Drew Hayes's Blog

               To address the elephant in the… room?... blog?... anyway, usually these get posted around the actual new year, however y’all might notice that this year’s is being posted at the end of January. Was it due to some awesome secret deal that Drew can only now divulge?

               Sadly, no. The short answer for the delay is: the flu. The longer answer is the fact that I’ve got a compromised immune system thanks to the treatment for my psoriatic-arthritis, so even smaller colds knock me down for a day or so, and this month I definitely got more than small colds.

               But after ample rest and lots of meds, I am officially back and running, at least enough to be able to sit down and type out a blog. Which means its time to turn out eyes toward 2025… almost.

               As long-time readers know, I like to take a moment first and reflect back on everything that came the year before. And whoa nelly, was 2024 ever a year for releases. The Autumn of Drew was in full swing, with back-to-back books for most months in the last half of the year. We had Villains’ Code #3: Chilling Reflections, Roverpowered #1, A Decade of Death & Decisions, and Roverpowered #2.

               Now there were a few books that were expected to make that list which didn’t, and I’ll touch on those shortly, but overall that amounts to a heck of a good year. Not only was it amazing to see A Decade of Death & Decisions reach a larger audience, but I was floored by the positive reception to Roverpowered. Wading into a new genre, especially one where I have as little standing as YA, I was prepared to have to fight my way uphill with that one; only to find you folks showing up enthusiastically. I wanted to take a moment and call that out with gratitude, having the support of a steadfast audience is part of what allows me to take these risks and try new stories.

               That said, grand as 2024 might have been, it is now in the rearview mirror as we turn our eyes toward what lies ahead in 2025.

1. Publish the e-book and print versions of 5-Minute Sherlock #3 – The Case of the Felonious Faire: This is one that got pushed from last year. My original plan was to release it in late summer, but y’all might notice that got crammed full of other books due to a glut of releases hitting at once. It was initially moved back to November, but got lost in the shuffle of illness (get used to that well, I get shoved down it a lot) and holidays.

Thankfully, things are in process, and this one should be up any day now. I’ll do a big release announcement when it’s finally ready.

2. Publish Fred #9, the final Fred the Vampire Accountant book: Another holdover from last year’s list, this one also got delayed, though in this case it was due to what might be the most boring reason of all: red tape. I’m currently in the process of regaining the rights to the older books from REUTS publishing, who did the first 5 titles. In order to run promos on the older books or any sort of collected editions, that’s a necessary step to check off, and unfortunately it is taking a lot longer than anticipated.

That said, things are slowly moving, and one way or another the matter is getting settled this year. So Fred #9 is on the docket, though I don’t have as clear-cut a delivery window as with The Case of the Felonious Faire above.

3. Publish Villains’ Vignettes: Volume 2: For anyone following along on my Patreon, you know the content for this one has kept going at a steady pace. This one is pretty much entirely written, though of course we’ve still got ample editing ahead.

My goal with this one is to publish it on or near the audiobook release date for Villains’ Code #3: Chilling Reflections (6/24), that way every audience gets some new content in that world around the same time. We’ll see if life lines up that conveniently, but that’s at least the general window I’m aiming for.

4. Write and Publish Roverpowered #3 and #4: Technically speaking, I only need to write #4 at this point, as #3 is in edits and has a pre-order page already setup. That seemed like a small delineation to make a separate entry over though, so they’re both combined here.

I’m confident that #4 will be written this year, and barring some shocking scheduling issues, I imagine Aethon will be able to publish it in that time as well. That’s the great thing about the series being the size it is, there’s always room to squeeze these into the work-schedule as needed.

5. Write Spells, Swords, & Stealth #6: Switching gears to a differently sized project, I’ve actually already started work on SS&S #6. This one is my “big” book project for the year, and I expect to be able to finish it within 2025 without any major issues. I’m hoping, planning, and praying this one comes is notably shorter than Noble Roots, which was supposed to be 160k instead of the 240k it ended up. Even if it does run over though, I’ve started early enough in the year that this one should absolutely be done.

