Marie Andreas's Blog

First new fantasy series--with a quest problem.

On preorder now, releases Jan. 13, 2026. (yeah, yeah, that space between the paragraphs won't be there--just a Blogger thing ;).

Please note: still in edits ;).

PREORDER

Chapter One

 

 

Icrouched into the shrubs as I stalked my target. My green and brown hooded tunic,leggings, and the vines covering my bow would blend into the trees behind me.As long as I kept my rambunctious mass of red hair tucked under my hood. Some dayswere worse than others, and today it had turned into a creature from the wildwoods. I kept saying one of these days I was going to cut it, but I liked itwhen it did what it was supposed to.

I’dchosen to ignore how rare that was.

 The late afternoon sun also helped hide me aslong shadows filled the woods. But the most important part was holding stilluntil the exact moment my quarry crossed the targeted spot.

Beingstill was not a natural occurrence for me, no matter how many times I did this.I told myself I was getting better. At some point, I’d believe it.

Ifroze as the sound of horses came down the tree-covered path below myhiding spot. Three. My source had said there would be four. Had she beenmistaken, or was it simply that the fourth rider had too much to drink at theDrunken Ox pub last night?

I held my breath as they moved closer, and my time of deciding to attack or not grewslim. Skipping this job would be bad, very bad. Vuelo was paying good money fora bag of rare coins. But without backup, there was no one to save me if Iguessed wrong.

Thenthe riders crossed an open part of the trail. One of the guards was missing.Which could mean he was coming up behind, had passed out somewhere, or was takinga different route. I really needed this job, so I took the chance that he wasout of the picture completely.

Theremaining three people were where I needed them to be. Taking a steadyingbreath, I released the string of my bow. The long arrow sliced through the ropeholding up the net, which covered the road, dropping it over the three riders. Thespells embedded in the rope knocked out riders and horses, but left themstanding. It wasn’t a cheap spell to buy, but worth every coin. Of course, it wouldonly last for about five minutes. I had some magic of my own, but I was new toit, and something this touchy could take years of training.

Islipped my bow and quiver into the sling over my shoulder and raced down to thestunned group. I bypassed the two guards—the man looked like he’d been stunned whilegetting ready to shout, the woman had her hand on the hilt of her sword, andhad already drawn it a few inches.

Neitherboded well, as it seemed they’d sensed me right before the net dropped. Whichshould have been impossible.

Swearingunder my breath, I ran to the nobleman. Getting the pouch out without touchingthe netting over him wouldn’t be easy. In theory, the heavy gloves I wore shouldkeep the spell on the net from my skin, but it still wasn’t a good chance totake.

Ittook longer than I’d practiced, but I got the heavy pouch free safely. I noddedthanks to the nobleman for the coins, not that he could see anything, nor wouldhe see more than a plant-darkened face under a heavy hood, even if he hadn’tbeen spelled. But it was nice to be polite.

Ha.In her last letter, my foster sister Alia had bet me three half-pence Icouldn’t pull off a job without fighting someone. Nice to know my friendlythief was wrong. And she owed me some coin.

“Holdit right there.” The deep voice behind me wasn’t what I needed right now.

Iturned to the man, expecting it to be the missing guard, but he had beendescribed as a half-troll, and this one was human.

Hewas also cloaked and hooded, not unlike me. And, uncommon to most rogues, hewas armed with a longbow. Also, like me. Yet his hood didn’t cover his facewell, and I could see he was about my age, with dark brown hair and deep hazeleyes. Attractive, but not smart enough to completely hide his face. I wascertain he wasn’t local.

Hewas someone I would remember.

Ikept my head up, watching the hooded man as I tucked the pouch into the vestunder my cloak. The one Alia swore could stop an arrow at close range whenshe’d stolen it for me last year.

Iwould rather not test her claim.

“I’llbe taking the bag.” My opponent kept his bow steady as he lifted his chintoward me.

Downto two minutes before the stun spell on the net broke. I’d timed this to be on myway out of here by this point. “I didn’t see you doing the work. I don’t thinkyou’ll be getting the reward. Besides, there are widows and children to feed.” Iadded the last part as a lark. This was going into my pockets, those of Vuelo,who gave me the job, and a large anonymous donation to schooling for theyoungsters of the Fae Workhouse. But I’d heard of some thief robbing and givingto the poor halfway across the country, so I might as well play off it.

“Thenyou won’t mind me taking it to them. I can’t see your face, but you sound likea lovely young woman. One who shouldn’t be out where it’s dangerous.”

Aguaranteed way to get under my skin was to mock me as being a frail anddefenseless woman. And this idiot wasn’t even doing it based on my looks. At aspeed my elven ancestors would have approved of, I drew one of my throwingblades and flung it at the archer.

Heducked but stayed on his horse as I ran around the still-frozen, but not formuch longer, nobleman tableau and vanished up the hill into the deep bushes andtrees. It was the wrong direction from where I left my horse, Moose, but I’dcome back to get him if he didn’t come down on his own.

Hewas too ornery to let anyone else take him.

Swearingfollowed me as the spell on the nets expired, the noblemen and guards woke up,and the archer who’d tried to rob me tore off in the opposite direction. Atleast that was what it sounded like. I had excellent hearing and wasn’t aboutto risk being caught by turning around to check.

“I’vebeen robbed! Follow him!” The noble’s voice was high-pitched and whiny.

Ialmost felt bad for the archer, but if he was as woods-smart as he’d appeared,he should have no trouble getting away. If not, then maybe he’d learn not torob people. I chuckled. I’d need to tell Alia and Wynne my joke when I next sawthem.

Ithought I was far enough away from the ambush, so I slowed down. Luckily, Ihadn’t pushed back my hood as a large form crashed through the shrubs behind me.

I’dforgotten about the missing half-troll guard.

Iwasn’t tiny; those elven ancestors gave me height, but this guard was a goodtwo feet taller than I.

Andfrom the massive arms, long tusks, and heavy brow, I’d say he was more thanjust half-troll.

“Staystill.” The guard’s face was brutish and he looked extremely confused. “Whatdid you do?”

