Olivia's Return (BloodDark Series Book 2)

It's good to return home--or is it? A year after Olivia Brown's abduction by vampiric aliens, she isn't sure where she belongs anymore.

Cover art by Gwen Phifer.

Olivia's Return
by Cindy A. Matthews and Adrian J. Matthews
Desert Breeze Publishing, February 2017
(Click on cover for direct purchase link)

On Earth, Olivia's told to forget her adventures and go to college. But evidence of wrongdoing by the Pure Bloods prompt fellow Resistance fighter Annara to concoct a plan to spy on Clan Alpha. Are the Alphans dealing with billionaire Roland Grundfest, a man willing to supply "vampire brides" for a price to serve their needs for fresh DNA on BloodDark?

To become a spy, Olivia must do more than dye her hair and change her clothing tastes--she must lie to both her parents and her Quadsang boyfriend, Hernando. A little white lie can't hurt, can it? Once again on BloodDark, Olivia realizes she needs friends like Valori, whose psychic powers can incapacitate hired killers. Will Olivia return to Earth ever again?

Also available at Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Olivias-Return-BloodDark-Book-2-ebook/dp/B01N9XRMZ2/ref=sr_1_4?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1486166534&sr=1-4&keywords=Olivia%27s+Return

Excerpt

Something wasn't quite right. It was quiet aboard the small aircraft. Too quiet. A cold shiver of dread tingled up her spine. Olivia glanced around. Leaning across the narrow aisle, she whispered to Hernando, "Where are all the families? This is a holiday weekend, so you'd expect there would be more people than just us, your driver and those big beefy guys in the black suits and ties in the back... Oh, no."

Annara rotated in her seat and rose up slightly on one knee to gain a better view of their fellow passengers. "I wish they hadn't made me pack my bow and arrows."

Hernando frowned. "How many of them are there?"

"Counting your driver, six," Annara replied, returning to face forward. "These tight spaces will make it difficult to defend ourselves, especially if they have weapons."

"Don't forget we're in an airplane. Chances are they won't have guns. There's too much risk of shooting a hole through the fuselage which will endanger us all." Olivia swallowed a large lump in her throat and tried hard not to sound frightened. "The pilot is either one of them, or this is a hijacking."

"What is a hijacking?" Annara asked. "Does this mean they can make this aircraft go to where they want it to go without our say so?"

Olivia nodded. "Kidnapping ambassadors isn't unknown. You'd think all this extra security the government puts people through at airports would prevent something like this."

"Unless they are working for the government. It explains a lot." Hernando's grim tone didn't inspire confidence. Olivia reached out, took his hand and squeezed it. His expression grew darker. "We're at their mercy," he continued under his breath. "Should we announce ourselves? Or should we pretend we're oblivious to their plans?"

"The longer they don't suspect we're onto them, the greater the element of surprise when we turn on them," Annara suggested. Smiling, she stood up and turned around, pretending to re-arrange the seat pillow behind her back. "They're watching us. We should wait until we've landed to make our move. That way, we won't have to worry about dropping out of the sky."

"The soaring lizards of the deserts soar so high on BloodDark," Valori whispered, "and many years ago in the days of my youth the great ships lifted by hot air and the fiery gas..."

Olivia startled and turned to her seat mate. Valori stood, her petite height allowing her to turn about in her seat area and not hit her head on the overhead bin. Olivia had thought her friend was engrossed in reading the fashion magazine, unaware of what was happening. Was I ever wrong. How do you keep secrets from a psychic?

"They are working for an Earth organization friendly with Clan Alpha," Valori explained in a calm and reassuring tone. "I sense their loyalty is more to the money they are promised if they bring you to their employer unharmed, however, and not the honor of the clan or their organization."

"Valori, sit down, please." Olivia took her friend's hand and tried to pull her into her seat, but the older woman resisted.

"Their lack of honor will be their undoing. They're going to sleep now for a very long time." Valori closed her eyes and concentrated, her brow wrinkling.

What on Earth is she doing? Can she use her mind as a weapon? Olivia and the others stole quick glances at the rear of the plane and were surprised to see the men in black slumping in their seats. A couple of them began to snore. The limo driver, sitting several rows behind them, stood up. He looked at the sleeping men in astonishment. A nervous sheen of sweat dotted his brow.

"Where do you think you're going?" Valori addressed the quivering chauffeur in her typical calm manner. "This aircraft soars very high in the sky. You wouldn't want to open the door by accident and fall out of it."

