Benjamin J. Nichols's Blog: Being a Writer in the Demon Singer Universe

CHAPTER 1

Jessica Fairfield pulled her ball cap low over her lovely features as she hustled down the Boulevard. She didn't want anyone to know she was back home. Her reputation for causing trouble was well deserved in the judgmental eyes of her town, so she tried to maintain a low profile whenever she returned. She also tried to avoid returning, but her mother had been a bit unhinged ever since the accident that claimed her father. Small towns and supernatural occurrences tend to be less than ideal bedfellows. Especially when you're the one being blamed for said occurrences.

She didn't acknowledge the pickup truck slowing down as it approached her. She had a good idea of what was coming and had stopped fighting it years ago.

"Get outta here you psycho! No one wants you around!" The voice was familiar. It belonged to Garrett. They grew up together. They kissed each other in third grade during second recess. Her lips tasted like wintergreen afterward.

Something red whizzed by her head. Why was it so often bricks? This wasn't going to end well. She watched helplessly as the brick curved around like a boomerang and shot back past her head. There was a startled yell, then a wet crunching sound, then there was a lot more yelling. Mostly it was unprintable obscenities being screamed by Garrett's girlfriend. Jessica supposed Garrett's lips wouldn't be tasting like wintergreen for a while. She watched the tall lights of Garrett's pickup fish tail crazily as he hurried his shattered face to the hospital.

She sighed. It came with the territory. Her well-intentioned - but dumb as hell - mother had made a terrible bargain when she was born. She'd only found out about it a little while ago.

Mom had been picked on something awful as a child. Bullied, harassed, beat up. The kind of things that leave scars on your soul and make shotguns and high bridges potential escape routes. However, mom found love and married Bartholomew Fairfield III. Life was grand until she got pregnant. Thinking about her child's future and her own past sent her a few turns past bat crap crazy.

If you considered her history, the choices she made were just good sense. Jessica's mother found a way to contact a man who wasn't a man. The way she described him to Jessica in whispers, laying on the kitchen floor together the night of the accident... He was pale, and seemed sickly, and his breath reeked of death. He was also immensely strong. When she met him he was holding a man at arm's length a foot off the ground. He smiled at her and shook her hand with his chilly right hand while he continued holding the man suspended with his left. His victim wasn't small either. He was easily three hundred pounds of salami, sweat stains and stale smoke.

Her mother wouldn't tell how she tracked him down, but the man claimed to be a vampire. Jessica chuckled at the ludicrous notion. He had heard she wanted to protect her child and could pay. He said he could offer the perfect solution. For a fee of course. And, naturally, protection the strength she was asking for would have additional conditions.

Unfortunately, a childhood filled with the kind of trauma she endured didn't exactly foster good decision making skills.

So it was that Jessica Fairfield's mother paid the man who claimed he was a vampire every cent she had. Additionally, she made a very specific promise. In exchange the vampire would see to it that her daughter never got hurt.

Jessica badgered her mother relentlessly, but could not pry from her any details of the promise she made. All her mother would say was that Jessica would learn soon enough, and that she hoped her daughter would be able to forgive her.

Jessica sighed again. She's been doing that a lot lately. She reached the gate of her childhood home and walked through. Her mother's car was gone so she headed around back to use the poorly hidden spare key in the flower bed to let herself in.

She supposed a lot of people would think a magical protective shield would be a good thing. Perhaps if she lived in a violent place she would agree. But one of the conditions that accompanied her shield was that a threat to her wellbeing didn't disappear, it simply changed course and found a different target. Case in point, Garrett's new need for stitches and dental work.

Beyond that though, living a life without discomfort has two unpleasant side effects. First, everyone around her tended to get hurt. Second, her sense of pleasure became seriously muted because she had nothing to compare it to. It didn't bother her much as a child, but as she grew she sensed something was missing.

It became clear one day when she ate too much ice cream. She never experienced any discomfort. The stomach ache that accompanies overindulgence ended up going to her best friend Bethany who had no ice cream. As for Jessica, she simply got tired of it. Her palate was so overloaded with sweet dairy delight that it became white noise on her tongue. For the longest time afterward, whenever Jessica saw or smelled ice cream Bethany would get sick.

As she walked through the kitchen to the front of the house she became aware of a presence.

"You've grown to become quite lovely Miss Fairfield."

