Today we have Laura Thalassa’s characters from her wonderfully unique book, The Unearthly. Please welcome Gabrielle, Andre and Oliver.
Perfect song (IMHO) for Gabrielle and Andre, let me know what y’all think!
(Below is a sneak peak of the Laura’s next book in the series, The Coveted chapter 1)
Angela: Thank you for hanging out with us today. I say we jump right to it. Gabrielle, you’ve learned so much in such a short period of time, and not to mention the multiple attempts on your life. How are you able to keep going? What keeps you grounded, sane?
Gabrielle: Dark humor, good friends, and chocolate
Angela: Do you feel any urges to act on you calling as Siren?
Gabrielle: Oh boy, no. At least, not yet. That part of me scares the beejezus out of me. I’ve heard the stories of the women in my family who have used it. It never ends well.
Angela: How has being a ‘soul mate’ changed you? Or has it?
Gabrielle: It hasn’t changed too much about me, although now I do view other men differently. Like dating them would be a little pointless. Which is a bummer considering the guy I’m now ball and chained to …
Angela: Knowing the person who has followed you since you were a little girl, do you feel your life is in more danger?
Gabrielle: Well, I’ve been seeing the man in a suit a lot more lately than I have when I was younger. And he never used to get so close to me—or talk for that matter. So there is this lingering sense that he’s showing up more for a reason. And considering the fact that he’s evil incarnate, every visit makes me feel more and more as though my life is in danger.
Angela: I get this may be a hard subject to discuss, so take your time before answering. You have feelings for Andre, but you’ve decided to ignore them. Do you think you will change your mind? I’d imagine you have a sort of ‘pull’ to be with him. Is this true? If so, how do you handle denying such a strong gravitational direction?
Gabrielle: You ask all the toughie questions don’t you? I don’t want to change my mind—
Gabrielle: What was that Oliver?
Oliver: You heard me—pfft. That’s a load of hooey, and you know it. You want him back so badly you’re just begging for a good reason. I’ve seen you stare at his number for hours.
Gabrielle: Oliver! This is a professional interview!
Oliver: Yeah, so don’t lie.
Gabrielle: I don’t like you very much.
Oliver: See, you keep lying.
Gabrielle *turns to Angela* Sorry, about my friend. I’ve been ignoring my feelings for Andre, but it’s been really, really difficult.
Angela: *reaches across and pats Gabrielle’s hand* Thank you, Gabrielle, for sharing those feelings with us.
Oliver: Ha! It’s been impossible. She’s ignoring nothing. You should see the way this girl blows through chocolates and ice cream. She’s been on a comfort food binge for the past month. *Stands and then steps outside the interview room*
Angela: Okay, we’re almost done. Promise. Can you share with us a little about your role being a investigator for the Politia. Do you feel by agreeing to join their elite group, you are avenging your parents’ untimely deaths? *listens intently*
Gabrielle: I do. Although I also don’t really trust the Politia, so part of my joining them is to better understand how they work and how the supernatural community works. And I’m sort of hoping in the process that they’ll get to know me and understand that I’m no different than they are … except for the whole blood drinking thing.
Angela: Have you thought more of why someone, such a Fate, agreed to be your nanny?
Gabrielle: I don’t really know what that means. There’s not really a whole lot of information on Fates out there, so I keep hitting dead ends when I try to understand why it is that a Fate would want to oversee my childhood. Hopefully it’s a good omen and not a bad one.
Angela: Thank you for answering my questions today. I think this sums up your questions, however, Oliver has requested you come back in a bit to join him.
Gabrielle: *nods and smiles, before politely walking out the interview room*
*Andre walks in, seconds after Gabrielle leaves*
Angela: Hi Andre. Thank you for coming. Can you describe what life was like in the beginning (when you became a vampire)? *attempting to be professional and not drool…H. O. T. just sayin’*
Andre: It’s really hard for me to remember those first few years, especially now that the world and my bank account have gotten so … comfortable. But I think emotionally, there was a lot of terror and self-loathing about what I’d become.
Andre: As far as the world itself, it smells a whole lot better now. And most people look much healthier now, too. Back then it wasn’t uncommon to see blackened and missing teeth and strange physical deformities from diseases and malnourishment—and none of that includes Black Death and other pandemics that swept through from time to time.
Angela: Andre, the confrontation between you and Theodore was pretty intense, and rightly so. He broke his oath, I get it. However, did you understand the full effect of what would happen when you killed him? What I mean is, did you know by killing Theodore you would inadvertently kill every vampire he created as well? If you did know, some would say what you did was gruesome and barbaric. Can you explain what you were thinking?
Andre: I was only thinking of Gabrielle.
Angela: *sighs dramatically*Being able to look back, and knowing the outcome, would you have taken a different route?
Andre: Had I known what was going on, definitely. There are other, more civilized ways of handling a situation like that. But that’s in hindsight. Knowing only what I knew then, I can’t see myself doing anything different. I saw red.
Angela: I can understand that. Since killing Theodore, has there been uproar in the vampire community?
