Author Spotlight & Contest with Linda Robertson

We are absolutely thrilled to have friend and author Linda Robertson on our site today. Linda Robertson not only writes, she is an artist, plays the piano and electric guitar, composes and was in a super-cool rock band four children ago. Now that her four sons are older, she’s looking for a new band. Originally from Mansfield, Ohio, she’s a graduate of Ohio State University and currently lives in Medina, Ohio. She loves sci-fi action movies, her boyfriend says she’s a geek, and she firmly believes there’s never a bad time to eat ice cream.

Us to Linda! Keep reading for your chance to win a signed copy of either Hallowed Circle or soon to be released Fatal Circle (in stores June 29th, 2010).

Name:  Linda Robertson

Porn Star Name: Brandy Stewart…or Fluffy Stewart.

(This would be the name of your childhood pet along with the name of the street where you grew up.)

Website Address: www.wolfsbaneandabsinthe.com (it’s getting re-vamped for the release of FATAL CIRCLE so go check it out!!!)

Writing Age:

I’m not certain how to answer this so, guessing, if we start with “infant writing” being what I wrote in elementary school, then “toddler writing” was in middle school, and “child writing” was in high school. “Tween writing” would be everything up until I got published, and “teen writing” would be what I’ve done since. I’m equating being published with getting a driver’s license here—instead of the state permitting me to drive on the roads, the publishing industry has allowed me to put my books on the shelves. That’s where I am now. I’ve learned SOOO much from my editor in this process. Paula Guran ROCKS! I don’t think I could claim that “appropriately mature” stage until I’ve done this professionally for ten years or so, like being tenured in.

First Published Work: VICIOUS CIRCLE

Current Release: FATAL CIRCLE

INSPIRATION AND MUSE

If you could live in any fictional universe/world what would it be?

The Star Trek world!!!! I’d have to be in Starfleet…I LOVE Klingons.

If you could have lunch with any author dead or alive whom would it be and why?

I had to think about this, but the Bronte sisters would surely lead an interesting conversation.

If you were locked in a room for 48 hours and forced to watch one TV show the entire time, which television series would you choose?

True Blood because I’ve only seen the first season!

What is the most outrageous or bizarre thing you have done in the name of “research”?

Tromped around Cleveland late at night taking pictures…some through the chain-locked doors that opened just enough to snap a picture of the service tunnels under the rail system. Mwahahahahaha.

What is your latest release?

FATAL CIRCLE

What inspired you to write said story/book?

It’s the third in the series, so it’s the natural outgrowth of what the characters have dealt with in the first two. I wanted to raise the stakes—for all of these destined people. So I looked at them all individually and asked: What would push them? What would hurt them? And how can I weave those answers together? The weaving is the fun part.

Fab Five

• Coffee or Tea? Definitely JAVA! With chocolate and peppermint, of course.
• Chocolate or Vanilla? Chocolate.
• Vampire or Werewolf? BOTH!!!
• Meatie or Veggie? Meat.
• Salty or Sweet? Sweet.

Last but not Least

Three words that describe you:  goofy, creative, semi-introverted.

Win a signed copy of Hallowed Circle or Fatal Circle!

Once again, a big thanks to Linda Robertson for joining us at Wicked Jungle. Ask Linda a question and you are  automatically entered into drawing for a free signed copy of either Hallowed Circle or Fatal Circle! And yes, international contestants are eligible.

To get you started, here is a sneak peak of Fatal Circle.

My living room clock read two-forty-six a.m. It was no longer Hallowe’en night, but All Hallows Day. Or, as some called it, All Saints’ Day. But it was no saint who held me in his arms—it was a wærewolf.

“I think you’d like my apartment, Red.” Red. That’s me. Persephone Alcmedi to the rest of the world. Seph to some. Red only to Johnny, my not-exactly-Big-Bad-wærewolf. “It has that open-living concept.”

I wasn’t fooled. “It’s a glorified dorm room, isn’t it?”

“If, by ‘glorified,’ you mean it has a private bathroom, then yes.” Johnny sniffed, affecting annoyance. “Something I sacrificed when I moved in here.”

I’d had to forfeit my home’s vampire defenses three weeks ago to save a friend’s life, Johnny had temporarily moved into the third-floor attic room—for protection purposes only. In the three weeks since, those defenses had since been reinstated, but he’d remained. Being the epitome of “tall, dark, and handsome,” I hadn’t complained.

“C’mon.” Johnny’s deep blue eyes glittered seductively. His voice dropped low. “Nothing’s more romantic than a bachelor pad.”

We’d both had a hell of an evening. Words like “hectic” or “demanding” didn’t begin to cover it. I must have been the only one suffering from fatigue.

Read More Here

ENETER THE CONTEST

Each person who posts a comment will get one entry in the contest.

You can get an additional entries by doing the following (note these are in addition to posting a comment. You must comment first to be qualified).

• Option A: Tweet about the contest on Twitter (you must include @wickedjungle for your tweet to qualify each tweet will get you an additional entry).
• Option B: Become a follower of our blog (only new followers joining between the time of the contest will be counted).
• Option C: Promote the contest on your blog (you must include a link below to your blog post to be counted as an official entry).

Contest Ends Sunday July 4th at  Midnight (Eastern) !!!

Fatal Circle by Linda Robertson

There was a time when Persephone Alcmedi thought her life was hard to manage, what with wondering how to make sure she took adequate care of both her grandmother and her foster daughter, Beverley, whether she’d end up in the unwanted pos

ition of high priestess of a coven, and whether her wærewolf lover, Johnny, would resist the groupies who hang

around his band Lycanthropia.

But that was before the fairies started demanding that Seph’s frightening, unpredictable ally—the ancient vampire Menessos— be destroyed . . . or the world will suffer. Seph and Menessos are magically bonded, but that’s a secret she dares not reveal to her fellow witches lest they be forced to reject her and forbid her use of magic. And, despite the strain this casts on her relationship with Johnny, as a showdown with the fairies nears, she and Menessos badly need the wærewolves as allies.

Life, death, and love are all on the line, but when destiny is calling, it doesn’t help to turn away. With the individual threads of their fates twisted inextricably together, can Seph, Johnny, and Menessos keep the world safe from fairy vengeance?

CHAPTER ONE

My living room clock read two-forty-six a.m. It was no longer Hallowe’en night, but All Hallows Day. Or, as some called it, All Saints’ Day. But it was no saint who held me in his arms—it was a wærewolf.

