Touch of Darkness - Chapter 2!

Here you go, all you Kate Reilly junkies! The Chapter 2 sneak preview.  Just to whet your appetite for the release of the book tomorrow!

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TOUCH OF DARKNESS
ISBN 0-765-35962-6
C.T. Adams & Cathy Clamp
Chapter 2

My wall of windows was a waterfall—literally. Spiderweb cracks had appeared across the panes in a pattern that reminded me of a baseball line drive to a windshield. The inside was still warmer than outside, so the snow was melting as it hit the glass and was seeping through the cracks to drip on the floor. My gaze was pulled upward because no way should those windows be cracking. I'd been forced to heave a woman who was trying to kill me through the glass a year earlier and her body had only managed to break out a single pane. It had taken months for the glazier to find a sheet of quarter inch, blue tinted glass big enough to replace it. I'd had him check the integrity of the whole wall when he'd finally returned, and the panes were as solid as the bricks surrounding them.

But not anymore, and I could see why. Apparently, a lot more snow had fallen than they'd forecast, because the ceiling was bowed down nearly a foot where it met the windows. Either several tons of the white stuff, or a military transport plane, had crash landed on my roof.

A rapidly growing puddle was crossing the hardwood floor and seeping down into the pit area toward my sofa and entertainment center. But they were the least of my worries as the rumbling sounded again, this time accompanied by the very particular sort of squeaking that metal makes when it's being stretched beyond its limits. I instinctively ducked and Blank darted back under the coffee table when sizzling and popping came from above. One of the industrial sized ceiling fans that keep the loft warm or cool stuttered and began to smoke. The ceiling dipped further. There was no time to do anything but run for my life.

I dove for the floor and grabbed the cat, who responded by clinging to my chest with all four feet, claws extended. The cat carrier was already by the door because he was going to be staying downstairs with my tenant, Connie Duran, while I flew with Tom to Las Vegas for our wedding. My flight was supposed to be later today, and Tom planned to follow tomorrow at the end of his shift at the firehouse.

Those plans might be changing.

Another ominous series of creaks and groans hurried my feet, and I suddenly didn't care that I was wearing pink and yellow pajamas with fuzzy bunny slippers. I did care that it was snowing outside and I might freeze to death, though. Thankfully, Tom had left a pair of boots next to the couch, and my coat was hanging on the hook next to the kitchen. The cat went in the carrier without any fuss for a change and I snapped closed the metal gate just before slinging on my coat and tucking slipper-clad feet into the boots. I'd guessed right that they'd be darned close to a perfect fit that way.

The door to my apartment is one of the old fire doors from the original factory. It takes a pretty tough person to open it under normal circumstances. My shoulders are my strongest feature, so I can open it, as can Tom. Of course, he's a werewolf, so that helps. But I hadn't ever tried to open the door with weight on the door frame. I could already see the heavy steel beginning to flex down, and I wasn't sure what would happen if I yanked it open. Would the whole header collapse down on my head before I could get out? Would it start a chain reaction that would take out the windows and bring down the roof?

The only other option was the old freight elevator that would deliver me right into the basement where there's a small parking garage for the people who live here. Right now, the only car in the place should be Connie's—if she's not out on a call. She's a bail bondsman (or is that bail bondswoman?) so she keeps odd hours.

My own truck was stolen a year ago, and I had to use the replacement money to pay bills instead of getting a new set of wheels, so that spot is vacant. As a werewolf, Tom isn't allowed to have a driver's license, much less own a car. Damned prejudice anyway.

But I had no way of knowing if the elevator frame had been damaged. Would I get inside it just to have it get stuck halfway down, where I wouldn't be able to get out? No, better to take my chances with the door. Tom had used the CAD program at work to make an escape plan for the building so that I could post it on the walls for future tenants. . . and it didn't include either elevator.

So, it would be me against my building. Well, I'd forced it to my will once when I renovated it from a mouse-infested dump—and I could do it again. After patting the top of the cat carrier for luck, I steadied my stance and grabbed the knob with both hands. As I'd expected, it didn't give on the first tug. Not only did it not give, but the rumbling increased ten-fold and the spider cracks sped up. Well, shit.

The second tug nearly pulled my arms from the sockets but I did get a hint of fresh air from the hallway that encouraged me. Blank mewled piteously from the back corner of the carrier as I bolted away from him to the kitchen where I keep the crowbar. Normal people don't keep crowbars in their kitchen, but normal people aren't the building manager and maintenance department rolled into one. And, I hate trudging to the basement every time I find some old rusted thing that needs a helping hand. It happens more than I like to think about. It's in the bottom drawer, right next to the WD-40 . . . another handy item for the task at hand.

A fine trembling was beginning in the floor, which was starting to panic me. People make mistakes when they're panicked, so I tried not to listen to the noises of the building that was threatening to collapse onto my head. My mind focused down to, insert crowbar in doorway, throw weight against wall. Ignore big hole in drywall and move crowbar down a notch. Hose down hinges with lubricant. Repeat.

