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Penn Scripter - Unexpected Paranormal Romance
I sat on two flat rocks and a plank forming a bench just outside the gates of the fortress that was home to Marcus, the barrier between Asmara, the mage, and Tiecus, the demon. For want of a better description, the two reside within the body of Marcus. He can stay in the physical forefront or either allow or can be forced by one or the other two to come forth and take form.
Today, taking my life in my hands, I would interview Tiecus, the demon. Marcus has assured me that Tiecus had fed well earlier and that his blood lust was temporarily satiated. I could only hope.
The barrier of green foliage soon began to draw back away from the opening that it covered, and Marcus appeared. He took off his hat and bowed to me. “Greetings, Creator.”
I half-stood. He towered over my five-foot-eight stature, and as I looked up into his golden eyes, I could easily see why Platt had warmed to him early on. He was masculine but his carriage was charming. The tattoos that covered his arms, all that I could see of his body, almost appeared to have a life of their own, seeming to shift slightly with his movement.
“It’s lovely to see you, Marcus. I thought I’d be talking to Tiecus today.”
“Stand back, Creator, and he will appear.”
I backed behind the bench, and what I observed took my breath away.
Marcus removed his large hat and appeared to grow even larger than he had been before. I considered he went from about six-foot-seven to well over seven feet. His form began to ripple.
I blinked, and the demon stood before me. He was terrifying.
His eyes were mere slits in his ugly face. They transposed from yellow to red and back again, and they had the shape of ones I’d seen on alligators. His jagged, sharp teeth forced his face into an almost perpetual but horrifying smile filled with malice. Small spikes protruded from his face, and horns wrapped around it. His body was muscled but was part human and part animal of some kind.
He glared at me, and a long, forked tongue shot out and licked what was more of a gaping hole than a nose. His voice reminded me of tires rolling over gravel on a rocky road. He whispered, “Creator…”
I backed a bit away.
He held out a clawed hand. “No fear. No hurt.”
I relaxed a bit and sat on the bench. “You really have learned the meaning of ‘no’, haven’t you?”
He crouched in front of me like a wolf getting ready to attack its prey. “It is opposite of after word.”
Spoken language was a difficult thing to the young demon and though his words were crude, I knew what he meant. He understood that no fear meant trust me. No hurt was closer to I will not hurt you.
“Tiecus, how do you feel about your current situation, being controlled in part by Marcus?”
He thought for a while before he spoke. “Allowed under Bright-Eye. Hunger calm. Companionship.”
“You still call the sun Bright-Eye, has anyone tried to teach you more about language?” I asked.
Meaning, Tiecus relied on Marcus to bridge the gap between the demon’s emotions and thought to make a coherent sentence from his sparse words. Something he could only do because they were all inside the same body and shared their inner selves with each other.
“Then you are willing to live inside Marcus with Asmara?”
Tiecus growled, circled once and lay on the grass knoll.
“What do you think of Platt?”
His tongue again snaked out and ran around his jagged teeth. “Beautiful. Magic.”
“Can you tell me about why you dislike Asmara, the mage, so much?”
Tiecus blinked then closed his eyes. “You know answers. Sleep now. Gut full.”
I watched, again amazed as the demon fell into a deep sleep, and Marcus slowly appeared replacing the grotesque body with his dangerously attractive one.
Marcus shook his head, leaped to his feet, and replaced his hat. He smiled. “If you write a sequel to The Demon of Reginhart, please free me from these bothersome two.”
I shook my head. “You know I won’t do that, Marcus. Together you are more interesting!”
He bowed deeply, turned, and walked into his fortress, and left my world a bit less colorful.
Penn Scripter is the nom de plume for the writing team of S.N. and Carol McKibben. This mother-daughter combo writes unexpected paranormal romance. Separately, they each have a healthy list of novels.
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