“I think you’d like my apartment, Red.” Red. That’s me. Persephone Alcmedi to the rest of the world. Seph to some. Red only to Johnny, my not-exactly-Big-Bad-wærewolf. “It has that open-living concept.”

I wasn’t fooled. “It’s a glorified dorm room, isn’t it?”

“If, by ‘glorified,’ you mean it has a private bathroom, then yes.” Johnny sniffed, affecting annoyance. “Something I sacrificed when I moved in here.”

I’d had to forfeit my home’s vampire defenses three weeks ago to save a friend’s life, Johnny had temporarily moved into the third-floor attic room—for protection purposes only. In the three weeks since, those defenses had since been reinstated, but he’d remained. Being the epitome of “tall, dark, and handsome,” I hadn’t complained.

“C’mon.” Johnny’s deep blue eyes glittered seductively. His voice dropped low. “Nothing’s more romantic than a bachelor pad.”

We’d both had a hell of an evening. Words like “hectic” or “demanding” didn’t begin to cover it. I must have been the only one suffering from fatigue.

His band, Lycanthropia, had played at the Hallowe’en Ball. Johnny was the vocalist and guitarist for the techno-goth-metal band, and he’d given his all on stage. He should have been as exhausted as I was.

Of course, I’d made quite an effort on that stage, too. I’d fought and killed a fairy in front of hundreds of witnesses who’d applauded afterward, thinking it simply part of the Hallowe’en show.

Killer fairies and rock-n-roll: that was only a small part of what we’d dealt with this evening.

“Do you honestly want to show me your apartment now?”

“My one bulb is burned out so there’s not much you’d actually see.” His lean-muscled arms slid around me. I felt so grounded and safe in his embrace. “But I promise, what you feel will make up for it.”

What Johnny wanted was crystal clear, and so was the reason why he thought going elsewhere was a good idea. I’d already mentioned my fears about the rest of the household learning we were intimate, so he was trying to keep the secret. At his apartment we could have assured privacy and we wouldn’t have to retire to separate bedrooms like we did here. Cuddling and sleeping together after sex would have been nice.

Apparently, to him, if we weren’t actually seen together we had plausible deniability. Not that my live-in grandmother, I call her Nana, would ever believe that we’d visited his apartment in the middle of the night just so he could give me the nickel tour.

Nana and my nine-year-old foster daughter, Beverley, were asleep in their bedrooms—each just a hall’s width from mine. The old saltbox farmhouse had paper thin walls. Even the layers between second-floor ceiling and attic floor lacked the ability to dampen noise. I’d heard Johnny playing his guitar up there when the little amplifier wasn’t cranked up to “1.”

Still, there were things he didn’t know. Like, “The lucusi is coming here at dawn, Johnny.”

He pulled me closer. He’d gotten a shower after the show, washing off the smell of leather stage-clothes and leaving only the cedar and sage that was his unique scent. “Had to try.”

His breath on my neck was warm, his voice just rough enough to catch in my ear and tingle down to my toes. Parts of me were suddenly insisting they didn’t qualify as weary. It made me reconsider the definition of tired. “It’s just so far to drive. All the way back to town, only to turn around and come back here by dawn.”

But people in the throes of new love did crazy things like that.

Did I just think the ‘L’ word?

I stiffened just as he suggested, “You could fly.”

He was right, I could. Due to my performance a few days earlier in the Eximium, a high priestess competition, I’d been inducted into the powerful lucusi led by the Eldrenne Xerxadrea that was due at dawn. A real witches broom was one of the perks. “But…”

“You don’t want to fly?” He nuzzled my neck.

“It isn’t that.” Running my fingers through his long , dark hair, I looked up—way up, he’s six-foot-two—and let him see I wanted him, too. “I have a better idea.”

“Do share.” Another nuzzle.

“There’s only one place in my house with any kind of soundproof privacy.” Tiptoeing, I kissed him lightly before answering. “Your kennel.”

“Oh, that is sooo hot.” He rubbed up and down my backside and couldn’t suppress his grin.

Carrying a lit jar candle and blankets, I led him outside and around the house. Johnny pulled the slanted metal doors open and I descended the concrete stairs.

While Johnny shut the cellar doors, I placed the candle in the middle of the floor and spread the blankets over the freshly straw on the floor of the cage. I glanced into the shadows at the door of the rearmost steel kennel. This was where his beast was unleashed, where the animal in him took over. A shiver of desire ran through me.

When I heard Johnny’s footsteps had reached the bottom stair, I asked over my shoulder, “I don’t suppose you could help me out of this costume?”

He stopped in his tracks.

I tugged on the lacings of the bell-sleeved velvet mid-driff bustier—part of my costume for the Ball—and smiled.

“Actually—” His voice was a little higher than he intended. He stopped to clear his throat and started over. “Actually, I can help with that.” He was by me in an instant, deftly working the knot. Seconds later, the fabric loosened and I took a satisfyingly deep breath. Then those skillful fingers touched the bare skin at my waist, thumbs drawing little circles. “Anything else I can help you out of?”

“I’m not technically out of this.”

“Oh,” he said softly. “My bad.” He began loosening the lace-up strings even more. “Up or down?”

Though I knew he meant should he lift the shirt over my head or push it down over my hips, I went with the word that had more impact. “Definitely up.”

He was so gentle, moving so slowly, careful of my hair and the mask. He was just removing my shirt, but he made it sensual, as if he were rubbing lotion all over me. Tanning lotion. The cellar was suddenly so warm I could have been standing in summer sunlight. The bustier fell into the blanket-covered straw at my feet.

As I kept my arms raised, Johnny placed my hands on the bars atop the open cage door, and squeezed my grip to indicate I should let them remain there.

His warm fingers traced every contour of my arms, slowly descending until he could brush my hair away from my ear on one side. He put the line of his body against the back of me and nuzzled against my ear. While he sucked gently on my earlobe, his hands shifted toward my breasts.

A trembling resonance fluttered up my spine. Heat was building low in my abdomen, and under my sternum. Sensations jolted through me like electricity, and all thought of tiredness fled.

Abruptly, the cellar door creaked open and crashed loudly against the ground outside. “I locked that,” Johnny muttered.

Someone was coming down the steps. We turned as one to see who—

Menessos.

