The Sexorcism of Miriam Flack (The Reluctant Exorcist)
Page 9
“The helicopter is not available for your use,” she said. Her eyes met mine without apology.. “We will be using it to transport Her Highness to hospital. A boat will meet you at the pier.”
My shoulders slumped with the news. I could have used some medical attention myself, but my need was not as dire. The pain of the walk might clear my head. I passed through the faint breath of the Lady’s lilac shampoo and stepped from the small fortress into the awakening day. The air was fresh, laden with the scent of amorous flowers, and heavy with the drone of bees. The shadow of the tower was cold. I moved into the light and relished the warmth of the morning sun. I removed my shirt to take advantage of the soft heat. The same guardsman that had accompanied me to the island stood by the helicopter. Her grim expression and the placement of her slender hands on the AK 5C slung from her shoulder made it doubly clear that I was no longer a welcome passenger.
I was too exhausted to maintain righteous anger for more than a few breaths. A cool breeze speckled my skin with goose bumps despite the sun. I pulled my cell from the depths of a pocket and contacted headquarters to make arrangements for pick-up on the mainland in Landskrona, Sweden. The phantasm would be vetted and my health attended.
The trek to the pier was less than a mile. I felt the shadow of the chopper pass over me as I walked along the road. The princess was on her way to the hospital. She would need weeks to recover her full strength because the long months of deprivation and the final orgasmic battle had drained her completely. I myself would need only a few days and some serious edging.
The benefits of modern technology would keep her safe from repossession until the psychic scars healed. She would probably rely on BooBlocker™ aids for the rest of her life, filtering ghosts from her sight with specialized lenses and sealing the windows of her palace and cars with salted glass. I hoped the princess would not experience the crippling injustice of phasmophobia.
I shook my head and chased all concerns for the royal Swedes from my mind. My chapter in their story was complete. My broken toes were growing numb but my weary legs burned. I trekked on. There will be time enough to rest later, I promised my aching bones.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would like to thank Jackson Rhys for reading my first ten drafts without complaint, for talking about the characters as though they were people we both know, for gentle yet brutal critique, and for being in my life for over twenty years. Also, a big, wet kiss for my editor Valerie who pulled no punches and used terms like “suck it up” when telling me to excise three chapters in one fell swoop. Chaste hugs to Joe Konrath, Hugh Howey, and Kristine Rusch: authors who showed the world it can be done without losing control of your creative rights. Big thanks to J.E. & M. Keep as well. They are authors of delicious, exotic, inspirational, and out-of-this-world erotica. Check them out at The Keep.
Feel free to drop by my website: www.violetgraves.com
Author’s Note
I recently quit my high-stress, eight-to-five day job and moved to the coast to dedicate my life to writing. I work as a fry cook to make ends meet.
I have written sporadically for theater, radio, magazines, and newspapers over the decades, but this is the first time I have published a piece of fiction for e-distribution.
I chose to start publishing erotica because sex is a delicious way to explore the darkness of the abyss.
I read and write speculative fiction, science fiction, high fantasy, urban fantasy, and paranormal stories—with and without erotica—because I like to create and explore worlds that are one step to the left of our own.