Andre: … Yes, there has been. I cannot elaborate on this too much since there are those that would like nothing more than a civil war within the coven, but yes, there has been some dissatisfaction amongst vampires.
Angela: Do you fear others may try to follow in Theodore’s footsteps to kill Gabrielle? *worries bottom lip between teeth*
Andre: That is a constant worry. Hopefully Theodore set an example for others who were thinking similar thoughts, but I always fear this will set off a string of other attempts on her life.
Angela: *nods*Has Gabrielle being in you life changed you? Has being soul mated with her changed the person you were before meeting her? Do you think her being in your life has made you want to be a better man, or I guess, vampire?
Andre: Without a doubt. I just don’t know if I’ve changed her for the better. So for now, I’ll keep my distance.
Angela: Thank you for coming. You are free to leave. *Conceals pout. Note to self: try to get more information out of him later*
*Several minutes later, Oliver and Gabrielle come back, taking their same seats*
Angela: Thank you for coming back. Okay, you have such a great sense of style! I love what you’ve created for the girls. Sorry, there isn’t a question. I just wanted you to know I love your style. *smiles brightly*
Oliver: Thanks, I appreciate the compliment, especially considering how little recognition some people give me.
Gabrielle: What? Stop looking at me like that. You forced me into those concoctions of yours.
Angela: Okay, first question: How do you deal with being best friends with a know it all, er, um, Seer and um, everything Gabrielle is? *coughs in order to cover laughing*
Oliver: Hahaha, oh my God, Leanne is such a know-it-all! And Gabrielle is a straight up a freak of nature.
Oliver: Ignore her. I deal with them mostly because they feed me candy. Jk, jk—their candy’s not that good.
Gabrielle: Now you’re just being rude.
Oliver: You know I love you, sweets. Seriously, Gabrielle and Leanne are some of the nicest, hippest b*tches out there.
Angela: What is it like being a fairy? Personally, I think it’d be so much fun. However, I don’t want to stereotype all fairies into the glitter and glitz we’ve all conjured up in our heads. Can you tell us about it?
Oliver: I have wings, but in this world I can’t fly—I can in the Otherworld, though I don’t plan on visiting any time soon. I shimmer—I swear Twilight got it wrong. Those weren’t vampires; they were fairies. Duh.
Angela: What was your change like? Were you afraid? Did you have any idea what you’d become?
Oliver: Oh, it wasn’t bad at all. And I did know I’d be a fairy since my mom’s a fairy. My dad is too, but, ah, fairies tend to be flighty, so to speak.
Gabrielle: Oh really? Never would’ve guessed that.
Angela: *leans closer* One more question, and I’m dying to know, *Lowers voice to a whisper* is the tooth fairy real? (Sorry, I couldn’t help it.)
Oliver: She is, and she’s a creepy, creepy woman. Want to know a little secret? We fairies foisted her off on humans to keep her away from us. Her house is made completely from teeth. It gives me the heebbie geebbies just thinking about it.
Angela: Again, thank you for the interview. I can’t wait to see what happens next in The Coveted!
Did you enjoy this fun interview? Wanna sneak peak at the first chapter to the next book in this incredibly addictive new series? Simply scroll further down and enjoy 😀
The Unearthly (Amazon)
The Unearthly (Goodreads)
Check out the kick ass cover for The Coveted along with Chapter 1
Leaves crunched underfoot as Catherine O’Connor walked over to her bag and shoved the sprig of hemlock into it, right next to the mugwort and meadowsweet.
Now all I need is lilac, and then I can get out of here.
She moved her flashlight back over the woods. Beyond the beam of light the shadows seemed to gather and sway. She ignored the way her heart thumped and her pulse pounded in her ears. Out here, so close to the Otherworld, the natural laws didn’t work quite the same way. At least that’s what she told herself as she went back for the lilac.
Her mother had taught her differently—taught her to trust her instincts as a witch—but Catherine was pressed for time and Glen Maye was the best place to get these ingredients.
Somewhere above her the moon shone brightly, but the thick clusters of trees blocked out most of the moonlight.
Behind her leaves stirred. Catherine swung her flashlight around, noting the way the shadows scuttled away from the light.
Nothing. There was absolutely nothing there. That didn’t reassure her. Some of her most frightening fears were formless.
She tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry.
She strode back to her bag and hung it over her shoulder. A little distance away her bike waited for her.
At least, it should’ve been waiting for her.
When Catherine approached the familiar boulder, the boulder she’d leaned the bike against every few weeks for the last year, it was gone. Vanished.
She drew the light to the ground around the rock. She even walked around the boulder just to make sure her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her.
Behind her, a branch snapped.
Catherine swiveled around. The light jiggled as her hand shook. It seemed that the shadows pressed in on her.
Coming here was a bad idea.
A hand grabbed her hair and jerked her head back. She began to whisper a prayer. But she never finished. Sharp teeth sank into her neck. And then her words became shrieks.
I woke up to the sound of a scream. I propped myself up in bed and clicked on the light. Across the room Leanne sat up in bed, clutching her throat.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. I could smell her fear.
