Authors: Simone Beaudelaire
A single, brilliant beam of light shattered the stillness of the night, and Sheila Freemont was abruptly awakened by its reflection on her wall mirror, which cast a shard of its radiance directly on her features. She tried to bury her face under a set of three goose pillows, but to no avail; the beam still managed to find a way to play its entire intensity all over her eyes. She sighed and tossed the pillows away.
“Okay, okay… I'm awake… so skip it,” she mumbled under her breath.
She slid from underneath her crumpled bedspreads, jumping out of her warm bed. Cursing the cold mahogany floor, she walked to the mirror, grabbed it with both hands and pivoted the darned thing around so its reflective surface was facing the wall. In the process, Sheila had twisted so badly the single wire from which the mirror hung, that it had nearly snapped in half. Disgruntled, she noticed that the mirror still shed some reflected light over her bed. Heavens, she had even tried to bury the &%$@$!! object three feet under ground in her small backyard garden, and it still managed to wake her up with the reflected light of the Karaoke Duo signal, a harp snapped in half which looked as if it had been drawn by a hedgehog on methadone.
She had a small guilt trip; here she was grumbling about the Duo's call sign, and it was only doing what it was supposed to do: waking her up. For Sheila Freemont, a brilliant twenty-something law student, was only the real-life-counterbalancing part of her crime-fighting secret identity: she was Fermata Girl, the only female member of the Karaoke Duo, the crime-fighting team that was now the rage all over the small town of Nosfort, Massachusetts.
Which meant that her crime-fighting partner was just a male, indeed, doh!
His name was Edward Strongbox, a very creepy-looking dude of about forty-five she had met a few months ago at the Cranberry Club on Main Street, during one of its Wednesday Special Karaoke nights. He was a very odd guy, who was mildly successful writing pornographic novels under the pen name of Miss Pinklesworth. Sheila never felt comfortable around him; she had the distinct impression that he was writing a very spicy novel behind her back, surely with her as the main naked character.
She walked toward her dresser and opened the top drawer, revealing her crime-fighting costume, a Kevlar-lined Spandex tight that left nothing to the imagination. She undressed, getting out of her Ninja Gorilla nightgown, and donned her armored costume.
After a few months of deliberation about the proper place to hide her outfit—after all, she was still living in her parents' house—she decided it was for the best to keep it in plain view. Fermata Girl was becoming the very next hit for the coming Halloween, selling like wildfire in the local Toys'R Here, so that became a very good excuse when Sheila's mom suddenly stumbled upon it while cleaning her room.
“It's my Halloween disguise, Mom,” Sheila managed to stutter, while her mom stared at her in a very crass, wry way. Of course, it didn't help much that the costume was sitting next to a pack of prophylactics, which undoubtedly painted a very damning picture—at least in Sheila's mom's mind—about the manner in which Sheila expected to spend her next Halloween party. There's a downside to the `Be prepared' motto, you know.
Finally dressed in her bulletproof disguise and stiletto-heeled boots, Sheila tiptoed out of her parents' house, hoping she wouldn't wake them. However, she was dismayed to discover her dad in the kitchen. She held her breath until she realized that he was sleepwalking again, and he was only frying some pickled cucumbers in his sleep. Sheila watched silently while her dad added some banana slices and mayo to the fried pickles sandwich he was making. He switched everything off and sleepwalked back to the main bedroom, mumbling something about greasing something under his breath.
Sheila walked silently across the living room, and was in for a very nasty surprise when she opened the front door. It was late September, and the night air temperature outside was a strong reminder that it definitely wasn't the right season to fight evil only dressed in a skimpy leotard, mask and boots.
She went outside, anyway, holding the keys of her little Honda in the right hand, and walked in the direction of the garage. It was only when she opened the automated door that she recalled that her second-hand car was at the shop for repairs. Well, so much for the idea of entering the vehicle and setting its calefaction to full blast so she could warm to its heat.
Sheila was so busy rubbing herself for warmth that she forgot all about slapping herself in the forehead. She was only a law student, and she was constantly struggling to make do with her monthly budget, so she didn't own an alternate means of transportation. She was having a hard time of it, having to supplement her income yelling `
Do you want some fries with that
?' into the takeout mike of the local
Pollo Pronto
, a fried chicken outlet located on Main and Elm. And taking her parents' car was out of the question; they'd raise the roof in one heck of an altercation if they ever found out: her mom had tied a thin nylon fishing line between the bumper of the family car and her right big toe; any attempt to tamper and/or sever that tale-telling connection and use the vehicle would be noticed immediately.
Now, Sheila's recollection of her side job at the
Pollo Pronto
gave her the glimpse of an idea. The store manager, a graying fifty-year old man with a lecherous smile (well, it was always a lecherous grin whenever he was addressing her in conversation), had found out that her car was on the fritz, and had allowed her to take one of the outlet's delivery motorbikes, an aging Vespa painted in the company's official colors, a blindingly bright yellow with the words `
Pollo Pronto
' etched on the side in some angry red lettering.
Okay, so she may make it after all, but the thought of traversing Nosfort's freezing streets at one o'clock in the morning only dressed in a flimsy—albeit armored—leotard made her shiver a bit more.
She glanced up at the sky, looking at the Karaoke Duo call signal, completely at a loss about what to do next. Suddenly, she remembered that the delivery box of the Vespa bike contained one of the
Pollo Pronto
uniforms. That may fix the cold issue a bit.
So, five minutes later Sheila Freemont, a.k.a. Fermata Girl, was speeding along Nosfort's cold and dark streets on a puttering old motorcycle. She had overcome the more pressing issues at hand, but she was greatly discomfited with the way these problems had been solved. Somehow, she felt that going to fight crime on a rickety Vespa and dressed up in a giant, feathery chicken costume was more than a bit undignified.
Wendy didn't like her life, and she doesn't particularly like her after-life either. The children of the house understand her. Two little girls with their childish games. Their daddy says he loves them, but that's what he used to say to Wendy.
The back roads of the mallee scrub all look alike. Brad has a tractor part to deliver and a mud map to find the place. He finds more than expected in an attractive, free spirited hitchhiker girl and a family with a strange appetite.
There is a witch living just across the creek at Apple Glen. All the newspapers want an interview but she's a rather tricky proposition. Rosalinda is feeling the aches and pains of her advancing years though, so perhaps it is time… once again!
For Elearah and her secret companion Pearl, time is running out. They must escape to the Goddess Sanctuary before they are overtaken by assassins even their mysterious protectors Mika and Balian cannot stop. Their long, desperate journey through the kingdom of Huo, is interrupted by a summons from the duke that cannot be refused.
What results is a war between political titans, magical creatures, and unknown spirits. Will they survive to seek sanctuary? Will Mika overcome his tragic history and claim Elearah, the woman he has come to love? Will the ancient dragon god arise? Or will all hope for the future be lost…
Hidden in clear sight are creatures of myth and legend. Some are monsters but some walk the City protecting those children that slip between the cracks.
Some call Zephyr an angel, but in reality she's a different creature altogether. Though she's lost her wings, her people, and her dignity, she's never lost her desire to help others. Her mission: to protect the little ones of the city from dangers lurking in the dark. And she never thinks of herself. Not until a sexy creature of the night offers her an evening of pleasure that just might lead to her reclaiming all she thought she'd lost.