Inch by inch, the steel door fought against the steel frame weighted down with bricks and snow. I was winning but it wasn't fast enough. A crash sounded behind me and I looked back to see that the bedroom where I'd been sleeping was now buried in what was probably a ton of steel supports, asphalt roofing and sizzling electric wires. A rush of cold wind and snow hit me in the face and the air stank of smouldering wood and hot metal.

Dear God. Is this what Tom feels like every time he goes in a burning building? My heart was pounding a mile a minute and my terrified cat yowling while ripping his claws and biting at the metal gate to the carrier to escape made my eyes burn. The crowbar was down to the floor and the doorway was still only open about three inches—not quite enough to get a good grip with my hands where I could brace myself. Blank got picked up and moved to the left and then I used every bit of my leg strength to kick those steel-toed boots into the crowbar. It hit the baseboard with a thunk and the door popped open so hard and fast that I would have gotten knocked out if I hadn't lost my footing and wound up on my butt. Woo! Here's to clumsiness!

More of the ceiling crashed to the floor, taking out Tom's relatively new flat screen television and the rocking chair that was one of the few things left from my mother. But the header over the door held. A pile of snow the size of a child's snowman from the new opening hit my back just as drywall dust coated me. I started coughing, both from the sudden blast of cold air, and the swirling dust.

Pinging, cracking and more screeching filled the air and a brick bounced off the wall about head height. I struggled to my feet and grabbed the carrier. I ran down the hallway toward the staircase. It's an old metal tread emergency stair and the fire inspector promised me it would outlast the building. I prayed he was right as I headed down to the second floor. Tom's old apartment is on that floor, but most of his stuff has been in my place since we got engaged. I didn't need to knock on the other tenant's door either. Rob Jameson and Dusty Quinn are members of Tom's pack but they're already in Las Vegas with—Saints be praised!—my luggage and wedding gown. Dusty had half-jokingly suggested I allow her to take my luggage since I hadn't had a very good track record of making it to the church on time. I originally objected, but something had come up time after time in the past ten months since Tom proposed. So, I dutifully packed my bags and sent them off with her, while Tom shook his head indulgently.

I'll bet this particular situation hadn't occurred to either of them.

I reached the main floor and bolted down the hallway. "Connie! Wake up! We have to get out of here." I yelled as I banged on the door with my fist. There was no time to check the garage to see if her car was there. Thankfully, I heard movement inside and a light flick on under the doorway.

She opened the door, rubbing eyes still bleary with sleep. Her hair was in curlers and a scarf. I didn't think anyone still did that. I always figured she had a perm. "What's wrong, Kate?" She yawned wide and then her eyes focused on me, widening as her jaw dropped a second time. "Oh, my God! Katie, you're bleeding. What's wrong? What's happening?" Connie was suddenly alert and reaching for her shoes. "No, never mind. If you say we get out—we get out. Talk later. Action now."

Was I bleeding? Probably. I tend to have that happen and not realize it in the heat of the moment. I didn't feel woozy, though, and all my limbs were working, so whatever damage could wait. Still, I checked what I could see of myself, but I didn't notice any blood. "The roof caved in from the snow. My apartment's gone. If the walls go—"

I didn't have to finish the thought. She did it for me. "The floors won't hold all that brick. No shit we need to get out of here." She was busily grabbing logical things, like her purse, cell phone charger and flashlight. Wish I would have thought of that before they got buried. "Is there time to get my car?"

"Don't know. This floor is pretty rock solid, but—" The lights went out again. Whether from the storm or the rest of the roof cutting the lines, I didn't know. Connie switched on her big Maglight, one of the four-cell models, and turned it my way.

She let out a frustrated growl. "Doesn't matter much now. We won't be able to get the gate to the drive open. Or is there a manual chain to open it?"

I nodded. "Yeah, but it's not an easy open. It'll take a ladder, and time, to switch the gate over to manual, and I don't know that we have either one right now. But the ladder's in the basement if you think it's worth giving it a try."

Connie shook her head. "No, we're not going down a floor if we don't need to. We'll hope for the best. C'mon, let's get moving. We can use my cell to call 9-1-1 when we get outside."

The rumbling started again overhead and I could see fear etch across Connie's face in the dim reflection from the flashlight beam. I was beginning to feel vibrations underfoot and when I placed the flat of my palm against the wall, it was moving . . . swaying from side to side slightly. This was an interior wall, so if it was moving— "Crap! The whole thing's coming down."

There was no more talk. Connie opened the closet door and pulled out a green vinyl gym bag. It strained her arm muscles, so heaven only knew what was inside. She caught me looking and smiled . . . although it had grim overtones. "Overnight bag. I always keep one packed so I can look decent at odd hours. Clothes, toiletries, toothbrush. That sort of thing."

A crash to my left turned both our heads. Something had collapsed inside the stairwell. Billowing smoke and dust poured out and chased us down the hallway as we bolted for the front door. As we crossed the stunning mosaic tile entry floor, I caught the eye of the woman who'd been lovingly immortalized in bits of glass by an unknown someone when the building was built. I'd spent weeks carefully uncovering the tiles and replacing the few bits that had been damaged by the cheap linoleum someone had put over it before I bought the place.

