that far,” The realtor shakes his head, “Still, even vandalism is rare here. Break ins almost unheard of.” “What about assault or homicide?” Keith demands. “I've never heard of either here. And you'll find the neighbours haven't either.” Beth glows visibly at the news. “Dad!” Bethany comes racing into the room, “There're kids outside! Playing outside!” Keith and Beth glance at each other. The realtor smiles knowingly.
As night is falling, they come across a grassy mound with a smoking chimney. Pix flutters over to the half visible door and knocks. Almost before she finishes, the door is opened by a wizened old man with long white hair and a matching beard. He squints at the sprite and delvar through half moon spectacles before grinning.
“Better get inside,” The wizened man rushes them into the mound, “You two are in big trouble, you know.” He closes and locks the door. “How much worse could it get?” Pix scowls, “We've been just ahead of the Athelon guard all day.” “You're wanted for the murder of a kitchen elf.” Pix and Gor exchange annoyed looks. The wizened man raises bushy eyebrows, “You didn't actually kill her, did you?” “Of course not,” Pix flutters over to a stool at the wobbly table, “But we left her cleaning up a big bag of her master's gold. Our last employer paid us off in stolen gold. We tried to return it... get the price off our heads for the theft.” The wizened man nods to himself, “Out of the cooking pot, into the flame.” Gor drops his sack beside the door before claiming the only large chair in the single room. Their host fills two tankards, one for each of the companions. Once they are sipping contentedly, he picks up a battered metal goblet. “How did you come to be paid in stolen gold?” He looks from Pix to Gor and back. “Well...” Pix sets down her tankard, “We were in a tavern and Gor was well into his tankard...” The wizened man is slowly shaking his head as Pix winds up the tale. He drains the last liquid from his goblet, then gets up to refill it. “The two of you certainly stepped in it this time,” The wizened man sips from his newly filled goblet, “You did both the worst and best things you could have done.” Pix cocks her head, “Worst and best?” “That weasel is one of Her agents.” Gor mutters into his beard. Pix shivers violently. “The gem's sole purpose is to revive dragons,” The wizened man continues, “Fortunately, you took the egg as well.” “What good is it?” Pix frowns. “Heat it well and it will hatch a dragon,” The wizened man sips from his goblet, “But a newly hatched dragon is a far cry from a revived ancient dragon.” “Aren't all dragons extinct?” Gor drains the last drop from his tankard, “Killed themselves off in some big war.” The wizened man shakes his head, “History makes the matter sound so much simpler than it was. The dragons left... that much is self evident. Killed themselves off... far from it.” “But why would we want to hatch a dragon?” Pix studies their host curiously.
Seren and Meredith prepare for bed without speaking, only partly due to the storm which makes it nearly impossible to hear anything else. Meredith can't help thinking of the first tale their grandmother had told them, especially about the ill will between human [colonists] and the aquatic natives. These thoughts keep her awake long after her sister has fallen asleep and, once again, she can hear the haunting music. As always, it helps her drift off to sleep.
Meredith wakes, completely disoriented, to chaos. As far as she can tell, she is no longer in her bed. In fact she seems to be tumbling through the water. She tries to cry out but can't seem to open her mouth at all. Managing to open her eyes, she can see herself surrounded by debris and her sister floating away. Then hands grab her and pull her even farther down, away from the remains of her home and family. Meredith struggles, trying to pull free of the hands, to get away to find her family and friends. The owners of the hands are stronger and she grows dizzy from being underwater and unable to breathe. This time Meredith wakes to find herself in a bed inside a bubble of air. As she looks around, she realizes the bubble is floating in the middle of the ocean. Above her, she can only just see light which suggests the morning sky. Below her is ever increasing darkness. There is nothing else around her and she huddles in the bed, shivering with fright and confusion. “You wake.” Meredith whips her head around, trying to see the source of the oddly muffled voice. “You fear. I not show self.” “Where are you?” Meredith frowns, some of her initial panic evaporating. “Near.” “What happened?” Meredith swallows hard, still looking around her for the source of the voice. “Bediel. They make storm. Bad storm. Break homes.” “The village is gone?” “All gone. People safe.” “People safe? But without the village...” “People safe. New homes. Safe homes.” “So where am I?” Meredith frowns in confusion. “You different. You hear song.” “That was you?” “Friends. Friends sing. You hear.” Meredith's frown deepens. “I don't understand.” “Language hard. Your people language hard.” “Okay,” Meredith thinks for a moment, “You said someone sent the storm, right?” “Yes. Bediel.” “Okay. And my village is completely gone? Nothing left at all?” “Yes.” “But all the people are safe?” “Yes. Saved many people.” “And they have new homes?” “Yes. Under storms. Bediel not hurt now.” “You mean underwater? But how will they breathe?” “Have air. Have homes. Have food. Good food. Not fish.” “I guess that's good,” Meredith takes a deep breath, “But you're saying I'm different somehow? Because I could hear your friend's music?” “Yes.” “But what does it mean? Why can't I just have a new home with my family?” “Need you. Stop bediel. Else family not safe long.” “But you said these bediel couldn't hurt them now.” “True. Yes. But bediel change. New hurts.” “So they'll keep finding new ways to attack until we stop them for good?” “Yes. You help. Make safe.” “But what are these things?” “Not explain. Not good. You not fear now. I show self.” “Okay.” Meredith swallows hard as the creature swims into view. It appears to be male, based on what Meredith can see of the humanoid torso. The arms and head are also humanoid although the hands only have three fingers and a thumb, each tipped with a silver talon. But the entire body is covered with silver scales. His hair is long and silver and his eyes are big and brilliant blue. He has no nose and only a slit for a mouth with gills along his jaw and down his neck. The tail is that of a fish and ends in a blue, crescent moon shaped fin. His other fins are also blue. One juts out from his back and there are three down each of his sides between his arms and tail. As his hair moves, Meredith can see fan-like ears. He also appears to be quite short. Far shorter than Meredith. “What are you? I mean what do you call yourself?” Meredith is fascinated by the way he moves in the water. “People Pamoel. Me Lapa.”
