In preparation for the release of Sucker Punch in August, I recently completed a reread of the entire Anita Blake series. Every time I do this, I find myself wondering about different questions and I pepper my friends who are also fans with questions AND go on rants about primarily Richard but some of the others as well. There are books i seem to fly through and others where I slog through. Each time those books change, so I am not going to say which ones read slow or fast. So, here for your consumption is a list of things (passages) that spoke to me this read through not necessarily in order so you will have to search to find them: The practicalities of life do not cease needing to be done just because other things are going wrong. Love’s hard to come by, Edward; you should never throw it away just because it’s a bad idea. Either choice was a bad one. Multiple choice should have at least one right answer, but some people only come with wrong answers. Some people are like rigged tests where you can only fail. It can always get worse. The love of a lover, of friends, and of partners, of people that I never wanted to lose, and damn day. It was about home. Home wasn’t a place, or a building, or a tropical night full of flowers and rain. Love made home not out of boards and walls and furniture, but of hands to hold, and smiles to share, and the warmth of that body cuddled around you in the dark. comforting hands, our bodies that had made us all home, and the craziness of having too many people, too much going on, but what would we give up, who would we give up, and the answer, in the end, was not a single thing. Love is never about the object of our love, but always says more about us than them. no one knows you as honestly, warts and all, as the people who love you, truly love you.’ ‘True love means you love the real person, not an ideal that you have in your head and superimpose over them. I’d grown to understand that love, real love, is full of choices that make no sense, that should go horribly wrong, but you make the choice anyway. Why? Because love is different. I opened my mouth, closed it, and then shook my head. There was as sure where “here” was anymore. Because I had had a nasty shock and was all emotionally vulnerable; that usually made me want to either run for the hills or get angry and stay angry. You can experience trauma without getting stuck as the victim forever. You can choose to work the shit and rebuild yourself, or you can sit in the ruins and mourn forever. Sometimes there isn’t enough therapy in the world to fix a person, and that’s when you have to find another cure. There are so few true villains, just other screwed-up people who pass the damage on. The elderly will also begin to decline faster if they don’t have anyone to touch them. Patting someone’s hand, or shoulder, a hug, all of it is necessary to be happy and healthy for most people. It doesn’t have to have anything to do with sex; in fact, most of the touch that keeps us all going is as innocent as a newborn lamb frolicking on the spring grass, the thought of how close I must have come to losing the man in my arms scared me more than anything else. Sex was not a fate worse than death, because with life there was always hope. Hope that the big breakup wasn’t permanent. Hope that the issues that drove you apart might bring you back together again. Hope that you’d see their smile again, even if they were with someone else. Only death was final, and without hope; short of that, there were options. There’s a lot of ways to be smart; the kind that gets you straight A’s in school is only one way. It was like someone who is so used to being made fun of that they say the mean things first, try to make it their joke, so the bullies don’t get a chance to cut them up. It works, in a way, but it means the person saying the words internalizes the message more, because they’re the ones saying stupid, clumsy, fat, ugly —whatever the bullies might say. being in love makes people beautiful, and falling out of love makes you see the truth. It may set you free, but it’s going to fuck you up before it does. It was like someone who is so used to being made fun of that they say the mean things first, try to make it their joke, so the bullies don’t get a chance to cut them up. It works, in a way, but it means the person saying the words internalizes the message more, because they’re the ones saying stupid, clumsy, fat, ugly —whatever the bullies might say. being in love makes people beautiful, and falling out of love makes you see the truth. It may set you free, but it’s going to fuck you up before it does. love could be a cup that you both filled up with love, kindness, joy, sex, all the things that made you a couple, but if you could fill the cup up, you could also drain it dry with cruelty, sorrow, pain, jealousy, and anger. “Sorry, Damian, but it doesn’t make sense to me when I do it either. If something makes you happy you should just enjoy it and embrace it, but I’ve got a whole list of things that make me happy and I fought like hell not to enjoy them, not to want them, not to do them, because they didn’t match who I thought I was, or who I thought I should be.” Just tell me what she’s done, Anita. That should be awful enough to help us appreciate whatever happiness we can find. we must trust each other, for we are built link by link into a chain that is stronger together than as a pile of individual links. Your first lover gets a piece of your heart until you have enough therapy to take it back. But one thing I’d learned in therapy was that just because a feeling made no sense didn’t make you stop feeling it. “As much as I’d prefer the world to be black and white, yes or no, right or wrong, Nicky’s right: Sometimes you can be both,” Fear will bind you closer than love, or hate, and it works a hell of a lot quicker. So many traumatic events and your time sense screws up. Too much happening in too short a space of time. The