Book Release – Kidnapping Death’s Daughter


Ever since Robin’s brother died, every morning has risen with a new question, all of them echoing the grandest and most desperate: Why?
Until the day after Peter’s funeral, when a librarian with an odd sense of humour, and an even odder creature for a pet, reaches out to Robin and whispers an irresistible opportunity: “Death has a daughter, steal her.”
The questions have changed. Could this be a bargaining tool against Death? What will he say when Peter is returned to him?

How do you kidnap Death’s daughter…

His cousin Caleb is intrigued and eager to join his adventure, and if the next morning rises with too many questions, now, at least, they have a clue to find the answers.
They leave for an ancient city by dusk.

In York, cathedral spires claw at the moon, gargoyles peer down on cobbled streets from wooden beams, and the creatures of Yr Oerfa feel their skin prickle as they sense the change war brings. Amongst them, hunted by beings more dangerous than two mortal boys, Death’s daughter is writing her own story, and it, too, begins with loss.

Kidnap her? First they need to find her.


Kidnapping Death’s Daughter is a multiple point-of-view young adult urban fantasy set in-between worlds, but predominantly York, England. It deals with darker themes but with a light sense of humour and a snarky ghattan should things go awry which, when you’re the daughter of Death, they often do. 



Hello everyone!

Here is me officially stating the book is released (and hoping that by crossing all my fingers it won’t go terribly wrong!) and up for sale on Amazon for $4.99. If you have a subscription to Kindle Unlimited or you have access to the Kindle Owner’s Lending Library you can read it for free! I got this incorrect originally, so if there are any issues with this then please email me here:

I am so thrilled with the cover and really hope you all like it too! It is by Maria Sokoloff and you can see more of her work over at

If you do read my book, then thank you! I sincerely hope you enjoy it.

By the way, I am also now on Goodreads! Let’s be friends!





Kidnapping Death’s Daughter Art – Caleb

Hey friends!

It’s been a while since I’ve posted anything book related, but I’ll be sure to blog about that soon. Here he is though, finally! Meet Caleb! Probably one of my favourite characters in the book. He’s a bit of an adventurous one, so this mixed with also being kind-hearted sees him joining Robin to try and reunite him with his brother. He’s suffered his own losses, so knows what Robin must be experiencing.

Anyway, I must snush, as this is about the art! The brilliant artist is Shio who you can see more from here: She’s amazing, so check her out!

I hope you like him!

Kidnapping Death's Daughter

If you’re unsure of where this character calls home, he is from my urban fantasy Kidnapping Death’s Daughter. Please find more information here: Buk Talk

And here be a synopsis:

Ever since Robin’s brother died, every morning has risen with a new question, all of them echoing the grandest and most desperate: Why?
Until the day after Peter’s funeral, when a librarian with an odd sense of humour, and an even odder creature for a pet, reaches out to Robin and whispers an irresistible opportunity.
“Death has a daughter, steal her.”
The questions have changed. Could this be a bargaining tool against Death? What will he say when Peter is returned to him?

How do you kidnap Death’s daughter…

His cousin Caleb is intrigued and eager to join his adventure, and if the next morning rises with too many questions, now, at least, they have a clue to find the answers.
They leave for an ancient city by dusk.

In York, cathedral spires claw at the moon, gargoyles peer down on cobbled streets from wooden beams, and the creatures of Yr Oerfa feel their skin prickle as they sense the change war brings. Amongst them, hunted by beings more dangerous than two mortal boys, Death’s daughter is writing her own story, and it, too, begins with loss.

Kidnap her? First they need to find her.

Thank you for having a look!

Arbie x

Those with the Fear of Drowning

You see, I have these issues.

I know. I know we’ve been working hard.

Or well, I’ve been talking and then forgetting what I’ve said right after and you’ve been li… you have been listening, right?

Because, this is about that thing I told you.

Yeah… please keep your voice down. That thing.

Okay, good, good. We’re on the same page. Where else could we be?

Anyway, back to… back to that.

My fear of drowning.

