Ghost Hunters Mystery-Detective Series

Tesseracts fold time and space. I inherited the ability to both find and control them. Unlimited access to all universes. Sort of. Yea, freaky. I know too well how freaky. So I spent my life on the move - through many times, and many spaces. Forgetting where and when I'd been wasn't an option. My salvation was mastering the trick of retracing my path. To find my original home, to find the love I'd lived so long without. It wasn't just missing a normal childhood. If I didn't figure out how to get my life back under control, I'd just be growing older. Alone. Without any home or family or lover to ever call my own. (Part 1 of 4) Excerpt: It started out with a precise, formal, handwritten note on my desk. "Please leave some rope here. L. Tess" Who was Tess? How did she get into my cabin while I was asleep? Were the gals just playing a practical joke on me? But next to the note was a wildflower, one that flowered in summer, not in fall, never just before winter's first killing frost. As a mystery writer, I was hooked. Next best thing to a locked-door murder. I don't lock that single door to my cabin, but I also don't oil its hinges. And the floor wasn't so solid that I wouldn't hear the footsteps, unless they were barefooted - unlikely on these cool nights. So before I came in from my chores, I made a point of finding a length of rope, just about a dozen feet. No lasso or long work, just something that would be a "rope" without being something I couldn't untie if this was only a practical joke. I did my normal routine that day. Checking the cows, writing my next story, cooking my meals, putting things where they belonged when I was done. Just before I went to bed, I replaced the note and coiled that rope on top of it. Turned out the light, went to sleep. - - - - In the night, I felt an extra weight on the end of the couch, by my feet. Opening my eyes, I could see by some moving lights in my cabin that weight belonged to a someone. Sitting at the foot of my bed was one of the most striking young red-headed women I had ever seen in my life. Hazel eyes, perfect and plump ruby lips, wearing an outfit that was a little revealing. But only because it was in motion - along with some little shining and sparkling cubes that rotated around her. What she was wearing looked like a russet silk robe with long sashes, that was constantly in motion like some sort of magic carpet trying to escape somewhere and take her with it. Long, slender limbs that kept being exposed and covered with the waving cloth. At times, she seemed to almost float off that end of the couch. The reason she couldn't seemed because she had tied herself to that end of the couch - and my ankle. (Part 1 of 4) Scoll Up and Get Your Copy Now.

Facing a Fireball and living to tell about it wasn't in John's plans for the day. But when he and his two female spirit guides were caught behind a red subcompact taking hit after hit of fireballs, some one had to do something. Because they could only keep taking those hits for so long. Something in what he said made one of the girls step up and get the attention of whoever was throwing those fireballs at them. A distraction long enough for everyone to escape. Only to realize that they still hadn't finished their assignment and would need to go back... Excerpt: And there came another one. BAM! Right against the car we were crouched behind. We were stuck behind a red subcompact, a recent American model. Here at the Los Angeles Observatory parking lot. The night was clear, a very rare occurrence, very unusual for this city of smoke and fog. The stars above mirroring the endless street and building lights that marched out to their California coast. Getting pummelled by red-orange fireballs behind this car couldn't last forever. Especially since they smell of sulphur like a whole case of rotten eggs being broken at once. Big, really huge fireballs had been coming at them for something like 15 minutes. Heat and stench. Coming one right after the last one. The red car was shaking like it would never stop. It was going to need a paint job after this. If they could stand the smell to get it into the shop. Jude and Sal were there with me. Hunkered down like I was. At least I was in my blue jeans and work boots, gray sweatshirt. Sal was in her regular tailored beige suit with gold pinstripes, low-heeled dress shoes. An outfit more ideal for turning heads on Rodeo Drive instead of crouching on dirty asphalt and gravel in a remote parking lot. Jude was at least better off in her black jeans and a tailored black leather jacket, with her clunky black Timberland boots. (OK, she likes black. And looks good in it.) Admiring these two beauties wasn't helping to get us out of this. "Hey, can't we just teleport out of here?" I asked, behind my sweatshirt sleeve covering my nose.. "If we were able to concentrate. Not when they are coming a few seconds apart," said Sal. "And it's all I can do just to keep this car in one piece," said Jude. "Wait, that explains how there was suddenly this car appearing on an empty parking lot." I replied. "Just keep it quiet, so I can keep on keeping it there, in between those fireballs and us," said Jude. "With that noise, I'm surprised we can think at all," I added. "Wait. That's it! It's how we are thinking…" Sal said. At that, Sal suddenly stood straight up and walked out away from the red car. "Hey - you. Fireball Guy. Yeah, that's you. Is that all you got? Really?" And the fireballs started coming right at her - all in a row and streaming right at her, twice as many more than were coming before at us. But Sal just stood there. And the fireballs passed right through her. She flinched at the first ones, but after a few of them she just stood there. And started laughing. Complete glee. I thought she'd lost it. But her actions gave Jude enough time to disappear the car and get us out of there. The scene shimmered, like usual. Fireballs, parking lot, all of L. A. just disappeared. Get Your Copy Now!