Publication will probably take until 2026, as the bigger books need longer in reviews, edits, and so forth, but I don’t expect it will be too late next year.

6. Write 5-Minute Sherlock #4: It’s too long without a case, but this year The World’s Greatest Detective will hit the page once again! I’m really excited for this entry, it’s one I’ve known we were working our way toward since the series inception. You all know I don’t give out spoilers, but I will say that folks hoping for movement on the series larger plot are going to be very excited about this one.

7. Continue with weekly Patreon content: Since I technically labeled last year as an experiment, thought I should make a point of stating that I’ve been really happy with this new arrangement. It gives me a place to share the stories that might be harder to package in a traditional market, and seems like folks have enjoyed the array of content. I think we’ve got a good thing rolling, and my only notions are to see how I can expand or improve things in the year to come.

8. Work on the Super Powereds webcomic: Although it was featured on last year’s list, this one actually isn’t a push, we’re just looking at a project on a very long timeline. That said, we’ve started to see some of the books-turned-comics that started development earlier debut, and they are looking awesome! I’ll share what I can on this as its allowed, just again keep in mind this is lengthy process.

9. TV/Movie Deal: At this point keeping my final goal as the TV or Movie deal is tradition. Not the likeliest goal on here by a wide margin, but it never hurts to try.

And that’s the plan for 2025! We’re looking at another stacked year for releases, and the writing of some fan favorites series getting their next entries. Hopefully you’ve got a fun 2025 planned as well, feel free to drop by the Discord or let us know in the comments below!

                Another year down, another set of books on the shelf, and a fresh canvas before us. Which can only mean it’s time for the Yearly Look Ahead of 2024.

                Formerly my Yearly Wrapup, this is where I go over all the goals and planned projects that are going to be officially announced for the year. Not everything here will see publication by the end of December, as some of it is about things I’m working on, but these are all the most relevant projects to discuss for the coming twelve months.

                Before we look to the future though, let’s take a moment to enjoy all that got done in 2023. We saw the publication of the first Villains’ Vignettes installment, along with the audio release of 5-Minute Sherlock #3: The Case of the Felonious Faire. I attended my first romance convention at Readers Take Denver, which I’ll be returning to for 2024! And speaking of returning to cons, I once again got to be at Dragon Con in 2023, and will be again for 2024.

                2023 was also the year that Shingles: The Movie released, the first time one of my stories has been put upon the silver screen. Check it out if you like comedic horror, but be aware that my story is only one of the segments, and the rest are pretty maturely themed. I also have to add that sitting in the audience at A&D Con Portland, listening to people laugh as we screened this film, was an awesome experience.

                Sadly, A&D Con Portland marked likely the last of the in-person A&D Cons for the foreseeable future. Much as we love putting them on, post-Covid the con scene has gotten wildly pricier, and as things stand there was just no way to make it work without charging more for tickets than felt appropriate. That said, A&D con will live on, and I’ll get into details there once we reach the goal section.

                Which hey, we’re pretty much at!

                Just in case anyone is new to these blogs, I like to post goals around New Years rather than resolutions, and a good majority of them center around writing, as it’s both my passion and my career.

                And damn, it wasn’t until I started putting everything together that I realized how densely packed 2024 is going to be!

1. Publish Villains’ Code #3: Figured we may as well start with the most obvious ones and work our way down. As the project that took up pretty much my entire 2023, I am overjoyed to say that Villains’ Code #3 is finally nearing the end. As this post goes up I’m reaching the Epilogue, so a rough draft will be done soon, and then it’s onto edits.

As a reminder for folks who missed last year’s releases, if you haven’t read Villains’ Vignettes: Volume I, there are going to be some fairly confusing aspects of Book #3.

2. Publish 5-Minute Sherlock #3 in print and ebook: For those who aren’t familiar with Audible Originals, these are books made with Audible as the publisher, where the audio version comes first, with print and ebook following roughly half a year later. Since The Case of the Felonious Faire released in December, expect to see this one around summer.