I don’t think it’s so relevant anymore. No. Not because I’m okay now. Can you stop trying with the antidote and just enjoy the poison, for once?

Drowning, I was talking about drowning…

When my eyes are closed, I’m already there. Something has wrapped itself around me and my blood is freezing, its rivers twisting around my body and causing all my veins to become ice.

Yeah, I’m aware it’s December and cold, but look at me, so wrapped up. I should be warm.

But, the snow has settled inside and a ghost is screaming in its storm as though it is the one trapped with me and not I with it!

Perhaps it is not on the inside at all, perhaps its fingers sink through my flesh and wrap around my bones. A reminder of what I will one day be. Buried beneath earth but above another who once breathed as I do.


A bit morbid! Sorry… it’s just, it’s just such a funny thing.

I spend so much time trembling yet I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong.

Something… is really wrong.

I mean obviously things aren’t quite right or you wouldn’t be here and we wouldn’t be having this conversation, but…

Have you ever slept in a bed of lies?

Had a liar stroke your skin before they flay it with a tongue that would sooner be cut out than spill the truth.  And why spill the truth when your blood is so much more precious?

I believe if it could be a gemstone it would be the most coveted. Given on every engagement ring and set into all wedding bands. Would it not be sweeter to be betrayed by the one whose life you bore on your finger? For it is impossible to truly wear ones heart on a sleeve.

I ramble all the time. And I never seem to make much sense!

I don’t lose sight of my destination. There is just a constant fog in this place. And it is beautiful when it allows me to sit still and admire as it rises above the frost covered riverbanks and settles about church spires.

But, when I need to move on it conceals the path and petals of flowers close upon my approach. As though night… is stalking me.

But, I can see a light in the distance! And I believe it to be the sun, but then it dances in such a way I also believe it to be no more than a mischievous creature. A sprite with its lantern, luring me to a swamp where I will be stuck further still.

I speak of destinations as though I know how this story ends, but the chapters are pages strewn across the floor, that I suppose you are trying to piece together.

What an impossible task you have before you…

Yes, I said there was a church in that place. I’m not religious, but we all need a place of sanctuary and when the moon is all that lights the forest, even though it is of my own creation, I see shadows that even the wolves can’t protect me from.

But, if I can find my way to the sleeping stain glass windows and my hands are steady enough to bring thunder to the doors, I am granted entry.

No, no one else is inside. It is a sanctuary after all.

Ah, I thought you might ask about the rivers…

Only at my bravest do I look into their waters. I know how deceptively they can turn. Take their serenity from my view and in the place of aquatic weeds and childhood stepping stones come the faces of the lost.

I don’t know why they come to me in that place. Isn’t water said to hold the future?

They look through me and the fog and they look for the warmth of the sun as if it’s all they’ll ever seek! A desire for warmth. The weeds their shackles and stones their weights. They placed them there!

I know this because while I slept beside haunted waters in whispers they warned me.

But when I am awake, I have little choice, all I can do is stare into their eyes or their deathbed and I choose their eyes because the river is all too welcoming.

I wonder, if when Robert Frost said the woods are lovely, dark and deep, he thought of them as I do the river.

But we all have promises to keep, do we not?

Sorry, I feel I have become distracted again!

Have I told you… have I told you of those with the fear of drowning?



If you haven’t heard it yet, you can find the audio of this here!


This was written to be spoken so I’m sorry if it reads a little rough around the edges.

Thank you for reading!

Keep talkin’, whooaoaaaa, keep talkin’!

I didn’t think it would be appreciated if I’d titled this post “a real pussy wagon” but I can’t stop laughing about the idea of it.

Happy Sunday everyone!

We made it! We beat out all the others who tried to fight off the zombie apocalypse. We left them behind and stole their tins! Yay! Soup for everyone! Except you. Yeah, the one judging tinned soup. We can’t all make amazing soup from scratch, okay? Sometimes things burn. Sometimes they end up on ceilings. That’s life.