trick would be to decide whom to be grumpy at, and what to do about it. I had been running on fear, adrenaline, and stubbornness for hours. In the quiet hush of the car I could feel my body. It was not happy. The hour after dawn is the most private of all. You’d think I’d get used to not knowing what the hell is going on, but I never do. It just makes me grumpy, and a little scared. If you keep the gun in your purse, you get killed, because no woman can find anything in her purse in under twelve minutes. It is a rule. Most people choose to think of themselves as white hats, good guys. A few people wear black hats and enjoy it. Grey was Bert’s color. Sometimes I think if you cut him, he’d bleed green, fresh-minted money. There was something a little frightening about a man who knew he was not a nice person and didn’t give a damn. It went against everything America holds dear. We are taught above all else to be nice, to be liked, to be popular. A person who has set aside all that is a maverick and a potentially dangerous human being. It takes real breeding to make a person feel like shit with one word. When in doubt, change your vocabulary. There was something a little frightening about a man who knew he was not a nice person and didn’t give a damn. It went against everything America holds dear. We are taught above all else to be nice, to be liked, to be popular. A person who has set aside all that is a maverick and a potentially dangerous human being. there are days when I think you can’t save anyone. When in doubt, take a deep breath and keep moving. Murphy’s law is the only true dependable in my life most of the time. I was the closest thing Edward had to a real friend. A person who knows who and what you are and likes you anyway. I did like him, despite or because of what he was. He had bet his life on my integrity, and that pissed me off. I hate to be used. My virtue had become its own punishment. Remember, no one can make you feel inferior without your consent. We had saved each other’s lives; it is a bond that sticks with you. Most hatred is based on fear, one way or another. Yeah. I wrapped myself in anger, with a dash of hate, and at the bottom of it all was an icy center of pure terror. A zillion brownie points for me. Women may get to wear lots of pretty colors, but men get the comfortable shoes. You never really filled in the hole. It was like a piece of you gone goes away. You deal with it. You go on, but it’s there. Only inhibitors in the brain prevent us all from destroying ourselves. No one had ever attacked me at home before, not like this. It should have been against the rules. You should be safe in your own bed. She had broken a rule. One I hadn’t even known I had. Thou shalt not attack the good guy in his, or her, own home. Coffee was my comfort drink. But I’ve been stared at by experts, so I was careful not to flinch. Sarcasm is one of my natural talents. Freud is so often at work in our lives. Hope is a lying bitch. It felt wet, like it had soaked through to the skin, but it hadn’t. It was a sensory illusion. People are seldom just one thing. There are fires that last for all eternity. Fires that make napalm look like a temporary inconvenience. I notice all sorts of things that go unnoticed during most of life. I could taste my calm, orderly pulse in my mouth like a piece of candy. For tension release laughter beats the hell out of tears. I had the urge to giggle, but that was the pain medication. I never giggle on my own. some drugs don’t give a shit if you need your body. You belong to the drug until it wears off, period. staying alive was the goal. Everything else was gravy. Best friends, a concept that most women never outgrow. If I ever managed to get married and my husband cheated on me, it wouldn’t be me to go missing. If you’re not ashamed, you don’t need to look away. hysteria gets you nowhere but dead. Worry about the things you can control; the rest will either work themselves out, or they’ll kill you. Either way, no more worries. you can be embarrassed or you can be aggressive. Truth, justice, and the American way certainly didn’t work within the legal system. Money, power, and luck were what worked. Anita. No matter what you do or how bad you feel about it, life just goes on. Life doesn’t give a fuck that you’re sorry or upset or deranged or tormented. Life just goes on, and you gotta go on with it, or sit in the middle of the road and feel sorry for yourself. I never doubted God. I doubted me. But maybe God was a more generous God than I allowed him to be. I felt that measure of calm that I sometimes got when I prayed. It doesn’t mean you’ll get what you asked for, but it does mean that someone is listening. If you can’t impress yourself, then no one else really matters. Why is it when you have a sure thing to bet on, there’s never anyone around to take your money? it used to bother me that I could be in such confusion, such pain, and the world just didn’t give a shit. The world, the creation as a whole, is designed to move forward, to keep on keeping on without any one individual person. It feels damned impersonal, and it is. But, then, if the world stopped rotating just because one of us was having a bad day, we’d all be floating out in space. I’d learned long ago that if you’re feeling unloved by the man in your life, the best revenge is to look good “The heart wants what the heart wants, Dolph. You don’t plan on making your life complicated, it just happens, and you don’t do it on purpose, and you don’t do it to hurt the people who love you. It just turns out that way sometimes.” I thought of several smart alec remarks, but you should humor crazy people when you’re at their mercy; it’s a rule. You can’t shovel other people’s shit for them, not unless they’re willing to pick up a shovel and help. There’s only so much emotional super glue in a person’s soul, after that everything just stays broken. It was a little like being in shock. Shock is