3. Write and Publish Fred the Vampire Accountant #9… the final Fred book: This one got pushed from 2023 since Villains’ Code ran so tremendously over expectation (surprise, surprise), but it’s the next project on my docket to tackle, so I feel very confident this one will be out in 2024.

And yes, you read the title there right, this will indeed be the finale of the Fred the Vampire Accountant series. It’s been a long journey, and while we’ve nearly reached the end there’s still a fait bit of adventure in store for Fred and the gang.  I hope you enjoy the conclusion to come.

4. Publish A Decade of Death and Decisions: This is the Halloween story that ran on my site for a decade, now properly edited and packaged together into an true novel. And I’m happy to announce that there will be an audiobook version of this one. My plan is to release around October of 2024, but that might shift around depending on how all the other stuff plays out, because guess what, we still aren’t done!

5. Publish a year of Patreon Content: In case you my big announcement a few months ago, I have officially started doing some serial content once again. Posts go up every Tuesday and Thursday, and it comes with access to my Discord as well. Fulfilling my weekly promise almost goes without saying, but never missing an update is a goal I intend to honor, so it felt appropriate enough to warrant an entry.

6. Debut the Roverpowered series:

“Aspiring alchemist Wanda and her faithful familiar Wumble take on the world in this classic tale of friendship, adventure, and an unstoppable dog with world-shaking power.”

As my first effort at writing something suitable for a younger audience (meaning there’s finally a Drew Hayes book without any swear words) and the first series I’ve partnered with a publishing company for in many years, I am beyond excited about this one! While the stories here will be shorter, installments will also come more frequently. I can’t speak to the publication dates here yet as that’s in Aethon’s hands, but my intent is write at least two of these per year, more if time allows.

7. Work on the Super Powereds webcomic: In case anyone missed that announcement earlier in the year, Super Powereds is being adapted into a webcomic! Although I would be surprised if this one was released in 2024, I do expect a lot of development to happen through the year and I am so thrilled to see how it goes. I’ll share what I can as progress moves along, I know a lot of you are just as eager as me to see Super Powereds in a another medium.

8. Hold an Authors & Dragons Digital Convention: While the physical realm might be beyond us, the Authors & Dragons crew has gotten practice doing digital events from during the lockdown days. Our goal is to take what we learned from our older online events and put together something even better. It won’t quite be the same as our classic con, but then again this one won’t come with airlines and hotel costs, so it’s not all bad.

9. TV/Movie Deal: This has been on the list since the lists started, and originally it was meant as bit of a ridiculous potshot goal to shoot for. And truth be told, that’s about where we still are, though if nothing else the Shingles movie demonstrated just how much is possible from simply going for it. So I’m keeping this one on here, because hey… you never know.

                I hope all of you out there are having a great 2024 so far. As always, feel free to share your own goals for the year ahead in the comments or on our Discord.

                As a fellow internet denizen, I too know the annoyance of clicking on a title that interested you and then having to slog through bullshit to find the real info, so let’s get to the main point of today’s writing up top:

                While it will be different than last time, I am indeed returning to serial publishing for 2024 (and possibly beyond). It will be run through my Patreon, accessible on the $5 tier (which comes with other fun stuff as well) and start in January of 2024.

                Now then, that leaves us the rest of the entry for those who want the details on what will be different and what prompted the return to my original style of publishing after several years on break.

                Based on the sales numbers, I’m going to assume most of you are not familiar with my entries into the Shingles series from a few years back, but those who checked them out might know it was where I began messing around with writing novellas. And over the years, I’ve found a real passion for stories in that format.

                If my normal writing feels like television, then novellas are akin to doing a movie. With so much less space to play with, you have to hit different pacing notes, keep the story moving, and get things swiftly wrapped up. Not the format for all my stories to be sure, but I have had several that finally found their feet when put into a novella style.