I’ll admit it took me a lot to get to this point of fingers on keys and typing. I had a bit of a moment. I made a huge mistake and before beginning this blog post I thought it would be safe to look up Greased Lightning… yes, I know there are some of you who right now are shaking your heads and muttering “You fool, child” beneath your breath. The Grease soundtrack is like the pringles of the musical world… but, oh (please imagine that oh as the “oh…” from Summer Lovin’ that John Travolta is famous for) I’m already readying myself to start listening to The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

My boyfriend wasn’t quite as thrilled about all this music as I was. We’d sat down, he to play Final Fantasy and me to write, and well… things happened on YouTube. But look, just listen, it’s not my fault that game is made up of multiple cut scenes! And that’s what the pause button is for, right? To pause the game every few seconds! I tried to make it up to him by telling him I had written Hopelessly Devoted for him and singing it to him, that didn’t work, so I switched to My Heart Will Go On, that didn’t work either (I know right? I even told him I wrote it while on a boat) my final attempt was Your Song but when that didn’t work either I thought fuck it and blasted Wuthering Heights by Kate Bush. I sang it like a champ, arm movements and all. He’s already packed his bags but it’s okay because Heathcliff, better open up yer window, baby, because I’m comin’ home!

I think my teenage crush on Heathcliff explains my taste in men.

So does my crush on this guy:

I really need to stop listening to that song because I don’t think all the wriggling and couch strutting is appreciated. It’s doable! You just sit and shimmy a little, put one hand on your hip but lean forward and bam bam bam, that’s it! Jiggle what Dr Frank n Furter gave ya! I realise this blog post will mean very little to only a few people, and that’s okay. I’m sorry.

I’m actually too busy dancing to be sorry. And I actually do think that The Rocky Horror Picture show is brilliantly written.

So is The Good Place! See what I tried to do there? It’s hard to write links when listening to Magic Dance from Labyrinth! We finished watching season one this weekend and it had such a great twist. It had us looking back on everything that had happened and thinking oh yeah! I love anything like that because I really like to be outsmarted. I mean it’s not hard in the smarts department but in the things I’ve seen before and so connect the dots department it’s a little trickier. I’d like to be able to write something clever, something that hits people with that feeling of satisfaction at the end like the first season of The Good Place did for me. Of course other things have too, Stonehearst Asylum rings a bell, but The Good Place is what’s on my mind right now.

It’s what I want to do with Jack. Thank you to those who have read the first chapter by the way! I’m sure you’ve already guessed that it’s a book centred around the mysterious Victorian serial killer Jack the Ripper, and as such you’ll know he’s a tough cookie to write something new about. It’s all been done before pretty much. I’m not going to let that deter me though. I do want to try and be clever with it, but I also want to focus on what I would like to see in a Jack the Ripper book along with my usual style of writing and characters that crop up. I know the basics of where I want to go with the story but I think in a murder mystery plotting is very important and it’s something I am dire at. I’m better than I was when I wrote my first novel but I don’t think I’ll ever be the person to sit down with a beautifully constructed timeline. In the end, my way can make everything take twice as long as it needed, all that going back and fixing things, but it’s how I’ve developed as a writer unfortunately. I will keep changing and learning though, I’m sure!


I took this photo a few days ago while fooling around with make up and that wig (which I’ve since locked away from myself like some occult object) and hilariously I unknowingly made myself look like Frank n Furter’s sister. I’m down with it!

Speaking of video games all the way back up there, I’ve started to play Pokemon Go again (yellow team represent!) and it’s been great. Not just for the novelty of catching all the pokemon and leaving Ash Ketchum behind like a chump, but getting out and walking at night has been really good for me. I don’t really like walking for the hell of it during the day, not in busy places especially. I’m much more of a night walker but it isn’t the safest thing to do alone as late as I like to, so having my boyfriend around as a pokemon hunting buddy has served for some much needed nightly fresh air. He also got to see his first two badgers, real badgers this is.