Author Spotlight: S. A. Swann

Name:

S A Swann/ S Andrew Swann

Porn Star Name:

Critter Hampshire

Website Address:

www.sandrewswann.com

Writing Age:

Given the amount of sex and violence, probably Mature.

First Published Work:

Forests of the Night (as S Andrew Swann)

Current Release:

Wolf’s Cross (as S A Swann, Spectra, July 2010)

INSPIRATION & MUSE

If you could live in any fictional universe/world what would it be?

Maybe Zelazny’s Amber universe(s), if I could be a royal uninvolved with all the backstabbing.

If you could have lunch with any author dead or alive whom would it be and why?

Stephen King— so I could pitch a collaboration that would make me rich, and if he doesn’t take me up on the offer, he still gets to pick up the tab for dinner J

If you were locked in a room for 48 hours and forced to watch one TV show the entire time, which television series would you choose?

I’m a great fan of Lost, but I actually did this one time with the entire run of Twin Peaks.

What is the most outrageous or bizarre thing you have done in the name of “research”?

Probably have to take the fifth on this as the statute of limitations hasn’t run out.

What is your latest release?

As I mentioned above, the medieval werewolf novel Wolf’s Cross is due out this July.  The last book was the middle third of my Apotheosis Trilogy space opera, Heretics, which came out last Feburary from DAW books.

What inspired you to write said story/book?

Wolf’s Cross was inspired by a combination of things; an interest in medieval Polish history, the mythos established in the prior novel, Wolfbreed, and Little Red Riding Hood. Heretics and Apotheosis Trilogy is a development of my thoughts about the spiritual implications of the technological singularity (the “rapture for nerds” taken literally.)

Fab Five

• Coffee or Tea? Diet Coke.
• Chocolate or Vanilla? White Chocolate.
• Vampire or Werewolf? See latest book J
• Meatie or Veggie? Kill it and eat it.
• Salty or Sweet? Large grains of salt.

Last but not least…three words that describe you: Things go boom.

Contest: Win it before you can buy it!

S.A. Swann was kind enough to offer us a sneak peak at his next release: Wolf’s Cross. Read below for an excerpt and comment to win your very own advance copy.

Interlude : Anno Domini 1333

Her name was Lucina, and she didn’t remember who had named her.  She lived in the deepest woods east of Gród Narew, and lived mostly ignorant of the humans dwelling there.  The people who lived on the fringes of these woods, especially those whose families had spent generations in its shadow, knew of her and her kind.  Lucina’s ancestors haunted the tales that had been spoken of in hushed tones ever since the land had become Christian.

However, it had been a long time since Lucina had family.  And a long time since her kind haunted these woods in any numbers.  She was alone, and the tales of the old folks about wolves clothed in human skin had become less urgent, less of a deterrent for hungry men who needed to hunt for their family’s larder.

Lucina would watch these men as they made their weak attempts to hunt.  Sometimes she would watch with the eyes of a wolf, sometimes with the eyes of a raven-haired maiden.  She would watch them come into her wood, and more often than not, return empty-handed.

She watched, not out of any malice, but out of curiosity and a deep loneliness.  She was the last of her kind in these woods, and she thought perhaps the last of her kind anywhere.  These men who came to find game, they all had a home to go to.

Home was as alien a concept to Lucina as having to trap her prey or shoot it with an arrow.

Each winter, her despair grew deeper.  She would always be alone, and she envied these human women who sent their men out to parade in front of her.  Why?  What could these frail human women give that she could not?  She was stronger then they were, faster, and a better hunter than these poor men. . .

It was not long before she decided that there was no reason she couldn’t have what they had.  When she decided this, Lucina studied these men with a new eye, looking for someone she could love, and could love her back.  She watched how they moved, how they hunted, how they carried their kill.

And only days into the winter, when the snow barely dusted the needle floor of her woods, she saw the man who would become her mate.  This man had broad shoulders and a stature above all the others who braved her forest.  He carried a masculine scent that made Lucina lick her lips in anticipation.

This was the man who would free her from her solitude.

Read More Here

Win a signed copy of Wolf’s Cross!

Once again, a big thanks to S.A. Swann for joining us at Wicked Jungle. Share your thoughts or ask a question and you are automatically entered into drawing for a free advanced copy of his current book Wolf’s Cross.

Each person who posts a comment will get one entry in the contest.

You can get an additional entries by doing the following (note these are in addition to posting a comment. You must comment first to be qualified).

• Option A: Tweet about the contest on Twitter (you must include @wickedjungle for your tweet to qualify each tweet will get you an additional entry).
• Option B: Become a follower of our blog (only new followers joining between the time of the contest will be counted).
• Option C: Promote the contest on your blog (you must include a link below to your blog post to be counted as an official entry).

Contest Ends TUESDAY June 29th, 2010 at  Midnight (Eastern) !!!

Wolf’s Cross by S. A. Swann

Maria lives a simple life in a small Polish village, working for the lord of the nearby fortress. Motherless since birth, Maria has been raised by her father and stepmother. Around her neck she wears—as she has always worn—a silver crucifix, to protect her from the devil. Or so her father tells her.

But when a contingent of badly mauled Teutonic knights, including a handsome and gravely wounded young man named Josef, ask for succor at the fortress, Maria’s quiet and comfortable world shatters. For the knights are Wolfjägers, an order dedicated to the extermination of werewolves, and Maria, unknowingly, is one of the creatures they hunt. Only the crucifix about her neck prevents her body from changing into a lethal killing machine.

When Maria meets Darien, a wolfbreed bent on exacting a terrible revenge on humans, she will learn the truth about herself, and find her loyalties—and her heart—torn in two.

Read the Excerpt

Interlude : Anno Domini 1333

Her name was Lucina, and she didn’t remember who had named her.  She lived in the deepest woods east of Gród Narew, and lived mostly ignorant of the humans dwelling there.  The people who lived on the fringes of these woods, especially those whose families had spent generations in its shadow, knew of her and her kind.  Lucina’s ancestors haunted the tales that had been spoken of in hushed tones ever since the land had become Christian.

However, it had been a long time since Lucina had family.  And a long time since her kind haunted these woods in any numbers.  She was alone, and the tales of the old folks about wolves clothed in human skin had become less urgent, less of a deterrent for hungry men who needed to hunt for their family’s larder.

Lucina would watch these men as they made their weak attempts to hunt.  Sometimes she would watch with the eyes of a wolf, sometimes with the eyes of a raven-haired maiden.  She would watch them come into her wood, and more often than not, return empty-handed.

