Love Bytes is happy to welcome Angel Martinez to their blog to talk about her blog tour on “All the World’s an Undead Stage”
Angel shares an exclusive scene, a flashfiction story! with us and Other Worlds Ink is offering a $10 Amazon GC to one of our readers!
Carrington Loveless III, skim-blood vampire and senior officer of Philly’s paranormal police department, has long suspected that someone’s targeting his squad. The increasingly bizarre and dangerous entities invading their city can’t be a coincidence. So when a walking corpse spouting Oscar Wilde attacks one of his officers, Carrington’s determined to uncover the evil mind behind it all.
As a rare books librarian, Erasmus Graham thought he understood some of the stranger things in life. Sharing a life with Carrington’s shown him he didn’t know the half of it. They’ve survived attack books and deadly dust bunnies together and got through mostly unscathed. Now his world and his vampire’s appear ready to collide again. Books are missing from the rare books’ collection—old tomes of magic containing dangerous summonings and necromancy. He’s certain whoever’s been stalking the Seventy-Seventh is composing their end game. It’s going to take a consolidated effort from paranormal police, librarians, and some not-quite-authorized civilians to head off the impending catastrophe.
Offbeat Crimes Book Six
In Philadelphia, through an odd mix of budget issues and circumstance, the 77th is manned entirely by officers with bizarre or severely limited psychic talents. The firestarter who can’t get a spark when it’s humid. The vampire who can’t drink whole blood. These are the stories of the misfits, the outcasts from even the strangeness of the paranormal community. Call them freaks, but they’re police officers first, serving and protecting, even if their methods aren’t always normal procedure.
The house had echoed with quiet since destroying the evil book had also destroyed her beautiful ceramic friends. The quiet was too much like it was after Mama died. Pecca heaved a little sigh and put her pie in the oven. The pie that she would eat alone, again, but the apples were getting old and had to be used for something.
Patches, her little patchwork Scotty dog made of squares of blanket and curtain material, jumped around her legs, barking.
“Do you think so?” She reached down to pet Patches’ head. “I suppose it might be time. I shouldn’t be scared of it forever, should I? That’s just silly.”
Patches danced around her and Puff peeked around the corner as Pecca worked her way slowly toward her workroom, thinking as she went. She pulled the basket of scrap material from the corner, got out her scissors and sat at the table.
“You both need to stay on the floor,” she told Puff and Patches when Puff tried to jump into the basket. “Scissors will be up here. We don’t want snipped ears and tails.”
Puff let out an irritated mrrrrah and jumped back to the floor while Patches took up a position of eager anticipation by Pecca’s feet.
“Who should we make?” Pecca whispered to the scraps. “Who’s in there that wants to come out?”
She picked up a piece of brown velvet and set it flat in front of her. With inspiration beginning to nudge at her, she found a few more of those, then started to add other scraps of linen, muslin and wool, all in shades of cream and brown. Pink silk for the tongue and insides of ears. Black button pieces for eyes and nose.
One scrap at a time, she trimmed and placed, rearranged and maneuvered, until the pieces began to suggest a form. She cut tiny lengths of heavy wire for claws and longer lengths of fine wire for whiskers. Finally satisfied, she set down her scissors and held her hands over the newest potential friend. Magic flowed to her as easily as breathing, her gentle pull hardly stirring the air at all. Pecca thought of tunnels and burrows, of running low to the ground, of peeking and exploring, and most of all life, life, life…
The scraps stirred. Light, golden and warm wrapped around them, fusing them, giving them volume and heft. Out of the carefully placed pieces, a whole formed with little legs and twitching whiskers, bright black eyes and a steadying tail. The little scrap ferret stirred and chittered, turning to gaze up at her in confusion.
“Welcome to the world, little one,” Pecca murmured as she extended a hand for the scrap ferret to sniff. “You’re safe here and you will be loved.”
The unlikely black sheep of an ivory tower intellectual family, Angel Martinez has managed to make her way through life reasonably unscathed. Despite a wildly misspent youth, she snagged a degree in English Lit, married once and did it right the first time, (same husband for almost twenty-four years) gave birth to one amazing son, (now in college) and realized at some point that she could get paid for writing.
Published since 2006, Angel’s cynical heart cloaks a desperate romantic. You’ll find drama and humor given equal weight in her writing and don’t expect sad endings. Life is sad enough.
She currently lives in Delaware in a drinking town with a college problem and writes Science Fiction and Fantasy centered around gay heroes.
You can take a look at Angel’s Website and follow her on Facebook and Twitter.