Monday, October 15, 2018

The Alepha Solution – New Fiction Writing by S. H. Marpel

The Alepha Solution - New Fiction Writing by S. H. MarpelA evil sorceress escaped after being imprisoned for 12,000 years.

To accomplish that, she tricked the oldest goddess still remaining on earth, and crippled another one shortly after.

Now the Ghost Hunters have to solve a problem they helped create. One who was more powerful than any they had faced to date.

Individually, she could probably destroy any one of them. Only working together as a team could she be stopped.

Her secret – she was building her own team.

One that could enslave the Western world in a single afternoon of app updates…

This anthology contains:

– The Case of the Sunken Spirit
– Harpy Redux
– The Harpy Saga: Sister Mine

The Alepha Solution – New Fiction Writing by S. H. Marpel

Excerpt:

The circle around us started moving toward one of the offices. At least it was well-lit and somewhat clean compared to most of the rest of the warehouse.

As we got closer to the machine, I could feel its operation through the spell that was on me. Meaning this was an active spell in operation. Maybe even drawing more of Alepha’s powers. One could only hope.

A form blocked the doorway and cast a long shadow in our direction. The phalanx of armed flunkies around us opened up to a semi-circle, blocking any escape, but letting whoever it was to see us.

As she strode closer, the light evened out – it was Alepha.

Flowing yellow robes covered her legs and arm, right up to a long v-notch down her front that started from the points of each shoulder and trailed below, past her navel. Gold trim everywhere, form-fitting and little left to the imagination. White-blond hair what was piled up on her head behind some sort of gold tiara, with earrings that dripped down to her bare shoulders. Even her fingernails were covered in gold – and trimmed to points like claws. Anything a guy would stop to drool over, and a woman would want to have a dress and get-up like that hanging in her own closet.

To be sure, I took mental notes, as did John. (But his excuse, other than being a red-blooded male, was that he would need to write this up later as a another mystery-adventure story.)

“So, you survived, Harpy? So sad for you. Curse for the rest of eternity with your affliction.” She gestured and I was flooded with pain, making me sink to my knees. John followed me down, to make sure I didn’t collapse.

John whispered to me, “Are you going to be OK?” I nodded, but winked at him. The one communication that Alepha couldn’t understand.

“Aren’t you just a tortured soul, that you have to inflict pain to get your bennies.” John was a bit caustic.

“Careful, John. Don’t wear out your welcome all at once. Human lives aren’t too important to me that I’d want to prolong yours – even if you think you can just throw it away by coming here to get some relief for your friend.” At that she demonstrated by making a gesture toward one of our guards, who simply turned to a small pile of dust. His weapon clattered on the concrete warehouse floor for someone else to pick up, along with any other metal items if they wanted.

That crowd around us didn’t flinch at that. Their mono-colored eyes and lack of reaction probably meant they were living zombies – slaves inside their own skins. And again, meaning a sizable power at work keeping them that way…

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