When I saw that my girl, Ashley was doing an event I wanted to be a part of it no matter what. She could get me to paint ladybug dots on a slug’s back. And Angela Kulig is a rock star as well.

I thought for this event I would invite them both to my apartment. In hindsight having the actual Devil and a murderer alone in my living room wasn’t the best idea. I trust too much. Anyway, here’s how the events went down, from my perspective:

I was planning on getting out of my pajamas at some point. I stared at the intercom when it buzzed. The dogs started barking. I shushed them and stared at the buzzer like it might come to life. It sounded again and I jumped. I was expecting the evil boys to be here after lunch. It was ten in the morning. I looked down at my penguin pajama pants. They mocked me with their flannel cuteness. The buzzer blared again.  Maybe it was the mailman with a package I had to sign for.

I clicked the Talk button and said, “Uh, Hi?”  Then I hit the listen button.

“Woman, don’t make me stand out here. And I have got a very large package, but I’m no mailman.”

I could hear him exhale. It was Jack, my smoker.

“Um. I’m not ready…yet? Can you come back later?” I glanced around the room. The kids’ breakfast plates were still in the sink.

He responded, “I live in Hell. I can take a little mess.”

I rolled my eyes and hit the unlock button. I knew he was early because he had a free pass out of Hell. I could hear his loud footfalls. His million year old motorcycle boots were so freaking loud.

I looked through the peephole and he held his hands up in exasperation. I opened the door. My dogs stopped barking the second they laid eyes on Satan. He growled in their direction. They whimpered.

“Jack.” I snapped my fingers in front of his face.

“Sorry. Debra. Nice pants.” He stepped in without being asked.

“Um, I’d say nice shirt but you don’t have one on.” I watched as he went to each window and cranked the blinds wide open.

He stood in the sunlight and closed his eyes. I shut the door and went to sink to put the dishes in the dishwasher. His leather jacket was unzipped and his low-slung jeans showed off his tattoos.

I didn’t know what to say to him. Joking around seemed inappropriate as the man bathed in the daylight he rarely saw.

“It’s been five hundred and forty-five days since I’ve had a breath of fresh air.” His voice was low. “You take all this for granted. The sun. The sky.” He took a drag of his cigarette and his smoke danced in the sunlight, celebrating as well.

“If you’re going to keep reading my mind this’ll be a really quick conversation.” I closed the dishwasher and locked it.

“Pardon me. Just a habit. So what brings me above ground and to your slightly crappy apartment?” He turned and leveled his considerable sex appeal at me.

“Don’t do that. First, I’m married and second, I made you, so that’s a tad creepy.” I folded my arms across my chest.

He laughed, a deep, addicting sound. “You think you made me? Woman, you’re just telling my story. One you need to finish, by the way.”

“Is that why you agreed to come? To haunt me about your sequel? And put out your cigarette. I hate them.” I began neatening up the living room.

“Make me stop.” He licked his teeth and winked.

I shook my head. “Whatever.”

“Yes, I want my sequel. Emma needs me and you’re here messing around. I can make you sit and write it. You know that, I hope. I’m showing restraint.”  His next exhale created a smoke that became hands. They made quick work of my messy living room, even fluffing the pillows. “Better? Can we sit and talk now?” Jack moved to the couch and sat. My traitorous cat jumped up right next to him and reveled in the pets from Jack.

“I need to get changed.” I said.

His long brown hair was loose, so his face was obscured as he waved a hand in my direction. I knew he could do it, but I was still surprised to see myself dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. A glimpse in the mirror let me know my hair and make up were done as well.

“Done.” Jack patted the couch next to him. “Now sit.”

I sat on the loveseat instead. “Okay. In a few hours I’ve another character visiting and he needs to be reminded to try and stay out of trouble.”

Jack kicked his motorcycle boots up on the coffee table and crossed his ankles. “What are you going to offer me in return? Tit…” he smirked, “for tat.”