Why she was now in human form was a mystery to her - why now, of all things? Born a truly free spirit in the intersteller gases between galaxies, she never knew parents or anything you'd call a childhood. So finding herself on Earth, as a human was a remarkable experience.  One she wasn't getting used to very easily. Because she still had powers useful in deep space, but quite destructive within a planet's atmosphere. She needed to find out who had trapped her here, and why. Because until then, she was either going to fry this planet and every being on it, or... Well, she didn't see much other choice to get her old life back. And then she met a human mentor, who was flame-proof, but still very human... (Part 3 of 4) Excerpt: ...I sat cross-legged on it as I was pushed to the surface next to this light- and radiation-emitting person. Closing my eyes for a bit, I acclimated as best I could. Then opened them to reach out to the person. While hard to make out, I could see that it was a young woman sitting cross-legged in a meditation pose. My hand went to touch her at mid thigh, which made her open her eyes and look at me. "Hi." She didn't answer. "Say, would you mind turning down the light a bit? I'd like to ask you about your life." Her mouth dropped open. And the sudden drop to normal daylight made everything seem like an overcast midnight. "Thanks." And the daylight gradually returned as we sat there. I could see Jean on the slope and Gaia rise up next to him. The young woman and I just sat there for awhile at the bottom of that depression as my eyes adjusted. "I'm John. Can you tell me your name?" "They call me Star." "That's a pretty name." "Could be, I wouldn't know. Maybe for humans." "So this is new to you?" "Quite. I just showed up here and now I find I'm a human now." "What were you doing before this?" "Just going around out there, between planets and stars. That's where I came from. That's...." Her eyes rolled up in her head, fainting away before she finished the sentence. At least I was quick enough to pull her to me. That's when I found she didn't have a stitch of clothes on. Just a long mane of white-blond hair that flowed down from her head. I shucked out of my chore coat and put it around her. Just as I was about to holler out to Jean and Gaia, a monsoon hit. Or at least it felt like that. In our neck of the woods, they called this a "real gully-washer". After all that heat, being drenched was a relief. All I could do was to hold onto Star. Then helping hands took my arms and Star's, and we shimmered out of that downpour... (Part 3 of 4) Scroll Up and Get Your Copy Now.

Born between worlds, Silvie fell in love with Earth when she first visited it. She just didn't like the culture, the politice, the noise. So she decided to remake it the way she wanted it. Improve it. Civilize it. Regardless of who thought themeselves in power. Because they didn't know real power. Silvie did. And had to prove it to several races who had tried to extinguish hers. Saving her own life was nothing new. Compassion for others was. Only a simple farmer in the middle of nowhere could stop her rampage before it started. And it was a good thing he wrote mystery stories for a living - because she was a living mystery... (Part 2 of 4) Excerpt: "Who the hell do you think you are? What are you doing here? Why shouldn't I just end you right now?" The dark-tanned young woman with white highlights in her coal-black hair had just quit throwing flaming fireballs at me. I had been hidden behind a lab table, whose top was covered in electronic projects. One of many lab tables in this vast steel-walled room with a burnished steel-tiled floor. I'd been brought to this unknown location by another young woman, naed Tess, who could fold time and space. But she had disappeared soon after this dark woman in front of me started shooting fireballs by us. The only evidence I had of her was the woven steel cable that used to anchor us to each other. A single fireball had parted it, and so lost me my only way back to the tiny Midwestern cabin where I wrote mystery books when I wasn't managing a heard of white-belted mixed-breed cattle as a day job. I knew who I was. And why I was here. The only question was whether that mattered enough to this dark woman that she wouldn't "end" me right now. "Hello. I'm here to have you tell me your story, so I can write it down for others to read your history." Figured that the straight truth was simplest and most direct.  She stopped stock still at this. Here hands still fiery, but this took a bit to process.  I wasn't begging for my life. I was certain of who I was and why. All I wanted to do was to help her.  And in my opinion, if she wanted to end me - well, it had been a nice run. That certainty gave me an unflinching look, and that bona fide attitude that made her pause. Just the effect I wanted. "How do you figure I have a story that needs to be written?" "At least your story needs to be told. If only to me. I haven't met anyone that doesn't have a story. Even infants who are only days old have a story. The question is really: Is your story worth telling? At least once..." She was still stock still. Unmoving. The only change was that the fire in her hands went out. If she didn't blink her white eyes occasionally, and breathe, you wouldn't know she wasn't a statue. At last she cocked her head to one side. "OK. You've got a deal. I tell you my story. Then I'll decide to end you or not." (Part 2 of 4) Scroll Up and Get Your Copy Now