                So I’ve been working on them in my free time, outside my usual daily writing obligations, and I’ve done it consistently enough to where I felt comfortable sharing that work with readers.

And that, good folks, is what will form the foundation of my new serials. Each year will feature various novellas. Once enough are out I’ll likely release them as a collection so that we can see an audio version, but I expected that will take a while due to the slow release nature of serials.

                Now the majority of it will be entirely new content, but there are going to be a few exceptions worked in as well. One of them will be my attempt an Author’s Commentary, where I post some of the older novellas, along with a section below each chapter detailing what influenced certain decisions in the above chapter, my thought process looking at the story as a whole, or any fun (and germane) trivia tidbits I can conjure up.

                The reason for those reposts is that some of the serial novellas will eventually be sequels to my earlier works, and this way everyone has easy access to the stories before we reach that point, without it being just old content for the folks who did already read those tales. I’ve made no secret that I have plans for Action Kadabra and Holly’s Jolly Christmas sequels, to name a few.

                I’m also really excited to add this to my Patreon. I love the wonderful people in my community, and always feel a bit like I’m not offering enough for folks pitching in consistently, so this should bring a lot more value to their subscription. If you want to read along, it’s on the same tier as the Discord, so be sure and come say hello after signing up.

                All in all, I’m hopeful this will be a win all around. I get a new creative outlet, my Patreons get more bang for their buck, and eventually these tales can join my published catalog. That said, those of you who’ve been with me since the serial days know I pride myself on upholding my trust with the audience, which is why I’m only currently announcing this for 2024. This year is a test run to make sure I can keep up with all my necessary writing, and to ensure its delivering content the readers actually enjoy. Once we’ve seen that, we can look to 2025 with a better idea of what works best.

                I hope you come join me for this plunge into water both new and familiar. I’ve got the first of stories already planned out, and there are real fun ones in store. Hopefully you all enjoy them as much as I had fun writing them!

Join Drew’s Patreon Here

                Another year behind us, with a new one on the horizon.

                Hey there folks, and welcome to my Yearly Lookahead, formerly titled my Yearly Wrapup. On a functional level, there’s no difference in how they work, but I’m hoping the title change adds a level of clarity to their intent. In fairness, putting my plans for the year ahead in a blog whose title openly focused on the past wasn’t the most obvious of places for people to check. That’s also why it got shoved back a bit, launching in the new year it looks toward rather the one it remembers.

                That said, there are certainly a few points of 2022 worth making note of. On top of publishing Noble Roots (Spells, Swords, & Stealth #5) and Posthumous Education (Fred the Vampire Accountant #8) I was able to finish writing both 5-Minute Sherlock #3 and Villains’ Vignettes Volume I. I even had time to get one of the novellas from Villains’ Vignettes Volume I posted as a Sneak Peek for my Patreons throughout December.

                In a very special note, my decade long Choose Your Spooky Outcome came to a close this year. That’s noteworthy for an abundance of reasons, not the least of which is that you collectively chose to end it, and you did it with flair. I’m still sorting out the details of what to do with that tome; though I do want to release it as a full book, finding the right presentation will be key.

                Convention wise, I had an excuse to return to Vegas, help successfully pull off our third Authors & Dragons Con (Speaking of, here’s tickets for 2023 in Portland), and attended my first ever Dragon Con! As many people warned me it was massive, though a great experience overall. I’m excited to head back in 2024.

                Then, of course, we had Shingles the Movie. While unfortunately life didn’t allow me time to get out and visit during the filming, I knew several of the A&D cast had an awesome time visiting the set. Shooting the movie was a big highlight overall, and I know we’re all super excited about the release coming in 2023.

                A fun year indeed, but as we all know, it’s already in the rearview mirror. Now is the time for 2023, and that means it’s time for some goals! For newer readers, I don’t set  New Year’s resolutions, instead I set objectives I want to accomplish in the year ahead. There’s an aspirational component to some, like the TV/Movie Deal, but hey, there’s always a chance.