I sit on the opposite side of the small, smokeless fire and set my weapons aside. From my pocket, I take a flask and drink deeply.
“We'll start by building a house out here.” My guard frowns, “So close to the road?” I nod, “This is a dangerous steading. Who would want to risk being too far from aid?” The words earn me a skeptical look and a shake of the head. “The bane of the dragons is worried about being far from aid?” I laugh. “One step at a time. I'm no foppish lordling to live beyond my means.” “No foppish lordling would accept this steading,” My guard chuckles, “So it's to be a house and close to the road? Why not a lodge for weary travelers?” I take some time to consider the idea before nodding, “The Earl granted me permission to hire whatever staff I deem necessary. Not that I have the coin at the moment,” A thought occurs to me, “You said we need a metal worker?” “Aye.” “Do you know of one who would be willing to risk coming out here?” “Aye,” A trace of a flush steals across his features, “A journeyman, mind... and a woman...” I study him with a raised eyebrow, “You seek my permission to marry already?” He flushes crimson, “I guess I do.” I chuckle, “Then you have it. Just be quick about it. I want this lodge to have a solid roof before snow season.” “Aye. Ye'll have that.” His eyes study me briefly, “The Earl will want to see ye married, ye know.” I shake my head, “The Earl would rather see me conveniently killed by a bear.” “Mayhap,” My guard adds a log to the fire, “But he needs to cement an alliance with Earl Haiver, who has a far too vocal younger son.” I sigh, suppressing a groan. If I had wanted to be married to some empty headed little lordling, I would have stayed home and allowed my father to marry me off. “Ye'll see.” My guard settles back onto the log he is using as a seat. I change the subject, “Hot supper or cold?” “I'm all for hot.” I pick up my bow and quiver, “I'll be back with something to roast.” My guard nods.
The recital is in the afternoon, but I'm up early, too nervous to sleep in. I spend the morning helping my mom around the house. She fixes lunch, but I have trouble eating anything. Then I walk over to the performing arts centre to meet up with my teacher and class for warm ups.