She watched, not out of any malice, but out of curiosity and a deep loneliness.  She was the last of her kind in these woods, and she thought perhaps the last of her kind anywhere.  These men who came to find game, they all had a home to go to.

Home was as alien a concept to Lucina as having to trap her prey or shoot it with an arrow.

Each winter, her despair grew deeper.  She would always be alone, and she envied these human women who sent their men out to parade in front of her.  Why?  What could these frail human women give that she could not?  She was stronger then they were, faster, and a better hunter than these poor men. . .

It was not long before she decided that there was no reason she couldn’t have what they had.  When she decided this, Lucina studied these men with a new eye, looking for someone she could love, and could love her back.  She watched how they moved, how they hunted, how they carried their kill.

And only days into the winter, when the snow barely dusted the needle floor of her woods, she saw the man who would become her mate.  This man had broad shoulders and a stature above all the others who braved her forest.  He carried a masculine scent that made Lucina lick her lips in anticipation.

This was the man who would free her from her solitude.

#

When Karl met her, a light snow was falling.  Lucina stood in a clearing, white dusting a red cloak she had stolen from a cottage close-by to the woods.  She smiled at him from under the hood, smelling him, watching him.

She stood between him and a dead hart.  The freshly killed animal lay sprawled in the snow, slowly leaking blood from the wound Lucina had torn from its neck.

“What is this?”  He asked.  “Who are you and why are you alone in the woods?”

“My name is Lucina,” she said, her voice horse from so long without speech.  “These woods are where I live.”

“It is dangerous, the animal that killed that deer may still be about.”

She walked up to him and placed a hand on his chest.  When the cloak parted, it became obvious that the cloak was the only thing she did wear.  His breath caught, and in his scent Lucina could tell he did not dislike what he saw.  She leaned forward and whispered, lips brushing his ear, “The kill is mine.”

He didn’t move, didn’t speak, as her hand found its way under his shirt.  “Do you wish some of it?”

“That is your kill?”

“I smelled it, tracked it, and tore its life-blood free with my own teeth.”  She licked his ear tasting his sweat, smelling the first hint of fear.

“What are you?” He asked.

“You know,” she said, “these are my woods.”  She caressed him, running her hand down the side of his chest.  “Do you want a share of my kill?”

“What are you asking?”

“A leg perhaps?  The meat would feed several mouths.”

“You would give that to me?”

She brought her face around in front of his, their lips a finger’s breadth apart, “In return for something.”

“What?”

Her hand traveled lower, into his breeches.

“Respite from my loneliness,” she said before she kissed him.

I may have been fear, or shock, the thought of a hungry family, or simply the heat of Lucina’s skin so close to his own.  It may have been the fact that her loneliness was manifest in every word she spoke.  It may have just been the fact that Karl was a man, and men are weak.

Whatever the reason, any or all, Karl did not pull away from Lucina when he could have.  He tasted her mouth, and let her place his hand on her naked bosom.  Her cloak fell away and she led him down to the snow-covered earth and buried him under the weight of her solitude.

He came to her many times that winter, and each time her heart grew fuller at his presence.  To him, she was a secret vice, a spirit that lived in another world of trees, and snow, bloody carcasses, and lovemaking in the snow.  To her, he was a reason to live, a joy, a lover and a husband in what sense she could understand the term.  They spoke little, he walking in his dream, she drinking in obsession beyond words.

There was no doubt in Lucina’s growing heart, that the next time Karl came to embrace her, he would tell her that he would stay.  It was that hope that carried her trough the depth of winter.  And it was that hope that slowly died in the spring.

As the snow melted, and the ground softened, the men who braved these woods stayed upon their plots of land to till the soil and grow the harvest that would keep them and their people through the next winter.  There was no one to explain this to Lucina, for all the watching of the men in the forest, to all the listening to their language, she didn’t understand.  All she knew was that as the first buds grew, her Karl did not return to her.

Many times she stood, in her red cloak, next to some beast she had taken.  She attacked larger and larger prey, as if Karl might be enticed back; bucks, a bull elk, a mountain cat, a bear.

As the months passed, her heart shrank, and her belly grew.

And as summer became verdant, and Karl’s seed grew large within her, her heart grew black and cold.  She had been cast aside in worse isolation than the loneliness she had thought to escape.  As gravid as she became, it became impossible for her to change, to run as a wolf does.  Hunting became difficult, and she became gaunt.

When she gave birth, it was with blood and screams and the rending of flesh.  However, she survived, as she could bear far more injury and insult than any human woman.  Three children she had, all girls.  And as she licked the blood off of Karl’s daughters, she decided that Karl would have to come help care for them.  And that meant she had to take away any reasons he had for staying away.

#

She found Karl’s farm in the midst of a horrible storm at the end of harvest season.  Ice fell like needles from a sky boiling and black as ink.  The wind howled and bit with a force that felt as if it could tear flesh from bone.

Her howls were louder than the storm, louder than the thunder.  Karl heard her cries as he huddled with his family around the fire in their cottage.  At first he didn’t want to admit to himself that he knew what made those terrible, terrifying sounds.

But he knew.

Even though he had never seen his dreamlike winter lover in other than her human guise, he knew.  Just as he knew that his trysts were no dream, and the wood where they had happened no fairyland.

He had bought more than meat, and at a much dearer price.

Karl took an axe and told his wife to protect their young son, to bar the door and shutters, and let no one in before morning.  Not even him.  Then he left the cottage to face the beast that cried for him in the storm.

She stood in front of the cottage, waiting for him.  She was naked, but no longer human.  Lips that had bore his kisses were curled in the lupine snarl of a feral she-wolf.  The hands that had caressed him were now dark-furred and long-fingered, ending in hooked claws.  The legs that had straddled his body were now the crooked legs of a wolf.

He didn’t want to know her.  He wanted this apparition to be something new and strange to him.  But he looked into her eyes, and he knew who he faced, and what.

“You left me,” her voice, always rough from lack of use, came out of her lupine throat as little more than a growl.

“I had to tend the harvest.”  The words were empty in Karl’s mouth.  She had come to him, true.  She had been the one to place her lips on his— but he never pulled away.  He had never said that he had a family, a wife, a son.  He had pretended that because the situation was unreal, that it wasn’t real.  That because she wasn’t human, it didn’t matter.