nature’s insulation, the thing that shuts you down so you can heal, or sometimes so you can die without hurting, or being afraid. I guess you can’t undo all your upbringing, no matter how hard you try. sometimes guilt or habit makes you listen to those other voices—the ones that beat you down. Sometimes you just can’t shake them. “You ate the living darkness, Anita. It has given your own necromancy a power jump of near-legendary proportions. You raised every cemetery and lone body in and around the city of Boulder, Colorado last year, while you chased down the spirit of the Lover of Death, one of the last members of the now-disbanded vampire council who did not bend knee to Jean-Claude’s rebellion.” “You say rebellion. I say killing crazy motherfuckers to save the world from their plans to spread vampirism and contagious zombie plague across the planet.” “It would have been an apocalypse for the human race.” “But not the apocalypse.” “You mean the biblical one?” he asked. “Yeah, as in the apocalypse.” “You say that as if there is only one.” “There is only one.” “You have prevented two on your own. We have prevented more events that would have destroyed the planet, or at least the human population. Some of us lived through the last great extinction and the coming of the great winter.” “You mean the Ice Age, as in the real Ice Age.” He nodded. I took in a deep breath, let it out slow, and said, “Okay, some of you guys are old as fuck. Make your point.” “My point, Anita, is that apocalypse as in the great devastation or second coming of some religious significance has happened before and will likely happen again.” “I’m not sure we’re defining it the same way,” I said. “Perhaps not, but there really does need to be a plural for apocalypse .” A few years back I’d have argued until either we had a fight or the cows came home, but therapy had helped me realize that I could just let some things go. Real love is about consistency over time, battles won, battles lost, the pain, the pleasure, the sharing. Strength shared is strength multiplied. She just looked happy, and nothing makes someone as beautiful as happiness and being in love. No makeup or youth serum can come close to that beauty secret. Who wanted to be around a constant stream of negativity? I knew he would shield me with his own body, and the strength that would have scared me under other circumstances now became the ultimate comfort. I knew that all that energy and strength was now aimed at keeping me safe. The difference between prince and beast is often just a matter of how a man uses his strength and rage. Aimed well, it is a shelter that you can hide behind no matter how great the storm. Turned against you, it makes shelter into a trap.
Sometimes you need to embrace the suck and just go along for the ride, but sometimes you need to tell whoever is making your life suck to stop being a dick and do better. Tyburn was now on my you-almost-killed-me-so-do-better-or-let-me-drive list Part of wisdom is being honest with yourself,
I have had the pleasure of getting an advanced reader copy of Fantastic Hope, the new paranormal anthology that was released on April 7, 2020. This arc was provided via Netgalley, the best place for reviewers and avid readers to get and review new books. This anthology is a great way to be introduced to a wide variety of authors and writing styles. You may just buy it for one author and find a whole new library to read during this uncertain time. With a wide variety of bestselling authors this anthology has a lot of bang for your buck. While I could go crazy with this book review and write pages upon pages and bury you in paper, time is at a premium. This anthology is a great way to get acquainted with a number of authors and their writing styles. You may buy it for the latest in one series and end up with a new series to read, to love, and maybe even obsess about. These authors each have unique backgrounds and those backgrounds inform each story with details that will delight readers, . Rather than going through each story and providing spoilers that might make longtime fans and new readers alike angry, I will cede this space to a part of the Foreword and the words of the editors. “It’s a place where the hero wins, the bad guy is punished, and the monsters are only real while you’re reading the story. You can close the covers and be safe. Unlike the real terrors of the world online and in the news lately…welcome to a collection of stories where you can find hope, happy endings, loyalty, freedom, love, all the positive things that make the best of us. Welcome to thrilling adventures and a modern take on two-fisted adventure stories…Have faith in yourself, in the people who love you, in magic, in religion, in Deity, in science, and in things harder to label with just one word. Believe that there will be smiles after the tears, joy after the pain, and that it will all work out, that good will triumph and evil will not win forever…You’re holding people’s dreams in your hands, dreams made real for you to read and share. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I did.” Laurell K Hamilton “Laurell is a big proponent of people doing their therapy and working through their shit. We sat over lunch and talked about the depressing stories that seemed to be everywhere, in the news and in fiction, and lamented that there weren’t more uplifting stories… Laurell and I are both survivors and we know that the world is not all unicorns, rainbows, and glitter. but we also know that there is light at the end of the tunnel and that the darkness can be pushed back, even if it starts with a spark….I hope that in this book you find a story that speaks to you that reminds you that tomorrow is a new day with new opportunities.” William McCaskey Believe again. Dream again. Know that you have the power to do the impossible and conquer your demons. Start a new relationship with favorite authors and new voices. Start here.