Hechased me, but wasn’t certain what I’d done? I might need to give some of mypilfered coins back to the nobleman so he could hire a better class of guards.

“Iwas coming down the path when I heard yelling, and I am now returning home.It’s dangerous for a lady to be out.” I tried to hold myself regally, but thecloak and hood made it difficult.

“Withthe gunk on your face? Push back yer hood.” The half-troll held a short sword,but rather ineffectively. If I charged him, there was a better than averagechance I could knock it out of his hand. Of course, that would put me withinhis reach. He might not be used to a sword, but his arm muscles indicated heknew how to squish things. Or people.

Orfeisty human-elf hybrids with a tendency toward robbery.

“Thisgunk, as you called it, is the newest skin treatment from the capital. It usesthe power of nature to bring forth our inner beauty.” I gave a haughty sniff asI took a step away from him.

Hescratched his head. “You don’t look like a noble. And you have a bow?” Hisforehead crashed down over his eyes. “You’re hunting.”

Hisslow nod prompted another two steps back by me.

“Ihave been out communing with the natural world. Of course, I have a bow. Would youexpect a noble lady to use a sword?” Three more steps back.

“Ithink you needs to come with me. Now.” His face scrunched up further. Luckily,he indicated his intended direction toward me early enough that I was able to dodgeand run.

Mymentor, Jeliac, had always said to never fight what could be outrun. And if Icouldn’t outrun a lumbering half-troll, then my elven ancestors could rise fromthe beyond and smite me.

Iglanced around as the guard crashed along after me. I wasn’t one to believe inthe afterlife or spirits, but my other foster sister, Wynne, did, and some ofit must have rubbed off. I sent whatever beings were out there a request forhelp.

Keepingmy swearing under my breath, I smiled as a clearing opened up ahead of me. Afamiliar one. There was an open-ended cave system on the other side of the deepgrass. I could run through and be safe and settled in my front room before thetroll blundered his way out.

Thesound of an approaching horse at a good pace wasn’t welcome.

Thearcher from before cut into the clearing and lifted an impressive sword. “Getbehind me! I’ll protect you!” He threw back his hood. Even more attractive thanI’d originally thought, with warm brown hair drifting past his collar, hazeleyes glinting in the late afternoon sun, and dimples even a serious frowncouldn’t erase. But dropping his hood wasn’t a great idea if he didn’t want tobe identified by the guard he was now threatening. However, I would take anydistraction at this point. Even a heroic, handsome, but not bright, one.

“Thanks,but I’m fine.” I ducked around him and his horse, but only to scramble into thecave mouth. I hadn’t been there since I was a girl, and it was narrower than Irecalled. To be truthful, I doubted the half-troll guard could have made it pastthe entrance.

Iwatched as the guard charged the archer. Then I ran into the cave. The soundsof fighting faded away as I made my way through the twisty tunnels. I had a fewfalse turns, but eventually came out on a hill overlooking the town I calledhome, Dialitlyn. It wasn’t much, but it was a sight to see after the events ofthe last few minutes. Peering out of the cave, I made sure no one was nearby,then raced out of the cave and down the hill. The borrowed spell on my hoodkept it from flying back, but Wynne had warned me it wouldn’t last long.Another bit of magic on my long list of spells to learn.

Ididn’t feel safe until I’d unlocked my massively oversized front door, checkedfor attempts of break-ins, gone inside, relocked, and spelled the door. Then I listenedcarefully for sounds of pursuit.

Thenoble and his people weren’t from Dialitlyn, so there wasn’t much fear they’dknow who I was. Not to mention, neither the half-troll nor the archer had seenmore than my cloak and my gloved hands.

Iquickly scrubbed the spell mud from my face; it was already starting to itch.Had my hood fallen off, I still would have been almost impossible to identifywith the gloopy mess on my face.

Now,to see what was in this pouch that Vuelo was willing to pay three sovereignsfor me to retrieve. That was a healthy amount of gold.

Icarried the pouch over to my favorite chair, ignoring the two empty ones nearit, and dumped the contents out on the small table next to my chair.

Ithad felt like coins, but thanks to the archer, I hadn’t had time to check. Iwasn’t expecting the dozen small, cut, and polished gems that tumbled out. Ilet out a whistle. Without even knowing what these were, they were about ahundred times more valuable than three sovereigns. What was Vuelo’s game? Shewas a mostly honest leader of the criminal world, or at least the edges of itin Dialitlyn and the villages nearby. I did simple, low-level jobs for a few coins.Why would she have sent me after a major haul? Vuelo had said it was a pouch ofrare coins. Did I grab the wrong thing? The pouch looked as Vuelo had describedit, and there had been nothing else in the nobleman’s top pocket, which waswhere Vuelo promised they would be.

Igrabbed a writing stick to turn the gems around without touching them. Not onlywere gems valuable for just being themselves, but they could also be used tohold dangerous spells. The less contact, the better.

Theselooked as if they might have the remains of extremely faint gold jewelry settingson them. Whoever took them had been careful about making certain they wereclean. Another advantage of my eleven ancestors, exceptionally good eyesight.Luckily, for me, aside from my height and slenderness, I didn’t look elvish. Myears and light green eyes were rounded and human. Not that being an elf was abad thing, but they weren’t common in this part of the kingdom. Not to mention,my exceptional aim with a bow, which brought in much-needed prize money fromtime to time, would be questioned if it were known I had elven blood.

Ipushed the gems around some more, but they weren’t giving me any answers. Icould possibly use my low-level magic to get a response, but I’d promisedJeliac I wouldn’t try to use magic in the house until I received more training.All my life, I’d wanted to be magical, like my two foster sisters. Then,suddenly, a year ago, magic smacked me upside the head.

AndI’d almost blown the roof off my second favorite pub.

Luckily,Jeliac, Alia, and Wynne had all still been in town at the time and shut medown. Alia had sleight of hand magic, low-level but enough to recognize when mymagic flared to life. Same with Wynne, although her magics were from the seas.Jeliac was a former royal wizard of a distant and unnamed kingdom. He was themost concerned. He taught me some low-level magics, but admonished me not toplay with magic, then vanished eight months ago.

