If you're under 18, then go on and git.

Sunday, July 27, 2014

Winners from my post at Amber Kell's blog :D

And oops. I meant to post that I was over there, but my brain and time and dates and days and all of that just don't work well together. O.o

 The winners for the drawing of a copy of Dark Nights are

Sherry1969 & Lisa G, y'all are the winners, so please email me at itsbaileybradford@yahoo.com so I can set y'all up :D

And thank you to everyone who stopped by!

Saturday, July 26, 2014

Sweet Tarts Ch 6

Copyright 2014
Bailey Bradford

Chapter Six
The bond was stronger than Abbie had believed it to be, all things considered—such as the shitty state of his relationship with Zeb. He knew it was a supernatural bond, because it certainly wasn’t an affectionate one.
Abbie felt it break like a vital organ inside of him splitting slowly in two. The agony was unlike any other physical pain he’d ever experienced. He screamed until his throat was raw and his split lips bled anew.
Waking up from unconsciousness to such anguish almost made Abbie long for death. Surely nothing in death or after it could be so horrendous.
The pain ebbed but didn’t go away. It remained in him, throbbing every third or fourth heartbeat.
And he knew, once he could calm down enough to think, that Zeb had found a way to break their mate bond. He didn’t believe Zeb was dead. Nor did Abbie assume Zeb was hurting like he was. Zeb was a selfish, egotistical dick who wouldn’t harm himself.
No, he was convinced, as he laid alone in the dark, on the cold, hard ground, that Zeb had already mated with another. Had no doubt found someone he considered suitable, and went to him after leaving Abbie to die.
Abbie hadn’t heard of any vamp breaking a bond like that, but then again, all the mated pairs he’d ever met had been truly happy.
They hadn’t chosen each other for the wrong reasons.
Abbie closed his eyes but quickly opened them again. The cave was pitch black, so it didn’t make any difference, and yet he couldn’t bear closing his eyes. It panicked him. Unreasonable, but it was what it was.
Abbie tried to stand up, moving slowly, feeling along the cave wall behind him. Wherever he was, it was cold. Zeb had taken him far away from the desert, then.
He couldn’t reach the ceiling, so he assumed the cave was large and, well, cavernous. To test his theory, Abbie called out. His voice echoed for several seconds.
And he grew even more afraid. Without being able to see, at all, he could step off a ledge or into a hole that would result in him being splattered hundreds of feet below.
He considered staying right where he was. His muscles were locked up, and his ribs ached particularly bad. Zeb had done a number on them. Abbie’s neck and face didn’t feel any better, and his headache made his eyes water.
It’d be so easy to stay there. Sit, and hope for a rescue that wouldn’t come. Abbie legs quivered. He could curl up on the ground and give in to the break he felt threatening his mind. Lunacy wouldn’t be so horrible, all in all, given the situation.
But that would mean Zeb wins. Fuck him. Fuck that. I’m not going to die. Fuck the mate bond and this cave and vamps everywhere and fuck Claude for not wanting me enough to claim me in the first goddamn place!
The fury rose up hotter than the pain, harsher than the impact that had hit him when the bond had broke. Abbie put a hand to the wall. He was barefoot, too. That would work in his favor.
He’d hooked up with Zeb because he hadn’t wanted to die, and because Claude wouldn’t give him the time of day. Or night. Abbie had suffered for decades for his decision. He was done suffering now.
No one was going to come for him. No one needed to. He’d find his way out or… Abbie gritted his teeth and stopped thinking about anything except surviving.