In the past few days, I have received repeated emails from people unhappy about Ride the Storm supposedly being the last book in the Cassandra Palmer series. They were angry that I hadn’t tied up every single strand and given them a proper send off. They were distressed because someone, somewhere, had told them that this was the last book and they believed it.
It occurred to me that, if I was getting repeated emails, there might be more people out there who believed the same thing, but who hadn’t dropped me a line. So here, for the record, is my official take on this: this is not the last book.
Originally, there were supposed to be nine books in the series, three interwoven trilogies, each dealing with a different challenge for Cassie to face. A sort of “Big Bad” around which her other adventures were framed. This book completes the second of these “trilogies” (the quotation marks are because they each took four books to complete, not three as originally intended.) So we have a ways still to go. I am not saying, btw, that there are exactly four books left; I am saying that it will take at least that many to complete the original design.
Thank you for reading this boring post, but apparently, I needed to get this out there.”
1) What I am reading greatly affects my overall mood, mental health, and physical health. I was reading a book I didn’t care very much for, Sherrilyn Kenyon’s Deadmen Walking. I expected to love it, but it just wasn’t doing it for me. I was angry and irritable and it was taking me forever to get through the book. That led me to watching hours of bad crime television on YouTube.
2) Something big and bad is happening in the publishing industry-especially for paranormal authors. I’ve been shocked by the news that Laurell K Hamilton won’t be releasing a book this year. While I fully support her decision to take time to recharge and get to know her new editor, I’m hearing a lot of rumblings. A lot of readers expressed unhappiness with Crimson Death, the last Anita Blake book by Laurell K. Hamilton and I am putting that onus on the publishers and the editor they assigned to her. I am hoping that their relationship will improve or that someone will add in anther person in the process who knows Laurell K. Hamilton’s books backward, forward and upside down (other then her significant others) and can discuss whatever Laurell K. Hamilton needs or somehow help the editor get their Laurell K. Hamilton knowledge up to snuff.
3) We have to support our authors. If authors as important and big time as Laurell K. Hamilton are having trouble what about all our other authors. I need my books. They are my coping mechanism and they keep me away from my head exploding from our daily world news.
@bestbooklover
Once he is healed enough to actually take control of the sex he is still not willing to let Cassie in at all. Cassie trusts him to not kill her but he doesn’t and he doesn’t want to get any more vulnerable to Cassie and so he limits it to oral sex and her orgasm.
Yeah good point. While Rosier’s prohibition was still in effect, that applies to demon sex, so he was held back more by his own figurative demons I think. It also highlights that Cassie and Pritkin never really make a conscious decision (about being intimate) that they commit to. Without external pressure, neither of them would initiate it.
@windsurfingthroughhell said:
Idk, I just have weird and particular ideas about consent and autonomy. I don’t like people making choices for Cassie, especially as regards her body, but this particular instance of it bothers me less than say, that Mircass scene in TtD, because Pritkin didn’t compromise her ability to consent, Rosier did, and he also apologised for it later
As @bestbooklover mentions, Cassie consented to the process at the start. What I’m curious about is why we’re all focusing on Cassie, when she was a deliberate, initiative-taking active party in the whole ordeal. It was Pritkin who was unconscious, who had his body intimately handled without his awareness or prior consent. He didn’t ask Cassie for sexual help, even though he could have; he would have never touched her in any of the scenes if not for Cassie’s demands/actions to ensure that he does.
And even when he does yield to her, he is clearly very conflicted. He is torn and upset, more so than Cassie ever was about any of her sexual encounters. It is him, not Cassie, who is broken and guilt-ridden and angry and catatonically traumatized in the shower, it’s not Cassie who needs comfort, it’s Pritkin. And Cassie has just forced him to relive his worst nightmare and do things he hates and shuns on his own volition.
I did make a satire post about this around April to illustrate double standards and biases, but since nobody addressed Pritkin’s consent, it proves that this topic might be worth a more serious post. I’m not sure whether it’s actually the books or the fandom that focuses so much on Cassie’s more minor experiences and ignores far more traumatic events for other characters, but consent should be a non-gendered topic, just like physical violence (the trivialization of which Cassie also does in the books).
Yay! I love it when we all start talking!
@freespeechfandom has some valid points. As we move through the books, there are some issues regarding Pritkin’s consent. However, if we waited for Pritkin to agree to be healed through his incubus side by Cassie-he would have died first. Pritkin definitely has a hero complex and has consistently maintained that Cassie would be better off letting him go. I agree that consent is a two sided issue and would love to see a well adjusted Pritkin so we could discuss his consent without his suicidal starving of his incubus and his outright denial of his feelings for Cassie.