Alialeft for Tuctown four months ago, and Wynne went back to the high seas twomonths ago. The house Wynne, Alia, and I shared felt cold and empty now. Evenmore so when I’d just escaped from being captured and had some extremely oddgems to deal with.

Grumblingto myself, I used the writing stick to push the gems back into their bag. I wassupposed to bring the bag and its contents to Vuelo first thing in the morning.Normally, I didn’t have a problem handing over what I lifted off unscrupulous richtravelers. Jobs for Vuelo were usually clean and easy. And allowed me to keepliving in this house. Plus, helping out the orphans in the Fae Workhouse withdonations made me feel good. Anonymously, of course.

Iwashed my face again, the spell mud still felt as if it was lingering, changed myclothes, and had a nice stew simmering when a sharp knock rattled the frontdoor.

Itwas full night now. Proper people wouldn’t be calling. Dialitlyn was arelatively safe town, but still, chances shouldn’t be taken. I grabbed one of mydaggers and kept it behind the door as I cracked it open. Jeliac had been afterus for years to get a spyhole installed. I now regretted that we had ignoredhim.

Ihad a magically powered torch outside my house, one Jeliac had installed tocome on at dark, so I could see the face of the person facing me as I crackedopen the door.

Ialmost slammed the door in his face. “What do you want, Xial?” Vuelo was mostlyupstanding. Many of the people working for her were not. Xial was one whom Iwould count myself lucky if he died a sudden and horrific death.

Thescar running down his face from eye to chin, and a second, fainter one acrosshis throat, pointed out that I wasn’t the only one to feel that way.

Unfortunately,nothing had killed him yet.

Heshoved his way into the room. I was fast, but he’d taken some sort ofspell-drug as he not only shoved me back, but he shut and locked the doorbefore I could get my dagger up. He also pulled out a nasty-looking shortsword. “I’ll take the bag Vuelo sent you after. You can give it to me, or die,and I'll take it anyway.”

PREORDER

 This is the first book in a new series. Coming out Oct 22-- on preorder now!

                                                               Mischief in a Bottle

Chapter One

 

 

Iknew this wouldn’t be a good day when a goat stood bleating at me from the footof my bed.

Andit wasn’t my goat.

Rollingover and ignoring it seemed the best option until Lucie, the orange cat menace,ran across my bed, jumped to the headboard, tail in full puff mode, and hissedat the goat.

IfI had access to my magic, I could have sent both of them out into the barnwhere they could sort out their issues and leave me in peace. Unfortunately,being a paroled jinn trapped on the backwater planet called Earth meant thatwasn’t an option.

Ofcourse, the humans of this planet were clueless about being a halfway house forparoled criminals. Nor did they know of the hundred worlds, loosely grouped asthe Eltrisphere, hidden far beyond their solar system. Earth was only a joke tothe advanced peoples of the Universe, and Earthlings weren’t in on thepunchline.

“Lucie,what is that goat doing here?” I had a goat. Actually, I had a goat assigned tome. At this time in the morning, Tiberius was probably still passed out in theliving room, drooling into the carpet, and not appearing at all goat-like.

Tiberiuswas also a jinn, a different line than mine, though. He didn’t have magic atall.

Tiberiuswas a former centurion and the one who’d brought me in for a crime I don’tthink I’d been involved with. There were complications after my hundred-yearstay in my bottle imprisonment for said crime, and I was given probation onEarth to prove I was now a functioning member of society. Tiberius was sentdown with me to keep me on the straight and narrow. Or to spy on me. Thatpossibility was still in my head.

Hereon Earth, I looked just as I did normally, tall, slender, with long, black hairand green eyes. My skin was a dusky tan, so I said my people were from someplace called India. Long ago.

Inreal life, Tiberius was about seven feet tall, broad-shouldered, blue, and hada massive wingspan. Those attributes only appeared now when he was asleep.Otherwise, he was a talking goat. Who fainted when he got startled.

Hehated when Lucie or I pointed it out.

Thegoat at the end of my bed gave a soft bleat, folded its legs, and settled infor a staring contest.

“Seriously,Lucie. Take your friend outside.” A glance at the clock informed me I still hadfifteen minutes before I had to get out of bed. I planned on keeping all ofthem.

Thelarge orange cat hissed once more—which the goat ignored—but stayed on thebookcase, which doubled as my headboard. “That’s not my friend. None of them are.Get up and shove them out!” Lucie had been a companion of the jinn who’d sentme into lockup for crimes he’d pulled off. The creep had also been my late andunlamented ex-boyfriend. Lucie helped me resolve a few problems when I firstcame here, and as he wasn’t a normal Earth cat, he decided to stay with us.

Istarted to roll over when his words caught up with my attempt at dozing. “Wait,them?” That got me up. “There are more?”

“Yes.”Lucie flapped his tail. “At least seven more. There might be more outside. Icame in here to get away from them.”

Iwas in my robe and slippers in a flash. Tiberius might look like a goat, but hewasn’t one. I didn’t need a flock of real goats eating my furniture.

Thegoat on my bed looked up as I ran out the bedroom door, but then snuggled backinto the blankets.

I’ddeal with it later.

Thesnores from the far corner told me Tiberius hadn’t noticed his admirers. Butthey had noticed him. Not a single piece of furniture had become goat food. Noteven the crocheted throw blanket Martha made me, which covered the back of mysofa.

Butseven smallish goats were watching Tiberius with complete adoration. Eventhough from the massive blue foot sticking up in the air, he wasn’t currently ingoat form.

Iquickly shut the front door in case there were more coming. How it got openwould be a question for Lucie. He’d stayed out last night, doing whatever hedid. I told him I could have a cat door built that would let him come and go ashe pleased. But he insisted on using his lock-picking skills.  When he felt like it. Mostly, he scratched andmeowed to make me open the door for him.

Hehadn’t shut the door behind him, and whatever he’d been doing, it had involveda herd of goats.

