Tears of Blood

by Simone Beaudelaire

  The nephilim continued to do their work of keeping the balance, protecting humanity from rogue succubae. But without the influence of Lilith, the work was easier and safer.

  In the fall, Lucien and Sarahi welcomed a tiny daughter to their family. Her eyes were brown. Lucien quipped at the delivery that after all they had faced, how much trouble could one little baby be? He soon found out.

  And so the angel and the demon found a way to live together, not only in peace but in joy. And so the prophecies of the succubae, the nephilim, and the one who was called the incubus came true just as had been foretold, and the will of Heaven was maintained.

  Afterward

  Dear Reader,

  I hoped you enjoyed this wild ride with Sarahi and Lucien. It was certainly like nothing I’ve written before, though I enjoyed it very much.

  If you found this book entertaining, I would appreciate it very much if you logged on to Amazon and left a review. This is your opportunity to provide feedback to the author, which could very well make the next book better. Don’t miss out on the opportunity! And I do hope you will consider my other paranormal, historical, and contemporary romances available on Amazon. Scroll down for more information.

  Thank you for spending your valuable time reading my book.

  Sincerely,

  Simone Beaudelaire.

  Note on the spelling of words

  The term nephilim is a plural form, like cherubim and seraphim. While it is acceptable to use nephilim as singular, I did not prefer to do so. The grammatical rendering of the singular form, according to my research, is naphil. Succubus has two possible plural forms. Succubi is most common, but I felt succubae looked more elegant and exotic.

  About the author

  Simone Beaudelaire is the pseudonym for a mild-mannered French teacher from Texas. When she isn’t explaining verb conjugation and adjective agreement, she’s reading and writing sweet and sexy romance novels. Tears of Blood is Mme Beaudelaire’s 12th published novel.

  Other works by Simone Beaudelaire

  Watching Over the Watcher

  Psychic Selene Johansen is an excellent police investigator, able to determine guilt from the first handshake.

  While her talent for fact-finding keeps her busy, her personal life is lonely. After all, who wants to date a girl who can read minds?

  But Selene's consuming solitude dissolves when she learns longtime friend Brandon Price knows about her psychic gift ... and her secret love for him.

  As their relationship heats up, Selene dares let her guard down, not realizing that a ruthless stalker is determined to put an end to the couple's passion... and their lives.

  Wallflower Girl (with Guy Bailey)

  At only 25, Anne is becoming an old maid before her time. She likes the simple things in life; knitting, cats, and her immaculate apartment. That is, until a friend's wedding arouses longings for a closer connection. Driving home, Anne is struck by a wild sense of déja vu moments before being pulled four decades into the past where events beyond her wildest imagination await her.

  Haunted Hook-Up (with Guy Bailey)

  Julie (Jules) Masterson, budding mechanical engineer and skeptic, sets a goal of debunking the alleged haunting in her university's auditorium. While searching for electromagnetic fields, she meets Theo Kent, future geneticist and true believer in the supernatural. He hopes to meet the ghost and encourage it to move on. Jules and Theo quickly discover they have a new goal... spending as much time together as possible. But when the ghost strikes, pushing another helpless girl off the balcony, they must act quickly to find and banish it before anyone else gets hurt.

  Amor Maldito

  Evening in South Texas. The citrus scented breeze fans the palm fronds. Lovers linger in the growing darkness, hoping to steal a moment alone. But their solitude is about to be shattered as legends of the Border come to life to claim new victims. Tragedy, love, terror and myth merge in this trio of tantalizing tales...

  Notable Works by Other Authors

  By Ch'kara Silverwolf

  The Daughter of Light and Dark

  Montayna was terrified, every word the woman spoke, dripped with evil. The fear she felt enveloped her. In that moment, she felt Sheerak. You can survive this. I cannot help you, and I will not be able to communicate with you after this, but you will survive. Find that strength within. I will be waiting.

