Warrior angels vs. demons!

When I first wrote Dead to Rights, one of my crit partners was actually surprised by the idea of a warrior angel. To him, it seemed the opposite of what angels represented – peace, love, and protection.

Warrior angels may be popular in current fiction, but the idea’s nothing new. Even the Bible contains references to angels who carry out their duties with sword in hand. How better to protect humans against danger?

The archangel Michael’s one of the most prominent warrior angels, and one of the most well-known angels in general. According to my research, the guardian angels are “all aspects and forms of Michael” and also the angel responsible for guarding the planet Earth. So it seemed natural for Michael to be the warrior angel assigned to intervene in a mixup of souls, possibly the biggest travesty of justice in all of Heaven.

 

Fallen angels are also nothing new, and Dead to Rights is based on the idea that choice is what defines us, whether human or angel. Research revealed the punishment for angels is eternal, while humans can be forgiven.

I was also fascinated by the idea that angels coordinate the messages some attribute to The Universe. According to some sites, if you see number sequences such as 111, 333, etc., those are signs that angels are guiding you.

Have you ever felt as if you’d received a message from The Universe? Maybe a song with special meaning to you played at a time when you most needed a boost? Or a label, maybe a road sign that conveyed a message you needed to hear?

My dark paranormal, Dead to Rights, is available from Decadent Publishing:  http://www.decadentpublishing.com/product_info.php?products_id=500&osCsid=1rs5de21jcfh2ov3ikjhd26tk4

Blurb:

Identity theft sucks. But it’s worse when someone steals your life—body included. All memory of her life before waking up in a mental facility has vanished. Or was erased. Now she has to figure out how to get it all back….

Her only hope of learning the truth lies with one man. Problem is, he’s the leader of a cult. Her only choice is to follow him into his sordid world, where a darker evil lurks.

With a little help from an archangel hellbent on revenge, she may have a chance to learn the truth. But will it force her to make the hardest decision of her life…or death?

I’d love for you to check out the Casting Call (who I imagined in these roles) and more at: http://catemasters.blogspot.com/2009/06/dead-to-rights-contemporary-paranormal.html

Cate Masters loves stories with a dash of magic, mayhem and romance! Multipublished in contemporary to historical, sweet to erotic, fantasy/dark fantasy to speculative, she sometimes mashes genres. When not spending time with her family, she can be found in her lair, concocting a magical brew of contemporary, historical, and fantasy/paranormal stories with her cat Chairman Maiow and dog Lily as company. Look for her at http://catemasters.blogspot.com , Facebook http://www.facebook.com/pages/Cate-Masters/89969413736?ref=ts and in strange nooks and far-flung corners of the web.

 

There's something about a guy on a motorcycle...

I can't help it. I think they're so sexy!

Maybe that's why many of my heroes ride motorcycles. Harleys, mostly, because they're made in Pennsylvania, where I live.

Both guys in my two releases this month happen to ride Harleys. And oh yeah, they're also both angels. Very hot angels. :)

Here's a peek at Dead to Rights, a dark paranormal releasing March 16 from Decadent Publishing:

The sound of someone trudging past took away my breath. I flattened against the inside of the door until I heard no more footsteps, then crept outside and ran like hell toward the garage. First listening for any sign of movement inside, I opened the door just enough to get in and made my way to the key rack.

Someone grabbed my wrist before I could touch the keys. “Don’t.”

Jerking away, I readied to kick the guy in the groin, but stopped, breath caught in my throat. “Michael.” How had he gotten in the building without a sound?

He relaxed his stance and said softly, “You don’t want to steal the truck.”

What the… how did he know? “Why did you follow me?”

All seriousness, he whispered, “I need to talk to you.”

“I’m a little busy.” Escaping. And I wouldn’t let him or anyone else stop me.

Like a master thief, I pocketed the key.

The movement didn’t escape his notice, but he simply watched. “Hear me out first, will you?”

Why test me like this? “What could you possibly have to offer me?”

He stressed, “A different kind of freedom.”

I let out a sharp breath. “I don’t know what that means.”

“That’s why you need to listen. Then decide.” When I hesitated, he added, “I won’t turn you in. You have my word.”

A lot of good that’ll do me when they toss my ass in the guardhouse, or worse. My thoughts raced. “I can’t.”

Warning edged his voice, though his tone sounded lighthearted. “You’ll want to hear what I have to say.”

Is he trying to use some post-hypnotic suggestion? If so, it worked. I really did want to hear it. “I’ll give you two minutes. Starting now.”

He peered out the window. “Not here. Come on.” He reached for me again, but I shrank back.

This smells like a trap. “No way.”

Still as a boulder, he stared. “Please?”

Seriously? Was that his best argument? Again, it worked. My deepest senses said he wouldn’t harm me. “Where, then?”