I tried to push his feet off the table but he wouldn’t move them. My cat purred loudly next to him.

“Maybe you do it out of the kindness of your own heart?” I gave up trying to make his feet conform and sat back.

“I don’t have a heart. Not one that beats anyway.” He placed the hand holding the cigarette against his chest and patted out a rhythm. “You tell me about Emma and I’ll scare your friend straight.”

“He doesn’t scare easy.” I was doubtful.

Jack rolled his eyes and took another pull on his drug. “Don’t worry, Author. I’ve never had performance anxiety.”

A wave of power seeped from him. The damnation he could provide would be tremendous. My soul quivered from just being this close to his immense evil. My cat hissed and jumped from the couch.

The apartment was awkward and silent for a few beats before I could get my wits about me again. “Uh, yeah. Can you keep that locked up when I’m here?”

He pulled his feet down from the table and sat forward with one quick motion, locking the gaze from his deep brown eyes on my face. “I have trouble controlling myself when I’m worried.”

“Okay. I get it. Here’s what I can tell you: Emma’s still alive. And you know she’s a fighter. She’ll be okay.” I realized my hands were clenched in fists, nails biting into my skin. Jack was sexy, but he so, so scary.

He stood, agitated. “She’s alive? That’s the best you can do? Do you even understand what it’s like down there? I created it. I can kill someone so many times yet they never, never die. Don’t you get it?”

He was closer now, so close I had to turn my head. His angry words manifested into hot breath against my neck. The tense moment was cracked down the center as the patio door slid open.

“You better back up, son.” Beckett from Poughkeepsie entered the apartment from the back door, which also happened to be three stories up from the sidewalk.

Jack and Beckett were nose to nose in a hot minute. Beckett was taller and had a ton of brawn but his only magic was a stubborn head and quick trigger finger.

I jumped up and pushed against both their chests. “Stop it! Seriously! Knock it off. If you kill each other? I won’t have any stories left to tell.”

Jack spoke through clenched teeth, “I thought you wanted me to scare him.”

Beckett kept his baby blues on Jack’s angry face while he spoke. “Hey girl, why don’t you go down to Starbucks for a little while and get you one of those Hot Cocoas you like so much. When you get back this clown’ll be gone.”

Jack’s only retort was to flick his cigarette towards the wall where it exploded like tiny bomb. I was about to lose control of the situation and quick. I faced Jack.

“You. No. This stops right now. I know you’re worried about Emma and I am too. I’m sorry that your sequel has to fit around school and homework and laundry but she’s never out of my mind. Now back up before I shelve your book completely.” I gave him my harshest mom look.

He shook his head and growled a little, but backed up as told.

I faced Beckett. “And you? Is that alcohol on your breath? Why would you be drinking this early in the morning?”

He stared over my head for a few moments but must have been satisfied that Jack was staying put. Finally, he ignored my questions and gave me a big bear hug.

“Where’s the penguin pants? You’ve never been this dressed up for an interview before.”

I spoke to over my shoulder. “I’m hoping my pants are in the wash. I would hate to find them missing for good.”

We all watched as my penguin pants hopped onto the balcony of the apartment and did a little dance. After they twirled and gave a kick, they waltzed past us like a person and down the hall toward the laundry room. I looked at Jack and though his face showed no emotion, he met my eyes. I saw understanding there. I decided to think at him instead of speaking.

You know I love you and Emma so much. I promise you’ll have the ending that fits the story.

Jack nodded once in my direction and returned to the couch. I turned and punched Beckett in his huge bicep.

“No drinking in the morning!” I had to rub my hand; his muscle had been tense and ready for the blow.

“Girl, this is left over alcohol in my system from last night and I…” He stopped talking because I covered his mouth with my hands.

“No cursing, by the way. We’re doing this for a public blog event.” I pulled my hands away.

“Well, that’s tying my tongue behind my back.”  Beckett winked. “Either I stopped in on my way home from the bar or not at all. I’m here for you now, Baby.”