By the time we opened the door and exited the building, she'd been covered over by dust—lost again to view.

It was dark outside . . . no street lamps or headlights lit the snow that billowed and floated down between the skyscrapers. It was drifting across the sidewalk, but even the drifts were only up to my knees.

Odd—

"Yes, that's right . . . the whole roof's gone. I can see where part of it's come down." I couldn't help but hear as Connie recited the address and flicked the phone closed. My eyes moved upward as Connie turned her beam toward the top of my building. Rough edges had replaced the smooth, straight brick lines of the old factory. Two of the panes of glass started to fall inward, pushed down by the wind coming off the mountains—they fell like a slow motion building implosion. I winced at the resulting crash as the panes shattered.

"We should get across the street, in case the wind shifts." My voice sounded flat and emotionless to my ears. I changed the cat carrier to my other hand and flexed my fingers to get the feeling back. Blank's no lightweight and the wind was making my skin raw. He let out a little mmrrr and moved to the other side of the carrier in response to the wind shift. Yeah, he's got fur and he lived outdoors for a time, but it was still freaking cold outside.

Connie and I trudged across the unplowed street and found a place that was mostly sheltered against the opposite building. I put Blank in the most protected corner I could find and knelt down beside the cage to scritch his chin through the wire. After a long moment of both of us just staring at the collapsing building, she spoke. "So, what happened? Did you hear something, or did the whole thing just come down on top of you?"

Lights, sirens and people filled the empty streets as the fire department arrived. One of the cops who'd responded to Connie's call had caught sight of tendrils of smoke mixing with the snow and had called in an alarm.

The pumper truck didn't have any problem negotiating the snowy street, but the police cruiser had slid around quite a bit when it first arrived. I'd never really thought much about the men and women who have to brave weather like this just to do their jobs until I'd met Tom. Now every time I hear about a rescue during a flood, or earthquake . . . or snowstorm, I offer a little prayer, asking for protection of those who choose to serve.

As the firefighters stepped out of the cab of the big truck and began to move around purposefully, I saw one helmet-clad man approach the Chief and speak to him. The Chief nodded and the man began to look around frantically. I raised my arm and he sprinted my way. He sprinted.

As bad as the day had been so far, I couldn't help but smile as Tom threw his arms around me and held me close. "God, Katie . . . when I heard the address of the call—" He turned my head from side to side with thick warm gloves that heated my frozen ears and wiped somewhere on the back of my scalp. His glove tips were smeared with red. What with the cold, I didn't even feel it and it didn't look like there was much blood. In a flash of movement, I was suddenly pressed against his chest in a nearly suffocating hug. "I love you so much."

My voice was a little muffled by his fire resistant jacket. I was a little surprised he was still in uniform, instead of in wolf form. Werewolves have a hard time holding their human form when they get an adrenaline rush. It's one of the reasons for the no-license thing. "I love you too, Tom. It's okay. Everybody's out and we're fine." I pulled away slightly, even though he didn't want to let me. His eyes were turning from golden wolf eyes back to their normal chocolate brown. "Go. Do your job. You don't need any more trouble from the guys."

The little chesty snarl and frown told me he didn't care what his peers thought of him. But he knew I was right. He's been taking a lot of shit from the guys he works with after he deserted his post to save Joe from a madwoman who was, coincidently, also going to blow up one of the local hospitals. The fact that Tom managed to help take her down, save a mother and child and tell them where to find the bomb that was going to blow up the ICU ward were the only things that saved his job.

By the time they'd raised the cherry picker to look inside the building and pour down water to contain the small fire . . . since the Chief was smart enough not to send anyone inside, the snow had stopped and the news vans had arrived. Them I didn't say a prayer for, since I could do without any more coverage after the year I'd been having. I'd been brutalized by the press for my battle with the Thrall. They'd turned me into a media monster, without even asking my side. The only reason I hadn't been run out of Denver with sticky feathers was the Barbara Walters interview that put me in a good national light. But as for the local press . . . phooey. Let 'em slip off the road.

I was thankfully spared having to talk with any reporters, which now included news choppers that scanned the area with search lights, because I was spending my time with the cops and fire department. They were asking logical questions about what happened and I was doing my best to answer them. At one point, I felt a hand on my shoulder. It squeezed lightly, the touch of a friend or comrade, but by the time I turned my eyes, the person was gone. Or, at least, whoever had done the squeezing wasn't someone I recognized. Still, for that brief moment, it had been comforting, because the enormity of the situation had finally dawned on me.

Tom found me at the end of two long hours, as they were rolling up to speed toward the next problem. "Okay, so I'll see you in Vegas tomorrow night. Right?"

My jaw probably dropped. "Tom! The building just fell down. You can't possibly think that I can—"

He held up his hand, as though expecting my protest. "No. We're doing this, Katie. The building is condemned. The cops are putting up the tape now. You can't stay here. I can't stay here. The police will guard the building to prevent looting until we can get a fence company out here to secure it. We already have plane tickets and reservations in Vegas for the next three days. It would be stupid for us not to use the hotel room. And—" He held my shoulders firmly in those strong, glove-covered hands. "I will marry you. Even if I have to drag you to the altar. The day after tomorrow you're going to be Mrs. Kate Bishop."