                1. Publish Villains’ Vignettes Volume I: Kind of a given since it’s already written and just needs a bit more polish. Still, a goal is a goal, and this is one I feel pretty darn confident in pulling off. There will indeed also be an audio version of this, though I obviously won’t know the timeframe until Tantor has the book. This is one I’m really excited about, both as an new outlet for smaller stories set in the Villains’ Code world, and for the individual stories themselves.

                2. Publish 5-Minute Sherlock #3: Despite being written, this one is slightly less of a lock, as it’s my Audible Original series. For anyone unaware, that means Audible acts as the publisher for those books. It means I get awesome covers and excellent editing, however unlike the titles I produce independently, these are part of a greater catalogue. Publishers have to coordinate their numerous releases, so there’s always a chance it could get pushed past 2023. That said, I would call it unlikely, given that we’re starting the year with a rough draft already done.

                3. Write Villains’ Code #3: Those who keep a close watch on my Series Status page will know that technically this one has already kicked off, though there is certainly still a lot to go. This one is only listed as a writing goal for 2023 because the size of the Villains’ Code books means production takes a while. On top of the writing itself, huge books need longer for edits, which I do multiple phases of. That’s actually part of why I started integrating the Villains’ Vignettes into the series, as it allows for releases in that world between the larger undertakings.

                4. Write Fred #9: For clarity, I’m only slotting this one as a write, not a publish. While I’m certainly open to the idea of getting Fred #9 out the door in 2023, until I see just how long Villains’ Code #3 takes, there’s no way of knowing how much time I’ll have left to work with. With a handful of months, I could hopefully get it written since the Fred books are a shorter series. Editing and release would be a much higher hurdle though.

                5. Write another Patreon novella: Nothing specific in mind here, I just had a lot of fun doing the Sneak Peek in December and I think it’d be enjoyable to do again. We’ll see when time allows, but I think over the course of a year I can swing a spare 20,000 words. And speaking of the Patreon…

                6. Update the Patreon: This was, in truth, intended to happen at the end of 2022. Several weeks of Covid exhaustion will knock a lot of plans askew, however. Thankfully, I got some balls moving early, and hopefully this one can be accomplished before February. Stay tuned for updates on that front!

                7. Do more conventions: I’ve been slowly getting back out there since the pandemic, and I’m hoping to add a couple more in 2023. Outside of Authors & Dragons Con and Dragon Con, I’m also already booked for Readers Take Denver at the end of March. That’s all that’s locked in for now, but I’ll update my Event page as soon as new plans are set.

                8. Throw a safe and awesome Authors & Dragons Con: We had an amazing time with everyone last year, and this time we’re doing it in downtown Portland, one of my favorite cities in the country to visit. I am super-excited for this one, especially because we’re changing things up a bit to have a more dynamic schedule, with surprises I think our listeners are going to really enjoy. Not to mention, a screening of Shingles The Movie with the writers themselves. It’s going to be a great time, hope you all can make it!

                9. TV/Movie Deal: We’ll close out with the usual pie-in-the-sky ambition, though with how quickly studios keep hoovering up superhero properties, maybe someone will eventually want to try a narrative focused on a guild of pragmatic villains. We can always hope!

                Hope you’re all having a wonderful start to the new year! Let me know what goals you have for the year ahead in the comments.

                Another pandemic year in the bag, as we once again hope this will be the final one. And this is a year that definitely did not go to plan on some accounts. Despite that, there were still several events and accomplishments worth celebrating, as well as balls that got rolling on future projects.

                On the book side, I daresay this was my thinnest offering since I started writing. We had Fred #7: Out of House and Home release over summer, and my Christmas Shingles Holly’s Jolly Christmas earlier this month. Audio versions of both are either out or in development, while the Graphic Audio of Fred #7 is due out in early January. For those who haven’t followed the Discord/Brodeo episodes where I talk about what I’m working on, most of this year has been spent on Spells, Swords, & Stealth #5, which went spectacularly over my estimations for length. Now that’s not inherently a bad thing, I wrote a longer book because I wanted to tell the story as best I could, which ended up taking a good chunk of pages. While it is in edits now and should be out in Q1 of 2022,  all that extra writing means there wasn’t time to get it properly prepared and out this year.