  As suddenly as she had appeared, she was gone. The woman had clearly known she had communicated with someone. This sent her into a rage.

  "No magik is to be used here. You will do as I say and learn."

  "How can you say no magik may be used? You are dripping with evil magik."

  The woman laughed a hideous ugly sound. "It is you, who may not use magik if you want to pass this challenge. This will be oh so easy for me. You will never survive. It is almost beneath contempt that they have sent me such a pathetic girl."

  Montayna felt hatred being thrown at her. It was like a physical thing, and then she was pushed to the floor of the cavern. She was held by an invisible force, and could not move for a very long time. She fell in and out of sleep, and when she could finally move, her muscles were cramped, and she was dirty and hungry. Slowly she began to move her stiff and aching joints. She had no idea whether it was day or night, or even how long she had been there. Her eyes had now adjusted to the darkness. She looked around and saw a bucket on one wall. Standing up, she stretched, then looked inside the bucket. There was water, though it looked dirty, but she was so thirsty. If she was to survive this, she needed to keep up her strength. She could not understand why the Nunnehi had put her here. From what Gilcune had said of them, they were honorable. Why would they have agreed to this? She finally drank some of the water, and it was indeed filthy. She could taste the grit, but at least it quenched her thirst. She was determined she would survive, no matter what.

  Inspecting the cavern, she followed the walls, feeling carefully with her hands. There didn’t seem to be any opening. How was she to get out? She sat down and thought of all that had happened. There was obviously a reason, but she could make no sense of why she was being challenged in this way. If the dark side was trying to entice her, then this surely was not the way. Sighing, she stood up, and began to feel her way around the cave once more. Her fingers felt a groove in the rock. She could feel a breeze and knew this was an outer wall. This must be an opening. The challenge, was how to get it open. Feeling around with her foot, she stubbed her toe on a rock. Without moving too far away, she picked up the rock and began working at the groove. It was a slow process. She was tired, hungry, and thirsty, but was determined not to stop. Finally, a great chunk of rock fell and she felt fresh air on her face. A tear trickled down her face, but she brushed it aside and continued until she had made a hole big enough for her to crawl through.

  Once through to the next chamber, she discovered it to be much the same as the one she left. With the exception that it had an entrance. She could hear the sound of running water, and headed in that direction. She came upon a rock face with water running down into a pool. She drank her fill, then washed her face. She tried to see where the water came from, but could not. It was just there. Being faint from hunger, she thought this was why she could not think clearly. She walked to the entrance, taking care to check there were no traps before she stepped through.

  She stepped into a passage that as far as she could tell went a very long way. Of course, this was intuition rather than anything else. There was nothing else for her to do but go forward. She had traveled some distance, when she saw a faint light. It was not directly ahead, more off to the right. She increased her pace and arrived at another cavern. This one was clearly lit, with a table and chair to one side. There was warm bread and cheese, and a jug of cool water. Without stopping to think about it, she sat and ate and drank. Later, she realized that may have been a mistake. What if the food was poisoned? It was too late to worry now. What was to be her next step? As she had this thought a parchment appea
red on the table. She picked it up and read:

  Chosen One

  You have managed to come this far unscathed.

  Your question now is.

  Do you choose the passage on the right or the left?

  One will take you to the next level, the other will not.

  You must choose now.

  She got up and stretched her aching muscles. The cavern had darkened except for an entrance opposite to where she had come in. She stood in the doorway trying to decide. She realized how much she had come to rely on her magikal ability. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and turned left.

  The passage was dimly lit and though she traveled for some time, nothing happened. She was just beginning to think she had chosen wrongly, when she felt that same evil malevolence she had in the first cavern.

  "Well girl, you have made it this far. Either you had help, or it was dumb luck. Either way, you should have taken the other path. Now you have to fight me, and I am more powerful. So prepare to die, Chosen One." This last she almost spat at Montayna. The hatred coming from the woman was like a suffocating cloak.