Her hand dropped from her neck. “Nothing,” Leanne murmured. “Sorry to wake you.” She repositioned herself and soon her breathing evened out, as if she hadn’t woke up screaming just moments before. Then again, she’d woken up from nightmares on and off for the past couple weeks, so maybe she was used to it by now. I sure wasn’t.
I glanced at my clock on the nightstand. It was one in the morning and I felt wide awake. Crappy vampire genes.
I lay back in bed and rubbed the rough wool of Andre’s blanket between my fingers. It no longer smelled like the sea and him, but it still brought me the same strange comfort it always had. I let my eyes close and my mind clear, trying to once again entice sleep.
I’d just nodded off when my phone began buzzing. Across the room Leanne moaned.
I cursed under my breath and threw the blankets off my bed. The clock indicated that it was almost three in the morning. I guess I had gotten some shuteye after all.
Grabbing my phone and slipping some shoes on, I stepped out into the hall. I read the caller ID. Hellhole.
Now it was my turn to moan. Not the Politia. Not now. When I’d agreed to work with the Politia, the supernatural community’s police force, a little over a month ago, I definitely hadn’t realized the time commitments. Still, late night calls were rare even for them.
“Yeah?” I answered the phone.
“Hi Gabrielle. This is Inspector Comfry. We’re calling you in on official business.”
I felt my eyebrows shoot up. “I’m sorry—right now?”
“Gabrielle, a girl was murdered tonight, and we think you can help us solve the case.”
An hour later I entered Castle Rushen, the Politia’s headquarters and another big effing castle located on this tiny island. A group of inspectors loitered right inside the entrance.
The sound of the closing door drew their eyes to me. I tried not to wince at the hard looks I received—especially the one from Caleb’s father, Byron Jennings. Since I had joined the Politia, I had gotten used to the fact that not everyone here liked me. But it didn’t make seeing it any easier.
Inspector Magdalene Comfrey, my boss, pulled away from the group. She didn’t even bother saying hi. Instead she took my hand and closed her eyes.
“What are you—” But my words cut off when she began to speak.
“She’s been asleep since eleven o’clock,” Maggie said to the group, eyes still closed. The room seemed to let out a collective sigh at her words, but the flinty stares didn’t go away.
She opened her eyes and loosened her hold on my hand. I pulled it away from her grasp and shot her an accusing look.
Inspector Comfrey was a psychometric, meaning that she could pull memories and facts from objects—including skin. Only she was so good at it that it was essentially the same thing as mind reading. No memory was safe from her.
However, unlike Leanne, who could foresee events, Maggie could only get a read on past events. It was a useful trait for an investigator, and I was sure I’d been paired with her for this reason. She was a walking lie detector, and I was untrustworthy.
Maggie shrugged. “Don’t give me that look,” she said. “You haven’t seen the victim yet.”
Before I could ask what she’d meant by that, the door opened and a bleary-eyed Caleb walked in, carrying a cardboard tray of coffee.
He nodded to his dad then flashed me a sleepy smile. “Hey partner,” he said. “Got you a coffee. Thought you might need it.”
“Awesome—thanks.” I didn’t bother to mention my vampy abilities made waking up and staying up at night increasingly easy. Not while I was one comment away from getting shanked by these angry villagers—I mean inspectors.
“Ah, perfect,” Inspector Comfrey said. “Now that you two are here, let’s get going.”
“Where are we going?” I asked.
Maggie, Caleb, and I entered the morgue, appropriately located in the castle’s basement. My nostrils flared at the smell of preservatives, bodily fluids, and decay. The taste of coffee on my tongue soured.
“Knock knock,” Maggie said.
Chief Constable Eugene Morgan was already in the room chatting with the pathologist, and at the interruption Morgan glanced up. “Ah,” he said, noticing us, “you’re all here.” His gaze rested on mine. “Sergeant Fiori, glad you came,”—as if I had a choice—“perhaps you in particular can lend us some of your vampiric insight.”
I glanced between him and the pathologist, uncomfortable by the attention and confused about what exactly the chief constable wanted me to do. “Uh, sure.”
“Good, good.” He nodded to himself and rubbed his cinnamon and salt mustache.
He looked up at the pathologist. “Well then, why don’t you pull out our victim?”
Caleb, Maggie, and I moved towards the wall of metal human-sized drawers. Involuntarily I shivered, the movement causing the coffee I held to slosh inside its container. The last time I was in a room like this, I was on the other side of those drawers.
The pathologist grabbed the handle for one of the drawers and pulled. He rolled out a petite woman with fiery red hair.
My stomach clenched at the sight and smell of her. Her body was too pale, even for her alabaster complexion. And the smell … ammonia overpowered my olfactory senses. Whoever she was, she was scared before she died.
Then my eyes traveled to her neck. Or what used to be her neck. What must’ve once been a delicate swathe of skin was now a red meaty pulp. Someone had torn it apart.
The pathologist clucked his tongue. “The victim’s body was drained of nearly every drop of blood.”