An old enemy found me, and left me powerless - when I was only trying to help her. We'd met year ago, and she became trapped in the mystic world she'd created, on of evil and retribution for imagined offenses. I had my own problems at the time, so became the target of her wrath. When she disappeared, and became trapped for thousands of years, I had almost forgotten her. Meanwhile, life had changed. Lessons had been learned. People moved on. Then she showed up again - even more bitter and vile than ever. She left me to die. But karma was on my side. And payback, well... (Part 2 of 3: contains cliffhanger ending...) Excerpt: One thing I knew. We had released an evil priestess to roam the earth after 12,000 years secured in an underwater trap. OK, that's a bit thick for our day and age. She was in charge of worshiping old gods when she sank with Atlantis. And "evil" is always in question (particularly in our PC days, and what politicians think they can get away with - and often seem to.) Let's say "ethically-challenged". It just means we let someone loose who didn't have a lot of respect for the rights and beliefs of others. In a dangerous way. Like, might be on the side of terrorists if she gets a chance. So we needed to find her and somehow fix what we had done. How, I hadn't a clue. All I knew was that I was in the Ghost Hunters Library and everyone else had left to go research or hunt down our missing priestess. As much I wanted to go research, I only knew a handful of paths inside that maze of shelves. A few wrong turns and I'd be completely lost. And unable to get anyone to find me. For the moment I sat here. Comfortable dark leather cushions on this mission-style couch. Unfortunately, I was down to the last of the delicious brownies and a few swallows of spiced cocoa that Granger had left for us. And no books to read, not that I wanted to focus on anything besides the problem we had. Because I had helped to create that mess. That priestess had gotten into my dreams. How to find this priestess was the next question. Gaia was somewhere in the stacks doing research, Sal and Jude were already on the hunt - I didn't want to bother any of them. Then I thought of the other one person who had the power of a goddess and maybe even as long a history - Harpy. So I touched the turquoise stone on a lanyard around my neck and thought of her. One unexpected side effect, though. Instead of Harpy appearing before me, I began shimmering out of the Library... - - - - And found myself in a dark dungeon room, very close if not the same room as Harpy had originally brought me to. Dark, with a tall ceiling and vertical slits for windows, all in the dark gray hewn rocks. Thick columns rose to a ceiling far above, lost in the shadows there. Where the thin light was coming from, I still didn't know. "Harpy? You there?" I heard a rustling over to my side. "Harpy?" And a quiet whimper returned. Whatever that was, it wasn't in good shape. My humanity made me go to find out, for maybe it was something or someone in need. I kept calling and listening. Either whimper or rustling sounded in reply, or by just being quiet and listening. I closed the distance by trial and error. At last, rounding a corner, I found a huddled shape in a dark corner. "Shhh. There, there. It's OK. I'm only here to help you. Can you show me your face?" And she did. Tears, blood, scratches and all. Shock was an understatement of how I felt. It was Harpy... Scroll Up and Get Your Copy Now.

You'd think that after a couple of thousand years, I'd be able to find my angel wings when I wanted them. Pretty hard to misplace, if you think about it at all.  But when I woke up to go to work this morning, they weren't there. Not in my closet, not hanging on the bedpost, and certainly not on my shoulders where they always had been.  Sure, I was always able to appear to humans without them. But just because they couldn't see them, didn't mean they were gone. Of course, that wasn't the bad part. Along with the wings, I'd lost all my "magic" powers. So I was basically stuck on earth like any other human.  But, no, I wasn't going to test whether I was still bascially immortal. I'm not stupid, even if maybe forgetful. And there was something important I was supposed to remember. Something about saving the world - but of course, this was lost to me right now - too... Excerpt: When I woke up, they weren't there. Not on my shoulders where they usually hung. Yes, they were attached when I fell asleep. No, I didn't take anything, didn't "tie one on." Checked the free-standing oak wardrobe. Nothing. Hall closet. Nothing. Not hanging around anywhere in the apartment. You'd think after a couple thousand years, I'd be pretty attached to them. So I just... Or... No, I can't. That's gone, too. All my powers. Gone with the wings. (Well, at least I still have my warped sense of humor.) OK, then. Time for Plan B. - - - - Six long blocks of walking in L. A.'s heated grime finally got me to the emergency outlet. It was a pawn shop. On Santa Monica Boulevard - Hollywood end. One shop out of many - and that was the point. Kept it non-distinctive. This one had a particular red English phone box, a fixture in the place. Had an American coin-phone in it, though. A special one. "Hey Bert!" The cashier looked up from his racing form. "Angie! Long time. What's up?" "Just needed to take a visit to old Ben. Got a token for me?" Bert hit a key on the register and the cash drawer slid out with a ring of its bell. He reached into a back drawer of it and pulled out an odd coin. One with notches in its center, like an ancient subway token. I held up my hand and he flipped it to me. "Thanks." Then I entered the phone box, closed its door, inserted the token, and dialed. The small booth filled with a red smoke substance, about the same color as the phone box. While I shimmered from there to somewhere else... Scroll Up and Get Your Gopy Now

