“Listen, Erik, whatever went down between us, just understand I forgive you, all right? You were young and we were both stupid. We should have known our personal relationship was stronger than our professional relationship. Klaus may have actually done us a favor. I’m much happier now with my music than I ever was with Kleptokrat so it was meant to be.”
He lit a cigarette and inhaled hungrily before exhaling in a plume of smoke. “It doesn’t make me feel any better. We stole your ideas and we made a pot load of money off of them. We can’t release a fourth album because all the material I come up with is shit. I was always at my creative best with you. Klaus is angry, as is the rest of the band. They blame it on the drug use but that’s not it. How can I concentrate and create something beautiful with all this shit hanging over my head?”
Anaïs stood and began to pace naked in the bedroom. “How does that … thing become part of the picture?”
“You really can’t say His name, can you? You ought to practice it. Calling Him a creature or a thing doesn’t make Beelzebub any less than what He is.”
“And that would be what, exactly?”
“The opposite of everything God stands for and would like to see humans become. Where there is love above, there is hate below. Where there is forgiveness, He has nothing but vengeance. Where there is warmth and compassion, He wants nothing more than to steal and covet that which does not belong to Him. He could feel how much we loved one another and he wants to destroy all of that. I fear it has already begun. Now that I am unworthy of the twenty-seven club, He’s chosen you instead, not to be a member but to have His fucking child. The thought sickens me. You cannot go through with it.”
“Well, if you know a place outside of this universe we can hide out for a while, I’m all ears,” she stated sarcastically. “Last time I checked, there’s nowhere on this earth He wouldn’t be able to find us and that is what I find so goddamn scary.”
“I hooked up with this chick. I didn’t know she was into Devil worshipping. It was shortly after we broke up and I was feeling reckless. I didn’t give a shit about anyone or anything. It was something fun and it kept my mind off you. She knew all these spells on how to conjure up Dionysus and she was into hardcore partying, Ouija Boards and the like. I just thought it was for kicks—how the fuck was I supposed to know the chick was actually gifted?
“I should have been tipped off. She listened to Jimi Hendrix, The Doors, early recordings of the Rolling Stones before Brian Jones died, Utopia, Amy Winehouse. It never occurred to me these artists had anything in common. She was obsessed with Robert Johnson—she said he was her god. She had an original painting by Jean-Michel Basquiat. Lea De Mae was her favorite porn star and Janis Joplin was a goddess to her. She would actually pray to these people. I didn’t think anything of it until I started doing random Google searches. Then it hit me.”
“What? That all the people you just mentioned died at the age of twenty-seven?” Anaïs retorted in a voice loaded with snark.
Erik stubbed out his cigarette in an ashtray. “How the hell did you know?”
“How the hell do you call yourself a respected musician and not know?”
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Lizzy Ford
The Phoenix and the Darkness
I’ve been running from The Darkness since I left home at the age of 17. I escaped a broken family to the military, found it unwelcoming to creative non-conformists but fulfilled my commitment. The first man I dated was a drunkard who suffered from post traumatic stress disorder; the second raped me. The rest of my time in the military was a blur of men, the different places I lived and The Darkness stalking me. At the end of my tour, I set my world on fire to keep the Darkness away, abandoned everything and everyone, and emerged from the flames like the mythical Phoenix. I ran home to Ohio. I didn’t stay long and continued onward to New York, where I reinvented myself for a very brief period of contentedness.
It didn’t last. Darkness, fire, rebirth, and a few years, men and states later, I ended up in the arms of yet another unworthy man. I followed him to DC, bore the mental abuse, and tried to tell myself this was the best life would ever get.
I took a job in a field I didn’t care for and ended up running from job-to-job-to-job, unable to find a place where I was happy. I was hit by a drunk driver at 26, leaving me with a long lifetime of constant pain. I had a miscarriage, gave all my money to the unworthy man and couldn’t pay my bills despite the good job. I moved from Virginia to Maryland and back to Virginia, unable to shake the pursuing Darkness. Finally, I put all my belongings in storage, ready to set my word afire and flee once again.
I worked up the nerve to ditch the dysfunctional man, but before I could run far, I met the man who would become my first husband. He wanted normal things: stability, house, family. I convinced myself if I had these things, the Darkness would be gone. He needed a mother, not a wife, but I married him anyway and prayed it was enough.
It wasn’t. I set my world afire once more, and I fled him, too. I put everything I valued in my truck, grabbed the dog, and left. Away from DC, the east coast, everything I owned, my first husband. I ran to Texas to a new job and divorced the first husband. Yet again, I was reborn. Soon after, I met my soul mate. Some part of me knew I couldn’t keep running if I wanted to keep him. I turned around to see if The Darkness still chased me. After fifteen years of running, The Darkness was closer than ever.
I told the man who would become my second husband to stay away from me — I was dangerous. He saw The Darkness, and he saw me.
You’re brilliant and beautiful. I love you, Darkness and all, he said. But if you don’t deal with it and accept the fate for which you were put on this earth, you’ll be consumed by it.
