Of Ghosts and Legends

Child of Destiny has really benefited from Erase and Rewind launch week. But not my other books. Not Between Death and Heaven or Requiscant in Pace
*ponders why that could be*

Could it be that I pay too much attention to Child of Destiny and not enough to the rest?
Maybe.
So today, I'm going to talk about Between Death and Heaven. The fun facts.
For example did you know that my editor for the book called it a masterpiece? He was pretty in love with it. So in love in fact that he wasn't too thrilled that Child of Destiny went off in different tangent.
There I go, mentioning COD...
Anyways, seriously let us discuss the reasons why Between Death and Heaven is epic.

• It gives a whole new perspective on the after-life. Not totally original of course (what is?) but a twist on various cultural beliefs and legends plus a bit of Beetelgeuse which kind of depicted the afterlife as this dreary government office where you get these forms in order to move on to the next phase. And there are endless lines and lots of waiting.
• Between Death and Heaven has forms to be filled, and hoops to be jumped. But...like any good story, there are obstacles to getting there. Also Hitler.
• We meet Mama Ruth in this book. If you've read any of my child of destiny series books, then you know Mama Ruth. Only she and Armand are in all of them. Forever mysterious, forever pulling strings behind the scenes.
• Ah Armand...Mr. Hot Sexy Piece of Ass. What is he? Who is he? How does he fit? When I was writing him, I kinda visualized him as Louis de Pont du Lac. Not the Brad Pitt version; the original in the novel. Tall. Green eyed. Graceful. Angsty. Self-absorbed...Super cute.

And then there was Phil and Lillian. I wanted to write Lillian as the most anti-heroine to ever exist. She's taller than Phil, self sufficient, not delicate in any sense of the word. Hell, she's from south London. She comes from the Ends. She wrestles crocodiles for a living.She's a modern day Amazon. If she reminds me of anyone, it's Jamie Fraser.

Phil on the other hand is a delicate flower. In my head he kinda looks exactly like JLo's ex-husband Marc Anthony. Or Maria Doria Russell's Father Emilio Sandoz. Phil is actually part Native American so the latter probably fits better.

Yet.

They're a perfect fit.

Because the hero isn't always tall, square jawed and muscled.

And the female isn't always a crying, shrinking violet who needs to be saved.

Sometimes they save each other.

Between Death and Heaven: The Phil and Lillian Story

Excerpt From The Next Book

“I can’t believe you brought me here to be healed by some wild-haired crazy old lady!”, Roy Lestrange complained to his mother as she pulled him impatiently along.

“I told you, she’s not just some old lady; she’s a witch and she can make you better.”

“The fact that you believe in witchcraft ma…I mean this is 1989”, Roy complained even as he followed her through the trees to the ramshackle house he could see through it. It looked like it was standing strictly by the Grace of God or maybe some magic the witch was using to hold up her residence. Roy didn’t get it; if she had access to all this magic and shit, why didn’t she just magic herself a mansion and a fortune? Why live like an animal in the middle of the bayou with her equally crazy granddaughter?

His mother reached the door and knocked tentatively. They waited nervously for someone to come to the door. It was opened by a wizened old woman with a halo of grey hair; she smiled at them in welcome as if she’d been expecting them…

“Come in”, she said and led the way into her house. Roy was expecting to see the skulls of babies decorating the mantelpiece, maybe with snakeskin covering the walls. But no, the furniture was threadbare but neat. An aubusson rug, clearly old but well kept lay on the living room floor. The couch was covered with throw pillows and a crocheted cover. There were old school pictures on the wall of men and women dressed in old fashioned clothing. A tantalizing smell of freshly baked something emanated from behind the wooden kitchen counter. Roy’s mouth watered and he wondered if the witch would offer them something to eat before the day’s business began.

She led them past the living room however, toward some narrow stairs. The led up to an attic where all the good stuff was. Animal skulls, and chicken feathers, an altar with some sort of statue on it surrounded by offerings of rice and tobacco, black coffee and yams, a straw hat and a cane, pennies, palm oil and roses. This was more like Roy was expecting.

“What can I do for you?” the witch asked her voice surprisingly soft and compassionate.

“My Roy is sick Nannane. Could you heal him?” Roy’s mother asked diffidently.

The witch held out her hand to Roy and he understood that she wanted him to put his hand in hers. He was scared though; he didn’t want to do it. But his mother narrowed her eyes at him and he stretched out his hand and tentatively touched the witch’s with it. She closed her eyes, humming softly under her breath. A warmth suffused his hand where she touched it and then spread outwards towards the rest of him. He felt himself become languid, relaxed and at peace. His eyes closed of their own volition. It was like receiving the gentlest massage in human history.

“You have the wasting disease”, the witch intoned, “What are they calling it…AIDS?”

Roy jumped in shock. Nobody knew that; nobody said that. His mama didn’t know, she couldn’t have told. How had this witch guessed? He opened his eyes and pulled his hand out of hers, standing quickly to leave. His mother was watching him; a sad look in her eyes. The witch’s eyes were serene. She sat watching him, waiting for him to do what he would.

“How do you know that?” he whispered.

The witch just smiled slightly and held out her hands, “I don’t know if I can heal you; that is not in my hands. But I can make you feel better”, she said.

Roy just stared at her, “You can’t…tell anyone. You can’t…”, he stammered.

The witch shook her head, “My work is just as confidential as any priest…or doctor. You need not worry that anyone will know of your illness from me.”

“What can you do for me that the doctors can’t?” Roy demanded.

The witch shrugged, “The doctor gives you medicine for your body. You should continue to take those. I deal with a more holistic approach – your soul, your mind and your body – I call on the healing spirits to help you to feel better, and give you herbs to help your body and soul open up to that healing spirit.”

“I don’t believe in that mumbo jumbo”, Roy said belligerently.

“Indeed”, the witch said, seemingly unperturbed.

“Roy, will you just sit and let the lady do what she can for you?” his mother cut in irritably.

Roy stared back at her with a frown but the habit of obedience was long ingrained and he sat back down, “Okay”, he said.