“Find your mates, bring them back to the house. Reassure them that I will find Abernathy.” Alive. Please let me find him alive. Claude didn’t wait for any replies. He hissed when Tony and Dominick stopped him on the way out. “What?” he asked, baring his fangs.
“Uh.” Dominick looked at Tony. “This was your idea.”
“Let us help. Just wait until we bring our mates back. We can—“
“No,” Claude snapped, then added more calmly, “No. Please, stay here. Tony, if Zebulon returns, subdue him for me. Do not kill him.” That would be Claude’s pleasure, and his duty as well.
Something was very wrong and it wasn’t just Zebulon taking off with Abernathy. There was a fundamental power in the universe, a stability that most didn’t sense. It was why there was war and famine and death as well as plentitude, wealth, and joy.
And something had just messed it up. Claude felt it like the marrow in his bones had been rearranged.
“I must go. I will send word when I have news.” Claude wanted to give Tony a hug, but didn’t. He left with a sweep of his black cape, turning into his bat form less than a second later.
He’d been thinking ever since he’d come out of the coffin bout where Zebulon would have taken Abernathy. And why. That was important.
Claude didn’t like any of the answers he came up with for that last one. As to where, Zebulon had been alive a long time, but he’d not been to many places. He’d followed Claude around with that disturbing mix of jealousy, envy, and lust.
As if Claude would ever have—
Where would he go? Where? Claude tried to track Zebulon. As leader of the coven, Claude had a telepathic power the other vamps lacked. It wasn’t the HD version, more like the old, fuzzy, 144p on a bad dialup connection. So not dependable, and sometimes barely functional. He could feel a touch of his coven members’ minds, but to open them up and read them completely, that involved biting and blood and he wasn’t into that kind of dominance.
Though now he wished he was. Zebulon wouldn’t have ever done such an asinine thing.
He wouldn’t have done it had Claude claimed Abernathy instead of being a wuss and stepping aside. Claude could have taken Abernathy from Zebulon even after that. Should have, when he’d found out about Zebulon’s deceit.
But no. He’d been to proud to do that, to admit he’d been wrong to let Abernathy go.
Gods and demons, he was a fricking idiot.
And he had powers that he could use, ones other than telepathy. He was a bat, after all, and the things he could do in that form were not inconsequential.
He was, even, kind of a bat king. Batman would not appreciate the competition. Claude focused. Bats were almost everywhere. Chances were almost a hundred percent that Zebulon had been seen by numerous bats.
So he put out the call, flapping, yapping, calling out for clues and tips. He hoped word got back to Zebulon, too. Claude wanted the vamp to know that he was coming for him.
An hour before sunrise, Claude got the first eyewitness account from a bat who’d seen Zebulon. Claude had flown hundreds of miles, as he could.
He had a hint, a direction to take, and a little under an hour to keep searching. Claude had never flown so fast in his life.
When he caught his first psychic whiff of Zebulon’s stale presence—he’d been there hours ago—Claude felt a surge of exultation. He was close. Abernathy was somewhere nearby.
Even so, Claude only had minutes to spare, the sun already making him very uncomfortable, the impending rise of it weighing on him like an actual physical burden.
Survival instincts demanded that he take cover, even if it meant dive-bombing into the dirt in the mountainous region of Colorado. He had to veer off into a cave, and his exultation turned into disappointment. Hang on, he willed Abernathy. I’ll find you. Just hang on for me. Claude cursed the sunrise that chased him into the darkness. He would have to wait until nightfall again to continue. It didn’t matter if he was close or not, he hadn’t yet found Abernathy, and the man had to be scared, possibly hurt, and alone.