Despite the snow, in the shadow of my destroyed building, his words still made me smile. How could they not?

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But you don't imagine it's going to go THAT smoothly, do you...?

Cathy

8:02 AM - 2 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

Sneak preview of Touch of Darkness!

Hey, guys! 

So, Touch of Darkness, the final book in the Thrall vampire trilogy, hits the shelf on Tuesday! Woo! Only a few more days. But since our website is currently under reconstruction, we haven't yet posted up chapters like we normally do. So, lucky you! I'm going to post the first two chapters HERE, on MySpace so everybody can salivate and get excited about the release! Chapter 1 will be posted today (Sunday the 27th), and Chapter 2 will be posted tomorrow (Monday, the 28th)

Enjoy and let me know what you think--- :D

TOUCH OF DARKNESS
C.T. Adams & Cathy Clamp
Chapter 1

Tiny needlepoints of pain dragged me up through layers of sleep. Increasingly insistent, the repeated punctures resisted my best attempts to drop back again into the warm and inviting dreams of my soon-to-occur wedding. I vaguely remembered rolling over beneath the heaps of down comforters. The resulting yowl of a startled and indignant cat pried open my eyes.

The room was pitch black—that enveloping depth of darkness you only get after a power outage. We forget how surrounded by light we are normally, even at night . . . from the soft glow of the clock to little dots and rectangles of hibernating electronics.

But I'd been prepared for this after watching the weather report before bed, so I reached to the nightstand, pushing aside the soft bulk of my cat who refused to stop digging claws into my arm. A click later, and the yellowish glow from a battery lantern pushed away the black. As my brain started to function a little better, I heard the wind howling outside. It's not completely unheard to get early-season blizzards in Colorado, and this one was going to be a doozy. Even in the dim light I could see icy patterns on the window edges high above the bed and driving snow that moved sideways across the glass. I groaned and curled deeper under the covers in response.

Again Blank jumped on my chest with a weight that pushed the air from my lungs hard and fast, like airplane turbulence. He was named Blank because of his unfinished appearance. A bare canvas that only required a splash of color to be real. But his whiteness had dulled to a dirty grey in the light, even while his pale, nearly clear eyes reflected it. They became headlights that made me squint. As I lifted his body off me, I thought he was purring, but then I realized it wasn't a purr that rumbled his chest.

It was a growl.

He combined the warning with claws digging deep into my wrists and I was suddenly fully awake. Adrenaline pounded my pulse as I listened for danger. I hadn't had any danger for awhile now—no women with knives or men with guns, or even Thrall vampires trying to slice open my veins. So it was probably time for them to appear again. Damn it. Just when life was going pretty good.

A little snow wouldn't bother the Thrall. They're not vampires of legend that slow down like reptiles in the cold—making them little threat before they've fed. No, they're ordinary humans, turned superhuman by sentient psychic parasites, but fully capable of shopping for winter clothes at the mall in broad daylight.

Even in flannel pajamas, the chill that hit me when I threw off the covers was enough to make me shiver. Apparently, the power had been out for longer than I'd thought. My feet found the slippers on the wooden floor by touch. Good thing, since I couldn't see that well yet. I picked up the handle of the lantern and walked to the dresser to turn on the second lantern. This one was bigger, an eight D-cell monster that with a flick of the switch, filled the bedroom with comforting fluorescent light.

Sometimes, just having a light turn on is enough to scare away an intruder, but I didn't hear any footsteps or panicked voices downstairs. No scents of unfamiliar cologne or sweat found my nose. A quick glance at the wind-up clock on the bookshelf showed it was two a.m. That's when I heard the sound . . . a rumbling, cracking sort of noise and sensation that I couldn't place. The cat hissed and leapt down from the bed to stand next to me. The guttural thrum reminded me of an approaching trash truck while sunning face down on the grass near the street. The sound faded away after a moment, leaving only the wind and beating of the snow against the windows. There's a lot of windows in my loft, formerly a factory in the lower downtown of Denver. I renovated the place so that the old thick industrial glass would rise above the floor on the west side for two full stories. Rain and snow hitting the wall of glass tends to set up a rhythmic vibration that becomes white noise after years of hearing it.

Blank stayed with me, crouched low next to my feet as I descended the staircase to the main level carrying my little circle of light. He was looking all around, taking in everything, as though he couldn't place the sound either, but didn't like it. When I reached the bottom of the stairs, while I was still surrounded by walls that gave some measure of defense, I opened up my senses. Being psychic has advantages at times, and this was one of them. I could touch minds that were nearby, could communicate telepathically with family and loved ones in danger. But mostly, as much as I hated it, I could sense where the Thrall were. They'd tried repeatedly to turn me into one of their own. They'd come so damned close to succeeding several times now that if one was in my apartment, I'd know.