And the horror he felt was more for what he had done than for the monster standing in front of him.  She panted, steam rising from her muzzle as lightning carved highlights from black ice-matted fur.

“You left me alone, with child.” She growled and took a step toward him.  His axe dangled impotent from his hands and he shook his head, trying to deny the truth of the allegation.

“I didn’t know,” he said finally, as knives made of falling ice scoured the tears from his cheeks.

“I birthed your whelps, alone in a cave, and swaddled them in the skin of a bear I had killed. . . for you.”  She stood before him, barely taller than he, and starvation thin, but still seeming to loom over him.  He felt her breath on his face as she growled lowly.

“I didn’t know,” he said, as if those were the only words left he knew.

“You will care for our children.”

She stared into his face, the head of a starved she-wolf, ice matting her fur into spikes, muzzle wrinkled into a snarl.  But the eyes were hers, and in them he saw the pain, the loneliness.

“Yes.”

The creature before him froze, as if she couldn’t quite understand his words.  Her muzzle lost its snarl as she pulled back from him.  “You will come back with me.  To your daughters.”

“I will go with you,” Karl said.  He thought of his wife and child, barricaded in the cottage.  He couldn’t leave them to the anger of this beast.  Better that the she-wolf received what she wanted, what he implicitly promised her.

“You will come back?  With me?”  The voice softened in her inhuman mouth, and her eyes shone from more than melted ice.  In a flash of lightning, Karl may have seen one side of her mouth pull up in a melancholy smile.  “Our children are beautiful.”

“Take me to them,” he said, all the time thinking of his wife and son, in the cabin.

In a moment of fear and weakness, he glanced back.  He knew it was a mistake as soon as he turned his head, because he could hear Lucina growl.

“Liar.”

He turned back and said, “No I—”

She backhanded him in the chest, a blow that knocked him rolling into the icy mud of the path.

“Liar!”  She shrieked at him, jaws snapping at air.  When the lightning lit her face, he saw nothing but fury.

He raised a hand, hoping to pull back the thread of hope he had seen in her eyes a moment ago.  “No, I will—”

She pounced on him, knocking him to the ground, pressing his shoulders to the ground with her massive clawed hands.  “You will tire of me, like you always have.  You will come back with me, but you will leave.  Like you always have.  You will always come back here.”

“No, not this time.”

In another flash of lightning, he saw her lupine mouth smiling again, but this time it was the rictus grin of death staring down at him, dripping saliva onto his cheek that burned in contrast to the icy needles of the storm.  She bent down so her muzzle was next to her ear, lips brushing him as they had the first time they met.  “No,” she whispered, “not this time.”

She leapt off of him, growling words that had lost their meaning in her fury.  To his horror, she ran to his cottage.

His wife.  His son.

The sudden threat drove all thought of his own guilt away.  The woman Lucina had been was wiped from his mind as he saw this atavistic shadow bearing down on his family.  As she attacked the door, slamming herself against the splintering wood, he pulled his axe out of the mud and ran after her.

Strong as she was, she had been weakened by her troubled childbirth and months of hunger.  Were she the same Lucina that greeted Karl in the woods, naked under her red cloak, the door would have given way with a single blow, but now she splintered one board at a time, reaching in with a furred arm to cast aside the bar sealing the door.

Karl came upon her as her shoulder pressed against the hole she had smashed between the planks of the door.  She turned her head to see him, and as the axe came down on her neck, he saw resignation in her eyes.

The first blow was grave, an awful wound tearing through her neck, spilling her life out over frozen black fur.  Had she run then, she might have survived, healed from even such a massive insult.  She didn’t run.  Instead, she used all her strength to say to words to Karl through her damaged throat.  The words came in a froth of blood.

“Our children.”

The second blow came down before Lucina’s weakened body could begin to seal the damage from the first.  The third took Lucina’s life.  The fourth was just the formality that completely removed her head from her body.

#

Karl left his wife, and son, and his dead lover, to find his daughters.  He slogged through the ice storm, deep into the dark woods, to the clearing where he had made his trysts with the wolf.  As he searched he raged and cried, cursed himself, and Lucina, and God.  As he stumbled in the dark he selfishly hoped for the peace death would bring him.

Then he heard an infant’s cry.

He found them in a shallow hollow in a hillside, wrapped in the raw hide of a bear that smelled foul with decay.  For two infants, it was already too late.  Their bodies were blue and cold.  The last child was pink, and healthy, and screamed as the ice bit its skin.

He brought all three home, the tiny corpses slung across his back in their rotting bearskin.  His one living daughter he carried tightly inside his shirt so she would have his body for warmth.  When he came home, the storm had broken, and a cold dawn had begun chasing clouds from the sky.

Writer’s Bio

S A. Swann is married and lives in the Greater Cleveland area where he has lived all of his adult life. He has a background in mechanical engineering and— besides writing— works as a Database Manager for one of the largest private child services agencies in the Cleveland area. He has published over 20 novels over the past 17 years with two more coming over the next year.

For more fun reading check out the Author Spotlight on S. A. Swann.

Demon’s Are a Girls Best Friend by Linda Wisdom

DEMONS ARE A GIRL’S BEST FRIEND

By Linda Wisdom

Chapter 1

Oh yeah, just another Saturday night hitting the clubs, watching the dancers, feeling blood stream out of my ears.” Maggie O’Malley winced as Static-X’s Destroyer screamed from the state-of-the-art speakers embedded in the club’s walls. Still, she couldn’t stop her hips from moving to the throbbing music. If she wasn’t there on business she would have been out there dancing. “Why don’t you just shoot me now?”

“Any females get naked yet?” the voice of Frebus, one of her team members, rumbled from the mic in her ear. “It’s only a matter of time ’til somebody gets caught up in the moment and starts tearing off their clothes. You gotta love shapeshifters cuz they’re always the first to get down and dirty.”

Maggie played idly with the crystal earring that dangled almost to her bare shoulders. She considered her jewelry a much better look for a mic and earpiece than the usual spy gear. If only she could mute the music for an hour. Or ten.

“Sorry sweetie, I’m only seeing half-naked, but think positive. The evening’s still young.” She grinned as she heard the low groan in her ear. Frebus and her other backup, Meech and Tita, were strategically placed around the interior, on the lookout for one particular degenerate in the sea of questionable characters.

She made her way through the hordes of glassy-eyed, gyrating dancers, skillfully avoiding the groping hands on her ass and breasts. She muttered a spell against any who returned for another feel. Nothing like a magickal zap to the genitals to spoil the mood. Judging from the yelps that followed her there were at least five who tried.