We were about to head down a road but heard what sounded like a dog whimpering and decided to check in case something was hurt. There was no dog and the sound stopped soon after we started down the steps to a more wooded area where just ahead of us we saw two badgers snuffling around in the dirt. Unfortunately we disturbed them, but they didn’t run far so I’m sure they went back to their spots once we had walked further enough away.

Badgers are so neat. So are foxes. No idea where the hedgehogs have all got to. Some hedgehog party we weren’t invited to as honorary guests, I bet. Jerks.

Let’s wrap this up with the weekly ferret update.

Seb has been up and down a bit this week but thankfully will be seeing the specialist next week. He seems very enthusiastic so I’m looking forward to the meeting and hoping that we might be able to get to the bottom of what is wrong with her.


Seb dreaming of being a DJ. Look at that little paw!

As for Pandora, who I now mostly refer to as Pandooks, she’s as spoiled and lazy as ever.


I hope you have all had a wonderful weekend and that you’re ready for the week ahead of you!

Take the rest of your Sunday easy! Eat something tasty! That’s it… oh yeah that’s the good stuff. Mmmmm. What was it?

 *grumbles* I want to be  T Bird…

still laughing



Dear Boss,

Funny this, my letter lying before you. Don’t think that it came without reason, and don’t be so coy as to think you wouldn’t have sought me had I not you. Soon everyone will. You, though, I think you will have a particular interest in me.

News of my deed will reach you on the morrow, I’m sure.






In London the chameleon dwells.

Each and every spectre that haunts its streets,

A player in the city’s masquerade,

A reversed tarot, a bearer of another self to one with which they should be familiar.

Those paid to be familiar to the gentlemen of the city,

the connoisseurs of its alleys,

often the least to be feared for their numerous façades.

These women of midnight, their graces fewer than those who commission them,

they have become what was expected,

and for that they suffer.


Yes, in London the chameleon dwells, and under the sun it may bask, but beneath the moon it will hunt.

For some, this suits them just fine.



Chapter One

Cramped between its claustrophobic houses and choked by the smoke of its fires, Thomas Alderdice took a moment’s pause. He neatened the buttons on his tunic, adjusted the truncheon on his belt, all the while watching the rain lash against the road in front of him. It splashed into puddles and against his trousers, soaking his socks and leaving his shoes to squelch as he moved from his position and headed north.

“Cold night, Tom.”

Tucked in against a storefront, John Griffiths nodded his helmet covered head down, water spilling forth, droplets to join the storm.

“See it got you, too, John,” Thomas nodded, before turning his gaze to the sky. A flash across it summoned thunder. Knowing of its arrival, he hesitated to flinch, smirking instead at Griffith’s shuddered response to the noise.

“Bastard has us all,” Griffiths replied, drawing his shoulders in tighter to his body, resembling a snail soon to retreat into its shell. “Even the whores are calling it, and I’d be last to say it had been a busy eve’ for them. Most are already down the penny. They’ll be seeing the finest of the night, we’ll no doubt be called down.”

“No point to that and you know it. You’re looking for an excuse to stay dry.”

Griffiths crossed his arms across his chest, pushing the thick of his tunic’s material more closely against his body. He gave no reply, but a quick upturn from the side of his mouth gave Thomas the impression he’d guessed right.

“I’ll be carrying on, beat change at the stroke.”

“Go on with you then, pray your wears aren’t scratching the fuck out of you like mine are.”

They were, and the wool of the high collar catching against his neck as he continued down Whitechapel Road placed him in a bitter mood. The rain only made it worse, but, had he huddled beside John beneath a shop door roof that served no further purpose than a pigeon shitting point, coming back into the rain after a brief spell of dryness would have made his mood worse still. For now, the swell of bitterness in his chest that caught in his eyes with a glare dared any East end thief to test him.

“Fuck it,” he muttered to himself, soon dropping the act of knowing what he’d do should a gang come upon him. He kicked at a puddle without looking down for it. He knew it would be there, they’d been there all Summer. The usual muck of the London streets turned to a sludge, the only good thing about the rain was the heat it failed to bring with it. At least the cold gave his nostrils what his eyes couldn’t have: a break from the City.