But they weren't here, or even there. Though the whole Denver hive should be up and about at this time of night, I was met with a smooth, flat wall of . . . nothing. Either my ability to touch the hive was being blocked by the queens, or they were holed up, sleeping out the storm like sane people. Since a lot of the Thrall Hosts tend to be abnormally athletic people, hence slightly insane in my opinion, they're probably out in this mess. My fiancé Tom Bishop, would say I was the pot calling the kettle black, since I'm a former professional athlete. It's even part of why the Thrall has been trying to capture or kill me for years. But even I'm not nuts enough to be outside in a Colorado blizzard. I played volleyball . . . beach volleyball. Warm sun, soft sand.

So, I was betting it was option number one, which was a bad thing. They only block me when they don't want me to know what they're up to. It's an effort for them, because I'm pretty strong, so they don't do it for long.

But you know what they say—you're only paranoid if you're wrong. If you're right, they call you proactive, and in my many encounters with the Thrall, I've been exceedingly proactive.

The wind stopped for a few moments, the calm before the next blast of snow. In that brief silence, I heard the sound I'd been missing. A steady trickle of water that was like a dripping faucet, but more hollow. It seemed to come from ahead of me, but there was nothing along the wall of windows that had pipes, except the dripper lines in each of my potted plants for when I go on trips. I suppose the sudden cold could have split the plastic hoses. It made me sigh, because it would be a mess to clean up if it was in more than one place. The tension in my muscles was replaced with a weary resignation.

I have a lot of plants.

My brother Joe called me Jungle Kate for the sheer volume of greenery . . . well, he did back when he was speaking to me, anyway. The last time he spoke to me was at his wedding months ago. It was just a tense thank you to my congratulations, and only after being prodded in the ribs by his new bride. Then he'd turned his back and walked away. He even returned the gift Tom and I had given them, unopened, which had brought on the first of many tears. But we're both stubborn, so I refuse to apologize for being psychic . . . for being a target of the Thrall. I hate that the vampires keep attacking my family because they're trying to kill or capture me. But I don't know what to do except keep trying to destroy them, and keep protecting those I love to the best of my ability.

The power chose that moment to flicker on. Both Joe and the Thrall were instantly purged from my brain by the horror that made me gasp and Blank hiss and dive for cover, almost simultaneously.

12:42 PM - 2 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

Yay! Exciting book news!

Hi, all!

We just got informed that Tor is going to be doing a special edition of the first four books in the Tales of the Sazi series! Hunter's Moon, Moon's Web, Captive Moon and Howling Moon are going to get brand new, "urban fantasy" style covers with a special $4.99 price tag!  Woo!  And what covers they are!  Take a look:










Yow! Very cool covers, and they'll all be face out, side by side on a rack, coming soon to a grocery or discount store near you this fall!

We'd also like to take this moment to announce that Cie and I will be launching a brand new, shiny pen name.  C.T. Adams & Cathy Clamp are about to become . . .

Cat Adams

How cool is that?!

Our first book with this name will be a stand-alone paranormal romance in February 2004, called MAGIC'S DESIGN. We also just got the cover for that book, and we're really excited about it! Very snazzy and will look great on the shelf (and take a look at the guy's left eye. When the spine is folded, the eye will be dead center above our name. Sweet!



Hope you've liked the preview of our new covers! We're ecstatic!

I also wanted to remind our East Coast fans that I'll be attending ThrillerFest at the Grand Hyatt in Manhattan a week from Wednesday, on July 9-12.  It's going to be an awesome event and I know that all you fans of paranormal romance, urban fantasy and paranormal thrillers will find some of your favorite authors there! Come visit me, say hi, and let me know you're a MySpace friend who saw this, and you'll get a special surprise (for as long as they last!) If you can't afford to attend the whole banana, and it's a bit pricey, there are day passes available for those who sign up before July 5th. So hurry!

More soon!
Cathy

2:15 PM - 9 Comments - 16 Kudos - Add Comment

Meijer READ THIS! book tour authors announced!

One of the interesting things about being in this business is often you get to be as surprised as readers about events you're supposed to know about! LOL! Ever since Cie and I got the word that we'd be on the Levy Entertainment/Meijer Stores book tour, I've been scouting the web to find out who else was attending. Today I found a link right here on MySpace with the authors on the list, so I figured I'd post it up over here so our fans know it's worthwhile to go out of your way to visit!

Have a terrific Memorial Day, and don't forget to pause a moment and give thanks to those who paid the price to keep you free and safe.

5:55 PM - 3 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

Yay! Another book in the can... :)

Well, here it is, Sunday afternoon and I FINALLY finished the edits to Magic's Design, our December release. This was our first time working with our new editor at Tor, and she made some really good comments on the book that I think really bumped it up a level. Most of the changes were pretty minor, but a few sort of changed the direction of some chapters and it was tricky to blend the new additions back in so it flowed.