Maggie didn’t believe in giving anyone a second chance.

She viewed the large creature-populated underground club with an expression of distaste and the desire for her olfactory senses to be on the fritz.

“Haven’t some of these guys ever heard of deodorant?” she muttered, passing one scaly creature that fell in the ‘totally gross’ category. It peered at her through red slitted eyes and hissed, its forked tongue flicking toward her. Maggie hissed back and moved on.

The club’s name, Damnation Alley, fit the interior with its glossy black walls, black glass bars pulsing with neon, ice blue and black lights casting an unearthly glow on the preternaturals thronging the interior. Any unlucky human who managed to get past the door didn’t exit in a body bag or someone’s stomach.

She’d hoped to spend tonight with a bowl of popcorn and DVDs at home, but one of her team members got word that a fugitive they’d been after for the past month would be at the club tonight. Maggie and her team were sent here to bring it in.

She locked gazes with a vampire she remembered going up against a year ago. He flashed fang. She responded with a smile that promised a repeat of what had happened before. The vamp wisely turned away.

At first glance, Maggie looked like a typical party gal in her barely there black skirt and bandeau top. Shiny silver glitter accents covered the fabric that bared her shoulders and taut midriff and only she knew of the protective spells woven into the fabric. A dazzling diamond-encrusted black widow spider with ruby eyes was tattooed on one bicep. Dangerous bling. Don’t leave home without it. Her chin length pale blonde hair was sleeked back with glittery gel, making her features look sharper than usual tonight. She smiled at one man, who focused his attention on her mile long legs ending in black stilettos.

Maggie believed in themes and tonight it was dangerous sexy female on the prowl. The better to destroy you with, my dear.

She cast her senses wide, searching for her prey. Her gaze skittered to a halt when it reached a man standing in the doorway leading to the private rooms.

A few inches taller than her almost six feet, he was also dressed in black, but he didn’t look like the typical club goer. The silk shirt and slacks looked well-tailored and suited his tanned skin, dark eyes, and spiked hair. He oozed danger. Judging by the hungry looks women were directing his way, they didn’t mind the danger part at all. Maggie didn’t miss that most of the females were much more generously endowed than she was. She normally didn’t mind her slender athletic figure, but there were times it would be nice to have more to stuff into her bra than a middling B cup.

No time to play, pretty boy. Maggie’s got other creatures to fry. But stick around and maybe we can fit in a dance later on.

What a concept. Your everyday witch having an evening out where she could flirt with a gorgeous guy, get in some dancing, and just talk. When was the last time she’d had a date? Did she have enough fingers and toes to count back that far?

She purposely looked away until her stare slammed into an odd looking creature standing at the rear bar.

“Okay, that thing is butt ugly.” Maggie noted the bloated body dressed in rags. She was positive he wouldn’t smell all that good either. Not that it seemed to bother those around him.

“Beauty’s in the eye of the beholder, blondie,” Meech’s disembodied voice reminded her. She caught a glimpse of the big blue-skinned monster on the other side of the room, guarding a side door. He was grinning as his voice continued through the mic. “While some think you’re smokin’, all I see is that you’re damn scrawny, your nose is out of place, and those pearly whites aren’t jagged enough, plus they’re not healthy unless they’re gray or yellow.”

“Aw, baby, you know just what to say to make a girl feel good about herself.” She took a quick glance down to make sure the girls were at their best advantage. Nothing like giving a perp something to look at while she takes him down.

Not that anyone around here would notice. They’d just think it was another S&M show. Another thing Damnation Alley was known for. Although at present she didn’t notice all the sex shows that had gone on here when Ratchet owned the club.

“Oh Frebus, you bring me to the classiest of places,” she purred.

“Better than that tavern two months ago. Plus, this one needs to be put down before he causes any more trouble. Him being here tonight is pure luck for us.”

“Just stay on alert in case I need back up. Bloaters aren’t the type to go quietly.” Maggie put her hips to work as she glided over to the bar. She could feel the dark-haired man’s eyes on her with a searing intensity, but she kept him on the back burner.

“Hi.” She flashed her sultriest smile at her quarry.

The creature looked up, revealing a puce-colored fleshy face, round chartreuse eyes, and a dark slit for a mouth.

“You are witch.” His hissing words resembled a serpent’s sound as he looked at her from the top of her head to the tips of her shoes.

“No one’s perfect.” She rested an arm on the bar top, acting as if the putrid stench emanating from his skin didn’t assault her olfactory senses. “Buy me a drink?”

“Witches do not drink maiden grog.” His gray claws wrapped around a clay goblet.

“The main element in the grog is a virgin’s urine,” Tita whispered in her earpiece.

Maggie’s smile didn’t slip even as her brain screamed euuwwww!

“You’d be surprised what I drink.” She cocked a delicate brow. “They have private rooms here.” She ran a scarlet polished nail over his claws while moving forward enough to brush her breasts against his arm.

At the same time the creature’s gaze fastened on her bare skin, she whipped iron-laced restraints out and slapped them on his wrists.

“You bitch!”

“Aw, now you’re just sweet talking me.”

The Bloater roared, rearing back and striking her with his chained claws, sending her sailing up onto the top of the bar.

Maggie didn’t have time to react, finding herself thrown down the slippery slab. Drinks scattered everywhere and ear-splitting shrieks rose above the din. As she slid to a stop, she saw her quarry trying to escape, scrambled to her feet, and ran after him while others tried to stop her.

“Cerberus Guard!” she shouted, even as she knew there would be those who didn’t appreciate the authorities being there.

Before her prey reached an exit door, Maggie launched herself with a leap worthy of a football player and tackled him to the floor.

“You are under arrest,” she began even as she realized he was inflating like a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day balloon, and it didn’t look like he intended stopping any time soon.

“We’re on our way!” she heard Frebus shout from her earring.

The second her three team members shouldered their way through the watching crowd, Maggie’s prisoner had reached the breaking point.

And that’s when he blew up, splattering pea-green goo everywhere.

###

“‘Easy peasy,’ he says.” Maggie’s fulminating glare sliced through the hulking creature shuffling beside her as she and Frebus crossed the parking lot to the waiting SUV. Everyone else stayed out of range as the thick liquid dripped off her body. No wonder. She’d be a mile away if someone was walking around with Bloater goop on them. “‘It’s just a Bloater. We’ll be in and out in seconds. No one will even notice what’s going on. No mess,’ he assures me.” Her fingers flicked angry magick in his direction.