As we get dressed in our costumes, everyone is nervous. This is one of the three biggest events of the year and we've heard some directors of major dance companies will be present. The dressing room is buzzing with different names, some of which I recognize and some I don't. I try to focus on preparing for my solo. Waiting around backstage for our turn is slow torture. Our class has the second oldest students in our studio, which means we're old enough we'll be watched carefully. Our teacher is here, reminding us to breathe and that we'll be fine. I wish I believed her, but I have a knot in my stomach which just won't go away. It's a relief to finally be called onto the stage and I take deep breaths as I take my place. Then the curtain rises and I'm into my solo performance. Through every movement, I'm trying to focus on the steps and a perfect performance. Except there's just something so compelling about the music, something I hadn't noticed before and I get caught up in it. I completely lose track of the technical performance and get lost in the music and movement the way I've been warned not to over and over again. When I'm finished and go to make my curtsey before leaving the stage, there's no applause. I glance up at the audience to see expressions of horror and fear. Straightening up, there's something strange in my balance. I reach a hand over my shoulder and encounter a bony protrusion which shouldn't be there. Recalling the wings I had seen briefly in the mirror after my performance for the director on Monday, I flee the stage. Running blindly for the exit, I ignore the noises of fear and protest all around me until someone catches me up in their arms. I struggle, frantic to escape, but the person is far larger and stronger than I am. “Kedri!” The voice is familiar somehow and sharp enough to penetrate my panic, “Kedri!” Looking up, I see the dance studio director. There is no fear in his expression, only concern. I allow myself to fall limp and he sets me on my feet. “Kedri, I need you to come with me,” The director's face is completely serious, “I need you to trust me.” “But the men...” “The grey van is on its way,” The director keeps his voice soft, “You don't want them to take you, do you?” I shake my head, trying hard to suppress my panic. “Then you need to trust me.” He slips off his jacket, “Here.” He reaches around me, gently rearranging what are evidently fairly large wings, and wraps the jacket over top. Then he guides me out a small side door. We walk over to the dance studio, somehow barely noticed by the all the people out and about on their usual Saturday errands. Inside the studio, he lets me into his office. “Wait here. I'll be back in a few minutes.” I pull his jacket more tightly around me as I sit in the chair facing his desk. While I wait, I study the walls, which are covered in bookcases and framed pictures and certificates. Nothing in the office seems at all out of the ordinary. When the director returns, he is accompanied by a woman who causes me to do a double take. She is maybe my mom's age, but dressed in a crazy patchwork of colours and fabrics which dazzle the eye and make it hard to tell anything about her body. Her face is made up almost garishly. But what really catches my attention is her hair. It hangs nearly to her waist in hundreds of tiny braids, each one a different, brilliant colour. Each of her long, curved fingernails is also a different bright colour. “Kedri,” The studio director recalls my attention, “I'd like you to meet Marta. She owns a dance company in Seaside.” “Okay...” I swallow hard. “You dance beautifully,” Marta smiles warmly, “I saw your recital performance and I would love to have you join my company.” I nod slowly, “But what...” She cuts me off with a chuckle. “Do you know why dance is tolerated by the Corporation, when dancers are among the most likely to vanish from society?” I shake my head. “All I know is I've always been warned to be careful. To not get lost in the music.” “It's a passion,” Marta explains, “Some are just born to dance and to quash it completely causes more chaos than these carefully controlled and monitored dance studios.” I nod. The Corporation, the company which owns almost everything in the world, seems to be very careful in what it does and doesn't allow to happen. The men in the grey van work for them. “But some, like you, just don't belong in the grey and boring,” Marta chuckles again, “The Corporation might cut you off from your parents now, from your education, from everything you've known your whole life. I'm offering you a new life, in a place where you can do what you love without having to fear them. Unless you want to find out what the corporation does to those who get lost in their passions.” I shiver, huddling down in the borrowed jacket. “I don't really have a choice. I can't give up dancing.” “No, and you shouldn't have to,” Marta holds out a hand, “We should go before they think to look for you here.” I take her hand, accepting the help to my feet. Slipping off the jacket, I turn to the director, “Sir... thank you.” He accepts his jacket back. “You're welcome, Kedri. Take care of yourself.” I nod. Then I follow Marta down to the back door of the studio where a black van is waiting in the alley. We get into the back and take seats. As the van starts moving, Marta tells me, “Once we get there, you'll have to stay close to me for a bit. I'll show you where you'll be staying, where you'll be rehearsing and where you'll be performing. I'll also help you get anything you need right away.” “Okay.” I nod. “It's a bit of a drive,” Marta warns me, “You might want to get some sleep, if you can.” I'm not sure if I'll be able to sleep, but I curl up on the seat and close my eyes. I have a new Cemen Colony novel coming out August 2, 2021. The ebook is currently available to pre-order via Smashwords and should be coming soon to your preferred ebook retailer. To pre-order a paperback, contact Howling Wolf Books. This is the first book in a new set of Cemen Colony novels, which take place towards the end of and after Experiment Redemption. The second book in this set is slated to be my Camp Nanowrimo project this coming July, so it could be a while before that is ready for publication. President Donovan Gayre achieved a major political victory when Angelita, Crown Princess of Estorika, handed over her birthright and acknowledged his government. But the new Republic of Arawn remains a devastated land, barely able to support its citizens. There is hope for the land itself in the work of one young scientist and Donovan Gayre has been planning big changes behind the scenes for years. Provided the newly recognized government can maintain the ground they've gained thus far. Brevon, 14-09-48-06-04sm