Beckett’s tight t-shirt emphasized his time at the gym.

“Fine. Drunk Beckett, meet Satan. He’s in charge of Hell. And he’s about to talk you out of living a life of crime.”

They did not shake hands.

Beckett crossed his arms with a wry smile. “Really?”

Jack stood, lighting another cigarette. “I can’t help him.”

“What? I thought you were going to…” I stopped when Jack held up his hand.

“No. What this bastard does is for his brothers. I can’t help him stop. He thinks he’s taking their spot in Hell.” He exhaled his smoke and it turned into the shape of the tattoo on Beckett’s arm.

Both of Beckett’s brothers had the exact same one. They were bound to each other after surviving a horrific childhood.

“If you’re Satan then you already know I’ve a seat with my name on it at your place.” Beckett didn’t look nearly afraid enough.

Jack walked slowly past Beckett. He clicked his tongue and then bit his lip. “I’ll tell you this, when evil’s the choice you make so many innocent people are affected. Even brothers.”

I expected Beckett to come back fighting. No one was allowed to threaten Blake and Cole and live to tell the tale.

Instead he paled. “I protect them.”

Jack shrugged and stepped out onto the balcony. “Your protection has a sliding scale. They’re not boys anymore. Ever consider knowing you is the most dangerous thing they do everyday?”

Then he was gone. Jack disappeared with no proper goodbye, just smoke left where he’d been that turned into a small tornado before, it too, vanished. The damage from his cigarette bomb neatly fixed itself.

Beckett gave the empty balcony the finger. “I hate that guy. What’re you doing hanging around with the Devil?”

“Which one? Him or you?” I reached up and hugged Beckett because he looked like he needed it.

“I guess both of us.” He pat my back.

I stepped away from him. “I want to fix you. And Jack. Just enough so that you’ll see how great you both can be.”

Beckett walked to my refrigerator and swung the door open.  “Yeah. Well you aim high. I’ll give you that. Or low. Whichever. Make me food.” Beckett pulled out eggs and butter.

“Make yourself food. I gotta say. I think I’m a little afraid of my penguin pant now.” I pulled my computer chair away from the desk and plopped into it.

“I know. Me too. You want some scrambled eggs?” He slammed a frying pan on the stovetop.

His voice drifted away as I watched the empty word doc type two words all on its own.

Thank you

I smiled and opened the Crushed Seraphim sequel so I could work on it a bit while a murderer made me breakfast.

 

Crushed Seraphim 

by Debra Anastasia

How does a foul-mouthed angel end up as the last hope for all of Heaven and Earth?

When Seraph Emma is maimed and tossed from Heaven by a rogue angel who’s taken charge, she fears she’ll never be allowed to return. Tasked with the impossible job of showing the self-loathing (and not even human!) Jason his worth, Emma is sure she’s doomed to fail.

Meanwhile, having wormed his way into Heaven, the corrupt Everett has trapped God in Hell and has designs on unleashing evil everywhere. Fortunately, if there’s one thing Emma can’t do (in addition to minding her language), it’s give up. Determined to save Jason and get back to Heaven-even if it means going to Hell-Emma’s plan is simple yet impossible: trick the Devil to save God.

What she doesn’t count on is the devotion and, well, humanity she finds in Jason; the spirit, hidden compassion, and raw sex appeal within the Devil; and the vulnerability of her own heart. With the help of two unlikely allies, she’ll wage the battle for Heaven. But will Emma be sidetracked by a new sort of heaven along the way?

What’s truly more dangerous? Falling from Heaven, or falling in love?

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Oifs13WO9AY]

 

Debra Anastasia has twisted a fast-paced tale of intimate relationships with literally universal impact. Rich with humor and electrified by attraction, this novel offers a playfully off-beat take on the good and evil that make up the world.

Giveaway:

(1) print copy & (1) eCopy of Crushed Seraphim 

AND 

(1) print copy & (1) eCopy of Poughkeepsie to two separate winners.

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