Jessica turned in surprise to face a strange man sitting at the dining room table flipping through a Good Housekeeping magazine. Looking at the stranger gave her an unfamiliar feeling in the pit of her stomach. It took her a moment to identify it as fear. Fascinated by the sensation Jessica sat down across from the man. She noticed his skin was so pale it bordered on translucent.

The stranger smiled, seemingly amused at her unabashed appraisal.

"I'm afraid the time has come to collect on a promise made by your mother."

"You're the supposed 'vampire'?" Jessica didn't bother hiding her incredulity.

"You don't believe in vampires?" The man's smile broadened.

"I do not."

He nodded.

"I understand. What would convince you?"

"I don't really want my blood sucked. My mother said you are strong."

The stranger placed the tip of his index finger on the table in front of him. A twitch of his arm and he shoved it through the oak so hard his other three fingers left impressions next to the hole it made.

"That's pretty convincing." Jessica blinked. "Are you here to kill me?"

"Do you want me to?"

"Not especially.”

“I’m not here to kill you.”

“Lovely. Then what are you here for?”

“I’m here to collect on a promise your mother made me before you were born.”

“What does it have to do with me?”

The vampire smiled.

“Everything. Would you like to accompany me voluntarily or involuntarily?”

Jessica’s fingers ran along the wooden stake her mother had hidden on the bottom of the table. She’d always thought mom was crazy, hiding stakes all over the house. Now she thought mom was prudent. Funny how circumstances can alter perception.

“Well, Miss Fairfield?”