The sky outside the classroom window is clear blue. No clouds to be seen and a brightly shining sun. Inside the classroom, a girl in her early teens with short blonde braids and eyes as blue as the sky stares out. "Rain!" The girl makes a sour face as she drags her gaze from the window. "Finish your work. This is class time." Rain scowls at the workbook open on the desk. Absently, her fingers toy with her pencil. Her eyes remain on her book only as long as she can feel the teacher's eyes on her. Then her gaze returns to the sky out the window. Twice more, the teacher attempts to recall the girl's attention to her work before finally dismissing the whole class. Rain is slow to replace her books and supplies in the drawer which she then carries to a cabinet in a corner of the classroom. The others have already put their drawers away and left. The teacher watches with a mixture of frustration and impatience as Rain slowly slides the drawer into place and closes the cabinet doors. Then the girl slips from the room and encounters her mother in the hall outside. "Rain," The woman looks both reproving and resigned as she reaches out to brush a stray strand of hair from her daughter's face, "There's something I want you to see." "Okay." The girl trails her mother out of the building and along the street. When they reach the building known as town hall, Rain finds herself ushered into a large conference room crowded to standing room only. The girl quickly works her way into a corner where she can only just see the projection on one end wall. For the moment, it's nothing more than a rectangle of light. Then a woman in a lab coat whom Rain absently identifies as Doctor Rosalia Aurick, who is in charge of Brevon, steps into the light. "This recording was made earlier today and sent out to all corners of the world. We want to share it with you because it means changes to the way we've been operating as well as affecting your options once you're finished here. Once you have seen this, I will do my best to address any questions you may have." Doctor Aurick steps out of the way as images begin to appear on the wall. What appears to be an open air auditorium is crowded with people wearing a nearly equal mixture of business suits and uniforms of various kinds. The camera pans across the assembly before zooming in on the platform where various dignitaries are talking to each other and taking seats. Among them is a young orange and white striped winter tiger, which settles at the feet of one man once he is seated. Rain studies the tiger curiously until the camera moves away from it. And then the camera settles on a man in a suit standing at the podium and audio finally kicks in. "Good morning and welcome to everyone here," The sound system squeaks and crackles, "Donovan Gayre, president of our provisional government has an announcement to make." The man at the podium steps back so the man accompanied by the winter tiger can take his place. He surveys the crowd for a moment before speaking, "Yesterday I was invited to attend a meeting of great importance to this country's future. A meeting requested by Angelita, the last crown princess of the monarchy of Estorika. In the presence of witnesses representing the other monarchies and the Pleasure Society, Angelita granted me this," He holds up an old gold locket on a chain, "The birthright locket of the monarchs of Estorika..." The crowd erupts. Some are cheering. Others look angry. Many are calling out questions. Aides on the platform indicate for everyone to settle down and allow President Gayre to finish. "In doing so," He tucks the locket away, "I am granted the power to declare this government no longer provisional, but permanent. The other powers of this world must now treat with this government as an equal. We will eventually be able to open our borders to trade and travel. We are now the Republic of Arawn." There are far more cheers from the crowd at this. "In the coming days," President Gayre continues, "Many things will begin to change. As these changes take place, they will be announced to you. One thing I want to make plain now: There is not, nor will be, any attempt made to reestablish a monarchy in this country. There is no need for continued anti-monarchy activity now." Evidently not everyone in the crowd agrees, but the aides on the platform are quick to signal for silence again as President Gayre bows his head and returns to his seat. Now another man steps up to the podium. This one has a much more regal bearing. "I am Malcolm Burren, official heir to the Pleasure Society Chancellor, speaking on behalf of the current Chancellor." The crowd doesn't appear to know what to make of this. "A representative of the Pleasure Society Chancellor was present as witness at a meeting between Angelita Regina of Estorika and Donovan Gayre, president of the provisional government. At that meeting, the birthright of the monarchs of Estorika was handed over and the monarchy of Estorika declared to be history. We of the Pleasure Society look forward to many years of mutually beneficial dealings with representatives and citizens of the Republic of Arawn." Malcolm Burren returns to his seat as the camera cuts out and the screen returns to being a rectangle of light. "A representative of?" Someone in the crowded conference room sounds puzzled. "Natalia Burren," Doctor Aurick steps in front of the screen again, "Along with Monarch Reginald of Norsecount. There is no question as to the legitimacy of this announcement." "So Experiment Redemption?" Someone else queries. "Quite likely will be phased out as current participants complete the program and graduate. But nothing has been announced for certain on that score." "They're certain it was really Angelita?" Yet another person sounds skeptical. "Angelita's presence as a participant in Experiment Redemption was confirmed two years ago," Doctor Aurick looks bemused, "But kept under wraps for her safety. Even now, I cannot tell you which group or location... beyond not here at Brevon." Others have questions, but Rain slips around the edge of the room and out into the hall. From there, she walks over to the staff quarters, to the suite she shares with her mother. Knowing her mother had remained in the conference room, Rain goes into her bedroom and picks up the novel from the night stand. Opening it, she curls up on her bed to get lost in the story. |
AuthorAlexandra A. 'Lexa' Cheshire is the author of numerous novels and short stories published through Howling Wolf Books. Lexa is a wife, mother, cat owner, and music lover. Archives
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