“Okay,this isn’t good. Not today.” I ran my hand through my mass of unbound darkhair. It had a mind of its own, so I usually kept it in a ponytail of somesort, even in bed. I’d been so exhausted last night prepping for the grandopening of my tea and spice shop that I’d let it go free. “Tiberius, get up.Slowly.” The goats around him didn’t look violent, but who knew what wouldhappen when he transformed.

Nomovement from the blue foot.

“CenturionTiberius, get up now!” I deepened my voice and shouted loud enough to make thegoat from my bedroom come out to investigate.

Themassive blue foot dropped, there was some muttering, and then a large goat withimpressive horns appeared wearing a blanket. He blinked at the smaller goatswatching him, then at me, then back at them.

“Whyare they staring at me? And why are they in our house? That’s not sanitary.”

Iignored the fact that he was a goat and spent most of his time inside. Hisglitching back into his real form when asleep meant sleeping in the barn oroutside was off-limits once night fell. “I have no idea. Lucie came running inwith them.”

“Idid not! They followed me. I couldn’t shut the door in time.” Lucie came intothe living room with his tail twitching furiously. He ignored the goats andjumped on the kitchen counter.

I’dtried to convince him the counter wasn’t a good place for a cat to be—heignored me. But the way the goats turned to look at him made me think it mightbe okay this time. The one formerly in my room hadn’t reacted to Lucie much.But these other seven were looking at him like he was goat food on the paw.

Iknew goats were fairly open about their eating preferences, but I didn’t think itextended to cats. Most likely, he’d annoyed them somehow. It was one of hisskills.

Tiberiusstalked through the goats to go to Lucie’s counter. “What. Did. You. Do?”

Lucie’stail lashed so quickly that it looked like it was about to fly off. His eyesnarrowed, and he gave a hiss-growl that I’d never heard. Even from the localcats.

“Idid nothing. I was making my rounds, checking out the town, as I do. Thesefollowed me. Center of town, just a herd of goats out for a stroll in themiddle of the night.”

Oneof the goats came alongside Tiberius and leaned into him. He gave an alarminglygoat-sounding bleat and scrambled away.

“Theylike you.” I pulled back the curtain across the front window. Yep, a few moregoats were milling about in the yard. “Someone has to be missing them. Goatsaren’t wild in Northern California.” I was pretty sure there were few areas inthis part of the world where they were wild, but as I was restricted to twentymiles outside of the borders of Forgotten Hollow, I wasn’t planning on beinghere long enough to find out.

“Theyneed to go outside.” Tiberius stomped to the door and waited for me to open it.Unlike Lucie, his hooves weren’t good for opening doors. I would have said cat pawsweren’t much better, but I had a feeling Lucie had skills he wasn’t sharingwith us. He and I were both magic users, but our nice silver jewelry—two thinbands on my wrists and a matching collar of an odd, flexible silver on Lucie’sneck meant we weren’t casting spells.

Tiberiusdidn’t have magic, but he got a collar as well. Supposedly, all of them blockedother magic users from using magic against us.

Magicusers who shouldn’t be on this planet unless they were parolees as well. All ofthe parolees on this planet were kept far away from each other.  Like one per continent.

Iwas just reaching for the door handle, the goats had lined up behind Tiberius,when a sharp knock rattled my door.

Iclutched my robe tighter and peered out the side window. At first, I thought itmight be Jack Lanclin, my local cop friend. He’d been the first one to find mewhen Tiberius and I had been dumped here. He’d also helped out when some deadbodies showed up two months ago.

Ihadn’t seen him much since then. Sadly.

Tobe fair, I’d been working on getting my teahouse, The Fainting Goat Tea andSpice, built and ready to open. But he could have stopped by just to visit.Honestly, it was almost as if he was avoiding me.

Theman on my stoop wasn’t Jack. His hair was blond and his profile was kind.

Justfrom what I could see, he was what my friends Betsy, Jamie, and Martha wouldhave called a hottie.

AndI was here with a bathrobe, wild hair, and a herd of goats. Jinn ranged fromthe more exotic, like Tiberius with his massive size, wings, and blue skin, tomore human-looking, like me. My darker skin and wide green eyes did make me alittle exotic-looking, but I could easily pass for a human without a spell.

Theman knocked again. I couldn’t take the time to change, nor could I hide thegoats. With a sigh, I opened the door a few inches.

“Yes?”

“Hello,I’m Camfield. My goats appear to have wandered into your yard.” His accent wasdelightful. From my late-night TV binging, I recognized it as from somewhere inBritain. I would have known if someone like him had moved into town.

Nomatter how caught up I was in getting The Fainting Goat up and running.

Oneof the goats behind me bleated, and I opened the door further. “A few of themcame inside as well.” I didn’t want this handsome, amazing-sounding man tothink I was trying to steal his goats. “I have a goat with health issues. Hecomes inside sometimes, and I think they followed him. I woke up to find themhere.”

Tiberiusnarrowed his eyes at me but then led the goats out past Camfield.

“Thatis an impressive buck. No wonder my girls followed him.” He laughed as Tiberiustrotted toward the barn and all of Camfield’s goats trailed after him. “I’m newto farm life, but never heard of a goat living inside a house.”

“Hehas serious health issues, rare ones. It’s better to give him his medicineinside. And he faints.”

“Ah!I’ve heard of those. Are you interested in selling him? I could use a buck likehim with my herd.”

Iswore I heard Lucie muttering behind me, but it was low enough so Camfielddidn’t respond. “I couldn’t. He was left to me by my favorite great-uncle whenhe passed. Part of the family.” Jinn couldn’t lie if they knew the truth; itwould literally make us choke, but we were great at crafting tales. The linewas extremely thin, but one I fought to hold.

Myofficial story concerning Tiberius was although my great-uncle did leave him tome, he was also the only good thing I got in an ugly divorce. As long as I keptmy stories straight, I should be okay from choking.

Henodded. “I understand. Fainting goat, you wouldn’t be Ceian, the owner of the newteahouse, The Fainting Goat?”

“Iam. We even built him a pen alongside it. Namesake and all.” I shoved my massof hair aside and tried my most winsome smile.