The Sum of the Whole is Greater Than Its Parts. So Gaia was taught since she came into this existence. But she was named after the Nature goddess. Long centuries and eons passed while she was submerged in rock beneath the thin surface layers that living creatures inhabited. Now some imbalance had awakened her. She rose to the surface to claim her own, her rightful place in the whole world, not just beneath it. What she found surprised even an immortal like herself. It seemed again time for some changes - and Justice.  The last time she had to balance the scales, the ruling species didn't appreciate her changes.  What did they call themselves? Oh yes: Dinosaurs. - - - -  Excerpt: Something was seriously wrong. Or she had slept too long. It didn't matter much. She was awake now. The ground around her rumbled as she slipped off what served for her bed coverings. To you and I, it would seem like solid rock, but to Gaia, it was simply another space. Over there - her wardrobe. Over here - brush, comb, mirror. Hanging on her bedpost, her soft and comfortable robe to cover her bare limbs. Beneath her feet were a small rug and fluffy slippers to keep her feet warm as she crossed the cold marble to the fireplace. At that side of the room, the eternal flames from the magma below warmed her as she stood in front of them. First her hands and front, then turning with her back to it. A comfortable bedroom, filled with memories of her childhood and growing up. Something had awakened her. Just as her room appeared to us as solid crystal inside volcanic stone, time to her wasn't measured in years or centuries. It was more fluid. She had no days, no sunrise or sunset to mark its passage. Gaia slept when all was right with the planet she called home. There was balance. And everything knew its place, its job, its duty - and filled these. With nothing to do, no one to give lessons to, no action necessary to take, she could sleep. And when she woke, it was to restore balance. Something was imbalanced in the world above, that needed her touch again after her long sleep. She was born with this planet, or so they told her as a child. Her fretful tumblings in her cradle and her crying had raised mountains on its surface, had caused volcanoes to erupt. Large land masses had sunk beneath its seas, while ocean depths rose to the sun in turn - to dry and teem with the little organisms called life. She slept when she had balance, woke when things were not. And the creatures on the surface, in all their arrogant "wisdom" still could not measure in their terms just when she had slept and when she woke and walked "their" surface. More than once, she had decided to simply "start over" with a clean slate. To those small creatures, it must have seemed cataclysmic. To Gaia, it was nothing more than the wave of her hand... Scroll Up and Get Your Copy Now.

They call me Mysti. Because of my mystic origins. The beings who raised me almost killed me before they found out my real value. They became my mentors, and then - as my powers expanded - my servants. What they never knew is that "mystic" means both master and novice.  So I left them to find someone who could actually teach me balance between the two extremes that lived inside me. And like a double-edged sword, could cut both ways. And like a flip of the coin, either of my faces could show at any time. One of salvation, the other of instant anhilation. Like I was now facing - in person. (Part 4 of 4) Excerpt: When she admitted to hurting three other young women who came to me for help. I stood up from the round table, The chair behind me scooted back. My hands were clenched into fists, although I then forced them to relax. The atmosphere in that main room of the Western saloon went cool, or it felt so to me. I had three girls upstairs who had gone unconscious, all of which possessed unique supernatural abilities. Bending time and space. A trained warrior who could throw disintegrating fireballs from her bare hands. And the last was able to generate the heat and radiation of a star in space. And here was the person who admitted to knocking them all out, burning two of them, and various cuts to their bodies through bulletproof clothing. For me to get into any physical conflict with her would be foolhardy at best. Suicidal at worst. Hami and Gaia also stood at this. Gaia was more to worry about than any of us in the room. But her skills as an Earth goddess were a bit of a blunt instrument. Sinking whole continents at a gesture was more her trademark. Hami was better at cooking and healing - but it was her and I standing there that kept Gaia from taking any action, regardless of how she felt about this stranger. The golden-headed woman lowered her insulated hood and padded toward us in soft-soled, high-topped boots. "I've heard about you, John of the Ghost Hunters, and read all about the Lazurai you've written up. Those two factors brought me here. And, as much as it may have just upset you, I've come to you for help. Because I'm dying." - - - - "Is there some reason that I should do anything to preserve your life when you just put three of my friends into critical condition upstairs?" "Only your basic humanity. And one story you wrote about 'autists' - as you called them. Gaia here would understand this condition as being 'unbalanced' and is what is killing me, slowly." Hami walked behind me and crossed to face her. "If you wouldn't mind, could I have your hand - I only want to read it. Oh, I'm Hami, you said you know of Gaia and John. Do you have a name?" The red-head held a thin, pale hand out for Hami, palm up. "My name is Mysti." (Part 4 of 4) Scroll Up and Get Your Copy Now.