Telling Not Showing (on New Doctor Who)

Obviously, the excitement is killing evil Clara. Not.

Telling not Showing (on new Doctor Who)

By Cynthianna

***Spoiler Alert!***

If you’ve ever taken a writing course, I know you’ll recognize this maxim: Show not tell!

What does this mean to the average person who isn’t a writer or even interested in learning how to write well? Essentially it means what it says—you never tell a story by listing dry facts or endless narration telling the reader/viewer what to think, what is happening, what to feel. Instead, the effective writer shows the story’s characters in motion (in a manner appealing to the senses) and that action imparts the story to the reader/viewer. Face it, it’s more exciting to experience a scene when we see and almost feel something happening where the stakes are high than to simply be told what’s going to happen to the characters if they don’t do such-and-such.

The Zygon Inversion or Inversion of the Zygons (depending on which site you look for pictures for it) gives us a good example of tell not show which my college screenplay writing professor would have given failing marks. After last week’s episode, it’s a true non-event. Sure, we get to see “evil Clara” looking smart with heavier make-up and her hair pulled back, but essentially all she does is walk around, shoot an airplane, stares at the “sleeping Clara” in the pod, zaps one Zygon to turn him “inside out” and…that’s about it. No particularly exotic locations, no big action scenes, no exciting complications of plot. She does her bit as she’s told and very little else.

The last act consists of a lot of talking in a room at UNIT headquarters where evil Clara and Kate Lethbridge-Stewart face off by staring across a table at each other with their hands hovering over a couple of boxes while the Doctor pontificates for several minutes too long.  (Kate miraculously survives her journey home from New Mexico we learn, but, of course, the excitement of her escape takes place off stage. Sigh!) Staring across a table in a dimly lit room—that’s the extent of the climactic action. No huge battles involving the sucker-covered aliens and the brave fighting men and women of UNIT. Nada.

Now, picture this—literally picture this in your mind. What if, instead of having the Doctor harangue evil Clara and Ms. Lethbridge-Stewart for fifteen minutes, he took them in his TARDIS and showed them what life would be like if they started an inter-species war on Earth? He could show them the devastation of another similar world’s conflict or take them backward or forward in time and show them Earth after a devastating war. There could be explosions and battles and lots of colorful images and provocative sounds and smells and other appeals to both the viewers’ and the characters’ senses. Think how well this sort of sense-filled demonstration would illustrate his point without the need for long-winded speeches. Think how exciting this would be for the viewers! (It might have been fun for the actors to perform, too.)

Even the devil showed Jesus from atop the mountain all the riches, the kingdoms and power he’d have if he’d do as the devil asked instead of what God asked. The devil tempted Jesus with food when he was starving, appealing to his senses of smell and taste. Matthew 4:1-11 is a very visceral Bible story, and it makes a lasting impact precisely because it appeals to the senses. Would Jesus passing up all that power, wealth and food have made the same impact on the reader if the devil had simply told Jesus what all he was passing on and hadn’t given Jesus the chance to see and experience what all he was missing? When you experience something it’s much harder to give it up, right? Obviously, the writer Matthew knew this and didn’t let up on the appeal to the senses or action.

I know I looked at the time more than once while the Doctor scolded evil Clara and Lethbridge-Stewart and delivered a diatribe on how naughty they were. I kept wondering how and when an action sequence was going to fit in. After all, in a science fiction adventure television series viewers expect to experience some excitement and action around every corner, especially at the climax. Unfortunately, this episode was “pear shaped” and had no corners to turn. 

No big battles of Zygons vs. humans, instead we were treated to another “Osgood” in the seventh Doctor’s famous question mark knitwear. Cute in a stereotypically nerd girl way.  I think Osgood would make a great companion some day, but only if she actually does something active instead of function merely as a model to push sales of classic Who DVDs to the younger crowd. 

Of course, how well she and other characters function is up to the series’ writers and script editor. Let’s hope they hit the books and study up on how write a stronger script next time.

What do you think? Please leave your comments below. And check out my reviews of earlier episodes of this season of Doctor Who:

The Zygon Invasion

The Woman Who Lived

The Girl Who Died    
Before the Flood

Under the Lake

The Witch's Familiar

The Magician's Apprentice

Classic Who on Retro TV

An excerpt from Unalone

To celebrate Archon 35 this weekend, here's an extended excerpt from my latest science fiction tale, Unalone.