Telling himself he hadn’t failed, Claude flew deeper into the cavernous recesses.

Friday, July 25, 2014

Update for Bailey

Hi guys, it's Jaymi. Bailey can't get the blog to load on her phone and she asked me to let you know...

"I'm sorry but the installment will have to wait until Saturday. The spouse just surprised me and ST with double feature movie night at Alamo Drafthouse and the second movie doesn't even start until 11. I won't be home until around 2 a.m."


Wednesday, July 23, 2014

Sweet Tarts, Bitter Hearts Chapter 5

Copyright 2014
Bailey Bradford

Chapter Five

“Coward!” Shouting at Zeb probably wasn’t the smartest thing he could do, but at that point in time, Abbie figured it wasn’t going to make anything worse. “You fucking coward! You don’t even have the balls to—“
Zeb slapped him, moving so fast that Abbie didn’t know he was going to be hit until the pain exploded bright and violently inside his head.
Zeb also hit him hard, sending Abbie flying backwards. He hit the cave wall with a thud that sounded like a bomb went off in his skull.
He didn’t feel the next slap, or the third one, though he knew they happened. Then he didn’t know anything but blackness.
"Where’s Abbie?” Augustin demanded, glaring at everyone in the kitchen. “Someone better have an answer.”
“Are you really that hungry?” Billie asked. “There is cold cereal, and oatmeal, the kind with the flavor and—“
“It’s not about the food!” Augustin pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to calm down. “Doesn’t it seem strange to any of you that he isn’t here? Abbie is always, always here, and he’s not. He’s not in his room either.”
“Maybe he’s in the bathroom?” Mark suggested.
Augustin ground his teeth so hard he was surprised they didn’t all shatter.
“Zebulon has been gone for several days,” a Donna said. “Maybe…maybe he went to look for Zebulon last night? I mean, I hope not, because there’s scary shit out in that desert, and I’m not talking about the zombies.”
“We need to organize a search party.”
Everyone looked at Augustin like he was an idiot. “Oh, come on! He’s one of us, he’s family. Are you all seriously going to just do nothing?”
Billie raised her hand, like she was a kid in school. Well, maybe Augustin was schooling them all. “Yes?” He pointed to her.
“The desert is scary, as Donna pointed out. We don’t know the first thing about survival in the desert, and we don’t have a way of letting our mates know what we’re doing  until they wake up and find us gone. By then, many hours will have passed.” Billie took a quick breath. “And there are many of us who’ve promised not to leave this house during the day. Our mates, some of them fear being abandoned. Or fear us being hurt.”
“In the desert?” Augustin asked.
“Of course,” Billie agreed.
Augustin rolled his eyes. “Please. If that was their fear, then why the hell aren’t any of you knowledgeable about the desert and all the scary, creepy critters out in it? Why aren’t there maps, and navigation systems for the humans? You want to know why? Because then you would all have some freedom!”
“But…” Mark looked around the kitchen. “But we don’t want freedom?”
Augustin went back to pinching. “Jesus fucking Christ. I don’t mean to leave-leave, but if something happened to the vamps here—and believe me, I don’t like that idea either. I love Tony. But if, say, he was kidnapped or something like that, taken away, space aliens came down and zapped all of our vamps into a ship, how would any of us help them? We can’t leave the house?”
“Pft, aliens,” Donna giggled. “Please. Now you’re just being ridiculous.”
Augustin felt his eyebrows crawling up to his hairline. “Aliens are ridiculous? Aliens?! Are you kidding me? You’ve got to be kidding me. Vamps and zombies are fine but—“
“And shifters,” someone called out.
“And sprites, and mummies,” another person added.
“Argh!” Augustin stomped his feet. “People! Pay attention! We have to help Abbie! And you are all gonna help me do that, or I will…I will—“ He stopped and grinned evilly. Let the look sink in. “Actually, I’m not going to tell you what I’ll do. That way, you won’t be able to prevent it.” He was thinking cupcakes with pink frosting to start—with pretty crushed up pink Correctol for that added oomph right to the gut.
“I really don’t like that look,” Mark whimpered. “We could Google desert survival skills, and…and leave notes with, um. We could leave a scent trail!” he added with more enthusiasm. “They can find us easy like that.”
“Are we talking articles of clothing on cactus or what?” Augustin asked.
“I guess?” Mark pursed his lips. “Yes.”
“Okay then. We have a plan. Everyone, if you aren’t with me…” He grinned. “You’re a target.”
Claude awoke early. He could feel that the sun hadn’t set fully, but for whatever reason, his sleep was done. He carefully worked the inner locks of the casket, then pushed the heavy lid off once those were undone. The interior of the house was safe from the sun.
And it was entirely too quiet. He knew immediately something was wrong. The place just felt…empty. Last night, he’d thought something was off but had put it down to his own mood.
Today, not so much.
Claude came out of the casket and the first thing he saw was the line of notes tacked to the wall directly across from him. Not just him, but each mated vampire’s casket.
“Shit!” The word felt vile on his tongue, but not as vile as seeing those notes, written by the human mates.
Then he saw the why of the mass human exodus, and Claude’s insides went cold as ice.

“No,” he rasped, touching Abernathy’s name. He knew. He should have listened to his instincts last night. That hadn’t been a roll back in his memories, that had been a premonition and he’d ignored it! “Zebulon, you are a dead fucker.”

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

ARe bucks Winner!

Whew, another long writing day, but a great one. Another two days and I'll have this story finished. I was hoping to complete it by tomorrow but that's not looking possible since I have to revise parts of it. This isn't the same blog story at all. I'll share more when I'm done.

Meanwhile, random.org is doing the drawing tonight. ST is off sketching and I'm going to leave her alone for a bit.

Congratulations to:

#49/RitaS! RitaS, if you'll email me at itsbaileybradford@yahoo.com I will get those ARe bucks sent out to you!

See y'all tomorrow night with a new installment!