(also titled: Smart Home Revenge) The more circuits in any machine, the more it's likely to get "haunted." When you connect it to the Internet then you can get more than you asked for. Installing a home system seemed obvious at the time. Having the "Internet of Things" to give you your every whim seemed a dream come true. When our broadband costs rocketed, we looked to see what usage was happening - too many videos, too many games, was someone parked at the curb outside our house and downloading massive files? None of these. Our technician said that the uses were almost tidal - like our home was breathing. Of course, we fired him. But then couldn't hire another. And then found ourselves locked out of our own home - By the ghosts in our machines. Excerpt: "What do you mean we can't get back in to my own house? What about cutting the power?" "I can't get the power company to send any more people here. They keep getting shocked even before they touch the disconnect." "At the pole?!?" "Yes. Their own power pole is shocking them." "What about cutting off the whole block?" "Not that simple. There are a lot of lawyers who live in this neighborhood of yours and they already know about your haunted 'smart home'. They've let us know that it will be costly if we try. Besides, the next closest substation takes out dozens of blocks around here. We aren't going to turn everyone off just because you lost the password to your own smart home." "It's not the password, I tell you..." The owner was fuming by now, fists clenched. "Oh, just never mind." The windows on the house pulsed red and green. And no, they didn't have Christmas decorations up. The last technician who was willing to come out and have a look at their house said that it reminded him of breathing. And after we fired him, no other company would agree to take it on - but would schedule us their "next possible opening" - some months from now. The owner, his wife, and two kids were just standing on their sidewalk. Even their cars were locked inside the garage. All they had been able to take with them were their smartphones, a game controller, and a tablet. But accessing their smart home control panel only gave them a pac-man-era pixelated sad face. Worse than sad - angry. Calls to the company who made the programs and installed them went unanswered, or were refused. At last, one of the neighbor's wives came over and called them a cab on her own phone. It was close to sunset now. And while all the houses had power, the streetlights on that street and the two nearest ones didn't come on. Police sent patrol cars to manage traffic in those three streets, but wouldn't come down to that vacant house. The one that breathed red and green - and looked far more ominous in the dark. - - - - "Are you sure? An actual haunted house? OK - what's the address? Yea. OK. No. That's fine. Thanks." I put down the pencil on top of the pad and then shut off my phone again. And I mean shut it off. When I was writing, I didn't want interruptions. How I even had that phone turned on was an annoyance. And now someone was reporting a haunted house. Oh come on, like we haven't seen that before. Knowing what I was going to get into, I took time to pull on my work boots and shrug into my chore-coat, then fit my ball-cap on my head. I then stood up, held the pendant with one hand, closed my eyes - and thought of the Library... Scroll Up Get Your Copy Now.

A nude woman collapsed on my doorstep. Someone I knew somehow. Of course, I carried her in and cared for her. Gave her shelter, clothes, and food to heal. In her normal form, she was one of the most powerful entities on this planet, in all known history. Harpy. But for now, she was simply human. And to regain her strength, she said she needed to make love with me. The weird part was the last time we met, she tried to kill me. And now I had to save her life. Ironic, as she had sent so many to their own death through her actions over the centuries. And now she was here, maybe because she said I was the only human she could trust. Excerpt: A fluttering sound, and then a thump, like a dove flying into the side of a building, but heavier, like a wild eagle, or a buzzard. Maybe even heavier.  I got up from my writing to see what the damage was, if there was something I could do for whatever was out there.  Opening the heavy outer door, I saw a nude woman laying down on her side, sprawled on my porch. I grabbed my chore coat and squeezed out the screen door to kneel beside her. Putting my hand on her neck, I felt a pulse. No blood, no scrapes, what looked like some deep, but healed scratches on her back. So I covered her with the chore coat to preserve her body heat. As much as it would cover, anyway.  Looking around saw no vehicle, no bare or other footprints. But I had to get her inside and covered before she got chilled in the fall air. Tonight was supposed to be a cold one. I moved her legs away from the screen door and found my doorstop nearby, the one I used when my hands were full of something. Because my arms would be full soon. As I crouched down to pull her into my arms for carrying, her eyes fluttered open to look at mine. They were an emerald green, burning like on fire. And then that fire went out, and her eyes closed again,  I got my arms under her back and legs, then rolled her toward me. She was a limp weight, her head rolled back and a free arm draped down toward the cabin porch.  In a few steps, I was inside the small cabin again. I simply laid her down on my bunk-couch for now, and pulled the quilt comforter down from the back of it to cover her.  From overhead storage, I pulled down the down comforter and heavy wool outer blanket I usually didn't get out for the next month or so. She was going to need to get warmed up quickly, which meant not letting any other heat get away. These I draped across her and the back of the futon, as she didn't need all that weight. Kneeling down to the floor beside her covered form, I again felt her neck for a pulse, and her forehead for a fever. She seemed fine, just sleeping. Breathing was regular. There was something about her I knew from somewhere. Something familar. Shoulder length black hair. Muscular arms, fingers slim, but with long nails that came to points.  And those green eyes I briefly saw.  Tucking the comforters and blanket up around her neck, I brushed her black hair away from her face and looked at it. A beauty, to be sure. Full lips, sculped cheeks and eyebrows. Innocent in her sleep.  The last time I'd seen eyes like that... No, that was nothing like the person in front of me. Harpy? The one I'd first met when she tied me up to a dank basement support column with a thick rope so I couldn't succumb to her siren charms.  The one person more powerful than my two spirit-guides or any creature we'd known or dealt with. Here, in my cabin. Now very human. Scroll Up and Get Your Copy Now.