Camfieldsighed and looked back toward the barn. “It’s been wonderful making youracquaintance. I apologize for any issues my goats caused you. But I should getthem back to my yard.”

“Anytime.”I flustered. “I mean, they weren’t any trouble at all.” That time, I knew Iheard Lucie muttering swear words. They weren’t in any human language, luckily.

Camfieldflashed a stunning smile, gave a nod, and followed Tiberius and the goats to mybarn.

Itook a step to follow them, but Lucie dropped down and rubbed my legs. Itwasn’t affection; he was pointing out my current attire.

Iwatched Camfield vanish into the barn with a sigh, then shut the door.

Sulkingat my lack of a wonderful first impression, I went to the kitchen, startedwarming up the kettle, and brought some eggs out of the fridge.

Lucieresumed his spot on the counter. “You have a crush. I thought you liked the cop?”

Itried ignoring the cat, but I knew it was pointless.

“DetectiveJack Lanclin, his name is Jack. And I don’t like him. He was interesting whenwe first arrived here and helpful in getting us through that mess. If I went tojail, you’d be on the streets. But he has other things to deal with besides me.”I crammed tea leaves into my loose-leaf strainer. Probably more than required,but I felt a need for a lot of caffeine this morning. Things weren’t off to agreat start. “Camfield is just a nice man who isn’t blaming me for you leadingoff his goats.”

Aknock at my door brought me stumbling to answer. Maybe Camfield had somethingelse to mention. I tried fixing my hair, but it was still a massive pile. Nonetheless,I put on my best smile as I opened the door.

Tofind three little old ladies staring past my barn. Betsy had her hand up toknock again, and I coughed before she could finish the movement and hit me inthe chest.

“Oh!Sorry, Ceian. Just got distracted. That Camfield is quite the looker. He’salready calling on you?” She grinned as I stepped back to invite the three in.

Theywere my only friends in Forgotten Hollow. People were nice, but they seemed toavoid getting too close to me because of the dead bodies that had been foundaround me when I first arrived.

Notto mention, I’d been told they could take years to warm up to a newcomer. I washoping that my parole down here wouldn’t last that long.

Marthaand Jamie followed Betsy in, and all three stopped to say hello to Lucie andgive him the required pettings. He purred, rubbed against their hands, and thendarted out the door before I could shut it.

“Stayout of trouble.” I kept my voice light, but he needed to be more aware of whatwas around him.

“Whatbrings you over this morning?” Without asking, I poured everyone tea and addedsome cookies. The ladies often dropped by, but rarely this early.

“There’sbeen a murder!” Betsy’s bright blue eyes were round as she beat the other twoto the punch.

 Welcome to the Insecure Writer’s Support Group blog hop! .

Once a month writers gather online to share, cheer, and lament this writing world we’re in. It's the most amazing andterrifying place to be!

Join us!

There's often a question (optional) withthis adventure and the one this month was interesting.

 

What's your favorite classic ghostly tale?

 

Ummm, unlessthey're funny ghosts, I don't have one.

I'm not a bigscary, ghost person. Fast and funny is more me.

But, this didmake me think about what story scared me. Waaaaay back in the dark ages,teachers liked to make kids read scary, dark, or depressing stories (That wasmy view).

 

I still recallone that I read an insanely long time ago. No idea about the title, and it wasa flash fiction--as in two pages maybe?

 

It was a womantalking about being home alone and that her husband always called her paranoid.She's making comments as she goes through the house checking things.

 

Then she came toan outer door that she'd locked that was now wide op--. 

 

Yup. It endedright there.

 

It freaked meout! Obviously made an impact since over 40 years later it still sticks in mymind.

 

As a writer, Iadmire that power. Such a simple story with a simple gotcha. I would love tohave that ability--in my own fashion. I may blow things up in my bookssometimes (okay, a lot) but the closeness of that story, the impact of theultimate cliffhanger ending....dang.

 

It was veryimpressive.

 

So, since I'vediverged, what's a scary story that made an impact on you?

Happy IWSG day!

Bonus points if you know the short story I mentioned!

 

  Welcome to the Insecure Writer’s Support Group blog hop! Can’t speak for the others, but yup—insecurity is my middle name sometimes 😉.

Once a month writers gather online to share, cheer, and lament this writing world we’re in.

Join us!!!IWSG



Today is sort of related to this months question about what we learned in school that messed us up as writers.
For some of us *cough cough* school was a loooong time ago. So instead I thought I'd ramble on about listening to others on this writing journey.
1) DO it! Read, listen, etc.2) DON'T follow it!
Thank you for coming to my TED talk  ;).
Okay, there is way more to it than that. 
The trick is to be open to learning--all the time.  Educationally, I've taken far more courses than were needed for my Master's degree...because I liked learning. 
Writingwise, I've been writing for a VERY long time, and publishing since 2015.
And there are still so many things out there to learn!
When you're new or not so new, learning new things in your field can seem overwhelming. And often contradictory. Because most people are telling you what worked for them. Nothing that worked for them might work for you. Or some of it. Or all of it.
The trick is to really figure out who you are. And don't be afraid to test! I'm a serious pantser, but a few years ago thought that plotting might work for me.
Nopity. Still have that mess sitting around somewhere. I love the story, just will need to rewrite a LOT.
Does that mean that all plotters are wrong? Not at all!  It means it's not right for ME.
So go out with an open mind, but then really examine the information you find.
Any things that you tried that flopped?  Or that you thought would flop and succeeded?
Happy IWSG day!

 If you haven't read the first two in this trilogy, you might want to turn around now  ;).  

Also--this is hasn't gone through final edits ;). And the odd space between paragrapghs is a Blogger thing, not mine.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter One

 

 

Vas froze as Terel and Pela raced off the bridge with an unconscious Deven on their gurney. The voice that Vas just heard had been a disturbing combination of the Deven she knew and one of the Devens he’d become when he came back from dying and had been in three bodies a year ago.

It was the worst of the three—the asshole pirate.

She forced that issue aside for the moment. She wasn’t certain what she’d heard—aside from the voice of a dead Pirate of Boagada saying that even though Deven had been the Clionea nuns’ Pirate before, he was tagged to be it again.