As for why I keep talking about Cassie-in my opinion the whole series is about Cassie. So I am cassie-centric in my thoughts and posts.
I think Cassie supports Pritkin in the shower. I think she tries as hard as she can to be his friend. Now admittedly Cassie jumped into the deep end of friend and love interactions from the time she first comes to the Senate against her will. Cassie has never had a friend or a lover or even a real bodyguard other than Billie Joe and a hell raising, card cheating ghost from the 1800′s isnt exactly the best template for friendship.
I will be the first to admit that within the books there are boundary issues all around and there is more than enough for everyone!
Watching this (and fearing broken ankles with each loop) I can’t helping thinking about that old quote Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Astaire did, except backwards and in high heels.
But no, if you watch closely you’ll see she doesn’t even step on the last chair. That means she had to trust that fucker to lift her gently to the ground while he was spinning down onto that chair. That takes major guts. I’d be pissing myself and fearing a broken neck if I were in her place. Kudos to her.
Okay so this is true, but a tiny part of a wider truth.
Ginger Rogers was a FUCKING BADASS. Ignore for a sec the rampant sexism in Hollywood (they once bleached her hair blonde in wardrobe without telling her beforehand), the fact that she fought her whole career against typecasting and stereotyping from fellow actors (Katharine Hepburn famously said of the Astaire/Rogers partnership “she gave him sex. He gave her class” ) for starting out in musicals, and went on to have a career lasting over fifty years, winning a Best Actress Oscar (Kitty Foyle, 1940). But… JUST focusing on the Astaire movies…
Not only did she dance “backwards” in high heels, the dances were a task in themselves. Astaire was an absolute perfectionist and choreographed for himself, so as a younger, less experienced dancer Rogers came in at a disadvantage and worked her ass off to match him.
Then there’s the filming complications… these numbers were filmed in ONE TAKE. So one thing goes wrong and you have to start over. Maybe you make a mistake or maybe your dress flies up because…
Ginger had to contend with her wardrobe. Dancing in heels is the norm at this time, but dancing in a dress designed for cinema cameras… not so much. They were heavy, embellished, uncomfortable, restrictive and cumbersome and essentially a third member of the dance, strapped to the body of one partner.Not only did she have to dance and look good, she had to control the dress too!
Take this routine from Swing Time… (it gets going proper at 1:30ish)
This dress has weights, YES WEIGHTS, sewn in to the hem to make it fly out and create a visual effect. So it’s heavy, it hurts if it hits you, and your partner gets mad if it hits him. So you gotta control it.
Well it turns out all these factors on this set, this particular day aren’t going so well. So you’re doing take after take, here’s no labour laws, so at 4am after 18 hours you’re still going, even though part of the routine requires you to spin up those curved stairs with no rail at high speed….
Okay so now back to those high heels. In Ginger’s autobiography she vividly remembers this night as the night she bled though her shoes. They did so many takes, her feet blistered, bled, and the white satin high heels she was wearing finished he night pink because they were literally full of blood. And still they keep shooting. She keeps dancing.
The take they use in the film is the last. Early hours. Bloody feet. And she spins, acts and bosses out until that last second. Because she was that professional, talented and bloody minded. This is the last set of spins…
So I say once again. Ginger Rogers was a badass.
She did everything Fred Astaire did backwards, in high heels, wearing a 20 pound dress, exhausted, injured and standing in a pool of her own blood. And watching her perform, you would never know.
Women Rule,
Fred Astaire, Ginger Rogers, Dancing,high heels, dancing backwards, exhausted, weighted dress, badass, dancing backwards, sexism, jealousy, tap dance, perfectionism, mean, angry, one take
(Not sure
whether it’s right to write about Dorina and Dory as two different characters
when we still know so little about Dorina, but anyway, here goes)
When
reading Fury’s Kiss for the first time, there were these passages that
frustrated me immensely. I can see why Dory naturally assumed that it was
Dorina attacking her in her own mind – she’s only ever “seen” Dorina that one
time at Radu’s estate, plus some jumbled memories from before the divide – and then
there’s the waking up surrounded by bodies thing… But I didn’t wanna believe
Dory. Because those few glimpses we get from Dorina’s POV just don’t fit the
picture of the bloodthirsty maniac that Dory has of her other half. Sure, she’s
good at what she’s doing, which in the situations we see her in is mainly
fighting, and also killing when necessary (no one to mourn there, though). But
so is Dory herself, and Louis-Césare, and loads of other characters.