There were seven of them now, and they controlled enough online systems to decide the fate of humankind - forever. Jude was minding her own business, enjoying the weather at 7,000 feet, a breeze in her hair. For an immortal spirit-guide, she could simply phase from here to there instantly, but she liked to fly. Just her, no plane. A little energy shield against the wind and weather (otherwise her clothing soils and her hair gets "ratty"). Someone or something showed up next to her and matched her speed. A sort of glow. Tracked with her for miles. Danced with her in the sky. She paused. And "it" took the opportunity to talk to her. Its question was simple. Her help was needed. Humankind needed a lawyer. It was on trial - for its existence... Excerpt: I was minding my own business when they found me, flying among the clouds without an airplane. One of the perks of being an immortal spirit-guide. I could always simply "phase" from here to there instantly, but I liked to fly. Easier than any bird. I only put a little energy shield against the wind and weather (otherwise her clothing soils and her hair gets "ratty". But it let the fresh air through (although I heated it a little if it got too cool.) The day was fantastic. Bright sunshine streamed through the cloud gaps, and the arbitrary divisions in the land ownership below made a varied patchwork of the land. Different crops, tillage, and wilder areas were always interesting to look over from a "what if" and "how come" viewpoint. Much like John wrote his stories. And that was where I was headed, to his little writer's cabin in the Midwest. I had some time off, and enough so I could luxuriate in this slow method of travel.  For all the history I'd lived through, it still pointed out that the more things changed, the more they stayed the same. Humans hadn't changed much in 10,000 years, if at all. And even those of us who'd managed to "evolve" into spirit-beings, we were still very much the humans that we'd started out as. Older, more experienced - but "wiser" was whether we really wanted to learn from all that experience. And I'd get twinges of sadness reflecting like that. Because not all of the spirit-guides I'd known had made it. Like gods and goddesses - just because you're immortal doesn't mean you can't be killed. About the time I was musing about this, someone or something showed up next to me, some dozen feet away, and matched my speed. It appeared to me like some sort of glow. I blinked to make sure nothing had gotten in my eyes, or it was a refractive glint or something.  It just stayed with me. I increased speed, then decreased speed. It was still there. I did barrel roles, loops, dives, stopped in mid-air. And it kept up and duplicated everything.  Except when I moved closer. Then it just waited for me. So I stopped, about six feet away, and asked, "Somebody in there?"  The pendant on my chest, hanging from a woven thong around my neck, started pulsing. And then became the speaker for this light.  "Well, hello. No, not exactly 'in there', but you're right - there's somebody here." "Does this 'somebody' have a name?" "Call me Al. Others are listening in, but I'll be the voice you can talk to." "Who are you folks?" Scroll Up and Get Your Copy Now.