I couldn’t yet face the Darkness even with his support, but I could see how wrong my path was. My path wasn’t a career I loathed, and it wasn’t ignoring my true gift: writing. So I worked full time and wrote full time. I found true joy for the first time in my life, but The Darkness got too close. I ran away from that job — the only job I’d ever remotely enjoyed. This time, I kept my only ally in life — my guardian angel and partner.
I took a new job in a new state. With my husband and my writing, I saw The Darkness recede, and I grew happy. Instead of looking over my shoulder, I started looking into the future. I vowed to run towards something instead of away from something. I wasn’t just reborn — I was alive for the first time in my life.
And then, this past summer, I tripped. The Darkness swallowed me. As in one of my upcoming novels, The Darkness turned me inside out. I couldn’t go to work and could barely leave the house. It pinned me beneath it, and the more I tried to run, the heavier it got. Everything I’d run from in life was there: my near-poverty upbringing; the breaking apart of my family when I was a kid; my struggle with my weight and social anxiety issues; with finding acceptance at any job; with men and dysfunctional relationships; the pending financial disaster I’d been building; fear of failure and ending up as miserable as my parents. I thought I’d suffocate, until the Darkness spoke to me.
You can run again and risk losing the man you love, or you can face me and be happy, it said.
I want to be happy, I replied.
Then do what you must.
It’s not that easy. I’m scared.
Sometimes life only gives us difficult choices, but you still must choose. I am a part of you. You must accept me and deal with me before you can move on, it said.
I thought hard as I looked at all the things I’d accumulated that were bankrupting me financially and emotionally. I looked at what made me happy in life: my husband and my writing. I saw how I’d hurt my most precious treasures — and myself — by setting my world on fire whenever The Darkness got too close.
This is gonna hurt, I told The Darkness.
Not for long, it said.
You only have to do this once.
In that moment, I made my choice. I would face The Darkness within me, no matter how hard it was. I loved my husband too much to hurt him more, and I was sick of being a coward. I took a leave of absence in early September to deal with my past as well as the depression and anxiety that have haunted me my whole life. Writing has always been my solace and my passion. Through it, I’ll heal the world I broke and my own soul, and become the partner my husband deserves.
The Phoenix will be reborn once more, not of fire, but of Darkness, and will emerge stronger than ever.
About the Chick
Lizzy Ford is the hyper-prolific author of the “Rhyn Trilogy” and “War of Gods” series, both launched in 2011, as well as multiple single title young adult fantasy and sweet paranormal romances. Lizzy’s books have reached into the top ten best seller lists on both Amazon US and Amazon UK for multiple categories. Lizzy’s books are available from Amazon, BN, Smashwords, iBooks/iTunes, and all other eReader libraries. She lives in Arizona with her husband, Matt, two dogs, and a fat cat.
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Damian’s Oracle
Lizzy Ford
An Excerpt
Chapter 1
Sofia dropped her purse on the desk in her cube without removing her sunglasses. The early December sun couldn’t set fast enough to prevent her pounding headache from growing worse on her drive to work. To ease her exposure to the sun, she’d volunteered for the evening shift to support the West Coast customers. Unfortunately, the commute to work every day was still excruciating.
“So … did the doc say you’re turning into a vampire?” Jake, her ex-boyfriend from college and current coworker, appeared in the doorway of her cube as soon as she sat down. She ignored the hunk, hoping he’d take the hint. “I brought you something. You can pretend it’s blood.” He held out a bottle of red water.
“You have five minutes to leave my cube, or I’ll bite your neck!” she retorted.
“Really, what’d the doc say?” Jake grew serious and sat in the spare chair in her cube.
Sofia rubbed her temples. She was better off pulling a random diagnosis out of a hat.
“No brain tumors,” she replied. “Probably not the neurological issue they thought. They’re looking at other ideas.”
“Do they know what makes you allergic to light and eat raw steaks covered in peanut butter for every meal?”
“They’re not raw, and I only eat them for dinner.”
“Did the doc explain your mood swings, too?”
She gritted her teeth. She’d known Jake since her junior year of college. They dated in college, parted ways mutually, and ended up working for the same financial planning firm in Virginia. Normally, she felt privileged that he still gave her the time of day, what with the way he’d turned out—formed like a Greek god with hazel eyes so pretty their boss swooned every time she spoke to him. But today, she didn’t want to be reminded that she’d changed from a normal human being into a sunlight intolerant, moody bitch in the two months since her twenty-fourth birthday.
“Think you can talk the boss into letting me come in an hour or two later?” she asked.
“Yeah, easy. I just smile pretty. Doesn’t work on you, but it does on her.”
“Thanks, Jake. The headaches are getting worse.”
“Sofi, I’m worried,” he said, softening. “What’s going on?”‘
“The doctors don’t know,” she said with a sigh. “They’re flying in a specialist from overseas. They said it might be some sort of rare blood disorder.”
“What the hell does that mean? That they really don’t have a clue?”
“Pretty much.”
“I Googled your symptoms,” Jake said and unfolded a piece of paper. “A lot of bullshit posted by wannabe vampires and Twilight fans. But I found this, too.”
He waved the page in front of her.
“This is fruit punch, by the way,” he said, nudging the bottle of red water toward her. “Your favorite, right?”
