Geez… what a week. I can honestly say I've never worked harder on a copy edit than I have for the past twelve days. I've actually never taken twelve days to complete a copy edit before. TLDR… it's a long manuscript and there were a crap ton of glitchy little things that needed review. My brain kind of hurts right now. LOL
To top the long work week off, my daughter had three nights of after-school events. National honor society inductions on Tuesday, golf awards banquet on Thursday, and the holiday parade on Friday, which we made five gallons of hot chocolate for the choir kids to drink and keep warm while riding the float. Seriously… it's not as easy to make five gallons of a hot drink as one might think. And… my daughter's also in band so she doesn't even ride the float with the choir. She marches and misses all the chocolaty goodness.
Needless to say, I'm now behind on my television viewing. I actually couldn't watch the finale of The Last Ship. I'm not ready to say goodbye to this show yet. I'm going to miss that damn ship and its sailors so much.
I do have brief rundown of what I did get to see. Caught another episode of Strike Back's fifth season. I'm starting to like this group a lot. I do miss the instant chemistry the previous cast had, especially the leads. That said, the dynamic is different enough with this group that I'm interested in where things go. And they're completely pared down, carrying on with how the previous incarnation ended. The commander is rebuilding and restoring the reputation of Section Twenty. So… they get lots of wiggle room.
Caught the Chicago crossover event with Fire, Med, and PD. Thoroughly enjoyed all three shows. I've lost some love for Chicago PD. The fifth season kind of lost me with all the sneaky snitchy bullshit. I really want to watch Chicago Med from the beginning. Here's hoping that happens in the near future.
I'm almost finished with Luke Cage. Disappointed there won't be a third season but maybe we'll see the character is something else. Who knows.
Got an episode of Murdoch Mysteries in. I like how this show weaves current topical events into the storyline, showing how often history tends to repeat. Not necessarily a great thing, but it's fun to see how they work it all out.
Watched a couple episodes of Classic Who. I'm behind on the new season but should get caught up soon. Started a new episode of Penny Dreadful and should finish the first season by the end of the month.
And that's it for television this week. Tonight's post is from To Create a Spy, a novella that pays homage to one of my favorite shows, La Femme Nikita.
Here's the mini-blurb:
Mariah St. James isn't what she appears to be when she's recruited by a covert black ops group hell bent on using her supposed skill set. But when she finds an ally in Matthew Jamison, she thinks she might actually survive the rigorous and deadly training… until he betrays her by leaving her alone in a dangerous situation.
And a sneaky peek…
The nightmare had her snared in its tangled depths. Thrashing on the cot, trying to fight the onslaught of images crashing through her mind, Mariah St. James battled physical restraints, too. But she didn’t know that.
Caught up in the terror, she had no idea she was strapped to a cot wearing only thin cotton clothes drenched with sweat. Twisting, writhing she flinched with pain and memories. The horrific flashes tumbled around, churning, pushing her deeper into the darkness.
Flash!
She answered for made up transgressions on the receiving end of her mother's pounding fists and verbal tirades.
Flash!
Forced out and abandoned at age sixteen, living on the streets, scraping by however she could.
Flash!
Enjoying her freedom, making her home with people in similar circumstances. A made up family, when it suited their purposes.
Flash!
Dragged out of a rave, doused with chemicals, and held against her will.
Flash!
Lights and darkness. On and off. Faces obscured by shadows and masks. Cruel eyes and garbled voices.
And pain. Excruciating and torturous pain.
Each new image a tether, which held fast and wouldn't let her go.
Then came the swirl of color and numbing calm, followed by droning voices humming with suggestions, elusive and out of reach.
And then the worst. The screams of agony, her own and many, many others. Trapped inside herself, a living hell filled with brutal killing, senseless violence, and gripping bloodlust.
Drowning in the depths of her own depravity, Mariah had been leg go, set free, dumped in an alley and left to her own devices. Still in the thrall of an altered state, she had no concept of real and imaginary anymore. No idea of anything she'd done.
Dragged in for questioning by the police, she babbled incoherently, trying to tell them what happened to her, but couldn't get the words out. By the time her head cleared, it became too late. She'd been charged with seventeen counts of murder.
The evidence against her irrefutable, everything happened so fast she barely had time to breathe before—
Clang!
The cell door closed on her new home. The one her mother swore she'd live in one day.
Not even she would've believed her daughter would go down for murder—not in Mariah's nature.
But the right cocktail of psychotropic drugs could alter anyone's make-up. Force them do unimaginable things at a whispered command.
In the time it took Mariah's body to expel the last traces of the drug, she'd only begun to weave together tiny bits and pieces of the things she'd done.
The nightmarish specter of her dreams had, in reality, been her. She watched the undeniable proof of her actions in court, throwing up afterwards. Not that it made a difference.
Convicted.
Sentenced.
Life in prison, no chance for parole.
A death sentence would have been better.
Once word of her horrific misdeeds got out, she became an open target in the detention center. Everyone wanted to take down the crazy, insane killing machine known only as Mariah.
The courts and prison system stripped her of her last name to protect her family. She'd tried to tell them it wasn't necessary… she had no one who claimed her. Her mother had written her off years ago.
She suffered a vicious beating her first week on the cell block. Someone—she had no idea who, her eyes were swelled completely shut—dragged her to the infirmary for treatment. The nurse kept her overnight then released her to go back to her six by nine home. The fact she peed blood for the next week either deemed unimportant or overlooked.
The second week, she got stabbed in the arm with a shiv. Fourteen stitches, another overnight stay and a refusal to take any kind of pain medication saw her back on the block. Keeping a low profile didn't work. She had to fight back.
Engaging her attackers failed miserably. Her third week resulted in a trip to the prison hospital ward. A cracked skull and fear of brain matter swelling kept her out of reach for forty-eight hours. Mariah didn't know how much more she could take and not end up dead.
Worse, she didn't know if she cared.
The fourth week, tactics changed. No one touched her, snarled at her, or messed with her. She ate alone—for once—and actually finished all her meals. But by the third day she understood why. Sluggish and out of sorts, her ears hummed and her brain revved at ninety miles a minute. Her hands shook and she couldn't focus on anything. By day five, she started hallucinating, seeing the violent images of her handiwork everywhere she turned.
Rocking in the corner of her cell, Mariah prayed for death, if only to escape the terror of not having control. When the nurses came for her, her mind saw the men in white, cruel eyes flashing behind the protective goggles they wore. She fought, kicking and screaming, refusing to go back to that place. Terrified they'd make her do more horrible and destructive things to others.
A prick against her skin and everything went black. She sank blissfully into the ether.
I'm truly enjoying this story and fleshing out the other two or three books that should follow. Mariah and Matthew are doing a slow, dangerous dance toward something terrific. I hope.
That's it for this week. Catch everyone on the flipside.
ML Skye