Now it's back to the project I was working on: The next TONY BOOK! Hooray! All you Sazi fans, scream happy thoughts with me!  I really enjoy writing in Tony's first person point of view because he's so brutally honest and clean in his emotions. Smart, sexy, savvy and vicious---all the things I aspire to be, and yet can't quite do it and stay out of jail. LOL! I've got all sorts of nasty surprises planned for him that will make his life difficult and yet, he always manages to find a loophole and keep going. That's a fun character to write, like James Bond or Dirk Pitt. You always know there's that tiny thing the villain forgot about that the hero won't.

Fun stuff!

Let's see . . . home stuff. Don and I went fishing at the pond on our property for the first time this year. We each caught two bass that were pretty good size, but small enough that they were "native" and not ones we stocked when we bought the place. That speaks of a healthy pond, so we're very excited! It's a small pond as things go down here in Texas. It's probably about two acres when full, and about 16 feet deep (we think, according to what the former owner who dug it says.) We haven't actually gone out and measured, but so far, even in the worst drought on record, it hasn't gone dry. We got some good rains in February and March, so it should be in good shape through summer.  Too many weeds, though. We'll need to use some of the EPA-approved pellets to lower the algae when it gets warmer.

The puppies are doing fine. We have two of them spayed now. Man, it's gotten pricey to do that since the last time we had to worry about such things! Nearly $150 each by the time blood tests and other stuff is added in. But it'll be well worth it if we can lower some of those hormones that make them fight.

Well, I'm off to fill a glass with some wine and sit and enjoy the wildflowers, knowing that the book is on its way to the editor as soon as my wonderful co-author finishes reading it tonight! :)

More soon!

2:57 PM - 4 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment

Lots of cool new stuff!

I feel like I’ve been in overdrive lately. From editing one book, to writing the next, planning multiple projects plus other nifty stuff, I’ve been being run ragged. So, what have I been working on?

Magic’s Design --- this is our upcoming stand-alone paranormal romance that will hit the shelf in December. Stand-alone, meaning a one-off book with no sequels. It’s been tricky to put an entire new world into ONE book. I’m so used to series at this point, where you can bring the reader into the rules of the reality slowly that it’s been a struggle to make everything clear without any "info dumping" that is boring to read. The edit letter proves that I did PRETTY well, but I have some areas to fix this next week so everything flows well. But the editor LOVES the story, so we’re sure you will too!

The Mammoth Book of Vampire Romance. We have a short story (which MIGHT be the beginning of a whole new vampire reality!) in this UK-based anthology. It’s being simultaneously released here in the U.S. in August---so rush right out and buy it because there are some AWESOME other authors in it too!    Here’s a link to the Amazon page. The cover isn’t up yet, but we hope it will be in a few days.

http://www.amazon.com/Mammoth-Book-Vampire-Romances/dp/0762434988/ref=sr_11_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1207510660&sr=11-1

We’re also pleased to announce that we’ll be going on a limited BOOK TOUR shortly after the release of Touch of Darkness! It’s part of a national tour of Meijer stores in Michigan beginning September 18th. We’ll be in Detroit, Kalamazoo, Grand Rapids, and Ann Arbor, Michigan for four whole days of signings along with a bunch of other romance authors! WOO! We haven’t been in that neck of the woods before, so we’re really excited! Any of my MySpace friends also on this tour? I’ve only found one ITW member so far---Jordan Dane---who’s announced she’ll be on the tour. Would love to say hi to others attending. :D

We have a bunch of other anthologies in the works, but there aren’t enough details yet to share.

Finally, we’re working on a proposal for a new urban fantasy series based on the Sazi world. More details as we know them, but expect it to be just as fast-paced, sexy and kick-butt as the romances, but even MORE SO!!  YAY!

More soon.

12:27 PM - 4 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment

Is it already Valentine’s Day? Yikes!

I was just sitting down the other day, thinking about this upcoming year. It's hard to believe how much is going on in our writing career! I didn't really realize until I started to look at book covers and such just how many anthologies, novels and short stories we have coming out. Since I don't often actually sit down and promo our books here, I thought that perhaps it was time. So, here we go!

The first book is a charity anthology titled DREAMS & DESIRES 2. It hit the virtual shelf on February 1st. It's available as either an ebook or trade paperback. Freya's Bower has always been a champion of women's issues and this anthology is no exception. Here's the details:

"By purchasing this collection, you can help turn someone's nightmare into the pursuit of dreams. Every year, four million women are assaulted by their partners. At Freya's Bower, we want to do our part to bring this statistic down to zero. To this end, all net proceeds from every Dreams and Desire anthology purchased will go to a battered woman's shelter. Through education and support, we can make a difference."

