I just returned from a two week trip to the U.S. (I live in Southeast Asia.) While we were in New York City, we had breakfast at a Ukrainian restaurant that has been open for three generations, since 1954.
While the food was amazing (luscious potato pancakes and a feta omelet), I was also struck by the feisty atmosphere. The place was bustling and cheerful. The servers wore tee shirts reading “Our hearts beet for Ukraine” (a punning reference to the Ukrainian staple, borscht). It occurred to me that since Russia invaded Ukraine three years ago, many more people are at least aware of the country and its culture. Not exactly a silver lining, but we need to look for hope wherever we can find it.
Three years. I can hardly believe this unjust war has gone on so long. I’m amazed at the courage and tenacity of the Ukrainians, having survived so much. I worry about their future, but I believe they have the spirit to triumph.
I last did a Charity Sunday for Ukraine back in July of 2023. Today I am supporting the same organization that I chose for that post, Voices of Children (https://voices.org.ua/en/stories). This organization provides psychological and practical support for children suffering from the effects of the war. Imagine living for three years with the knowledge that you might be bombed at any time, your home destroyed, your parents injured or killed. Consider what life is like for the kids whose families have been torn apart by casualties or by the need to relocate.
Voices of Children has a very specific mission, focusing on the long term mental and physical health of these kids. It’s a mission that looks forward to peace even in the midst of war. So today (and throughout the month of May, until the next Charity Sunday), I will donate two dollars to this organization for every comment I receive.
If you’re interested in their work, you might also consider buying a copy of the book they’ve compiled:
https://voices.org.ua/en/knyzhka-viyna-holosamy-ditey
If anything will make the war real for you, it is these quotes from the kids who have suffered through it.
For today’s excerpt, I’ve chosen a bit from my paranormal ménage Fangs, Fur and the Single Girl. This has absolutely nothing to do with Ukraine, but it is set in New York City. In fact, while we were there, I revisited several of the locations that feature in the novel (to see how accurate my recollections had been – it has been six years since I was in the city).
Also, FFSG was just released in an audio version. If you like to listen to your fiction, check out the audio release here:
https://www.amazon.com/Audible-Studios-Brilliance-Fangs-Single/dp/B0F63YJG4H
https://www.audible.com/ac/Fangs-Fur-and-the-Single-Girl-Audiobook/B0F64114PR
Excerpt
Unencumbered by her suitcase, Bianca could move more freely. It took her less than forty-five minutes by subway to reach St. Mark’s Place. A vegan restaurant occupied the ground floor of the address on Mirielle Dupont’s card. A steep flight led up to the second floor entrance of the building proper. There was no sign, but peering up from street level, Bianca noted that the window to the right of the entrance contained a plump calico cat, tightly curled on a black cushion.
The door opened before she knocked.
“Bianca, my dear! I’ve been expecting you.”
A white tunic draped the psychic’s hefty, broad-shouldered figure, worn over sky-blue silk pantaloons. Atop her artificial golden curls perched a turban of multi-colored paisley satin. Elaborate silver earrings dangled from her chalk-white earlobes. Kohl outlined her eyes and her lips were painted a bright red. Despite the season, her feet were bare, the toenails bright with blue polish. Another feline, silvery gray, wove its sinuous body around her ankles.
Bianca allowed herself to be pulled into the cozy, cluttered room. Bookshelves packed with tumbled volumes lined most of the walls. Indonesian batik covered any empty spots. With a sofa, two puffy armchairs with matching ottomans, an enameled curio cabinet, and a round table flanked by wrought iron chairs, the room held far too much furniture. The window sill had been extended to form a broad shelf that supported two cat beds, one of which, as she’d noted from below, was occupied. The calico did not stir, but a tiger-striped creature who was stretched out along the back of the sofa raised its head to survey the new arrival, then raked its claws across the upholstery. A fourth feline, solid black and large as a toy poodle, sat in the middle of table, watching her with unblinking yellow eyes.
A gorgeous Oriental carpet covered the floor. Bianca toed off her boots before Mirielle could comment, not wanting to track in dirt from the street.
“Thank you, thank you kindly. Won’t you sit down?” Mirielle gestured toward the table. “I’ll make us some tea.”
Before Bianca could object, the psychic had disappeared through a curtained door toward the back of the apartment. Not knowing what else to do, she took the offered seat, which put her just level with the black cat. He regarded her gravely, his expression suggesting far more wisdom than he could possibly possess.
Why was she here? Did she really believe the eccentric transvestite had some sort of mystical power? The crowded space did not seem to contain any occult objects – no pyramids, crystal balls, Ouija boards or Tarot decks.
Still, Mirielle had immediately identified Bianca at the club and had not seemed the least bit surprised by her appearance today. Without being told, she clearly had some understanding of Bianca’s dilemma. And despite her liveliness, the self-proclaimed clairvoyant struck Bianca as someone who’d been around for a very long time. If anyone had answers to Bianca’s questions, it might be Mirielle Dupont.
Her stout, turbaned figure reappeared through the draperies carrying a tray. “Here we are. My special soothing blend, rose hips and orange peel, with a touch of mint. Off with you, Bruno. We need your space.”
The black feline regarded Mirielle for a moment, as if deciding whether to obey. Then he rose to all fours, arched into a leisurely stretch, and leaped from the table to the sofa, where he settled himself just below the tiger.
After putting down her tray, Mirielle poured two cups of the aromatic beverage and handed one to Bianca, who took a tentative sip. Somewhat to her surprise, the tea was delicious. The psychic watched her intently as she drank more deeply, then drained the cup.
“You’ve changed since we last met.” Mirielle’s welcoming smile had been replaced by a frown of perplexity. “I can feel it. You’ve sunk deeper into the shadow world.”
Bianca shivered, despite the warm tea. The psychic’s perceptiveness both scared and reassured her. “You told me that everyone wanted me. You were right. First Elena Lazarescu tried to seduce me, and nearly succeeded. She wanted both sex and blood, I think. Maybe she planned to turn me into a vampire.”
“So you know about the sexual aspects of vampire recruitment?”
Bianca nodded, not sure how much she should share. Did Mirielle know about Jim? What about Zack? “Then Barrett Chandler, Alpha of the New York werewolves, had me kidnapped. He kept me prisoner in his mansion, trying to convince me I should mate with him and bear him an heir.”
Mirielle rolled her eyes. “Poor Barrett. He keeps siring sons, then killing them. He knows he won’t live forever, but he’s too addicted to power to actually relinquish it to the next were generation.”
“The women – Chandler’s pack is all women – is that why?” Bianca remembered Artemisia’s cryptic remark about werewolf mortality.
“He’s too jealous – and too fearful – to allow any males to live.”
“Is that why he was looking for Zack?” Bianca asked, then mentally kicked herself. She hadn’t planned to reveal her werewolf lover’s existence.
Her companion smiled. “Don’t be concerned. I know all about Zack Kane. Twenty odd years ago, his mother found me and told me his story. She was terribly weak from the birth; indeed she died in my arms. But not before she made me swear I’d protect him. That I’d never reveal her son’s whereabouts to his father.”
Don’t forget to leave a comment! Every one helps the war-scarred kids in Ukraine.