Something supposedly impossible.

He’d also said that Deven would save or doom everyone. Then Deven channeled the jerk pirate persona he’d had when he came back from the dead.

Mac jumped the Destroyer’s Curse through a dozen gates as they escaped the Nhali mining world as it blew up. Vas finally told him to stop, but this system looked too busy for her liking. She didn’t enjoy thinking of hiding and licking their wounds, especially after a fight they mostly won. But that was what they needed now. Too many things had gone on lately, and the issue with Deven could be catastrophic.

“Mac, find us another less busy system. We have no idea if the Nhali can connect us to that planet, but if they can, they will blame us for it blowing up.” Never mind that the Nhali had been digging up a converted planet left behind by the Asarlaí thousands of years ago. An extremely unstable and dangerous planet.

Mac nodded and blasted them back through the gate. He went through two systems, slowly, before Vas agreed to a location. No signs of advanced technology. And the only planets were far from the gate.

“Good work. Gosta, Hrrru, find us a place to hide. I’ll be in the med bay.” Vas was proud of not racing after Deven immediately. But they were now in a safer spot and she trusted Gosta and Hrrru to find a place to settle and hide.

She needed to know who was in Deven’s head. If it was that jerk pirate, she’d lock him up immediately.

“He’ll be okay.” Aithnea’s voice coming out of her comm as she jogged down the corridors wasn’t as soothing as it might have been if she wasn’t dead.

“That pirate. I heard that pirate’s voice.”

Aithnea hadn’t been around when Deven reappeared after being blown apart. But she’d read and listened to the files. “He was seriously injured that could be behind it,” Aithnea sounded too soothing. She was the mother superior of the dead group of Clionea nuns, but they were warrior nuns. Soothing usually wasn’t high on her list of descriptives. Even when she’d been alive.

Vas slowed a little as she went down the corridor to the med bay. If Aithnea knew something, she needed to know before she went to see him.

“What do you know? You heard that he’s our new Pirate of Boagada, is this something because of that?”

The Pirate of Boagada wasn’t a member of the Clionea nuns—at least not a regular one. The nuns were a female order, but the Pirate could be any gender. They served for a year or two doing things in concert with the nuns. Oftentimes they worked around the nuns' stricter agendas. 

Then they had their memories wiped out—something they agreed to before accepting the position.

“Yes. And while that did sound like Tilthias, the last Pirate of Boagada, it might not have been. No one has held the position twice.” Her voice dropped and seemed to be talking to herself. “At least any that survived.”

Vas was almost to the outer med bay doors when Aithnea muttered that. She stopped and glared down at her comm. “What did you just say? Rather, what did you mean by what you just said?” As far as Vas had been told there had never been someone to hold the position twice. But the nuns weren’t around lying if they felt it was necessary.

“You shouldn’t have heard that. It’s our fault, you’re coming into some Keeper skills I didn’t think would be there yet.”

She went silent and Vas was ready to find a way to drag Aithnea out of the comm by force by the time she spoke again.

“There were two times that circumstances required replication of holding the position. They both died. I can give you the boring details now, or you can check on Deven.” There was a level of sameness to her words. A balanced and non-emotional way of speaking that Vas remembered from when she was taken in by the Clionea nuns when she first escaped her home world as a kid.

It never boded well.

“After this, you, me, Jasiel, and Nitya are talking.” Vas ignored any further responses and pushed open the med bay doors. Deven, Terel, and Pela were nowhere to be seen. Divee was monitoring the new bio-bed and the unconscious Kantari prisoner inside. He jumped to his feet as Vas raced in.

“Captain!” He was startled but both snub blasters remained in his hands.

“Where is Deven?”

“Terel and Pela are with him in the decon room. She didn’t tell me why, but she has a full contagion warning lockdown on them.”

Vas ran down the way he pointed. The Destroyer’s Curse was a new ship to her—well new enough and she’d been so busy that she hadn’t fully explored the massive thing. The back of the med bay was huge and contained more rooms than hopefully they’d ever need.

She rounded a corner and found one room with enough warnings splashed across it that no one would be crazy enough to enter.

Aside from Vas.

She used her palm to override the warning code and entered a clean room decon area. The system checked her, and then she knocked on the inner doors.

Terel and her assistant Pela were in decon suits and Terel pointed to more of them hanging inside the decon area. It wasn’t clear whether she was afraid that Deven might be contagious—or if he was the one in danger.

Vas scrambled into the suit and was just sealing the helmet when the doors whooshed open.

“Terel, what the hell is wrong?” She’d barely stepped past the doors as they shut.

“I don’t know. We almost lost him coming down here. Three times. I didn’t have a chance to call you. We’ve been resuscitating him.”

Vas looked down at Deven. He was even paler than he’d been on the bridge, but she couldn’t see any external injuries. “Did something get inside him on that planet?”

“It might have?” Pela glared at the screens she was monitoring. “Whatever is going on, it’s seriously messing with our ability to scan him.”

Vas watched as the two furiously fought to save him—from whatever was killing him.

“Damn it, Aithnea said that people who’d been the Pirate of Boagada twice died—could that be it? He was declared to be the next one on the command deck.”

“We need those damn nuns in here, now.” Terel looked ready to snap something at the mention of the nuns.

“I’m here,” Aithnea’s voice came from one of the speakers. “And Jasiel is on her way down. Nitya is having some issues with the ship; we didn’t escape unscathed. But, I don’t believe this has to do with that. Bluntly, the two Pirates of Boagada died after they’d completed their tasks. And yes, in both cases, they were aware it might happen. I’m not getting much from Deven’s mind, it’s too unstable right now. I don’t think Tilthias’ announcement caused this.”

“Keep trying to reach him.” Terel settled down a bit, but she didn’t seem convinced that the nuns weren’t at least partially responsible.

A ringing sound came from outside of the decon clean room behind them. Pela hit a button and Jasiel ran inside and quickly put on a suit.

Even though she was over eight hundred years old, Jasiel looked to be an extremely fit woman in her sixties. Unlike Aithnea and most of the Clionea nuns, who almost all kept their hair cropped, she kept her gray hair long but coiled atop her head.