Unalone

by Cynthianna

Available from Devine Destinies Books

http://www.devinedestinies.com/unalone-4

An excerpt from Unalone:

            The dream wouldn’t go away. Calinda kept shaking her head and rubbing her eyes, but still the vision persisted. Oh, what the hell! If I’m dead and this is my version of the hereafter I’d better just relax and get used to it. . .

                Seeing her long dead mother wasn’t the most upsetting thing about her hallucination. It was the fact that her mother was taking care of her, nursing her back to health in what appeared to be the remnants of her ship. Where had Mom learned to bandage and set broken limbs? Her mother had been a radio-astronomer, not a medic, and Calinda remembered her saying once how she couldn’t stand the sight of blood. Maybe in the years since her death she had taken on a new career in medicine?

                Calinda blinked and rubbed her eyes again. This way lay madness! Her mother was dead, and, furthermore, if she wasn’t deceased how the hell did she get onto this deserted planetoid in the middle of God knows where? That—and a few dozen other pressing questions—needed immediate explanation.

                Awkwardly lifting herself up from the makeshift bed, she collapsed with a cry of pain, tears flowing freely down her bandaged face.

                “Don’t try to move, Cali,” the mother-image commanded. “Your neck isn’t broken but it’s severely bruised and there could be some other injury to your spinal cord I haven’t yet been able to determine.”

                “Mom?” Calinda heard herself feebly utter. “Is it really you?”

                “Of course, dear. Who else could I be?”

                With that the mother-image turned back to what she had been doing, assembling a portable shelter dome and air lock. Her mother a mechanic, too? The thought intrigued her. Her father had always been more of the handy-man.

                Calinda blinked. Her eyes were playing tricks on her again. Where once stood her mother, now stood the image of her father. Turning forcefully from his assembly work, he barked in his all too familiar fashion:

                “Lie down, girl! I told you there could be more extensive injuries. I have to get this dome together before I can attempt any more. . . any more healing.”

                “Father?” she pleaded, “What are you dong here? You and Mom were killed in an explosion at Spacestation 12. I had your remains cremated and scattered over Alta-9 as your will requested.  I—”

                “Be still! Or will I have to put you over my knee like I did when you were little?”

                Calinda immediately obeyed. This has to be my father. No one else besides me and Mom knew how he believed in that ancient method of punishment.

                Eyes closed, but acutely aware of the image’s every movement, she summoned the energy and courage to speak once again.

                “You still haven’t answered by questions, Father, if I may call you that?”

                “You may,” it replied without taking its attention from the task at hand. “Hmm—I’m not too certain where this little bit goes.”

                So it wasn’t infallible whatever it was. “Bring it over here.  I may be able to help. I once had to use one of those things when our all-terrain transport broke down on Daros-2.”

                The father-image laid aside the troublesome piece and approached slowly. Calinda’s fear became engulfed by a luminous mist.

                I had not seen that memory before—the trip to Daros-2. I see how the parts fit together now.

                What is happening to me? Calinda cried, the thoughts echoing in her mind. I don’t see anything but the mist, but I hear a voice speaking to me? It isn’t my father or my mother….

                Do not worry, Calinda. I will not harm you. The voice is mine—or what your mind interprets to be a voice since I have no vocal apparatus. I could only grasp a minute amount of knowledge for the preservation of your species on my world while you lay unconscious, but now that you are awake perhaps I will be able to discover more.

                Who—or what—are you?

                I am the mist, Calinda. It is beyond my current capability to explain further. Rest assured that when I have fully grasped the complexities and nuances of your communication process I will reveal all that I am to you. It would be better that you sleep now. Your body is healing and will be for some time.

                She forced herself to stay alert, but the fatigue quickly overwhelmed her. How can I sleep? I’m alone on a strange planet, dying for all I know, and this strange disembodied voice is telling me to relax! I have to know more! I need more information. . .

                Know this then: You are not alone. I am here. I am your friend.

 Unalone  available in e-formats at Devine Destinies:

http://www.devinedestinies.com/unalone-4

Space cargo pilot Calinda crash lands on a desolate world during an intra-galactic conflict. Bitter and injured, she doesn’t expect to live long enough to be rescued. Then she encounters a strange non-corporeal being who can mimic anyone she imagines—who reads her secret thoughts and loves her as she is. But can loner Calinda truly come to accept what it means to become “unalone”?