Half way up Whitechapel Road he heard the four strokes of the bell and knew that soon a cry would go out. He was waiting on five, then he’d give his own cry and make his way back home to an empty bed.

He preferred it that way. Two nights before he’d found a letter on his pillow, a note: “Dear Boss” it had begun, and quite playfully continued with intentions to clear up the City. One of these nights, it had said.

Tom gave a snort, it would take more than one night.

His walk was to take him further up Whitechapel Road, but the flashing of a lantern down a narrow path to his left caught his attention. It was not unusual to see another officer on patrol or nearing on their new beat, but for one to be rushing as these footsteps sounded, the light of the lantern swinging back and forth and catching off the dull fronts of buildings with the man’s unsteady gait, gave Thomas cause to follow.

His own footsteps had the man quickly turning on him, his truncheon pulled from his belt with a speed that Thomas recognized as fueled by fear.

“Alderdice, this isn’t your beat, why are you here?” He looked on Tom with suspicion, but he could only look back with confusion. His expression calmed the man’s nerves before his words could.

Jonas Mizen replaced his truncheon and brought his hand to his dark moustache. In the light of the lantern Tom was unsure whether it was the rain or sweat that dripped from his brow.

“What’s got in to you? Seen one of the City’s ghosts?”

“Just the dead, Tom,” Mizen replied, “Just the fucking dead.” He turned from him and continued down to Buck’s Row.

Tom followed, his feet moving before he’d even had the chance to decide whether or not he should.

They exited the street and found a new road stretching ahead and behind them. Half way up, in an area that would be lit by a sole gas lamp on any ordinary night, lanterns flashed.

A woman lay on her back, her dress stained and a bonnet to the side. In the lantern light, Thomas’ found that his gaze was fixed upon her throat. A cut, jagged and deep, crossed it with such depth that in the shadows that passed over with each lantern sway her head appeared to be attached by only slithers of flesh.


At Tom’s utterance, a man that kneeled over the body glanced over his shoulder. He gave a grunt of acknowledgement, before looking to another officer.

“Thain, you accompanied me here, now you’re to accompany me to the mortuary. She’ll be more of a spectacle should the workers come on morning break and more arrive for shift. We must have her removed.”

“Agreed, Sir,” Thain replied before turning to Thomas, his awareness of him seemingly only now apparent after the doctor’s acknowledgement. “Alderdice,” he said, his lips held tight. “Your morbid curiosity will see you a part of this.”

Thomas bowed his head for one singular beat, his eyes drawn once again to the wound across the woman’s throat, his thoughts on words not from Thain, but from another.


Dear Boss,

Your nights must be awfully grim, this dreadful city your moonlight companion. The streets need a clear up the likes the rain will never serve.  The end of this fine month will see the beginning of my helpful hand. Perhaps you will, too.

You’ll try to catch up with me soon, but you won’t.



Quote #4 – Robin – Kidnapping Death’s Daughter



Hey everyone! Tomorrow is Robin’s picture day and so I wanted to post a quote with my boy out first! He’s one of the two lads that sets about to find Death’s daughter, it is he who is on the quest to bring his brother back from the dead. This snippet is as Robin steps out on the streets of York.

This quote doesn’t describe York so I’m posting two incredible pictures I’ve found of York streets so that if you haven’t seen it you can now. I did not take these photographs. I am a photograph thief, although I am seriously trying to work out who to credit. I found these on pinterest.

I believe this is by Matt Cornock.
I think it’s from a blog called yetanotherbloomingblog although the blog is private so I don’t know how it ended up on Pinterest. I don’t know the first thing about pinterest other than I had to make an account to see these. Great, now I’m rambling in captions. Shhhh.


I hope you enjoyed the quote and I look forward to sharing Shio’s portrait of Robin tomorrow! X

P.S If the takers of these photos somehow stumble upon here please don’t hex me, either let me know how to credit correctly or tell me to take them down! I’m easy! Not that kind of….again, shhhh.