  Montayna could still not see her properly. Her face was hidden by magik. They fought with fists like street brawlers. The woman threw Montayna to the ground and got her hands around Montayna’s throat. The advantage Montayna had was from learning to fight as a child. She relaxed her body for just a moment, which took the woman off guard. This gave Montayna a split second to throw her off. As lithe as a cat, Montayna was up, swung around behind her, got her in a headlock and twisted. She heard the breaking of bone and the woman went limp. She let go and slumped down gasping for breath. She realized she had killed the woman, and though she knew it was kill or be killed, she felt sick to her stomach.

  She saw the way ahead become lighter. She stood up, walked towards it, and entered another cavern. There was a table with a jug of water, another parchment, and a beautiful sword. She drank some water, then unrolled the parchment.

  You have done well Chosen One.

  The path you chose was harsh, but you are now that much stronger and perhaps a little wiser.

  Accept these gifts as your right.

  She looked puzzled as she read this, for there was only one gift. The sword. It was beautiful. Made from what looked like silver, carved with Elvish writing. The handle, made from a dark wood, was carved in the shape of a dragon, with a large dark blue sapphire embedded in its throat.

  She picked it up and it fit perfectly in her hand. It began to hum, just as her dagger had when she received it. The cavern filled with brilliant light, so bright she had to shield her eyes. She felt herself being lifted into the air and gently began to spin. She could hear hundreds of voices raised up in song, it was almost deafening. As the sound began to fade, she became aware of her surroundings. She had stopped spinning and floated to the floor. She was now in a room. There were beautiful tapestries hanging on the walls. The floor had a soft covering, and she realized there were no windows. She must be still underground.

  The door opene

  d and ShaYung entered. She came and knelt before Montayna, placing her fist across her heart as she spoke. "We honor you, Chosen One. We are yours to command, if and when you have need of us."

  Montayna could not decide whether or not it was fatigue, but everything sounded and felt different. Her senses were heightened. It was as though she knew what ShaYung felt.

  "I have prepared a room for you my lady. A bath and clean clothes, then you must sleep before your return to ‘above world’."

  "How long have I been gone?"

  "Twenty five days my lady. They can wait one more day until you are rested."

  Montayna soaked her aching body in the wonderful steaming water. She tried to come to terms with the fact that it had been so long. How had she survived that long without food? ShaYung had sent some food to her room. She ate a little, then climbed into the bed, and just as she was drifting off to sleep, she heard the familiar purr of Sheerak. Welcome back little one, all is well. Sleep now.

  By Edwin Stark

  The Karaoke Duo vs. the Karaoke Zombies

  CHAPTER ONE: FERMATA GIRL

  A single, brilliant beam of light shattered the stillness of the night, and Sheila Freemont was abruptly awakened by its reflection on her wall mirror, which cast a shard of its radiance directly on her features. She tried to bury her face under a set of three goose pillows, but to no avail; the beam still managed to find a way to play its entire intensity all over her eyes. She sighed and tossed the pillows away.

  "Okay, okay… I’m awake… so skip it," she mumbled under her breath.

  She slid from underneath her crumpled bedspreads, jumping out of her warm bed. Cursing the cold mahogany floor, she walked to the mirror, grabbed it with both hands and pivoted the darned thing around so its reflective surface was facing the wall. In the process, Sheila had twisted so badly the single wire from which the mirror hung, that it had nearly snapped in half. Disgruntled, she noticed that the mirror still shed some reflected light over her bed. Heavens, she had even tried to bury the &%$@$!! object three feet under ground in her small backyard garden, and it still managed to wake her up with the reflected light of the Karaoke Duo signal, a harp snapped in half which looked as if it had been drawn by a hedgehog on methadone.