Included in the volume are stories by: C.T. Adams and Cathy Clamp (us!) Jenna Bayley-Burke, Amanda Brice, Shannon Canard, Sela Carsen, Rachelle Chase, M.E. Ellis, Jenny Gardiner, Gemma Halliday, Candace Havens, Zinnia Hope, Babe King, Susan Lyons, Sarah Salway, Rhonda Stapleton, Bebe Thomas, Emily Veinglory, Lois Winston, and Shaunna Wolf. Here's a link to order if you're so inclined: http://www.freyasbower.com/content/view/347/1/

Next up is a non-fiction that I was pleased to be able to contribute to. Everybody loves dogs. They're faithful, devoted and often clowns. DOGS, edited by John Cali celebrates the strange, the wonderful and the weird (I'll add that my story is one of the "weird" ones. LOL!) Here's a little about it: In this book, you will discover these, and many other, wonderfully warm true dog stories: The miniature schnauzer who returned from the dead to protect his family. The Belgian sheepdog who kept his sleepy human companion from crashing his car on a lonely deserted highway. The part Labrador mixed-breed who saved her mistress from the fangs of a venomous copperhead snake by taking the bite herself. The sheep dog who kept a faithful, five-year vigil for his dead master. The Scottish terrier who sees ghosts. These dog tales will warm your heart and stir your soul. They will bring you joy and tears. These beguiling canines will inspire and uplift you with their antics, their comedy, and their love for humans. In this world, which sometimes seems so dark, dogs light up the darkness with their love and courage. They offer us a reason to rejoice and to feel good about ourselves — a reason to celebrate life and the lives of all creatures great and small. Again, this is available in either ebook form or trade paperback. Pick one up for the dog lover in your house! http://www.booklocker.com/books/3316.html It's also available at Amazon and B&N.com, but is probably quicker through the publisher's site.

Our next Sazi book will hit the shelf on March 7th. TIMELESS MOON finally tells the story of Josette Monier, the older sister of Sazi council member Antoine Monier. Josette, sometimes known as Aspen, is a centuries old bobcat shifter who was blessed (or some would say cursed) with seer talent. But she got ALL of the seer talents at once, so she can see the past—called "hindsight," the future—known as "foresight," and events in the present in far-flung locations—"remote sight." Time has no meaning to Josette, because the entire stream of time flows through her head every minute. To be around other people is to be in pain, because she sees their entire life, their death, their birth, and all events between. As a seer, she guards the Sazi's future and protects their past and her visions have never failed her.

Until now.

Lately, she doesn't see herself in the future. Her husband, who she believed to be long dead, is back among the living, and all the other seers are being slowly killed. And for once in her long life, she hasn't got a clue WHY.

Next, for you horror fans, I'll be having a short story called ERROR 404: PAGE FOUND (and yes—I'm aware that's wrong. That's sort of the point… ) appear in the World Horror Convention program. It's set in the Cthulhu mythos, with a whole new twist. If dark and scary is your thing, join us in Salt Lake City, March 27-30. http://www.whc2008.org/

Cie and I have also signed up for some other anthologies that will probably hit the shelf later in the year. You'll be seeing our name a LOT this year, and we really hope you'll like some of the interesting things we'll be doing.

Finally, we just got our cover for our August book, the last in the Thrall vampire trilogy. TOUCH OF DARKNESS and just HAVE to show it off! I really think this is the artist's best effort yet! We're really excited about this book because it ends the series so wonderfully. We really think fans are going to LOVE it!

So, that's about all for us for the moment. It's just amazing to us that everything's happening at once, with so many more things to come. Well, back to work on the next book. Hope to see you all soon at one of the upcoming conferences.

Happy Valentine's Day next week! May you swim happily in chocolates and roses.

9:13 AM - 4 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment

A VERY HAPPY NEW YEAR TO OUR MYSPACE FRIENDS!

9:55 AM - 8 Comments - 10 Kudos - Add Comment

Busy, tired and crossing fingers...

Most of yesterday was taken up writing a short story. Oddly, it wasn't a romance, but a horror short that I agreed to do for the program brochure of World Horror 2008, to be held in Salt Lake City in March. There aren't many women who write dark fantasy/horror, and since Cie and I are both members in good standing of HWA (Horror Writers Association of America) they asked if we'd be interested in attending the convention as guests. I'm hoping the weather holds out, because who schedules a freaking conference for Salt Lake City in March?! For those of you who don't know, there's a reason why the 2002 winter olympics was there. Snowy, cold, windy—all the reasons I moved away from Colorado. Ick.

Anyway, it gave me a chance to finally write a story that's been kicking around in my mind since the World Fantasy convention in Austin last year. It's a Cthulu mythos story, set in the computer age. I'd originally planned to push it to either Weird Tales or Lovecraft's Magazine of Horror, but this seemed just as good, if not better. All the right readers, y'know? But although I've had months, I had a hard time getting to it and now it's needed quickly, by Friday, so I really had to jump on it to get it edited and to the printers by January.

Oh, and I got the chance to write a short holiday story (again on short notice) that's going to appear in Affaire de Coeur in their December issue, so pick it up if they sell it near you! It features our original hitman werewolf, Tony Giodone, and the editor LOVED it! Yay!

But taking the time to do those during the day meant that I'm having to write on the ROMANCE novel during the night—because it's due on January 3rd, and I'm not much more than half done. Aargh! again!  Normally, I don't like pushing up against deadlines, but this book has been kicking my tail, both plot-wise and characterization-wise. It's pretty much my first stand-alone fantasy romance. Cie and I write series, which gives you the opportunity to concentrate on the plot while doling out small bits of worldbuilding and backstory over the course of 3-5 books. But with a stand-alone, it's all got to be there if it's going to make sense. So, it's been going slower than planned.

