My readers are awesome!

Sure all authors say that, but I am honestly amazed that almost a year and a half after releasing the third book in the Someone Wicked series (Wicked Glory), which was supposed to be the final book, readers are still messaging me and emailing me and tweeting to me and tagging me to ask: WHEN am I going to finish Wicked Revenge, the for real final book in the series?

Progress has admittedly been much slower than I’d hoped, but I am making progress!

As thanks to all those readers who’ve been patiently waiting, I thought I’d give you a look of Chapter One: a peek inside Oscar Roth’s head, which is a very interesting and bizarre place!

***Warning: There are spoilers if you haven’t read the first 3 books***

Wicked Revenge

Chapter 1: True Purpose

(Oscar Roth)

“This place sucks,” I mutter under my breath. The dust is irritating, aggravating. Grime, everywhere. Dirt. Trash scattered around like my thoughts often are. It’s not like the hospital. I don’t want to be at the hospital, refuse to go back to that place, but it was clean, orderly, pristine. It smelled of chemicals, though. I don’t hate the smell of chemicals, but I don’t like it either. I can’t decide if it’s better than the mildewed, dusty smell of this place. Maybe it’s worse.

It’s not a good place for a baby, either way.

Thoughts snap like twigs, warning me not to think about him. Not yet. It’s too…frightening. Yes, too scary to think about him…my son. He’s safe for now. Because I’m not with him. Because he doesn’t know me. What I am. What I’ve done. He is still pure. I want him to remain that way as long as possible. Not be infected by the hunger, the power it promises so falsely, the addiction it breeds. No, he must stay safe from all of this.

“Oscar,” Zander says.

He doesn’t touch me. Because he knows I’m am struggling to hold my mind together in this place. He knows how important it is that I stay sane. He knows about them. I’m better than I once was, saner, more in control of hunger and obsession both. It will take time to be in control completely. Maybe too much time. It’s difficult to gauge time sometimes. Like right now. How long has it been since I killed David? It happened soon after he tried and possibly succeeded in breaking Van. Almost immediately after foolish, stupid Zander tried to kill him in my place. He thought he knew the secrets I had discovered years ago. A baby bird with no feathers trying to fly. He was an idiot to think he held enough pain. No one holds as much pain as I do. Not after killing my own parents, after being locked up with the insane, after being forced to abandon the only woman I knew how to love…and with her, our son.

Days. It had only been days since I twisted the consumed pain I held and turned it into a weapon. So much pain and suffering swallowed over the years, all unleashed on the man who tried to use my little sister, snap her mind and heart, crush her into subservience so he could use her…use her power. David has been dead two days and the rest of the Godlings are floundering without a leader.

No. They have a leader. Stupid lemmings. Power doesn’t equal leadership skills. They are too blind to see, or maybe care. I should not be leading anyone. My mind is too broken to lead. But they chose me. Because I killed David. I saved them. Or so they think. David was not the real enemy. A small one, yes. But not who they should truly fear. That is reserved for the soul-sucking power-whore known as Isolde Zara.

“Oscar,” Zander says again. “What do you think? Will this work for now?”

Scraping my thoughts back under control, I scowl. “It stinks in here. It’s a filthy place.”

Zander sighs. “Yeah, I know. We’ll clean it up. Will it work, though?”

Why is he asking me? What do I know about real estate? It will work as well as any other run down, abandoned building. I suppose it helps that it was once a school. The Godling infants running around pretending to be adults and have knowledge on things need a school. What else are they supposed to do with the real children bumbling around now? They can’t stay at the compound.

All those loyal to David ran as soon as I burned away his life and ended his reign. Those not completely twisted into sadistic, amoral, power-hungry lunatics, are trying to pick up the pieces. Get the students to safety before David’s cronies return and kill them all. Or take the children. I’m not sure what they plan. The compound is unsafe, regardless of what idiot plan the sheep of now-dead David intend to execute.

“It is not sufficient,” I say, possibly in answer to Zander’s question, “but it will work.”

Zander closes his eyes and breathes out slowly, as if I’m the one to blame for all of this. Am I? It’s hard to tell sometimes. My lips press together as I force my thoughts into order and ponder the question. No. This isn’t my fault. I may have helped escalate the madness, but I did not begin it. The true beginning is too far back to comprehend. The more recent beginning, that is less complex. David and Isolde are responsible. They are more mad than I will ever be. Were, in David’s case. His mind is now ash and no danger to anyone.

Isolde, however…

She is more clever than most. More evil, as well. Intelligent and vile is a bad combination. One of the worst. She will never stop until she has what she wants. Eradication. Every Godling life snuffed out like a spent candle. Most of these imbeciles running around, I couldn’t care less about. Even Zander, with him I am on the fence sometimes, but leaning toward the idea that he will one day be the man he is capable of becoming. He has made very good progress lately. The rest could rot and I wouldn’t be troubled much.

Van is different. Emily is different, though she’s not Godling. Joshua…he is most different of all. He is Godling and perfectly pure. People like Isolde have not yet had the opportunity to corrupt my son, and she will die before she has the chance.

The other Godlings, they all think I am the One. The person meant to save them and restore the balance. They are wrong. Killing David doesn’t make me a savior. It makes me a weapon. The pain must be twisted and bent to become a tool of destruction. That was not its original purpose. A handy thing, but not natural. Not meant. I am not the leader they need. But I am who they want…for now. Until someone else discovers the true purpose of the hunger and ends the killing for good.

After I destroy Isolde, that is. It would not do for the truth to be discovered too soon.

More to come soon!