He hunched his shoulders up around his large head. “Intel told me—”

“Your Intel sucks rocks.” A shower of said stones rained on the furry beast. She wiped the pea-green liquid cement from her chest. A few muttered words turned it to puke green ash. She wasn’t happy she couldn’t do the same to the glop that coated her skirt and top. No way she’d go naked in front of her crew. “Frebus, I am not happy about this. Plus, he managed to explode, so I don’t have anything to take back but this!” She flicked the glop at him.

He hung his head in shame, his shaggy blond fur draped around his wide face.

“Where do I send the bill?” A new voice reached her from behind.

Maggie’s temper was already at the boiling point. Turning around to face the sexy man she had locked eyes with in the club was all she needed, considering her look was now somewhat less than “dangerous sexy female.” She only wished they could have danced before she got slimed.

“I am impressed, Cerberus Guard,” he commented. “You were in my club barely ten minutes and you managed to destroy one of my bars and the surrounding walls.”

“Two words. Soap and water.”

His dark eyes glinted with laughter under the orange phosphorous lights that dotted the parking lot.

“Is this something you do on a regular basis? If so, I will have to look into sturdier furniture. I’m also curious. Where exactly did you hide those restraints?” His gaze swept over her with an alarming thoroughness. “Tell me something. Do people tell you you look cute when you’re carrying a weapon?”

“Not if they don’t want to end up seriously hurt.”

Maggie walked toward the man. Her nostrils flared as she caught the faintest hint of sulfur before it drifted away to be replaced by a whiff of sandalwood and male.

Demon blood.

“And you are?” She already knew he wouldn’t reveal his true name, since demons held them close to the vest. A body held too much power if they knew a demon’s real name.

“Declan.”

His voice washed over her head like a warm shower. Not good at all.

Says you. The words raced across her skin, meaning Elegance, her spider tattoo, was making her feelings known.

She lifted her chin.

“Declan what?”

“Just Declan.” He tucked his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. Just another guy looking to make time with a pretty girl who just happened to splatter Bloater goop all over the main floor of his club. Oh well, no one’s perfect.

“And demon.”

His eyes flashed silver for a moment. “No one’s perfect… witch.”

“Aw, and here we were just getting to know each other.”

“Are you this brave when your muscle isn’t close by?” Declan asked, his gaze briefly resting on the creatures lounging against the SUV.

A smattering of laughter and guffaws sounded.

Maggie waved a hand. Bubbles of protective power enclosed each team member, but Declan had no doubt that they didn’t hide behind the protection if their leader was in trouble.

“I’m the muscle, sweetheart. But I wouldn’t discount my backup, because they don’t like it if anyone makes me cranky.” She cocked a shapely hip. “I suggest you vet your clientele more thoroughly if you don’t want further visits from the Guard.”

“We don’t exactly run background checks.” His dark gaze wandered over her body, sending prickly heat along her nerve endings. “Perhaps you’d care to come back in for a drink and we could discuss how to better safeguard my club?”

She glanced toward the door where the oversized guard stood glaring at her. “The Cerberus Guard is always ready to protect those that need our skills. Anyone in the Houston area knows where we’re based and how to contact us. And once we’ve finished our job …”

Maggie’s smile brightened as she lifted her hand and snapped her fingers. The parking lot lights winked out leaving the area in darkness, as though a heavy blanket had dropped over the area.

“Fuck me!” Declan widened his eyes and even then he couldn’t see a thing.

Before he could draw a second breath, the lights came back on.

Maggie and her team were gone.

His shoulders shook with his laughter. “I must say the witch knows how to make an exit.”

Writer’s Bio

Linda Wisdom was born and raised in Huntington Beach, California. She majored in Journalism in college then switched her major to Fashion Merchandising when she was told there was no future for her in fiction writing. She held a variety of positions ranging from retail sales to executive secretary in advertising and working for a personnel agency.

Her career began when she sold her first two novels to Silhouette Romance on her wedding anniversary in 1979. Since then she has sold more than eighty novels and one novella to six publishers. Her books have appeared on various romance and mass market bestseller lists and nominated and winning a number of Romantic Times awards and Romance Writers of America Rita Award. A number of Linda’s backlist, including her Hex paranormal series, has been optioned for film and television.

She lives with her husband, Barney, spoiled mini white Schnauzer, Syd, an equally spoiled parrot and Florence, her tortoise with attitude in Murrieta, CA

Want More? Check out the Linda Wisdom Author Spotlight.

Author Spotlight: Linda Wisdom

Today’s guest is author Linda Wisdom. Linda sold her first two novels to Silhouette Romance on her wedding anniversary in 1979. Since then she has sold more than eighty novels and one novella to six publishers. Her books have appeared on various romance and mass market bestseller lists and she has been nominated for and won a number of Romantic Times awards and a Romance Writers of America Rita Award.

Thanks Linda for taking part in our author spotlight at Wicked Jungle!!

Name: Linda Wisdom

Porn Star Name: Princess Constitution

Website Address: www.lindawisdom.com

Writing Age: From the moment I could pick up a crayon.

First Published Work: Dancer in the Shadows, Silhouette Romance, 1980

Current Release: Hex in High Heels, Demons Are a Girl’s Best Friend coming spring 2011

INSPIRATION AND MUSE

If you could live in any fictional universe/world what would it be?

I guess my own since I’d love to hang out with the witches.

If you were locked in a room for 48 hours and forced to watch one TV show the entire time, which television series would you choose?

Supernatural – Dean is so hot!

What is the most outrageous or bizarre thing you have done in the name of “research”?

I must be very boring because I don’t think there is anything.

What is your latest release?

Hex in High Heels

What inspired you to write said story/book?

Blair wanted her story told and the grungy elves I came up with just made it more fun!

Fab Five

• Coffee or Tea? Coffee
• Chocolate or Vanilla? Chocolate
• Vampire or Werewolf? I have to choose? Werewolf
• Meatie or Veggie? Total carnivore
• Salty or Sweet? Sweet

Last but not least–three words that describe you:

Snarky, funny, loyal (I always have a shovel and alibi ready)

Contest: Linda’s Prizes and Freebies!

Linda was kind enough to offer us a sneak peak at her next release: DEMONS ARE A GIRL’S BEST FRIEND. Check it out and let us know what you think!