“I don’t remember telling you that.”
“Anyway, among the wacko postings, I found this site.” He pointed on the page to reveal a link to a website with a single name and phone number written on it.
Damian Bylun.
“What is this?” she asked, taking the paper from him.
Jake wiped his mouth the way he did when he’d admitted to cheating on her four years ago. She lifted her sunglasses to squint at him.
“It’s a blog this doctor guy keeps. In it, he describes what you’re going through.”
“For real?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“How did you find it? I spent days surfing the net. Even Tanya tried to help.”
“Aw well, you and your best friend just aren’t as good as The Jake. She’s still a bitch, by the way,” Jake said.
Sofia rolled her eyes. He’d never gotten over her friend refusing to date him after she dumped him. Jake’s ego was as large as his size sixteen feet.
“What does he say my symptoms are from?”
“I don’t know. His blog is firewalled from here, though, so you should just call him.”
Damian Bylun. It struck a chord deep within her, as if she should know it. Struck by something else, she removed her sunglasses and eyed Jake, saying,
“You know, you haven’t spoken to me more than to say hello in two years. I haven’t been able to get you out of my cube for the past two weeks. What’s up with that, Jake?”
“I’ve been doing a lot of soul searching and am just trying to … be a better person,” he said with a nervous chuckle and rubbed his mouth again.
She could almost see him standing before his mirror practicing the line before going to the bars to pick up chicks. But whatever he was hiding couldn’t be that important.
“I’ll look at this later,” she said. “Go forth and leave me be, The Jake. Leave the punch.”
“Sofia, I really think you should call this guy,” he said, looking her in the eye. “Please.”
A sense of uneasiness ran through her at the gravity in his normally light tone.
“Fine, I will.”
He flashed a smile and strode from her cube. Sofia looked at the paper again. She retrieved her cell and tucked the paper into her pocket. Snatching her sunglasses, she almost made it to the door before she heard Lacy’s voice.
“Sofia, can you come see me?”
She grimaced and turned to see the tall blond striding toward her office. Lacy wore a skirt too short and tight for office wear, but when you’re the boss …
“I noticed you’ve been taking a lot of sick time lately,” Lacy said as Sofia entered the room.
“Yeah, I’m having some issues,” Sofia replied.
“Jake told me. HR passed it to upper management. I need you to bring in some sort of paperwork from your doctor stating what’s wrong.”
“They don’t know what’s wrong. I can bring you another one of the notes verifying that’s where I am when I’m missing work.”
“What do you mean? They’re doctors,” Lacy said, looking up from the memo in her hands. “Of course they know what’s wrong. And those notes aren’t good enough.”
“They really don’t know,” Sofia said again.
“I can’t make reasonable accommodations for you if I don’t know what’s wrong.”
“That makes no sense, Lacy. If I have a doctor’s note saying I’m under their care, isn’t that good enough until they figure it out?”
Lacy arched a delicate eyebrow.
“No, it’s not,” she snapped. “I need a diagnosis, and I need a treatment plan.”
“A what?”
“You deaf now, too?”
Sofia bit her tongue. She lacked Jake’s golden tongue, and her bluntness had gotten her in trouble more than once. Normally she acquiesced in favor of a paycheck, but Lacy’s demand was bizarre, even by Lacy-stand
ards.
“Look, Lacy, I’m not trying to be difficult. I’m so frustrated right now. I just came back from a battery of tests that said nothing’s wrong with me.” The moment the words left her mouth, she knew her mistake. Lacy’s eyebrows shot up.
“What do you mean there’s nothing wrong? Are you making this up?” her boss demanded.
“No, Lacy, what I meant is that whatever is wrong—”
“So you’re a basket case. One of those aphrodisiacs or something.”
“Hypochondriac, not aphro—”
“I meant, you’re making it up!” Lacy snarled. “Aphro, hypo, who gives a damn. They’re the same thing! You’ve been lying to me!”
“No, Lacy—”
“You’ve been lying to Jake, too. He’s been worried sick! Oh my God, what—”
“Lacy, stop!” Sofia snapped, standing. “I haven’t lied to you. They don’t know what’s wrong, and I’m not making it up!”
“You’ve always thought yourself soooo much better than the rest of us, and I’m sick of your attitude. Now you’re lying to me about being sick. You know what? Until you can prove you’ve got some damn disease, you’re on leave without pay.”
Stunned, Sofia stared at her.
“Lacy, I’m—”
“Shut up and get the hell out!”
Surprise, then fury, lit her insides.
“Fine,” she said, wrenching the office door open. “But Lacy, everyone knows you’re screwing Jake.”
Lacy’s mouth dropped open. Dimly, Sofia knew she’d never work there again after that low blow. She snatched her bag and hurried home, not reflecting on her behavior until she tossed her coat on the bed.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid!”
Her cell rang. She dug it out of her pocket.
“Hey, Tanya,” she said, kicking off her shoes. “What’s up?”
“Hey, hon, Jake told me you quit work?”
“Jake?” she echoed.
“He’s still a dick. You’re not seeing him again, are you?”
Indie Chicks: 25 Women 25 Personal Stories Page 9