He grinned and held out his hand.

Immediately, I felt comforted. Stupid girl. You fell for it. Silencing the small alarm in my head warning I’d pay for this later, I slid my hand into his. “This better be good.”

He chuckled. “It’s incredibly good.”

The phrase from the delivery crate flashed through my mind: Incredible things will happen. Somehow, those words gave me no comfort. Unlike the feel of his hand in mine. At his touch, a palpable energy infused me, and I followed him into the dark night.

Read about the Harley-riding angel in my March 30 release, Dancing With the Devil, here.

Do guys on motorcycles appeal to you? Does a hot guy on a motorcycle entice you to read a book?

Halloween legends and superstitions

Halloween legends and superstitions fascinate me. For instance, did you know these:

A person born on Halloween can see and talk to spirits.

If you hear footsteps trailing close behind you on Halloween night, do not to turn around to see who it is, for it may be Death himself. To look Death in the eye, according to ancient folklore, is a sure way to join the ranks of the dead.

To cast a headless shadow or no shadow at all is still believed by many folks in the United States and Europe to be an omen of death within the next year.

If you'd like to meet a witch, wear your clothes inside out and walk backward on Halloween night.

According to an old British Halloween superstition, Satan was a nut-gatherer, so on Halloween night, people used nuts as magic charms.

But Halloween’s not the only time evil spirits can strike. And some may not be otherwordly, as my heroine learns in Dead to Rights, a dark paranormal novel available on Amazon Kindle  and Smashwords. 

Here’s the blurb:

Identity theft sucks. But it’s worse when someone steals your life -- body included. All memory of her life before waking up in a mental facility has vanished. Or was erased. Now she has to figure out how to get it all back. 

Her only hope of learning the truth lies with one man, the sole person familiar to her now. Problem is, he’s the leader of a cult. Her only choice is to follow him into his sordid world, where a darker evil lurks.

With a little help from an archangel hellbent on revenge, she might have a chance to learn the truth. But it will force her to make the hardest decision of her life – or death.

Reader reviews have said: “Dead to Rights is a stay-in-your-seat story. Once you begin to read, you won't want to get up from said seat. The narrative is filled with action, surprise, hunky angels (yes! absolutely, divinely hunky), heroines with multiple personalities (there's a great reason why), and enough bad guys to make you look over your shoulder.” and “An imaginative story with a great premise, and yes, the powerful hero is without a doubt, to die for, and the heroine is, with every personality involved, spot on. I really enjoyed the plot twists.”

I’d love for you to read an excerpt,the first chapter, view the book video, Casting Call and more on my blog.

 

Multipublished, award-winning author Cate Masters loves stories with a dash of magic, mayhem and romance! Reviewers have described her stories as “so compelling, I did not want to put it down,” and “such romantic tales that really touch your soul.”

When not spending time with her family, she can be found in her lair, concocting a magical brew of contemporary, historical, and fantasy/paranormal stories with her cat Chairman Maiow and dog Lily as company. Look for her at http://catemasters.blogspot.com, and in strange nooks and far-flung corners of the web.

Cate loves to hear from readers. Email her at: cate.masters[AT]gmail.com

Take one feisty heroine, add a dash of snark

Mix in one hunky guy who happens to be a warrior angel. No need to stir - they mix very well! :)

I'm so proud of this book video - I hope you'll check it out! It's short, but very cool!

Here's another excerpt from Dead to Rights, my paranormal now available on Amazon and Smashwords:

We kept walking until we reached the side of the cafeteria. He pressed me against the building, into the shadows.

“Get off me,” I hissed, but somehow felt safe when he instead lifted his elbows on either side, shielding me.

A dangerous illusion. He was one of them, a weird ninja warrior. This smacked of a setup.

He murmured, “I told you, play along. No one will bother us if they think we’re making out.”

Oh, that’s a new one. But it held a ring of truth, though I worried he’d relay everything I said in person. “What the hell’s going on.”

He scanned the compound. “You’re lucky they didn’t shoot you.”

Funny, at close range, he couldn’t seem to look me in the eye. “No one ever said we couldn’t go for a freaking walk.”

“Not at night,” he said, “and never into the woods.”

Sounded like a bad Halloween flick. “Oh, seriously.” I shifted between his raised arms.

His eyes flashed bright in the darkness. “Fine. You want to know why not? Because all along the outer perimeter, camouflaged guards hide. Armed with automatic machine guns. That is, if you make it past the traps.”

So it had been the click of a gun. What the hell kind of traps? Too many questions raced through my head, so I simply asked, “Why?”

Sounding bemused, he said, “The Reverend doesn’t like unannounced visitors.”

I have proof otherwise. “Or followers who stray, I guess.”