My name is Theophilus Finnegan Jones III. My friends call me Finn, Finney or Jones. No one calls me Theo. My brother calls me three.
My brother is an idiot.
I answered the door naked. Not because I'm an exhibitionist, but because I've found it the fastest way to deal with those door to door types; salesmen, petition pushers, jehovah's witnesses, etc.
Standing there was the most beautiful woman I had seen all day. Granted, it was six in the morning and I'd just woken up so that wasn't much of a contest. Still, she was pretty.
I leaned against the doorframe and smacked her across the face with my right profile. She didn't even blush. Confused, I touched my face, wondering if it was broken.
"I'm looking for a golem." She said briskly, and walked past me into my house.
I was still wondering what was wrong with my money maker as I followed her down my basement steps. It took an extra second to process her words. How did she know about my housemate?
I reached the bottom of my steps just in time to see a cream colored skirt and two high heels disappearing into my crawl space.
This was getting weird. I was going to need coffee.
"Hey, do you want some coffee?" I called after my vanished guest.
"No thank you!" The answer came floating back. Fine, more for me.
I headed back upstairs and started a pot of Jamaican Me Crazy, one of the finest coffees on God's green earth. (Yes, I believe in God. I'd have to be be stupid not to.) While the brew brewed I decided to de-nude. That's my fancy way of saying I got dressed.
I sat on the extremely uncomfortable chair in my kitchen and sipped on my Joe while waiting for High Heels to return. Once the coffee finished brewing I drank some of that also. Go ahead, re-read that. Yes, I meant I was drinking a man named Joe. I'm a vampire, remember?
Before you feel bad for Joe and think me a heartless monster you should probably know I brought him home on the same day I saw him punch his little girl in the face.
Who's the monster now?
It wasn't terribly long before I heard the clicking of high heels on my basement steps. Now that I had had some coffee and some Joe I was alert and prepared to face the day. As my guest approached I pondered how best to engage her with my wit, charm and stunning good looks. Careful consideration resulted in a finely crafted greeting for the strange woman. Smiling my Clooney smile (George Clooney, not Rosemary) I said:
"Hi."
High Heels looked at me as though I were not the most beautiful man she had ever seen.
I'll be honest,
it threw me.
I've had blind women literally throw themselves at me. Which is pretty hilarious by the way. I always move, they always miss. To see a member of the fairer sex unfazed by both profiles...
She must not be human.
"I'm Finn," I gave her my best grin, the one I usually reserve for holidays and making other men feel bad about themselves. Her continued stoicism convinced me. Definitely not human.
"I'm uninterested," she replied. Walking to my cupboard she selected my favorite tall flower vase, the one my neighbor lady gave me three Christmases ago when she found out I'm a collector of cheap vases. High Heels filled it to the top with the rest of my awesome coffee. Turning back around she leaned against the counter and stared at Joe over the vase as she chugged the one hundred ninety degree goodness like it was water.
"What are you interested in, Ms......?" I let the question trail off, indicating she should provide her name. She did not, so I continued. "Other than the golem in my basement, of course."
"Just the golem," she replied as she set the empty vase in my sink. Great, another dirty dish for me to wash. "And maybe a little bit him," she gestured to where Joe quietly cried in the corner, chained to my radiator. "Although with him it's more curiosity than interest."
"His name's Joe. I'm rehabilitating him."
"Rehabilitating?"
"Yes. He's an abusive father. I'm helping him understand that a good father is a loving father."
"What happened to his hand?"
"It keeps getting smashed in the door." I admired Joe's mangled paw. He wouldn't be hitting anyone with that thing. "Daily."
Her face betrayed no emotion. I wondered what she was.
"Why are you doing this?" She asked.
"Just trying to clean up my neighborhood."
"I can see the truth of things, Mr Finn-"
"Just Finn. Mr Finn was a fish I had once."
"I realize you are interested in pursuing some sort of rendezvous with me. I know you're a vampire and I can see you’re immensely self-centered. The only interesting thing about you is what you're doing here." She gestured to Joe. "What do you get out of it?"
"I don't know, peace of mind? Pleasure? Satisfaction? A sense of self-actualization that comes only from addressing wrongs committed against the innocent and helpless? Snacks? Take your pick."
High heels didn't respond, she just continued to stare at me curiously.
"Enough about me, let's talk about you." I started another pot of coffee. "What are you?"
"I'm a representative of the terribly mistreated planet Pluto." I knew she wasn't human. My self esteem was immediately repaired.
"I'm sorry for your loss." I said sincerely. "I heard Pluto has been demoted."
"We'll be fine." She briskly dismissed my condolences. "We have an issue that requires the talents of someone like your neighbor downstairs. He's obviously very generous, allowing you to live rent free in his attic. I hoped he would come voluntarily."
"Some might argue that he lives in my basement," I pointed out.
"No they wouldn't. Regardless, he's unwilling to accompany me home. His self-imposed exile isn't over until three pm tomorrow."
"How did you get him to talk to you?" I tried not to sound put out.
"I didn't choose this form by accident." The plutonian said. "Golems are but one of the many lifeforms susceptible to the pleasing appearance of an attractive earth female."
"So you flew all the way here from the far end of the solar system, disguised yourself as a pretty woman and crawled under my house just to be told no by the annoying sock thief who lives in my basement? Why didn't you call ahead?"
"He's on the galactic do not call registry." She said seriously. "Besides, our numbers all come up with a Neptunian area code. No one wants to talk to Neptunians."
"Why? What's wrong with Neptune?"
"Neptune has the largest collection agency for this part of the galaxy."
“I hate debt collectors.”
“Everyone does.”
"So what will you do now?"
"I'll go home and wait for the inevitable painful death that is coming to all of Pluto. It's not how I wanted to spend my Wednesday, but as far as plans go, at least it's dependable."
“You could always wait until three o'clock tomorrow and talk to the golem then.”
“No, my deadline is tonight by eight, your time.”
"You don't seem terribly worked up." I poured myself another cup of coffee and offered some to my guest. She took it, removed the lid and chugged the rest straight from the pot.
"Really? I've been sitting here talking to you for at least two minutes."
"How's that significant?" I asked, mystified.
"Plutonians are quiet. We typically only talk in times of emergency, grief or fear. I'm experiencing all three. That's why I can't seem to shut up."
"I don't mind. I like to talk."
"I noticed, I thought maybe your mother died this morning or something."
I really didn't know how to respond to that. We stood quietly for a minute before she finally said.
"This has been nice, thank you for the coffee."
Then she turned on her heel and left. I admired her shapely departure before turning toward my basement steps.
Time to introduce myself to the golem in my basement.

I believe I will give a cameo to a certain black impala in a future Demon Singer installment. I'm not sure if Lyric would get along with the Winchesters or if they'd hunt him. What do you think? (I'm certain Acheron would be in trouble)

I should probably post that here!
Demon Singer II

It has not enjoyed the same amount of exposure as the first. Probably because I went ahead and pissed everyone off with book 1 and didn't have anyone left to offend with book 2!

Regardless, it's pretty great. :)

I have no idea how to Goodreads. I'm fairly inept at the socialling and not terribly great at the making money with words thing. On the other hand, sometimes I write some pretty cool crap.

Below is the beginning of my "Writer's Block Book" - so named because it's what I work on when I'm stuck in the Demon Singer universe. (No one told me sequels were so much harder to write than first installments!)

