You wonderful folks got this post to 10 likes, so here’s your reward! An excerpt from Chapter 1 of the sequel to The Black Parade, She Who Fights Monsters.

CHAPTER ONE

JORDAN

“I have to go to work.”

“Mm-hm.”

“The bus leaves in fifteen minutes.”

“Mm-hm.”

“…I can’t leave if you don’t stop kissing me,” I said in a mildly amused voice from around the lips of my husband who had managed to trap me against the kitchen counter. He towered over my humble 5’6’’ with his 6’1’’ frame, his long sinewy arms content to rest on either side of the counter by my waist so that I couldn’t wriggle away. It was both a nuisance and yet somehow pleasant. A conundrum, if you will.

I thought my words finally got through to him when he pulled away for a moment, but his head dipped down and his lips found the edge of my jaw, my neck, making my poor knees wobble. I could feel the roughness of the stubble that had grown on his chin since he hadn’t shaved yet and the soft tickle of his dark brown hair against my collarbone, sending involuntary shudders down my spine. Normally, when he cooked breakfast he pulled his hair back into a ponytail but I suspected he’d taken it down with the intent of seducing me. Crafty bastard.

“I’m not stopping you,” Michael drawled against my throat. His baritone voice made the hairs on my arms stand up with attention. There was maybe a centimeter of space between our upper bodies. He’d done it on purpose to tease me. He bit down softly at the point between my neck and shoulder and I jumped, my fingers gripping the counter for strength.

“You’re blocking my exit,” I said.

He finally rose to full height, smirking at me with those full lips, arrogance beaming down from his sea green eyes.

“And you’re stalling.”

He stared at me. I stared at him. I sighed and grabbed two handfuls of his shirt, jerking him down to my mouth.

“I’m gonna get fired.”

Half an hour later, my best friend Lauren Yi was shaking her head when I scampered into the restaurant and clocked in as quickly as possible. Mercifully, Colton was nowhere to be found, but he’d still know I was forty minutes late anyhow since he was the owner. I’d be in for it later and I knew it. The restaurant had been hit with the usual lunch rush so I had to get ready as soon as humanly possible.

“This is the third time in a week you’ve been late,” she reminded me as I walked towards the lockers in the break room to put my apron on. I popped mine open and checked my reflection in the mirror, piling my mussed black hair into a loose bun.

“I know, sorry. The bus was late.”

Lauren rolled her eyes. “Are you really pulling that one on me?”

I glanced at her, keeping my face blank and innocent. “What?”

“Your skirt’s on backwards and you’ve got pancake mix on your sleeve.” She arched an eyebrow and then crossed her arms.

“He caught you in the kitchen again, didn’t he?”

A flush of heat rushed up my neck and over my cheeks, thankfully hidden by my brown skin. I tied my apron on and cleared my throat, keeping my voice level and guilt-free. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The Korean girl lifted the apron and turned my skirt the right way, brushing off the remainder of said pancake mix. “It’s a sad day when Jordan Amador has more of a life than I do.”

“Should I be flattered or insulted by that?”

“Both. Now get out there and wait tables, you shameless harlot.”

I batted my eyelashes at her. “Love you too.”

She stuck her tongue out at me as we walked back onto the floor and started greeting customers and taking orders. It never ceased to amaze me how quickly I could switch into Waitress Mode. Without thinking, I became amiable, even a little charming on my better days—a direct contrast to my actual personality. Lauren had once dubbed me as a “cranky, antisocial hermit crab” and it disturbed me how accurate that description had been at the time. Michael had done a remarkable job of reversing the worst parts of my behavior over the past year.

After I took care of a couple of teenagers and a large group of people who had just gotten out of church, I greeted a redhead in a forest green suit and black tie sitting by himself at a window booth.

“Hi, what can I get you?”

His brown eyes scanned the menu, his voice a little shy. “What would you suggest?”

I lowered my pen and pad. “Well, what kind of things do you like?”

He shrugged. “No preference, really.”

“I recommend the fish and grits. The fish is fried whiting and the grits are cheesy and thick, just like down South.”

“South?”

“Alabama, Mississippi, Georgia, etc. I’ve never been that far down, but my boss insists it’s much better than up here,” I continued with a playful roll of my eyes.

The redhead folded up his menu and handed it to me, smiling. “That sounds good. Thank you, Jordan.”

