Hello everyone!  So some fantastic news before we get on to the sample chapter.  A most fantastic narrator has accepted my offer to work on The Awakening Audiobook.  My book was also picked up for a stipend by Amazon, which was a wonderful surprise, something I didn’t notice until my inbox was suddenly flooded by auditions from skilled narrators.  It was almost impossible to choose one, but being there was a time limit, and no shortage of talent, I was able to select the best voice for the book.  We’re working on a time-table as we speak, so as soon as the book becomes available, I plan to let everyone know where they can pick up a copy.  My hope is to have every one of the series books available in audiobook version by the end of the year.  So crossing my fingers.

Second note of happy here today, I was able to type The End on book five.  Tears were shed, I’m not gonna lie.  The moment I finished one of the most climatic scenes in the entire series, I paused, a little overwhelmed with emotion.  Closing up this series (though possibly not a forever end) was tougher than I had imagined it would be.  But I’m grateful for the opportunity and success it’s had over the last two years.  I’ve always wanted to be a writer, but I don’t think I ever dreamed I’d be sitting here talking about my first finished series of books.  That in itself is something to celebrate.

Bring on the giant vat of wine!

So without further ado, here’s a sample chapter of the upcoming finale of the Judas Curse series: The Rise of Apollo.

(please note this hasn’t been read and/or even breathed on by my amazing editor so any mistakes are mine and I own them.  Rough draft, people.  Rough draft!)

Chapter Two:

He would be a liar if he said the moment the winged god stepped into the room he wasn’t filled with an abject fear. Perhaps not before. Perhaps even just a year ago when Apollo was nothing more than a creature to envy. Graced with his corporeal form like none of the other gods had been, the Greeks envied him and his brothers. But to fear them? Asclepius had only ever known immortality. He’d been birthed into the world of humans fully formed and worshiped. They were born squalling infants. Growing, living, and dying in the blink of an eye. Asclepius remained always.

Death never mattered to the gods. Even when Hades shouted from the top of Olympus before he was cast out that the gods should fear the humans, they laughed at him. Even when the humans forgot them all and they faded into nothing, they weren’t dead.

But now Asclepius could taste death. It hung over him like a swinging pendulum and it terrified him. He’d seen gods succumb to the madness of immortality, watched as they flung themselves into the portals. The portal he so jealously guarded for years in the body of his descendant, he watched the gods come to him, begging for death. He watched as the portal swallowed them whole and somewhere in his mind, he knew he couldn’t ever choose that fate.

He was immortal. Death only existed for those who wanted it.

Asclepius wanted to live.

Then came Apollo. Then came Apollo and his endless appetite for souls. He started with the humans. Asclepius had seen it eons ago when Apollo and Artemis ruled the world, clothed as angels with their flaming swords—so to speak. He watched Apollo touch humans and stood back to consume their energy as they flared bright and burned out.

But to watch it happen to his kind…

Taking a deep breath, Asclepius stepped into the room. It was nothing special. It was an office. A large desk against the south wall, positioned in the center so the god could keep an eye of anything coming or going. There was a comfortable couch, bookshelves, a television, a well stocked bar. The window overlooked the complex which was currently being built.  So much like the compound Nike created to control her masses.

Apollo had been there too. Asclepius hadn’t seen him then, not at that time. But he couldn’t remember when Apollo wasn’t at Nike’s side. Of course now that she was gone, thrown through the portal to god knows where…

“How many?” Apollo’s voice was never harsh. It was always calm and soothing, even to the gods. Even to this god who knew one misstep could be the end of him.

Asclepius took several deep breaths to even out his hammering heart. The twenty-something year old man he was sitting in wasn’t going to last. The god gene in him wasn’t very strong. In fact, those humans were becoming increasingly hard to find these days. “Last count by the front desk was four hundred and six with another two hundred reserved. The requests are what’s taking the most time for booking.” Asclepius had the clipboard with the human attendees printed out on sheets of paper, but he didn’t need to look down for the numbers.

One foot propped up on the edge of his desk, Apollo put his hands behind his head. Though Asclepius couldn’t see the wings currently, he could hear them rustling. Like paper in a breeze almost. They existed half in and half out of this reality.

“And our guest? Is he conscious?”