  She had a small guilt trip; here she was grumbling about the Duo’s call sign, and it was only doing what it was supposed to do: waking her up. For Sheila Freemont, a brilliant twenty-something law student, was only the real-life-counterbalancing part of her crime-fighting secret identity: she was Fermata Girl, the only female member of the Karaoke Duo, the crime-fighting team that was now the rage all over the small town of Nosfort, Massachusetts.

  Which meant that her crime-fighting partner was just a male, indeed, doh!

  His name was Edward Strongbox, a very creepy-looking dude of about forty-five she had met a few months ago at the Cranberry Club on Main Street, during one of its Wednesday Special Karaoke nights. He was a very odd guy, who was mildly successful writing pornographic novels under the pen name of Miss Pinklesworth. Sheila never felt comfortable around him; she had the distinct impression that he was writing a very spicy novel behind her back, surely with her as the main naked character.

  She walked toward her dresser and opened the top drawer, revealing her crime-fighting costume, a Kevlar-lined Spandex tight that left nothing to the imagination. She undressed, getting out of her Ninja Gorilla nightgown, and donned her armored costume.

  After a few months of deliberation about the proper place to hide her outfit—after all, she was still living in her parents’ house—she decided it was for the best to keep it in plain view. Fermata Girl was becoming the very next hit for the coming Halloween, selling like wildfire in the local Toys’R Here, so that became a very good excuse when Sheila’s mom suddenly stumbled upon it while cleaning her room.

  "It’s my Halloween disguise, Mom," Sheila managed to stutter, while her mom stared at her in a very crass, wry way. Of course, it didn’t help much that the costume was sitting next to a pack of prophylactics, which undoubtedly painted a very damning picture—at least in Sheila’s mom’s mind—about the manner in which Sheila expected to spend her next Halloween party. There’s a downside to the ‘Be prepared’ motto, you know.

  Finally dressed in her bulletproof disguise and stiletto-heeled boots, Sheila tiptoed out of her parents’ house, hoping she wouldn’t wake them. However, she was dismayed to discover her dad in the kitchen. She held her breath until she realized that he was sleepwalking again, and he was only frying some pickled cucumbers in his sleep. Sheila watched silently while her dad added some banana slices and mayo to the fried pickles sandwich he was making. He switched everything off and sleepwalked back to the main bedroom, mumbling something about greasing something under his breath.

  Sheila walked silently across the living room, and was in for a very nasty surprise when she opened the front door. It was late September, and the night air temp
erature outside was a strong reminder that it definitely wasn’t the right season to fight evil only dressed in a skimpy leotard, mask and boots.

  She went outside, anyway, holding the keys of her little Honda in the right hand, and walked in the direction of the garage. It was only when she opened the automated door that she recalled that her second-hand car was at the shop for repairs. Well, so much for the idea of entering the vehicle and setting its calefaction to full blast so she could warm to its heat.

  Sheila was so busy rubbing herself for warmth that she forgot all about slapping herself in the forehead. She was only a law student, and she was constantly struggling to make do with her monthly budget, so she didn’t own an alternate means of transportation. She was having a hard time of it, having to supplement her income yelling ‘Do you want some fries with that?’ into the takeout mike of the local Pollo Pronto, a fried chicken outlet located on Main and Elm. And taking her parents’ car was out of the question; they’d raise the roof in one heck of an altercation if they ever found out: her mom had tied a thin nylon fishing line between the bumper of the family car and her right big toe; any attempt to tamper and/or sever that tale-telling connection and use the vehicle would be noticed immediately.

  Now, Sheila’s recollection of her side job at the Pollo Pronto gave her the glimpse of an idea. The store manager, a graying fifty-year old man with a lecherous smile (well, it was always a lecherous grin whenever he was addressing her in conversation), had found out that her car was on the fritz, and had allowed her to take one of the outlet’s delivery motorbikes, an aging Vespa painted in the company’s official colors, a blindingly bright yellow with the words ‘Pollo Pronto’ etched on the side in some angry red lettering.