I scribbled down his order and smiled back. “No problem.”

I gave the slip to the kitchen and grabbed some cleaning supplies to clear off a table in my section. Lauren came to help, taking the salt, pepper, Tabasco sauce, and napkins off of the table before I wiped it down.

“Who’s the redhead?” she asked.

“No idea. Never seen him before.”

“He’s not part of the usual Sunday crowd. He seems…very out-of-town-ish, especially with that suit. By the looks of things, it costs more than half of my closet.”

I flashed her a grin. “Well, you do have a bad habit of buying knock off Gucci.”

She scowled. “Those who shop at thrift shops shall not throw stones.”

“It’s economical, dammit!”

She rolled her eyes at me, handing me the spray bottle of Clorox.

“You’re married to the lead singer of a rock band. You should be able to afford decent clothing by now.”

I pursed my lips, squirting the liquid on the table. “We have better uses for the money than clothing, thank you very much.”

“Condoms?”

I whirled, aiming the spray bottle at her face. “I’ll do it and say it was an accident.”

She giggled, pushing my arm down. “Relax, Dirty Harry. Or would that be Clean Harry since you’ve got Clorox?”

“Ha-ha. A comedic genius you are not.” I finished cleaning off the table and replaced the condiments and napkin container. One of our chefs called me since an order was ready and I brought them to the customers. I took the fish and grits to the redheaded gentleman, who was staring out the window as if distracted.

“Here you go. Enjoy!”

“Thank you.”

The lunch rush came and went like the tide—seeming overwhelming at first, but manageable to the trained eye. I didn’t notice anything out of order until midway through my shift when I returned to the seat that the redhead had been in to find I had a rather substantial tip waiting for me.

“He left you a hundred dollars?!” Lauren screeched from behind me, grabbing my shoulder to look as I held the bill between my hands with my mouth open and getting dustier by the minute.

“I…he…maybe he didn’t have change?” I sputtered, searching the sidewalk outside the restaurant to see if he was out there but he had disappeared.

My best friend threw up her hands. “I don’t get it. You come in late and yet you’re the one standing there with a fresh hundred bucks. Do you have a leprechaun stuck to the bottom of your shoe or something?”

Sheepishly, I glanced underneath my foot. “…no?”

“Ugh, I’d hate you if I didn’t love you so much,” Lauren sighed, scooping up the empty plate the mysterious redhead left behind. I tucked the tip in the front of my apron, staring blankly out of the window. I started to hand her a glass only to drop it as something caught my eye across the street.

A plump woman in her early forties stared back at me. Her hair was black and curly around her round face, and her brown eyes were full of worry. I knew her—not from Albany, but from the pages of a manila folder I had poured over rigorously for the past month. Erica Davalos.

A murdered Seer.

“Jordan, what’s wrong?” Lauren asked, flustered at the shocked expression on my face.

I hid my distress, stepping over the bits of broken glass. “Nothing, sorry. Just a bit clumsy today. I’ll go get the broom.”

I hurried to the break room and grabbed a broom, but I didn’t head back out there. Instead, I snuck out the rear entrance that led into an alleyway and stuck my head around the corner, signaling for the ghost to come towards me.

“Hi,” the ghost woman said when she was within earshot, her voice light and apprehensive. “My name is Erica.”

“Yeah, I know.”

She frowned, tilting her head. “Excuse me?”

“My name is Jordan Amador. I’m a Seer.”

“A Seer?”

“Yes. It’s someone who can see and hear ghosts, angels, and demons. Long story short, they’re the descendants of the original twelve disciples. I’ve been trying to solve your murder for the past month and a half.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh my goodness, I had no idea. I’ve just been wandering around for the longest time looking for someone to help me.”

I offered her a small smile. “Well, you’ve come to the right girl. I get off work in a few hours so I want you to stay in this area and meet me out front at six o’clock, okay? We’ll get everything sorted out, I promise.”

“Yes. Thank you so much.”

—

Did you enjoy that? Here’s Chapter 2 for your reading pleasure. Keep your eyes glued to the Facebook page for more. She Who Fights Monsters is slated for release summer of this year. I can’t wait for you to read the rest. Stay tuned, darlings!

And don’t forget that you can win a free copy of The Black Parade via Good Reads from now until Jan. 31st. Spread the word!

Kyoko