Asclepius pursed his lips and hated his answer. “Not presently.”

“See to it he’s awake and his strength is up before tomorrow. I need a boost.” Apollo ran a hand over his mouth and looked at the door. One of the human workers, no one Asclepius knew by name, appeared in the doorway. He could feel Apollo’s hunger raging and he took an involuntary step back.

“Can we help you?” Asclepius snapped.

“I was um…” The kid was no more than eighteen, tall and gangly with short hair and very low muscle tone. He looked between Apollo and Asclepius, fingers quaking at his sides. “I was sent here…”

“Never mind,” Asclepius said in a hurry. It felt pathetic, but he was overwhelmed with a desire to save them now. Watching them picked off one by one, the way the other gods had been. He was filled with an empathy for the humans like he’d never experienced before. In fact, it was his idea the humans be congregated, like farm animals, though instead of sent to slaughter, they would be made to worship. A vain attempt to fulfill Nike’s plan to restore power to the gods. Her plan sans opening a portal because they’d all seen the tragic ending to that story.

Rising, Apollo put his hands splayed flat on the top of the desk and smiled over at the young man. “Come back in ten minutes, won’t you? We’ll have a quick chat.”

As though he could sense what danger he might be in, the kid nodded and hurried out the door, reeking of terror. Asclepius shut the door behind him and rounded on Apollo. “Don’t.”

Apollo’s grin spread, wolfish with gleaming teeth. “Why not? He’s just some kid.”

“Because the more you do this, the more they’re going to notice a little more than healing goes on here. The last thing you want on your hands is a human riot.” His voice belied his abject fear.

Apollo rolled his eyes, a childish gesture as he flopped back into his plush leather chair, and he crossed his arms. “One human. They won’t miss him.”

“He has family here, and they will. And one family will talk to another who will talk to another. They’ll riot.”

“And they’ll die.”

“And you’ll be left with nothing,” Asclepius reminded him. “Your power source from the gods is nearly dried up, and the humans well… only so many exist. If you destroy them, what’s left for you?”

Apollo’s jaw clenched, his face a mask of fury, but he said nothing. After a few seconds, he relaxed and waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Go and get him ready. Make sure he’s eaten. I don’t want him unconscious for days.”

He was excused without another word, and any reason to be in any other room than the one Apollo occupied, Asclepius would jump on that chance. Even if it meant tending to him.

Hurrying down the hall, Asclepius wrenched open the heavy metal door. The dim hallway, barely wide enough to accommodate his human form, led directly down.

He’d never felt like this before, the impending doom hovering above the earth. Nike had been insane, but never a real threat. Never a threat to anyone but herself, anyway. Humans had died along the way but what were a few compared to the billions left. His kind was all-but extinct now.

Ben, the great savior, the man who had no idea who he was or where he came from. The savoir had done little to stop this avalanche. In fact, it seemed he’d only made things worse. Nike they could handle. The incorporeal ones were always limited. Always.

Asclepius didn’t think anyone knew what terror they were unleashing when they broke Apollo’s heart, killing the love of his life. For all the frantic infatuation he cursed the humans with, he’d never been able to escape his own when it came to Nike.

Coming to a stop just outside the door, Asclepius put his hand to the wood and stood there.  He’d been so content and happy before this. Safely ensconced in a doctor who actively worked to keep him comfortable in his vessel. One who was researching the god gene and drugs that would allow the gods to come and go as they pleased.

A symbiotic relationship, one that would give both god and human power. It was a beautiful thing. He worked the good doctor’s way through med school, and the good doctor rewarded him with strippers and booze and money and anything his heart could possibly desire.

That was destroyed. In a violent rage, the body was destroyed and everything Asclepius had known was taken from him. He was so sure Ben was going to be the savior they all promised he would be.

Now they were dead, Judas was lying unconscious and trapped, and Ben was… well Asclepius couldn’t be sure. It was too risky to find him. Apollo would know, and then he would kill the god. At this point only his own life mattered. If that meant making a deal with the devil, so be it.

Pushing the door open, Asclepius turned on the light. The place itself wasn’t as much of a dungeon as it could have been. Apollo needed the immortal conscious most of the time, powerful and strong. It was only the thrall which Apollo had over him that kept him at bay and docile.

