I finally published the Kindle edition of Along Came a Demon. That’s one step forward. And I’ve just about finished the updated version of The Demon Hunters which at the moment appears only on Lulu. This has been a busy week for me as I also edited another author’s book and am working on a review for the LL Book Review. That, and working at my other job.

 

My Whispering Facebook page is up and running and has fans from all over the world. Okay, so not many of them at the moment, but they are from all over the world. On the Whisperings page readers can find progress updates and every now and then Tiff gives them a little inside info on what is happening to her in Along Came a Demon. She won’t be able to go on much longer without totally giving away the plot. Perhaps she’ll start talking about her adventures in The Demon Hunters.

 

Here is a short excerpt from Chapter One of Along Came a Demon. Please realize that the original text does not translate well into the Blog - there are no spaces between paragraphs in the actual book! 

      Then I had to ask. "Lindy, what happened to you?"

      She let her hair loose and wrung her hands together.

      Until I became accustomed to it, looking into the faces of the dead was an alarming experience because they are stuck with the expression they wore when they died. Lindy went through the physical motions of pulling on her hair and wringing her hands as if distressed, but her expression didn't alter.

      "I was taking a bath and I know I locked the front and back doors. A man came into the bathroom and went behind me. I couldn't even scream. I wanted to, but I opened my mouth and nothing came out. I was gripping the sides of the tub, trying to haul myself up when he touched me on the forehead. I barely felt it. But then it was like a . . . a jolt through my body. It took my breath away. I went under the water, just for a second, came back up and I still couldn't breathe. That's all I remember until I woke up again."

      I stepped closer. "What do you recall after that?"

      Her eyes slid away again and I knew she was trying to remember. "People there. Police. In the bathroom." Her gaze darted back to me and her tone turned indignant. "It was so embarrassing! One of the officers picked up my thong and said he wondered if his girlfriend would like one. The detective said he'd get one for his wife but it would cut off her circulation¾not that it would matter because her crotch atrophied years ago. I was stark naked in my bathtub and they were making jokes about my underwear! And then the other officer said he'd heard on good authority if you --"

      I cut in. I didn't need that much information. I kept my voice and expression neutral although I wanted to grin at the mental picture invoked by her narration. "Making jokes at a crime scene is a coping mechanism. A kind of barrier they put up between them and the reality of what they see and have to deal with. Your underwear was just an excuse, a distraction if you like."