Chapter 1

“Oh yeah, just another Saturday night hitting the clubs, watching the dancers, feeling blood stream out of my ears.” Maggie O’Malley winced as Static-X’s Destroyer screamed from the state-of-the-art speakers embedded in the club’s walls. Still, she couldn’t stop her hips from moving to the throbbing music. If she wasn’t there on business she would have been out there dancing. “Why don’t you just shoot me now?”

“Any females get naked yet?” the voice of Frebus, one of her team members, rumbled from the mic in her ear. “It’s only a matter of time ’til somebody gets caught up in the moment and starts tearing off their clothes. You gotta love shapeshifters cuz they’re always the first to get down and dirty.”

Maggie played idly with the crystal earring that dangled almost to her bare shoulders. She considered her jewelry a much better look for a mic and earpiece than the usual spy gear. If only she could mute the music for an hour. Or ten.

“Sorry sweetie, I’m only seeing half-naked, but think positive. The evening’s still young.” She grinned as she heard the low groan in her ear. Frebus and her other backup, Meech and Tita, were strategically placed around the interior, on the lookout for one particular degenerate in the sea of questionable characters.

Read More Here

Win a signed copy of Hex In High Heels!

Once again, a big thanks to Linda for joining us at Wicked Jungle. Share your thoughts or ask a question and you are automatically entered into drawing for a free signed copy of Linda’s current book Hex in High Heels.

Each person who posts a comment will get one entry in the contest.

You can get an additional entries by doing the following (note these are in addition to posting a comment. You must comment first to be qualified).

• Option A: Tweet about the contest on Twitter (you must include @wickedjungle for your tweet to qualify each tweet will get you an additional entry).
• Option B: Become a follower of our blog (only new followers joining between the time of the contest will be counted).
• Option C: Promote the contest on your blog (you must include a link below to your blog post to be counted as an official entry).

Contest Ends SUNDAY June 27th, 2010 at  Midnight (Eastern) !!!

Author Spotlight: Alayna Williams

Our guest today is Author Alayna Williams. She has an MA in sociology-criminology (research interests: fear of crime and victimology) and a BA in criminology. She has worked in and around criminal justice since 1997. Although she does read Tarot cards, she’s never used them in criminal profiling or to locate lost scientists. She recently took up astronomy, but for the most part her primary role in studying constellations and dark matter is to follow her amateur astronomer-husband around central Ohio toting the telescope tripod and various lenses. More info is at www.alaynawilliams.com.

“Alayna” is also known as Laura Bickle, the author of Embers from Pocket Juno.

Author Profile

Name: Alayna Williams

Porn Star Name:

Rusty Moore

Website Address: www.alaynawilliams.com

Writing Age:

My books are aimed toward the “appropriately mature” – there is smut! But my inner child is well and happy. I have an ass-kicking Wonder Woman action figure collection! Read more

Dark Oracle by Alayna Williams

TARA SHERIDAN HAS A GIFT . . . AND IT ALMOST KILLED HER.

As a criminal profiler, Tara used science and her intuitive skill at Tarot card divination to track down the dangerous and depraved, including the serial killer who left her scarred from head to toe. Since that savage attack, Tara has been a recluse. But now an ancient secret society known as Delphi’s Daughters has asked for her help in locating missing scientist Lowell Magnusson. And Tara, armed with her Tarot deck, her .38, and a stack of misgivings, agrees to try.

Tara immediately senses there is far more at stake than one man’s life. At his government lab in the New Mexico desert, Magnusson had developed groundbreaking technology with terrifying potential. Working alongside the brusque but charismatic agent Harry Li, Tara discovers that Magnusson’s daughter, Cassie, has knowledge that makes her a target too. The more Tara sees into the future, the more there is to fear. She knows she has to protect Cassie. But there may be no way to protect herself—from the enemies circling around her, or from the long-buried powers stirring to life within. . . . Read more

Harry Potter Theme Park Now Open!

It’s been eight years in the making but the Wizarding World of Harry Potter (at Universal Orlando) is now officially open! This twenty-acre expansion to the Universal Theme park has been a tightly guarded secret for much time now with it’s NBC co-owner dolling out snippets of park details on exclusive segments of the Today Show and The Apprentice. Two weeks ago they devoted thirty minutes of their primetime lineup to a behind-the-scenes exclusive and managed to reveal little more than what you could see in a sixty second commercial spot.  Still fans rallied to get a first glimpse at all the park had to offer and despite the minor chaos, first reviews report that it was worth the wait.

Read more

The Gates: Slutty Vampires Take Up Roots

If you thought the sparkly vampire craze was over think again. ABC is jumping on the vampire gravy train (a good three plus years too late) with their newest TV drama “The Gates“.  While some folks who have yet to pick up a paranormal book in the last five years might be impressed with the story telling, the rest of us are a little weary of what ABC has to offer. With shows like “True Blood”, “Vampire Diaries” and “Being Human” cornering the market is there really room for another “Melrose Place” meets “Twilight”?  Let’s not forget the horridly failed attempt that CBS made with their trip to the dark-side. “Moonlight” was cancelled after its first season. “Blood Ties”, a Lifetime Network show picked up a few years ago actually survived for two seasons, but even with a small but loyal audience couldn’t hold on to it’s primetime slot.

Still, the show may surprise us. In her review for the L.A. Times Mary Mcnamara noted, “Of course there are a plenty of overworked “True Blood” meets “Twilight” motifs, but it seems just possible that “The Gates” will return to the roots of supernatural fiction, in which the monsters are just extreme versions of humanity.”

Then there are other reviews like this, my personal favorite, “In deciding what to call the show, the producers, one suspects, landed on and then rejected something like “The Real and Desperate Vampire Housewives of Somewhere that Looks an Awful Lot Like ‘The Truman Show.’ ” (Ginia Belffante, New York Times).  Ah yes, another mysterious unnamed city of perfection that is too good to be true and has now been invaded by vampires, werewolves, and witches. Are these the same housewives that protested Harry Potter in school libraries? It seems a little glitter and some bagged blood makes everything a-okay.

The Gates airs Sunday on ABC at 10/9c. For those of you not fortunate enough to have access to the show (i.e. our international readers), here is a sneak peak of what’s been airing on the U.S. networks over the last three weeks.

So what do you think? Is it worth watching? How does “The Gates” stake up to the other paranormal heavy hitters?

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