Dory fears
Dorina based on very little actual proof, namely on her surroundings when
waking up and on what’s probably nothing more than hearsay. I doubt that Dory
has ever talked to anyone who met Dorina and lived to tell her about it except
for Mircea, and of course Dorina doesn’t react all too well to him as he is the
one who imprisoned her in her own head (with good cause, insists my inner
Mircea fan, but does Dorina know that?). And even given his, and later
Louis-Césares, scant experiences with Dorina under very stressful
circumstances, they don’t think she’s irrational, or cruel, or bloodthirsty, or
any of the things Dory assumes about Dorina. Just… good at what she’s doing…
So I wonder, as Dory was so spectacularly wrong about Dorina based on little
evidence, what was/is Dorina’s take on Dory based on pretty much nothing at
all?
Dory
speculates on this at some point, but given the situation she was in at that
point and her generally skewed perspective on this, I doubt that her views are
all that accurate. This is going into speculation territory fast, so let’s see
what Dory thinks are Dorina’s feelings about the person she shares a mind with:
“Maybe she
hated my weakness, my humanness, as much as I hated her vampire-ness […]
Maybe instead of a crawling bug, she viewed me as a more insidious kind – a leech,
taking her strength, her energy, her prowess, and squandering them.”
First of
all, Dorina doesn’t seem as preoccupied with Dory as vice versa. She doesn’t
think at all about her alter ego, which for me is something that contradicts
Dory’s assumption that Dorina has nothing but contempt for her. When Dorina
takes over their body for her nightly trips in search of the angel child, she
shows no sign of hate or anger at Dory for being handed a damaged body. She
just… rolls with it, I guess. Which she’s certainly capable of. So that
speaks against Dory’s theory that Dorina views her as something “usurping” her
body and then giving it back broken because she’s so utterly incapable. I’m not
sure how aware Dorina is while Dory is in control (although I think there must
be something subconscious going on because she fights harder to get out when
they are in danger?), but it doesn’t seem to be enough to always know what Dory’s
up to and why, so she can’t know what Dory does with their body while she’s
absent. She doesn’t seem to be too interested, either, never makes an effort to
get an explanation for the situation she’s been put in. So I think indifference
would be a better description for Dorina’s attitude toward Dory than contempt
or hate. And then there’s the fact that in Fury’s Kiss, Dorina always brings
back their body before the night is over, although she’s not technically forced
to, not being bound by the sun cycle and all. So maybe I’m over-interpreting
this, but I think it shows that Dorina tries not to mess up Dory’s life too
much and sees Dory’s goals as important, too.
“Living a life
no master vampire would have considered for so much as a moment, with no
family, no servants, no respect.”
We know
that Dorina does want a family, which is why she tried so hard to rescue the angel
child she found at the beginning of Fury’s Kiss. We also know that she tends to
look down on others, regardless of their race, and that she’s especially
suspicious and to a degree contemptuous towards vampires. But I think Dory gets
it wrong here. Dorina wants a family not/less for the prestige and power that
it brings, but because she’s lonely. Those times she comes out, she never has
the opportunity to form bonds with anyone, and most of the time she’s locked up
inside her head, so no chance at finding someone to belong with. I don’t know
what kind of power the child might have had, but it’s obvious that she doesn’t
try to find it because of what it might do to improve her status. She does it
because she feels protective, and because she hopes there might finally be
someone who doesn’t freeze in terror at the sight of her (and is therefore weak
and unattractive to her), treats her with contempt or threatens her with
imprisonment or worse.
“I wondered how
she’d felt about [dhampirs not having status]. How she’d liked having even baby
vampires look down on us, watching them insult us, denigrate us […] knowing
that we – that she – were perfectly capable of destroying the lot of them.”
Here’s
something that Dory might have gotten right because it’s something that they
share. Dorina surfaces when she senses Louis-Césare acting disrespectfully and treating
her as if she was weak, and is placated by his apology and gesture of
subordinance. Dory gets angry, too, when vampires don’t treat her as the very
capable and potentially dangerous person she is, like when she went to see
Mircea and slammed that arrogant guard through a wall. They both hate it that
they’re treated the way they are by vampire society, and they both react
accordingly, although Dory naturally assumes that Dorina’s reaction is way
worse than her own. So, the starting point for this assumption is probably correct,
but her conclusion is not. Again, I’m guessing, but as is evident from the end
of Fury’s Kiss, Dorina not only doesn’t seem to hate Dory, but develop some
kind of tentative… respect, maybe? for her other half. They cooperate when
fighting Lawrence (which is a survival necessity, yes, being of one body and
also mind, more or less) and instead of trying to subdue Dory, or in any other
way even making contact with her, Dorina vanishes after the fight, maybe
mourning her own losses. There’s no hate or contempt there, just a profound
feeling of being estranged. Which, considering the last five hundred years,
seems like a good starting point to try and move toward each other again after
being cut off from half their selves for so long.