She was the founder of the most recent incarnation of the Clionea nuns and the only nun still living. For now.

“What’s happened?” Jasiel winced and shook her head as she came into the room. “And what is that horrific sound? How can you stand it?” She’d started to approach Deven, but stopped and took a step back to the doors.

“What sound?” Vas always had good hearing, and since her Keeper training it had improved. But aside from the low-level sounds of the machines fighting to keep Deven alive, there wasn’t anything that would cause that reaction.

“A high-pitched…oh.” Jasiel grabbed her helmet and collapsed.

“Pick her up, get her on a table,” Aithnea said. “I’ll try and find what she was talking about. For the record, I’m not sensing anything. But being disembodied does have its limits.”

Vas and Pela lifted Jasiel onto a bed and Pela scanned her.

“She reads fine. Simply unconscious. Without a reason.” Pela narrowed her eyes and looked between Jasiel and Deven. “She’s not in danger of dying like he is, but could these two be connected?”

Terel glanced up from Deven. “That would probably be a question for Aithnea. Well? Did the nuns have disorders we need to know about?”

“No. We were possibly the healthiest people in the Commonwealth. But there’s something between the two of them. I still can’t hear anything that would have caused Jasiel to collapse, but there’s a strange vibration between her and Deven. Vas, can you roll Jasiel’s cot to the far end of the room?”

Vas looked to Terel but at her shrug went ahead and rolled Jasiel against the far wall.

“She’s twitching.” Vas stepped within Jasiel’s eyesight and gently shook her arm. “Jasiel? Are you awake?”

“Yes. But wishing I wasn’t.” Her eyes didn’t open but her face was lined in pain that was visible even through the faceplate of the decon helmet. “What crushed my skull?”

“You reacted to a sound and collapsed,” Aithnea’s voice now came out of a closer speaker. “Not terribly gracefully, however.”

“A sound?” Jasiel cracked open her eyes. “Oh, gods my head.”

Pela came over and gave her a shot, then ran back to Deven.

“Better. Thank you.” Her face still showed pain, but she opened her eyes. “Let me guess, no one else heard it?”

“No. Do you know what it was?” Vas was already returning to Deven’s side.

“I might. Tilthias could have passed something on to Deven. And Vas. Until this is sorted, I’ll keep my mental shields up.” She didn’t make a move to get up from the cot yet.

Vas wanted to touch Deven but unless she took off her suit she couldn’t. He was still pale but appeared to be twitching now. She had no idea if that was good or not. “Tilthias shared thoughts with me in the cave where his body was buried. Or rather, his spirit did. I felt them but haven’t been able to go through them. Maybe that’s it?”

Jasiel slowly got off the cot. Whatever shields she put up, they must have worked as she came next to Deven and peered closely at his face. “It shouldn’t have caused a problem, but then all of those memories should have gone directly to Deven as the next Pirate. Not to the Keeper. I’d say his spirit had no choice. Aithnea and I need to sort this out. After we stabilize Deven.”

“Which is what we’ve been trying to do.” Terel waved at the monitors. “Any idea how to do that? Something is trying to kill him and I can’t find it, let alone stop it.”

Jasiel turned to Vas. “I wasn’t on deck, but you said you heard an odd voice come from him right before he collapsed?”

Vas gave her a brief rundown of Deven dying and then coming back as three people over a year ago.

Jasiel gave a low whistle. “No wonder he was chosen again. There’s a lot of mojo in him that I’ve never even heard of before. He’s Kilesh, right? They are known for being strong espers, and have hearty recovery systems—but that’s beyond anything from any species.”

Vas shrugged. “Marli said that something in him had changed. She had scans of him from years ago that didn’t match the ones she read a year ago.” She frowned. “And that was before the dead and back as three situation.”

“The Asarlaí woman who helped in your prior battle? It’s sad that she was lost for many reasons.” Jasiel nodded as she continued to study Deven’s face.

“I doubt we’d be alive now if she hadn’t done what she did. But I agree. We do have access to her secret home though.” Vas shook her head. “Aside from the fact it’s in the Commonwealth. Damn, for a moment I forgot that we still can’t get through there.”

Deven started twitching more and Terel came with more sedatives.

“Wait.” Jasiel held her hand up and looked closer at Deven’s face. “He’s trying to come back. I believe those twitches aren’t random.”

“Let me try something,” Aithnea said then went silent.

The twitching turned to spasms.

“Oh no you don’t. Knock this off now!” Aithnea’s voice echoed through the room. And inside Vas’ head.

“This is mine.” The words were good to hear, but the voice wasn’t. His green eyes were almost black now.

“It’s that damn pirate.” Vas looked around. “Not the Pirate of Boagada. The other one.”

Terel nodded. “That’s him all right. Have we lost our Deven?”

“Not if I have anything to say about it.” Jasiel rubbed her hands together—which wasn’t as effective as the suit had gloves—but then she put both hands on Deven and pressed down.

“You can’t do this!” The voice coming out of Deven shifted. “This body is mine!”

“It was never yours, go back to whatever spawned you!”

In her Keeper training, Vas had learned that the higher-level nuns had almost magic-like powers. Or at least ones that couldn’t be explained in an easy-to-understand manner. That was what she felt at that moment. A powerful fight was going on between Jasiel, Aithnea, Deven, and that pirate.

Just not one she could see.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Welcome to the Insecure Writer’s Support Group blog hop! Can’t speak for the others, but yup—insecurity is my middle name sometimes 😉.

Once a month writers gather online to share, cheer, and lament this writing world we’re in.

Join us!!!IWSG



  Today is about every writers' superpower--consistency.

 

I don't mean that you do the exactsame thing each and every day. That does work for some folks, but not foreveryone. But rather, being consistent in your dedication to your writing.

 I've realized that because I can writeat a certain speed, doesn't mean that doing it (without training) is a greatidea. Yup, still in almost-burnout recovery.

It's like someone who can sing wonderfully, but never trained. The odds aregood they will destroy their voice. Athletes who have a gift, but perhaps notas much solid training behind them, also burn out.