We also have been invited into a British anthology—The Mammoth Book of Vampire Romance. It's not big pay, but those "Mammoth" books are a lot like the "Dummies" books, with lots of built-in fans and they often get picked up for book clubs. So definitely worth the effort. Thankfully, that's not due until March, so I can get the novel done first.

And, of course, there have been the "puppy issues." A wound on one of the puppy's neck abcessed in two places, even after two rounds of antibiotics. So, the vet had to do surgery and then put in a drain tube. It's a really messy thing that we had to flush out twice a day with sterile saline solution and then pack with antibiotic fluid. Naturally, she had to wear one of those neck collars so she didn't scratch out the tube, and hated it. Of course, that meant I had to watch her like a hawk every hour or so to make sure she didn't chew it to pieces, have panic attacks or choke herself trying to pull it off. Tough to get into heavy duty writing while managing that level of puppy-sitting. Then yesterday afternoon, she was FINALLY able to go back out and run with her sisters and had a tumble. She came up yelping and couldn't put weight on one front leg. So back to the vet we go this morning, because it not only wasn't better, but the elbow was swollen. Three x-rays and an exam later, and no broken bones, so no cast and no anesthetic. Whew! She'll be gimpy for a few days and need some anti-inflammatories, but at least I'll be able to leave her in her pen for a few hours at a stretch. But poor thing! It's been a rough month for her. 

Haven't even got my tree up, but did manage to finish Christmas cards and about half of the shopping is done. I wish there were more hours in the day. Then I wouldn't have to get up at 1:00 in the morning to sneak in an extra 2-3 hours of writing on the book.

Anyway, in case I don't get to blog again before the end of year, I hope all of my MySpace friends have a Merry (or Happy) Christmas, a Happy Hanukkah, a Joyous Yuletide, or whatever other holiday you celebrate!  Happy New Year too! :)

Cathy

1:45 PM - 3 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

No rest for the wicked...

Today is the Saturday after Thanksgiving, and it's raining calicos and poodles outside---which is better than inside, I suppose. But the temperature is only about 36 degrees, so it's that sort of bone-chilling wet that's making all the animals shiver. Only one puppy, Bear, has the common sense to stay under shelter . . . shaking her fuzzy head at the other two who are delighting in playing chase around the pen in the mud. I had to go outside at 5am in the worst of it because one of the goats had gotten her head stuck in the wire fence and was soaking wet and bawling enough to get the dogs barking. Thankfully, I didn't have to clip the fence or anything. She's got fairly narrow horns, so it's just a matter of rearranging her head to get it back through. We sold about half of the girl goats at auction a month or so ago, so now they all fit in the shelters comfortably, and we opened up the third shelter, where we store hay for the billies to get out of the weather. They actually HAVE  a shelter, but the previous owner built it at the bottom of the hill in the small pasture, so it's far away from the light. Goats like to huddle near light after dark. It's instinctive, to see predators. Don't know why he built it there, but it's on a cement foundation, so it's not going anywhere soon. We'd actually build several sturdy shelters this spring. The boys promptly used them for target practice with their heads. Sigh... They're now a pile of rubble that we need to drag out one of these days when they're penned up. They like to "help" with any building process in their area, and the resulting bruising generally means we like to build things OUTSIDE their area and then just bring them in and set them down.

I have two tasks today (which mean I really shouldn't be blogging today, but hey---I didn't get a chance yesterday) One is to write about 6K words on the book. I'm WAAAAY behind on my word count, and that's the only way I'm going to get this done on time. I got my words done yesterday, which made me happy. But it took most of the blinking day to achieve it. Thankfully, the book is finally moving. I have the scenes in my head, so it's just the matter of getting them on paper. The break from the internet has been hugely useful to the writing, but I do miss all my friends online. Fortunately, most of them are writers too, so they understand.

My other task today is to start on Christmas cards. This is an annual event that I've kept up for over 25 years now. I always buy my cards at the after-Christmas sales the previous year and then do a double-sided letter to enclose. I long ago stopped the hand written letter thing. Frankly, my handwriting is abysmal and I type a lot quicker.  Then, I put them all together on Sunday, hand-sign the cards and do the envelopes. We don't have a big list, because neither of our families are very big and most of my friends are of the on-line variety, so I send e-cards. The tradition started because the long holiday weekend was really the only time I had to put them together, because I was working full time and was actively in community projects. While that's not the case anymore, it bothers the heck out of so many people that I'm first to get them out that I keep doing it just for the perverse fun of it.

So, I suppose I need to get to it. It's already after 9am, and I still need to go into town to pick up groceries for the week. If I don't get the letter written and find the cards (everything got moved around after the fire last winter) I won't be able to put them together tomorrow.

Hope you all had a great Thanksgiving! I'm thankful for so many things, and one of them is my wonderful husband, who was more than happy to do the cooking so I could write.  He's the BEST, which is why he's always first in my book dedications.

As soon as I get a little further along in the book, I'll post again. Until then, stay warm and dry.

6:53 AM - 1 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment