Tuesday, May 12, 2015

Another Hell Becomes Her Exceprt

Not a real elf.
Thank you so very much for following me here on my blog, on Facebook, on Twitter, wherever.  It’s great.  Every little bit helps.  As a small token of appreciation, here’s another preview of my upcoming Hell Becomes Her, the sequel to my award-winning Tears of Heaven.  Enjoy!

“Elves?” Del asked.  “They’re a myth.”

“You’re a myth,” Jane replied.

Del narrowed her eyes at the other woman before she realized the Jane wasn’t doing a grown-up version of I-know-you-are-but-what-am-I.

“Fair point,” she said.  “But elves?  Like live in a tree, sing songs, make cookies, elves?”

“Those are Keebler cookie whores,” Marrin replied.  “They aren’t real elves.”

“Do they sing songs?” Jane asked him.

“Focus,” Del ordered with impatience.  “It’s all I can do right now not to start running to Nevada.  I know that’s insane, but that’s where Jordan is, so that’s where I need to be.  Jordan didn’t go a single night without nightmares for three weeks after Salt Lake.  She still has them from time to time.  She’s tough and resilient, but she’s twelve years old and she doesn’t deserve this.  Let’s try to keep the conversation short, sweet and to the point.”

“The Ljosalfar,” Marrin said in a perfect, melodic accent, “are Light Elves, sort of like Tolkien’s elves, but with fewer Rings of Power.  They aren’t warriors either.”

“Light Elves suggests . . .” Del let the thought hang.  Marrin nodded to her.

“Right.  The Dokkalfar.  Dark Elves.”

“That sounds racist,” Jane said.

“You’ve been living in the U.S. too long,” Marrin said, “but they are separate races.”

“You try being a minority, in a minority, in a country that would prefer homogenized skin tones,” Jane defended herself.

Del gave her a sympathetic look.  She could understand the sentiment of being outcast through no fault except existing.

Del looked back at Marrin.  “How?” she asked.  “How are there not one but two separate sentient races?”
Not a real viking.

“The suffix, alfar,” he said the word as if he’d invented it, “more easily translates to spirit.  So they’re—

“Light spirits and dark spirits,” Del interrupted.  “Got it already.  That’s not what I’m asking.  How are there elves, of any color, running around and I don’t know about it?  And don’t start saying, ‘There are more things in Heaven and Hell, Del . . .’ I swear I’ll find something dull to stab you with.”

Marrin held up his hands to ward off the threatened attack.  “The Choirs and mortals weren’t the only sentients the Throne created.  There was some dabbling in the early days.  Quite a few mythic creatures aren’t mythic at all.  Although most don’t exist anymore.  They’re extinct or nearly so.”

“Like us,” Del said and shook her head.  “Typical Throne policy.  But how don’t I know about these Viking elves?”

“Viking is a job title, not a people,” Marrin scolded, but he smiled after he said it. 

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