Welcome, Linda - hope you enjoy your visit with me as a chance to promote you latest story. I understand it is available from Smashwords...over to you!
Linda lives in Texas with her baby grand piano and her Z3. She writes paramormal romance, romance and fantasy. In 2013, Double Dragon Publishing will release a fantasy novel Gemini Rising about idential twins from another dimension. She is the mother of two wonderful sons, one of whom lives in England and has 2 children; the other living in Houston—a graphic artist and web designer. Her hobbies and likes are: Sportscar events, symphony, theater, reading, movies and travel.
The inspiration for Night Before Doomsday was a book that is not in the Bible. It was written by the prophet Enoch who, in his account, visits heaven. The fallen angels who married and had children with human women petitioned him to intervene on their behalf. I read the Book of Enoch when I was doing research for my book about the most infamous angel of all—Lucifer. On a plane from Dallas to Houston—when everyone else was carrying a John Grisham novel, I held in my hand a black book with yellow Hebrew symbols.
The Grigori, or Watchers, seemed rather romantic in a dark way. They did appear to have a genuine interest in teaching Man, and they risked and lost Heaven to marry and have children. Surely, it wasn’t just There is a reference to them in Genesis that also intrigued me. I’m not a very religious person, but these angels fascinated me. I wanted to tell their story in my own way. Thus, Night Before Doomsday, was born.
In Genesis, "The sons of God saw that the daughters of men were fair; and they took wives for themselves from those who were pleasing to them."
Azazel was a leader of the Grigori, the angels sent to Earth to teach Mankind after the oust from Eden, how to survive in a less hospitable environment. Nine-tenths of the Grigori fell from Grace, but was it love or lust?
This novella presents the Grigori's tale in first person from Azazel's point of view--the temptations, his struggles and the final realization that Heaven doesn't speak to him anymore.
Saturday morning, seven o’clock, I woke up horny with no remedy in the house, but relief was only a phone call away. By ten, I'd gotten laid, kissed sweet Maggie goodbye and stood gazing out the glass wall overlooking the neon splendor of Las Vegas. My white-on-white home built on a hill outside the city was angular, ultra-modern but the furnishings antique.
Young on the outside, old on the inside—like me.
I’d lived in this youthful garden long enough to imitate the inhabitants. Usually, Sin City suited me. At the moment, however, absolutely nothing pleased me. I wished I’d asked Maggie to stay instead of letting her slip away to a day of shopping. If this ungodly restlessness survived a day in bed with Maggie, I’d require the help of my old friend Sapphire, grinning at me from the liquor cabinet. Martini or gin-and-tonic?
Pain lanced my palm, cramping my hand into a fist. For good reasons that no longer mattered, I avoided profanity, but I spat an archaic curse. From a tapestry of the Crucifixion, Jesus, crowned in thorns, looked down on me. Teeth gritted, I pried my fingers open one-by-one and forgot all about Bombay, Maggie and the heebie-jeebies.
My sigil bulged red.... as it had on the day my punishment began.
The figure in my left palm had been the subject of many short discussions with mortals who asked if it was a birthmark. I'd nod, smile and change the subject.
If only they knew....
At his creation, each angel is given an individual mark. For millennia, my heavenly tattoo had been merely a silvery-white scar in my palm, a sad reminder of what I’d given up for lust that began as the purest love. Pain sliced along the ulner nerve, numbing my elbow. A thousand bells rang in my ears as my essence soared from the slower corporeal hum to the high pitch of the incorporeal.
In our natural state, angels are pure Spirit. In the human plane, we could choose whether our wings were visible by raising or lowering our vibration. My hands paled to transparent. Biting my lip, I struggled for control. In two more heartbeats, my mortal pretense would dissolve.
Then what? Poof...gone...MIA angel?
Something was desperately wrong, and I feared I knew what it was. At long last, Retribution had come to call.
Yesterday, I’d tempted fate. Big time. Yes, last night I had sinned.
This short read is available at Night Before Doomsday.