                In a related topic, one of my major 2021 projects actually went on behind the scenes. While it wasn’t the sexiest bullet-point, my #3 from last year’s Wrap-Up was to rework my schedule. As part of ending my blog as a regular features, I’ve been changing up my writing schedule and how it is allocated to various projects. The goal for this was two-fold: build a pace that was sustainable for the foreseeable future, and structure my projects to come out at a more consistent pace. On the first front, I can say it’s been a big success. Mixing up my workflow and adding in occasional days for free-writing has helped keep me fresh and from hitting slowdown points. How well it works on the scheduling front remains to be seen, it will take around two years for everything to be setup as intended, so fingers crossed for more stable output moving forward.

                Then there are the non-writing feats to celebrate, such as the third overall and second in-person Authors & Dragons Con. We had a lot of fun getting to see everyone who came out, and sharing our big announcement of Shingles: The Movie. Which I still cannot believe actually funded, you magnificent maniacs. I can’t wait to see the film, and you can expect to hear a lot more about it through 2022. In fact, you can expect a few surprises in the year to come, as a few other balls started rolling this year. I can’t speak about those yet, but damn do I wish I could. Keep an eye out, this year has some very fun things in store.

                But enough of mysteries and dwelling in the past, time to look forward to the future! For new readers, I don’t do New Year’s Resolutions, I make New Year’s Goals that I want to accomplish. Some, like the TV deal, are more aspirational, but I do make an effort to hit them all. So what does 2022 have in store?

                1. Publish Spells, Swords, & Stealth #5: It might be obvious, yet it still needs to get done. Given the size of this thing, it will need a bit of time with the editors, but things would have to go catastrophically wrong (knock on wood) for it not to be out in Q1 2022. The upside to all that extra time is that this is far and away the biggest of the SS&S books yet, and I think folks will really enjoy it.

                2. Publish Fred the Vampire Accountant #8: Another I don’t expect is a surprise, as I’ve tried hard to keep Fred annual as much as possible. That’s the perk of being one of my few short series, and why I feel confident this one can be written and published next year, even with the extra time some steps are currently taking.

                3. Write 5-Minute Sherlock #3: Like Fred, these series have shorter entries, so this is another I feel good about being able to complete as planned. The only reason this one is a Write instead of a Publish is that 5-Minute Sherlock is an Audible Original series, and Audible acts as the publisher. That means I have to be worked into their release schedule, putting date of publication out of my hands. I’d love to see it release this year, and would certainly say it’s possible, just not an element I can directly control.

                4. Work Ahead: Much as I love writing my huge books, I’m not big on the way they tend to break up my release schedule. With an eye on eventually getting to Villains’ Code #3, one of my main goals with the new schedule this year to build a genuine buffer. Previous attempts have succeeded, only to have it burned up by the massive projects, so the goal for this one is something that can be sustained.

                5. Shingles The Movie: It might have been funded in 2021, but Shingles The Movie is going to be a big part of my 2022. It shoots in the fall, and hopefully releases by winter. We are so freaking excited about the script, director, and just the chance to have this exist at all. This is one you can expect to hear a lot on as the year moves forward.

                6. Safely Host Authors & Dragons Con Charlotte: I love our cons, I really do. If you’ve seen me there, it might not come through because I’m usually running around from one thing to the next, but even as busy as it keeps me its one of my favorite parts of the year. Getting to see my friends from the podcast, and to greet familiar faces while meeting new ones. I really hope we get to host the next A&D Con as planned, but no amount of fun would be worth risking anyone’s health, so we’ll have to hope for the best and see how the year goes.

                7. Movie/TV Deal: Amped as I am for Shingles: the Movie, this one is a tradition that I’m keeping on the blog until you see a true blue Drew Hayes book featured on the screen. And honestly, I might not even take it down then. After all, I do have a lot of different worlds at this point.