The front counter of the little booth was lined with cobweb doilies on
which sat the usual diabetic-coma-inducing pyramids of doughnuts and pastries.
And something new. Something awful.
“What is that?” he demanded,
transferring his glare from the case to the Goth girl standing behind it.
She looked like an extra from Beetlejuice, all wild black hair and dead
white makeup except for raccoon-dark circles around her eyes. But her
expression indicated that he was the one being scary. Her gaze dropped to the
item in question, which was wedged between a tower of zombie cake pops and a
bunch of “fruit cups” laced with custard and cream.
“M-muffin?” she asked, as if she wasn’t sure.
He couldn’t blame her. The monstrosity spilling over the edge of a
shiny gold baking cup was big as a couple of clenched fists, a bloated alien of
a sweet menacing the other nearby treats. And then he noticed the little
heart-shaped sticker that someone—some fiend—had
attached to the front of the foil.
“Heart healthy?” he asked,
outraged.
↳Karen Chance – Shadowland
Just some quality art posting of a perfect, angry mage
When Louis-Cesar grabs Tomas while Cassie’s spirit is in charge, Cassie barely has time to realize that a vision is coming before she is thrown back through time. When she arrives at Carcassonne, this time she is a spirit and Tomas has come along for the ride. Its a little later this time and they arrive in the torture chamber. This trip she hears the screams more clearly and there are thousands of them. Since she is a spirit she recognizes the thousands of ghosts crying for vengeance. They have made the corridor ice cold and the hallway is covered in a miasma of spirits, Never before has she felt so many ghosts in 1 place at 1 time and the spiritual mist fills the halls air to the point of suffocation. “It was despair made tangible, like a film of freezing grease on my face that ran down my throat until I thought I would choke on it. This time I was alone and, without the bully of a jailer to distract me, I could concentrate on the voices. Slowly they became a little clearer. I quickly wished they hadn’t.“ There was a feeling of intelligence, of many minds and so much rage that Cassie wonders at first if it is demonic, but she quickly realizes that its just ghosts. Ghosts typically haunt for three reasons-they died before their time, they died unjustly (which sometimes means murder), or they died leaving something unfinished. Of course, ghosts are left by people and so there are always lots of complicating factors, making every ghost as unique as the person they were. What Cassie was feeling was thousands of ghosts with all three issues and all the minor complicating ones that could be imagined. If there were psychiatrists for ghosts…but there aren’t psychiatrists for ghosts. All there is is revenge and it plays out with the ghost getting satisfaction, payback or hanging around lusting for vengeance until its energy runs out. Most fade until only their voices remain, but here Cassie can feel so many ghosts-some almost out of juice, some just made. The implication was beyond staggering-this spot had been used for torture for centuries creating so much dark energy that even the most nonsensitive person would feel the chill.
Cassie looks around but she’s a little scared. Her visions have always been predictable. She sees things that are going to happen and they hit her like a freight train, she cries, she moves on. But now the universe has changed the rules and no one told her. A cold wind hits Cassie as the ghosts are getting restless. She asks them what they want, but letting the spirits know she can hear and feel them was like hitting a hornet’s nest with a stick. Suddenly, she is inundated with flashes of color, flickers of images and the wind picks up in the hall and its like she is in the middle of a hurricane. She backs away and falls against the wall, realizing that she is in spirit and in the right body. She recognizes the torture chamber but she is alone except for the torture victims who don’t seem to notice her. She is there in spirit and in body, and its different. The witch Cassie just freed at the casino is laying on the torture rack but she is not burned yet. She looks behind her and sees the thousands of ghosts, standing quietly but there isn’t enough physical space for thousands of people. Cassie is surprised to see the witch looking a her and says that she doesn’t know what to do. The witch tried to speak to her but no sound comes out. Someone hands Cassie a dipper of water but it is gross. Cassie says that water is too gross and a voice responds telling her there isn’t anything else. Cassie is so disoriented she doesn’t recognize the voice as Tomas. Then she does and jumps spilling the water. Tomas is standing there holding a bucket of green slimy water. Cassie asks him what he is doing here. Tomas tells her that he was in his body and she took control of his body and then he was here. He asks her where here is and if that is Francoise. Cassie looks at the bucket and realizes he shouldn’t be able to have a bucket. She asks him where he got it and he says it was in the corner. Cassie decides to screw the metaphysics and just goes with it. If Tomas can move the bucket, maybe she can change whats about to happen. Her first priority is to get the witch out of there but she isn’t going to make it without something to drink and is casting longing glances