He was lying on the bed in the corner, covered up to the chin with a heavy blanket. Asclepius glanced at the wall and saw the temperature was well below sixty. He turned up the dial on the heater and felt a hot blast rushing from the vents in the ceiling. This almost always worked, and sure enough within minutes, Judas began to stir.

He was thin, most of the time refusing to eat except when he was too beaten down to refuse the food. He looked unkempt, almost as pathetic as he looked when Ben first found him. Currently his face was covered in bruises, a few spots swollen where the bones had been shattered, but he was healing.

Not as fast though. Not as fast as he had been, and the god knew it was worrying Apollo more than anything. It was no longer about killing Judas, no longer about consuming him. The powers Apollo was able to draw from the gods he killed were temporary. Some had lasting effects, but for the most part, it was a fleeting thing.

Apollo needed Judas as much as Judas needed Apollo. Or thought he did, anyway. His constantly weakened state was concerning. It was probably why Asclepius was one of the few survivors left. The god of medicine, of healing. Nothing close to what Apollo had been, but once up on a time Asclepius learned to focus his power thanks to the winged god. Long before he became a monster. Once upon a time the sun god had been able to heal humans, before his power grew and he began to feed off their deaths.

Asclepius was the only healer left. That wasn’t counting the detective, of course, but that was still one last egg in Asclepius’ basket. Apollo didn’t know what Ben was capable of. Not all of it, and the god intended on keeping it that way as long as he could manage it.

Walking to the corner of the room, he pulled open the door to the small freezer and brought out an ice pack. The temperature in the room was tolerable now, so he shed his coat and dropped it on the back of the chair. Peering into the fridge, he saw a covered pot with some of the lamb stew he’d brought down a few days ago. A quick sniff said it was still good, so he poured it into a bowl to nuke it.

Wetting a wash cloth, Asclepius crossed the room and lowered himself on the edge of the bed. Jude stirred, letting out a small moan. His eyes were moving behind the lids, but he didn’t show any signs he was close to consciousness. With a sigh, Asclepius ran the warm cloth over the dried blood and watched it flake off, falling onto the white pillow case.

Jude smelled. He needed a hot shower and several good meals and at least a week before he could endure any more beatings. It wasn’t really intentional either. Apollo couldn’t control his temper. He was a raging two year old with the power of the Old Ones and Jude wasn’t giving him what he wanted.

The microwaved dinged, and Asclepius looked over. The room smelled like old soup now. His stomach churned and he felt a rabid craving for a hard drink. There was nothing like that in the complex, though. Apollo was setting up an image for his followers. No drugs, no alcohol, no medicine.

A murmur drew Asclepius’ gaze back down to the unconscious immortal, and he saw Jude’s jaw working. His hand lifted, then flopped back down on the sheet and Asclepius could see the wrist was still broken. He pressed down on the bone and felt it pop beneath his fingers, ignoring Jude’s pained cry.

“Don’t be such a baby,” Asclepius scolded. He pushed on the bones again and they rebroke as they set properly. He had a feeling it would heal faster now. “You need to get up. Need you up and walking by tomorrow.”

Jude took in a shaking breath before he cracked open one eye. It fixed on Asclepius’ face, sending a wave of guilt and empathy crashing through the god. He still wasn’t used to caring about anything, so it hurt to feel it.

“I’m hungry.” Jude’s voice was deep and raspy from screaming. He cleared his throat, then attempted to sit up, but he fell back down against the pillow.

“Hang tight, I’ve got soup.” Pulling away from the battered thing on the bed, Asclepius went to the microwave and grabbed the bowl between his hands. It was searing hot, but the pain in his hands distracted him from the horrible feeling settling in his stomach. He’d spent the last several weeks doing everything he could to stop feeling these things, but it was futile. Whatever this ragtag band of supernatural misfits had done to him, there was no going back. He was altered.

He felt a small rush of hate toward all of them, and fought back a sudden urge to pour the scalding hot liquid on Jude’s face. He was one of them, after all. This was partially his fault. Instead, he dropped back down onto the bed and with one hand, grabbed the front of Jude’s shirt, yanking him into a sitting position.