 Same thing can happen with writers.Especially if you're a naturally faster writer.

 Taking a step back and starting lowand slow can really make a difference and help develop a consistent habit.Habits are built by repetition--same with writing and building the writingmuscle. Even if you only have ten minutes of stolen time a day, try to be consistentabout it. 

 Eventually, it becomes habit and youmay find more stolen chunks of time along the way.

 I was hitting 4k a day before myalmost-burnout. I dropped it to 2k and now am hitting 2,500. Next week, if Istill feel good, I'll go up to 3k for a few weeks. The trick will be to listento myself and NOT keep pushing. My hope is that when I get back to that 4k aday (or higher?) I'm in a much better place than I was at the start of thisyear.

What do you do to build consistency into your writing?

Happy IWSG Day!

 

 

Welcome to the Insecure Writer’s Support Group blog hop! Can’tspeak for the others, but yup—insecurity is my middle name sometimes 😉.

Once a month writers gather online to share, cheer, andlament this writing world we’re in.

JOIN US!

 

Today I’d like to talk about a topic currently near and dearto me—naming books. The book that launched in January, had its title for years—Destructionof Chaos (Following Essence of Chaos and Division of Chaos in that trilogy.) Thatwas easy peasy.

But, I’ve got three projects currently—and until a few daysago none of them had titles. Oh, they had placeholders, and two still do—FAERIES2024 and JINN 2024. The one that has its title now was VAS 2024 but is nowKeeper’s Tempest.

So, how do I name my books?

Each series has a unique pattern within the series and isdifferent from the other unrelated series.

The first six Lost Ancients (Fantasy) were all named after apart of a broken relic staff that my characters needed to find, whether theywanted to or not. 

The Glass Gargoyle, The Obsidian Chimera, and The EmeraldDragon were the first three. For the continuation of that series, I needed newitems as we’d dealt with that staff in the first six books. The Seeker’s Chest, The Finder’s Crown,The Hunter’s Chalice, FAERIES 2024….okay, that last will get a title….anytimenow 😉. I'm only about an eighth of the way done with the draft, it'll come to me!

The space opera series is currently at book 6 (there are twotrilogies—don’t ask). Warrior Wench, Victorious Dead, and Defiant Ruin are thefirst set. All three are names of starships but also say a bit about one ormore of my main characters. Similar style, but slightly different in tone, thenext three are Traitor’s Folly, Destroyer’s Curse, and now, Keeper’s Tempest. Again,starships and reflections of the stories.

Probably one of my most fun trilogies (so far 😉)to name have been the steampunk ones—A Curious Invasion (aliens and vampires inVictorian London), The Mayhem of Mermaids (fishy people aren’t all good), andAn Intrigue of Pharaohs (Egyptian trouble makers back from the dead!)  These books have a different feel and pacethan my other series. Still action and adventure, but a bit slower pace.The titles worked to show that (in my opinion-LOL) and also tell a bit of what’sgoing on inside.

The other trilogy that was fun to name was an Urban Fantasythriller. The Girl with the Iron Wing, An Uncommon Truth of Dying, and Througha Veil Darkly. The tone and length of the titles are different from the otherseries but consistent with each other. These books are a bit darker than myother books and so are the titles.

Our covers and titles are the first thing we have to catch apotential reader’s eye and give them a reason to look into buying our books. They don’tneed to be perfect, but ideally, they should reflect the tone and genre of thebook and series.

How do you create titles for your stories?

Happy IWSG DAY!!!

 

 

 

FREE EBOOKS!

Join over 180 fantasy, SF, and more authors in this special two day sale. These ebooks are available world wide!

If you haven't read my The Glass Gargoyle or Essense of Chaos, they're in there too!

Grab your books quickly!

 Welcome to another episode of How the Book Turns--a blog run of authors across the globe as we wail, gnash teeth, and generally love what we do--join us!

JOIN HERE!

The awesome co-hosts for the June 5 posting of the IWSG are Liza at Middle Passages, Shannon Lawrence, Melissa Maygrove, and  Olga Godim!

Today I'm looking at changes in our writing world and how they arethe one constant we have.

Wayback in grad school, I knew what to do. Take the courses, write the papers,design, propose, and defend my thesis, and then get my degree. Easy, peasy. (Ignoringthe massive amount of work—the work was hard, but the path was easy 😉)

Sadly,writing doesn't work that way. Oh, the writing part is the same, more, or less,kinda sorta. Read some books from 50 years ago in your genre. Some areclassics, some make you wince. Writing styles and preferences change with time.

Butit's the business end and getting the elusive readers and sales that can besoul-crushing, confusing, and maddening.

There isn’t a nice clean go from point A to B to C to success. Andeven when you have some success (whatever you define it—we all have our ownvalid success metrics) the next month, week, or even day, it can crumble.

The graph for most writers is an insanely swirling line that goesup, down, sideways, backward, and sometimes into a black hole.

So, how do we cope?

Good question!

The first thing I’d suggest is to sort out what success means toyou. You don’t need to tell anyone. Just you. That success can change, and doesn’tneed to be related to numbers—aka “Sell X number of books” or “Make X number ofdollars”. It can be as general and vague as you want. And it can and shouldchange as you work your way through this writing path.

Secondly—don’t change everything because a successful author saidto do things a certain way. Yes, they might have succeeded doing exactly whatthey are telling others to do. BUT- unless you have the same books they do, theexact same skills they have, your situation will be different.

And their way might have worked six months ago, or longer, but notnow. I’m not saying don’t listen to other authors—do! 😊. But listento what they say carefully, pluck out the parts that resonate with you, dumpthe rest, and move on.

The biggest thing is EXPECT THINGS TO CHANGE. I’m definitely a “prefersa nice clean path of what to do and what my results will be” gal. Sadly, I’m awriter and that option doesn’t exist. I’m now working on accepting that andpivoting way more than I used to.

What about you? How do you deal with change in the writing world?

Happy IWSG Day!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 This post is short and sweet--

There are a bunch of free Urban Fantasy ebooks available today!

Grab them here!

Start a new series today!!