at the slimy bucket. Tomas tastes the water and says it is another form of torture as it’s 1/3 salt. Tomas says he will go find water. Cassie tells him he has to stay here. Tomas asks what could happen and Cassie considers telling him that ghosts can cannibalize each other. Most don’t because it just isn’t worth the energy but the rules are changing and she doesn’t have a body to hide behind. They are foreign spirits on these ghosts ground. Billy Joe has been mugged before by other spirits because it is easier for spirits to cannabalize each other than to attack humans. There were several thousand angry ghosts and so far they weren’t being aggressive, but Cassie doesn’t want to chance it. She tells Tomas he doesn’t want to know and finds herself softening towards him since he seems to be so genuinely concerned about Francoise. And then Cassie begins to worry about Tomas. Billy Joe is inhabiting Cassie’s body and keeping it alive but Tomas’ body has no spirit to keep it from dying. But he’s a vampire so he dies every day anyway. Cassie puts the metaphysics aside and focuses on Francoise. Cassie focuses on Francoise and tells Tomas to help her get Francoise off the rack. They try to be as gentle as possible, but the ropes had dug into Francoise’s skin and the blood and tissue had dried over the ropes. It was almost as if they were flaying her alive again. Cassie looks for another source of water but all that she sees are men bound in chains and tortured in ways she never imagined. It is hard to believe they still breathe. Cassie turns away before she gets sick. Something nudges her elbow and it is a flask floating from the ghosts. It smells like whisky and maybe that will help with the pain. Francoise drinks a little and passes out. Cassie goes to try and free the men, but they are bound by chains. Cassie asks Tomas if he can break the chains. He tries, but both he and Cassie are tiring quickly. Cassie doesn’t know what to do-things look bleak. She doesn’t know where she is, how she was going to get back, or when the torturer would come back. When they do get back to Vegas its going to be in the middle of a fight they may or may not be winning. Even for Cassie its a banner raising bad day! Tomas tells Cassie that it’s useless-he is weak as a human so if they are going to save the woman they need to do it now. Cassie asks the ghosts if any of them know of a way out of the torture chamber. The ghosts shuffle around and eventually a young man who looks like a teenage version of Louis-Cesar comes forward and bows to Cassie. He offers to help using the same phrase Louis-Cesar did “A votre service,mademoiselle.” Cassie looks at Tomas and asks if he speaks French. Tomas tells her he only knows a few phrases because he is rarely allowed at Senate headquarters. Cassie asks when French became the language in Las Vegas and Tomas impatiently tells her that the European Senate is headquartered in Paris. Cassie tells him she didn’t know he was with them and he sullenly tells her there is much she doesn’t know. Cassie puts aside her confusion and tells the ghosts she does not speak french. After some shuffling an older man comes forward who was a wine trader and asks if he can help. Cassie tells him that she doesn’t know what she is doing here or where here is or what they want or how she can help. He tells her that he too is puzzled. They are as puzzled as she is. Cassie and Tomas are spirits like them but not. He asks if Cassie and Tomas are sent be god in answer to a prayer. Cassie almost laughs at the thought and tell them no, they aren’t angels. The younger man babbles in french at the older man and the older man looks shocked. The younger man fears for his lover’s life that she will die here as they all did. He said that he cares not if they be from god or the devil as long as they bring hope of salvation. The older man says that the young man did not really mean it. Cassie tells him its complicated and that she just wants to save the woman but doesn’t even know where they are. The man tells her that they are at Carcassonne, hell on earth. Cassie asks if that is in France and the man looks at her oddly. Cassie says she just wants to get Francoise out before she is killed and the older man asks if she is here to avenge Francoise’s death. Cassie loses her temper and says she would rather Francoise not die at all. Francoise wakes up as the young man and the older man are arguing in french and looks at Cassie with wide eyes. The older man tells Cassie that even if they help they may only save her for a few days and that is no reason for the rest of them to pass on vengeance. Cassie loses it again-she’s not there as the angel of death but is there to save this woman. If they want vengeance they should get it on their own. The older man tells her that if they could they would stop this place but there is some magic that keeps them from vengeance. She is a powerful witch-surely she can help and they will then be her slaves. This is just plain it for Cassie. She tells them there is no witch here, just your friendly neighborhood clairvoyant and she is getting francoise out of there. She gets the younger man to lead the out via a tunnel and Tomas carries Francoise. They get to a cottage and turn Francoise over to Louis-Cesar just as their strength gives out. The next thing they know Cassie is laying on the ground, but at least she is in the right body and the right time