Still weak, Jude shuffled back against the wall to prop himself up and let Asclepius spoon-feed him broth. He winced as he tried to chew some of the meat, but nodded for more. The color was already returning to his face, and the heavy, pained feeling of guilt was starting to float away.

It would be back, when Jude was again drained of his power and beaten unrecognizable, but for now it was a little relief. He continued to feed the immortal until Jude’s strength in his hands returned and he took the bowl over for himself.

Getting up, Asclepius walked to the bathroom, making a face at the freezing cold waves of air coming from the vent. He stood up on the toilet to close the slats, then turned the knob on the shower as hot as it would go.

“How many?” Jude’s voice was stronger now, and when Asclepius peered around the door, he saw Jude taking a tentative step away from the bed.

“Double.” Asclepius stepped back into the bathroom to make sure there were fresh towels and plenty of soap. The guy was going to need several rounds of scrubbing to remove the caked gore from his hair and skin. “You know if you don’t fight him, you can get through this round without having to heal.”

The harsh laugh ripped through Jude’s throat, sounding wet and painful. “You and I both know that’s not true. He feeds on it.”

“He feeds on what you’ll give him,” Asclepius corrected. “Fighting him just makes it worse for you.”

“And you think I could live with myself if I just gave that monster what he was asking for?” Jude was now stripped naked, standing in the ugly yellow glow of the old light bulb in the center of the room. Every bone was protruding against his skin, and if Asclepius didn’t know Jude could survive in a state like this, he might start preparing him his last rites.

“I don’t think you have a choice, immortal.” Asclepius stepped aside, and when Jude stepped behind the old, moldy shower curtain, he went to the dresser and found a pair of sweats. Nothing Apollo provided was in any way aesthetically pleasing. Just old, grey, tattered jogging outfits and god only knows where Apollo found them. But they fit and Judas never complained. He wasn’t like Mark and his endless foreign bank accounts and posh hotel rooms and expensive cars.

The shower seemed to take an eternity. Asclepius turned on the small fan in the corner of the room. It was one of those fancy deals that pulled all the negative ions or whatever out of the room. Something from an as-seen-on-tv advertisement. Either way, it did help with the smell.

He felt a little like a nurse as he ripped the sheets from the bed, flipped the mattress, and redressed everything. But he could breathe again, and once Jude’s soiled clothes were in a pile just outside the door, the room was less suffocating.

Jude stepped out a half hour later, hair dripping, but the bloody mats were gone. He smelled clean, if not a little sour from the old perfume in the soaps. But it was better than death. Jude glanced at the sweats before toweling himself off, spending the most amount of time on his long curls.

Asclepius took a moment to appreciate the view. He’d never really had a particular preference for human bodies. He loved the way women curved in so many places. He especially loved the curves of large breasts and asses. But there was something to be said about the thin definition of men. The way the hips seemed to be carved out of skin and bone. Even his flaccid dick just hanging there in his nest of dark hair had its own appeal.

For a moment he wondered why Mark bothered to resist Jude for so long. Why let a hang-up over gender stretch on for two thousand years? It was such a human thing to do.

With Judas now dressing, Asclepius turned away, back to the fridge to look for something with more substance. The shelves were bare though. Some moldy cheese, an open can of olives which had gone bad, and in the very back a swollen tub of yogurt that looked like one wrong move and it would burst. He couldn’t remember the last time the place was stocked. Even the soup was something he brought from upstairs, at Apollo’s request of course.

The cupboards were dusty and empty, and he felt frustrated. What’s the point of needing this man alive and strong if Apollo was so intent on stripping Jude’s humanity? What strength would be left in a man who no longer saw himself as a man?

A hand fell on his shoulder and as he turned, he saw the look in Jude’s eyes. It was pity. The beaten, tortured immortal pitied him. He almost laughed, but the warmth in Jude’s touch was almost overwhelming and he lost his breath.

“I get it. But I haven’t thought of myself as human in so long, I’ve lost count of the years. This isn’t Apollo’s doing. I don’t have a lot left, but I still have the ability to fight him and until he breaks that, I can’t give in. I know you’re tired of patching me up, but he’s either going to win or lose, and whatever side he ends up on, I want to be able to say I did my job. I’m immortal for a reason, after all. He might be able to kill me one day, but he can’t erase what I was brought here to do.”