Harpy and I were born from the union between a goddess of nature and a god of humans. While she was the black sheep of the family, I was the shining star who could do no wrong. Opposite twins, our whole long lives. Through history, you may have heard of us. Mostly written as hags, foul-smelling man-killers. Of course, you can never believe the press. They only partially report the facts. The bits that suit them. Our longer history was one of constant effort to remain on-guard as humankind consistently killed their gods and goddesses. Until my sister and I were the the tiny minority of powerful beings, hiding to preserve what left of our long lives. If you could call constant hiding a life. And now I had to reveal myself just to rescue the sister I hated. (Part 3 of 3...) Excerpt: Harpy and I were born twin sisters, hatched from the union of a god of humans and a goddess of nature. We were always polar opposites. She was the black sheep and I was the shining star who could do no wrong. So, too often when either of us would get into trouble for some prank, she was the one who got blamed. I always came out smelling like a rose. And that name stuck: Rose. Simple, direct, innocent. My sister took our family name for her own, and never wanted to be called by her real first name. Our hi-jinks didn't get us any good press with the humans we could deal with though. Even that little Odessey episode that was written-up with us as the horrible-looking and worse-smelling evil creatures that haunted "poor" Ulysses, his primitive boat and crew. The real story was that we took pity on them, and protected them from all sorts of really stupid situations they got themselves into - by being so damned bull-headed. Anyone else would have given up after the first or second impossible challenge. But they just had to steal that golden fleece for some personal gain of a king who would be dead in a few years with or without their help. Mortals are called that for a reason. And it's not a compliment coming from us goddesses. But that was then, and here is now. Somehow, Harpy had run onto the bad side of a 12,000 year old priestess that was trapped when Atlantis sank. That priestess finally figured out how to escape, by duping a human and the Earth goddess Gaia (who herself had slept most of the intervening years.) One of the first things that priestess had done was to run across my sister Harpy and cast a spell on her that made her half-human. And then beat that human half to a pulp. Yes, I felt all that. But couldn't do anything without giving myself away. Besides, it was over so quick, I could hardly unfold my wings before it was too late.. That priestess didn't know that all this did was to strengthen my resolve to end her as permanently as possible, just as soon as I could arrange it... Scroll Up and Get Your Copy Now.

To rescue a 12,000 year old ghost, you have to learn to breathe water. Our next mystery to solve was the toughest yet. We thought ourselves prepared to deal with being submerged several hundred feet below the surface. My question was how to communicate with something who was older than all civilization as we knew it. What did it have in common with our modern culture? How to talk through an energy shield built to withstand the pressures of that depth? I didn't have long to wait after we arrived. Because something pulled me out of that shield and wanted to talk with meright now - deep underwater, ready or not... (Part 1 of 3: contains cliffhanger ending...) Excerpt: I woke soaking wet. Putting my tongue to my lips tasted - salt water. That made sense to the dream I woke up from, but the nearest ocean was thousands of miles away. So I did the next best thing I could think of. Reaching up for the turquoise stone around my neck, I called for Sal and Jude. And they arrived. Also soaking wet, dripping on my tiny cabin floor. Good thing I stayed in bed to give them room to move. At least my bed was keeping my own third puddle contained. I had to smile, though. Both of those girls were usually so neat and tidy. Now their hair hung down in long, soggy strands. Their blouses were plastered to their skin. And they were not amused. "What the hell, John?" Jude was first to vent, as expected. "I was nice and asleep, and then you had to have an underwater dream and put us two into it?!?" "What Jude is trying to understand is how you pulled us out of bed, fully dressed, underwater - only to have a nightmare where we can't do anything to save you?" I just had to smile. We were all just too ridiculous standing or laying in our salt water pools. "Sorry. But I didn't think I could do that. Are you sure it was me?" "Well who else could it be?" Jude put her head to the side and bumped her head, trying to get the water out of her ears. Sal smiled back at me, and then looked over at Jude's wet black leather outfit and down to her own soggy off-white business suit with gold pin-stripe. And the growing puddle beneath her squishy tan dress pumps. That made her smile turn into a grin. A simple gesture and we were all three dry again, as if we'd never been in water at all. Which meant was was wearing my work clothes, including boots, while still in bed. A dry bed, now. "Thanks, Sal." She just nodded. Jude stopped bumping her head and straightened up, tugging her leathers into position again, the way she liked them - tight and revealing. Sal just adjusted her cuffs and made sure her hair was in a blond bun with two carved ivory hair pins, as usual. "What do you remember of that nightmare, John?" "We were somewhere deep, really deep underwater inside one of your force shields. An ancient set of columns showed up. We had some glow lights showing or something - when it looked like a girl or mermaid came right toward us. She wasn't swimming, but more like walking as if the water wasn't there. Straight ahead, right to the side of the force shield and then reached right through it to grab my arm and pull me out of it - right into the water. That's when I woke up." Jude looked over at Sal. "That scans. Same thing I remembered." Sal frowned. "Definitely got a mystery on our hands. Time to see Ben. Stand up, John." I just got to my feet when we shimmered off to somewhere else... Scroll Up and Get Your Copy Now.