He went on. “In this area, no one questions gunfire, whether single shots or rapid fire, day or dead of night. No other member would question someone’s disappearance.”

Cold crawled across my skin. “So we’re prisoners.”

This seemed to cheer him. “Only technically.”

A laugh burst out. “Oh, I love your positive spin on the situation. But I take issue with its accuracy.” I studied him in the dim light. “If we’re not allowed in the woods, what were you doing out there?”

His voice deadpan, he said, “Saving you.”

Oh, that couldn’t have been the only reason. “You risked your life to follow me? Why?”

He grinned. “No one should be shot for ignorance.”

Wait. Had I said that? As Tess? Some vague memory itched to come to the forefront, but faded. I banged a fist against the building and cursed under my breath.

He tensed. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Sorry.” I’d be damned if I’d tell him. Maybe literally.

He studied me. “So what made you so upset?”

My belly turned, thinking of Ellen. “Nothing.” He’d probably ask why I hadn’t given myself to Cunningham.

He sucked air through his teeth. “Whole lot of nothing. Doesn’t make sense.”

Nothing did, here. Or anywhere. “Listen, no one else seems to have followed us. I’m going home.” The term made my stomach lurch again. Not exactly home sweet home. Tears burned my eyes. Would I ever find my real home?

Easing away, he asked, “Sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

Ducking my head, I steeled myself. No use crying about it. “I’m sure.” It wouldn’t help, even if he believed me.

He straightened. “I’ll walk you back.”

“Don’t bother. I’m not inviting you in.” I couldn’t take another proposal tonight.

Amused again, he said, “I don’t want to come in.”

Disappointment surprised me. I’d better play nice. “Sorry. It’s been a weird day.” And that was saying a lot, considering most of my days lately had been beyond strange.

We walked in silence. He set a foot on the doorstep.

True to my warning, I went in alone. Before closing the door, I leaned out. “Hey.”

He hadn’t yet moved. “What?”

“Thanks. I owe you one.” It irked me to admit it. I didn’t like unused favors hanging over my head.

“I’ll remember that.”

I groaned, “Great,” and shut the door.

After slipping to the window, I peered out, expecting to see him still there. He wasn’t. Nor was he up the corridor of grass, nor down. Had he slipped behind the cabin? Instinct pressed me to the opposite window. No sign of him. Really weird. But today, I’d expect nothing less.

When a snarky voice haunts you...

If you're a writer, you pay attention! And start transcribing what that snarky voice tells you. :)

That's what happened with Dead to Rights, my new paranormal novel now released on Amazon and Smashwords. I couldn't silence the woman for anything. She'd yammer on, day and night.

I didn't blame her. She was lost, and confused. Waking up in a mental facility -- in a strange body -- will do that to you.

But she wasn't about to take it lying down. Clues came at her randomly, ones she didn't quite understand but instinct urged her to follow. Even if it meant joining The New Day Order, a cult led by creepy Alan Cunningham. Her gut told her Cunningham somehow could lead her to answers she needed, though she knew it meant diving headlong into danger too. Not just your garden variety, everyday danger either -- the kind that makes people's skin crawl in terror. Fear presented no obstacle; she's a fighter. :) And she has a little help from a hunky guy. Check out my Casting Call for Dead to Rights.

And the book video's here - it's short, and very cool!

Here's an excerpt:

The bus drove all night. I dozed off a few times, but every bump in the road easily roused me. All the while, I couldn’t shake the feeling someone watched me. Had the group’s suspicion of me grown since I’d signed up? It didn’t seem likely, but I had to stay on guard, yet appear innocent. Not an easy feat. On high alert, my brain screamed for me to escape.

To what? I had nowhere to go. My only viable connection so far was Cunningham. Time would reveal the reason, but I guessed it wasn’t anything positive.

With a heavy breath, I scanned the faces of others. Every one slept, or tried to.

My senses pricked to extreme when I saw the man sitting three rows behind, on the opposite side. He stared openly, a strange glow in the whites of his eyes.

I jolted upright, then slumped in my seat. My heart pounded. How freaking weird. Grateful for Ellen’s insistence that we sit together, I feigned settling in to rest. Impossible with him still watching intently. And he was. I didn’t know how I knew, but I’d swear it.

The landscape changed from rural to downright deserted. The bus stopped for gas after the sun glimmered just below the horizon, streaking the clouds above with orange and red. It reminded me of smeared blood.

Blinking, Ellen lifted her head. “Are we there?”

“Not yet.” Sarcasm escaped me in the face of a stalker. Twice more, I’d glanced back, only to meet the same steady gaze. I stopped looking after that. Even if he presented no threat, maybe just looked for a little romance in all the wrong places, I wanted no part of him.

Who the hell was he anyway? He hadn’t attended any of the gatherings. How did he get on the bus, if he hadn’t gone through the process?