                Alright everyone, that is it for the 2021 Wrapup. As usual, if you have goals of your own you’d like to share, sound off in the comments! It’s always a treat to see what everyone out there is working toward in their own lives.

            “I’ll have the usual.” The man at Karen’s booth hadn’t bothered to pick up a menu. He sat there staring up at her, narrow frame and curiously wide shoulders, dressed in an uninteresting outfit of dark slacks, a grey shirt, and a black tie. Ordinarily, she’d have assumed she waited on him recently and simply forgot; neither his face nor his style were the sort of thing to leave an impression. The exception to all this mediocrity was his eyes: the irises were pale lavender, not the sort of thing that was likely to slip her memory.

            “I’m sorry, the usual?” Her auburn hair fell to the side as she tilted her head in confusion.

            The man sat silent for a moment, staring at her intently, then let out a small sigh. “Two eggs over easy, a side of bacon, and a cup of coffee.”

            “Right away.” Karen jotted down the order and headed off, perhaps a bit more quickly than she needed to. There was something off-putting about that man, more than just his strange colored eyes. Lots of people wore wigs or contacts to try and look like Supers, people who got irregularly-colored features naturally (along with abilities no normal human could dream of). But still, he seemed different. Maybe… maybe his eyes were the genuine article.

            Karen’s white non-slip loafers squished as she crossed the diner’s checkered tile floor. She tore the paper with the purple-eyed man’s order from her notepad and slid it across the metal counter at the window to the kitchen. A cheerful young man in a hairnet snatched it from her immediately. Julian ran the line while the rest of the cooks handled the bulk of the food.

            “Table eleven?” Julian asked as he placed the paper with the line of tickets waiting to be filled.

            “Yup,” Karen replied. She could see another of her orders being prepped, so she decided to wait for it to come up rather than to let it sit and get cold.

            “Someone always orders this on table eleven, almost every day.” Julian grabbed a pair of eggs and cracked them into a pan, a searing sound filling the air.

            “Doesn’t ring a bell,” she replied, watching a plate of pancakes make its way toward the window. “I guess all the orders run together after a while.”

            “Uh-huh.” Julian cast a curious glance at her, but the food required more attention than his coworker’s odd lapse in memory. By the time he looked back at the window, Karen had gotten her food and was gone. He meant to ask her about it again when she came back, but it slipped his mind.

            This was still better than Karen, who’d completely forgotten the odd man with the pale lavender eyes within ten minutes of him leaving the diner.

*              *              *

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            Msg – 0734 – DV: Local gang is planning to try and rob the bank on 43rd and Bishop this afternoon. Five known members, at least three are Supers. One has enhanced strength, one has telekinesis, third ability unconfirmed. Pictures for identification are attached.

            Msg – 0735 – Dispatch: Notice put out. Will have three Heroes in area at time of robbery. Can you identify which people in the pictures are Supers?

            Msg – 0737 – DV: The bald one is the strongman, the one in the green bandana is the telekinetic, and the one with red boots is unidentified.

            Msg – 0737 – Dispatch: There are two men with green bandanas.

            Msg – 0738 – DV: The one holding his leg in picture number four.

            Msg – 0739 – Dispatch: Confirmed. Do I want to know why he appears to be screaming in pain?

            Msg – 0741 – DV: I decided it was time to leave. Telekinetics can be a handful, so I gave him something to focus on besides me.

End Conversation
Link Terminated

*              *              *

            The unassuming man with the pale lavender eyes put away his phone. He’d been busy with that gang for nearly three days now; it was time to move on to something new. This target would be a little more interesting than just a few Supers who thought they’d reached the level of strength where rules no longer applied to them. The man shook his head; it had been over twenty years that he’d been on this job, twenty years since he graduated from the Hero Certification Program, and in all that time people hadn’t gotten any smarter.