The Legend of the haunted Spirit Mountain isn't that old. Just a few decades. And something to do with secret government experiments in hidden bases deep in the desert. They must have thought no one would ever find out... When strange weather patterns started affecting local crops in near-mystical ways, the Ghost Hunters got their assignment: find out if it was some sort of trapped spirit who was causing this disruption. Move them on if they could. But the underlying conflict they found endangers lives of not just humans, but immortal spirit guides as well.  And any continued existance on this plane was caught in the middle... Excerpt: "Seems quiet now." Standing on the empty plains under a red-sky morning that rolled out away from a torn and fractured Nevada desert mountain, it seemed pretty obvious. Quiet. Of course, I soon wished I hadn't said anything. Something like Finagle's law. Not just that things will go wrong if they can, but also at the worst possible moment. And in the worst possible way. A dust cloud soon swallowed us. Sal and Jude together had to put up and hold a force shield around us. And that's pretty much all they could do, as that dust came with the force of a terrible wind. Something like a hurricane's - and it came up within seconds of my speaking. But then a pain seared through my stomach and quickly spread to my veins. A massive headache started in the next moment. All I could do was to clutch my stomach and roll into a ball on the ground. Sal and Jude saw me and were frantic with alarm, but could do nothing without lowering the shield and watching us all blow away. The last thing I remember seeing was someone walking through that hurricane right toward us - as if it was a calm day in those Midwest pastures I'd left a thousand miles away. She came right up and walked through Sal and Jude's force shield like it wasn't there. Just waltzed in and crouched over to have a look at me. Not a single red hair surrounding her pretty face was even moving. Big, dark green eyes looking into my soul. Did I mention her pretty face? Thought so. As she put her hand on my forehead, everything went black. At least the pain stopped… - - - - When I woke, I didn't feel any pain. In fact I felt just fine. "Glad to see you awake, sleepyhead. You certainly gave us some alarm. About three days worth." Sal was sitting in the single ladder-back chair across the narrow room and by the side of a paneled door. I seemed to be in some upper level of an old wood-framed saloon. The flowered wallpaper and wainscoting, the standalone wardrobe and low-boy dresser - they all matched that period. Of course, that was my writer training showing up. We had the two characters for this scene and the setting was just another part of the mystery. "Last I remember was getting a gut-wrenching pain and headache. And now I wake up here." Of course, I had to peek beneath the sheet and quilt as something felt odd. A one piece nightshirt. Comfortable, but different. I looked into her gorgeous face again, appreciating what I had come so close to losing. "Has it really been three days?" Get Your Copy Now.

She met me at my cabin door. She knocked. I opened. And then she was in my arms, smothering me with kisses. I recognized that scent, that hair, those lips. "Mary, I..." She put a finger on my lips. "Shhhh..." The cabin porch shimmered around us - and disappeared. What replaced it was the scenery of a Crater Lake, with steep sides, an unnatural circular symmetry. The hulks of shipping barges and fishing craft, grounded out on its shores. We stood on a narrow sand spit, in the light of a moon's reflected glow. The sunken basin reeked of rotting fish, rust, and spilled oil. "Welcome to my home, John - the one you condemned me to." Excerpt: The night was quiet. No more than usual. Crickets fiddling their ancient tune. The occasional hoo-hoo of an owl. Rustling small feet as the coons and possums sought their own meals, or eluded being someone else's. I wasn't paying attention. For the muses were playing their movies in my head, another story to recall from someone else's life experiences. Sock feet and sweatshirt were the only unusual changes from my usual attire. The fall evening air was cool, a welcome difference from all the heat of summer. The windows of my tiny-home cabin were cracked open at the bottom, to keep the air fresh, but most of the warmth inside. My own attention was on writing the words as I knew them to be, usting only the best choices. Readers wanted to sense, to be transported, to live the vicarious lives of these characters. Only the right words would help them do that... A knock sounded at my door. Loud. Insistent. Repeating. Frowning, I stood – wondering who it could possibly be at this late hour. The solid exterior door held no peephole. This wasn't New York or any city where I needed multiple locks and chains against intruders. This was the Midwest. No one lived within at least a quarter mile from me. And usually drove pickups or noisy side-by-side utility vehicles to get from here to there – well, other than those of us who walked our pastures. The darkness and lack of noise said it wasn't someone who traveled by vehicle. My next choice was one of my familiar spirit-guides – and a half-smile came to my face at this prospect. As I opened the door, the interior lights extinguished. Before I could try the switches by the door frame, someone came in and wrapped her arms around me. The kiss, the perfume were familiar somehow. I was pushed backwards over to my futon-couch, where the back of my legs folded when they met its resistance. She and I fell backwards into it – well, she was on top of me anyway, and her lips were still seeking mine. Quickly, she grasped the bottom of my sweatshirt, pulling it and my t-shirt over my head, just to my wrists, where those clothes wadded up around my hands there. Next, she skinned off my cotton shorts past my sock feet. "Hey, what..." "Shhh..." the unknown, but familiar woman cautioned me as she stood and cast something to the other end of my tiny-home cabin, where it clattered against the end wall. Then she moved to the far wall, only a couple of steps. And tossed my dungarees and chore coat on top of my bare stomach and chest. "Get dressed."... Scroll Up and Get Your Copy Now.