Take it away, Jessica.
This was so frustrating. Why oh why, had this been the only open window? He was fine, he reassured himself. He was completely in control of the situation and had nothing to be afraid of. Without meaning to, he moved to the other side of her, a little too quickly. The flame went out, plunging the room into darkness. Complete control; he chided himself.
Violette gasped. She was not dumb. She had already closed the window and there was no breeze in the room. There was a panicked fumbling while she struck a match and relit the wick.
He was in the foot of space between her face and the mirror. His waist disappeared into the desk, his torso above. She stopped writing, studied herself in the mirror, and sniffed the air. He could tell she had grown uneasy. He found himself wanting to speak out loud and reassure her. Not smart, he thought. He stood very still as she stared at her reflection, analyzing her face, looking for a clue.
He’d never played nicely with a human in his true form. He reached out very slowly and grazed her forehead with his finger to see how she would react. She pulled back sharply, her eyes wide and round, her little O of a mouth accentuated by surprise. He lightly touched her hand; it was flat on the desk. She jerked it away.
Dammit, this was not working the way he wanted it to. He should stop now, before he totally freaked her out. He was like a kid with a new toy. He wanted to see how far he could push and how it worked.
"Who's there?" Her little whisper startled him. He was not expecting her to speak out loud, to confront her fears. "What do you want? Why are you here?" Her voice was demanding, but there was a quiver underneath the bravery.
She reached out and poked her reflection in the mirror. Could she see him in there? He decided to take this a step further, to push the limits. He leaned down and brushed his lips against her head. She was amazing; her curiosity won out over her instinct to run. He reached out with both hands now and brazenly lifted her hair off her back. She sat, frozen like a deer in headlights, too afraid to move. Her long ponytail was brought to the front and laid to rest on her left shoulder.
"Oh my God," she said aloud. "What are you?" He couldn't answer her so he cupped her face in his palms and ran his lips over her eyes to close them. A soft smile began at the corners of her lips. He was not sure if he had transfixed her or if she had hypnotized him. He smiled too and he did not want to let go of her sweet little head. She still sat peacefully, no signs of stress or fear. His palms ran over her lips now, he could see them pull slightly from the friction. She started to shake her head slowly and began to speak, but he hushed her with a finger to her lips. He did not want the spell to be broken. If she knew she was being touched by a murderous apparition, she would scream and run. At least this way, she felt safe because she was in awe of the experience, just as a child might be. Without seeing him, she could sense and trust his sincere intentions. She knew he was nice and meant her no harm. If only this were completely true.
Blurb: Mother Earth, wounded by the human race and its disregard for her resources, will recruit human souls to serve Her and turn against humanity. A rising force festers; Gemini, a clan of paranormal beings will systematically possess and destroy towns, cities, and states. Amidst the chaos, a forbidden relationship between Onyx, a lead Gemini, and Violette, a human, begins. They will both find themselves in the middle of a revolutionary war that will either save, or destroy our world.
Bio: I was born in Chesapeake, Virginia on April 19th, 1979. I was raised within the American Indian religion and was taught great respect for the earth and all its living beings. Powwows, sweat lodges, vision quests, you name it, I’ve done it. I was the weird kid who would confront kids on the playground in elementary school when they squished a bug. I would very sincerely tell them what they were doing was morally wrong and then I would pray for the bug to come back as a butterfly in its next life.
I grew up admiring my father, Barry Weinstock, as an author. When I was twelve I started hand writing novels. My first one was two thousand pages. My daughter, who is thirteen, is currently working on her first novel. I hope to continue the legacy.