Have a gander and let me know what you think. If you are entertained I will post more of the same. If not.... well.... darn.

Theophilus Finnegan Jones III: Space Vampire

Part 1

I feel it's important that our relationship be built on honesty and trust.
I'm a vampire.
Yes, I realize it's not very trendy anymore.
No, I don't care.
Yes, if you met me in the street, on a dark night I might eat you. Should you worry? Well that depends. How hungry am I? How good you look? Did I have lunch? Am I feeling peckish or do I have a full-on rage hunger that's going to force me to inject you with Sriracha and bust out my crazy straw? Are you a big fat guy, high in sodium and saturated fats? Or are you a college coed who lives on kale smoothies and thinks Bieber is super hot?
That last one is a trick question. I'd eat a Bieber fan as a matter of principle. Bieber’s a douche.
By now, the girls are wondering if I'm sexy, tormented, brooding, in need of saving, sparkly and so on. No to everything except the sexy part.
Of course I'm sexy.
Here's a fun fact that will blow your bloomers clean off. I look exactly like your fantasy man… to everyone. So in a room of fifty women, I look like fifty different men. I'm fifty shades of gorgeous.
Sounds great right?
Sure, but while gratifying, that particular trait means I have no clue what I actually look like. I can't see myself in the mirror because mirrors never know what to show me.
Before you jump to the conclusion that you can identify vampires using mirrors I should tell you: You can see me in a mirror just fine, so that trick doesn't keep you safe. It just makes shaving a pain in the face. (Fun side note, lots of vampires have beards)
What are some other interesting tidbits? Um, the sun. Vampires love it. It doesn't hurt us, we don't turn to ash. We hunt at night because it freaks you out and we’re kinda jerks that way. The sun shines on us just like it shines on you. Except that when it shines on us it shines on pure awesomeness, whereas when it shines on you it just shines on... you.
Garlic sucks when we get it in our eyes, under our nails, etc. Just like it does for anyone else. But it's delicious on pizza.
Silver... makes great jewelry, otherwise it does a whole bunch of nothing.
A wooden stake to the heart will kill us just as effectively as it will kill you.
There are two things I fear: God and spiders. Seriously. Spiders are the worst. I'm always afraid one will crawl in my nose or ears while I'm sleeping.
You're welcome for that.
We're strong and fast and so pretty we make the celebrity heartthrob of the week look like Angela Lansbury rage-banged Steve Buscemi and had a gangrenous love child. Otherwise, we don't have a lot to set us apart.
We're basically like you, only awesome.
Let's talk about the golem in my basement. I don't know how long he's been living there but I'm fairly certain he predates me. He won't come out and talk to me. I find that rude. I've considered crawling into his hidey hole to talk to him, but it smells like someone deep fried a spoiled turkey back there. He also steals my socks from the dryer. I'd probably be less annoyed by that if he stole them in pairs. He doesn't. He only steals one at a time. I have no clue why, but it's seriously starting to make me angry.
You wouldn't like me when I'm angry.
That probably makes you think I turn into a big, hulking, green rage monster right?
Nah, I just turn into a jerk.
Back to the golem.
Turns out he's kinda famous. Who's famous right now? Errol Flynn? Clark Gable? Brad Pitt? I can't keep up, they change so fast. (Yes, I'm old) So he's like the Ariana Timberlake of his society. How did I discover this? It all began with a polite knock on my door.

Acheron ran into some problems in book two and is being a baby about it. King Oberon took her magic and now she's starting to waste away. Lyric and Cadence are helping as much as they can but eventually something has to give.
Maybe I'll save her. Maybe not though, I think she gave my car an STD.
In other news I've started a Kickstarter campaign to hire an editor, an agent and a publicist so I can improve the quality of these books and get them out faster! Encourage your wealthy friends to consider being backers! Here's the link:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/...

I was closing in on the title for chapter last of Demon Singer book 2. After almost a year of searching, the end seemed to be in sight, then it happened. A freaking dingo appeared out of nowhere and attempted to devour my eight year old son.
Annoying.
I did what any self respecting father/author of amazing fiction would do and I kicked it square in its naughty bits.
I was unprepared for its reaction.
Rather than turn its fearsome, snarly teeth to my tender throat, it stood up on its hind legs, produced a phone and called its attorney.
Thus, instead of finding the title for chapter last I spent the day fighting for the right to defend my child in kangaroo court.
I'll try again tomorrow.