            It wasn’t like the concept should be that difficult to grasp: Supers with the most talent and power got to enroll in the HCP and try to become registered Heroes, the only people legally allowed to fight Supers committing crimes. Of the countless who applied, only ten from each school graduated with certifications. These were people who had brains, brawn, or raw power enough to be considered on par with unstoppable forces of nature. Yet almost every day some upstart with a decent ability thought they would be the one to buck the system. It wasn’t just that the HCP got the best Supers, which they did: it was that the HCP took those top-tier candidates and trained them to be worlds better. It should all be so simple, yet some people kept right on trying to use the gifts they’d been given to overpower regular humans who they saw as weaker.

            That was where the Heroes came in, giving such criminals a whole new outlook on the concept of “weakness.”

            Well, most Heroes did that. Those who graduated with a focus on the Subtlety discipline walked a somewhat different path. They worked behind the scenes, gathering information on all manner of topics to help the combat-oriented members of their community. After all, even the strongest, most powerful gang leader had to sleep sometime. It was the job of Subtlety Heroes to find out where and when.

            The man with the pale lavender eyes walked along in the early morning sunlight, enjoying the relatively moderate temperatures that would give way to oppressive heat when the sun rose in full. He stopped in front of a brick building’s glass doorway, reading the frosted letters denoting the address and occupant, then stepped into the marble foyer. At a circular desk sat a middle-aged man wearing a navy uniform and a laminated badge. His eyes watched the door without wavering, tracking this new person’s entrance.

            “Can I help you?” His tone was restrained and polite, but the distrust in his eyes betrayed the intent behind his question.

            “I hope so; I’ve got a meeting with Alderman Douglas. My name is DV; I should be his nine o’clock.”

            The guard, for that is what he was, nodded and pulled up a calendar file on the silver laptop that rested in front of him. As he did, the man with odd-colored eyes released something from his hand. It was out of sight when the guard looked back up.

            “Just DV?”

            “It’s what everyone calls me, though I’ve got a new secretary and she still messes things up on occasion. May also be under David Valance.”

            A few keystrokes brought up the alderman’s full day, and nowhere on it was a DV or a David Valance. The guard kept his expression neutral, but his suspicion was raised. “You sure it was today?”

            Those curiously-colored eyes flicked away from the guard, just for an instant, glancing at what should have been an empty wall behind the circular desk. “If it’s not, I’m going to fire that damn secretary as soon as I get back. Just to be sure, it may be under the company name: Marbonics Industries.”

            Relief washed over the guard as he spotted the name on the schedule. He loathed having to turn away people that were supposed to be there; it always resulted in him being chewed out, even though they paid him specifically to not let the unscheduled pass.

            “That’s the one. Let me get you a guest pass and you can head on in.” The guard pulled open a small drawer, removing a green badge that the man with the strange eyes would need to keep clipped to his shirt at all times in the building.

            While his head was down, he missed the hum of electric wings that zipped from the wall behind to DV’s waiting hand. Fingers curled around the strange creation, something the size of a dragonfly but made entirely from electronics, hiding it from view. By the time the guard rose from the drawer, all sign of the device was gone.

            “Here you are, Mr. Valance.” The guard handed over the small green badge. “Have a good day.”

            “Please, just call me DV.”

            The man walked past the security desk and stepped into an elevator, vanishing from sight as the doors shut and he ascended to the higher offices.

            Twenty minutes later, a tall gentleman with greying hair and a fine black suit stepped through the doors. He was also greeted with the guard’s stare; however, he did not bother affecting a facade of friendliness, instead proceeding to order the guard around.

            “Gregory Butler to see Alderman Douglas, here on behalf of Marbonics Industries. Let’s hurry this along; I’m already late due to some ruffian slashing all four of my tires when I stopped for coffee.”

            “Right away, Mr. Butler.” The guard went to pull up Alderman Douglas’s calendar then realized it was already on his laptop screen. Strange, he didn’t remember needing to check it for anything this morning. Must have hit a wrong button without noticing.

            “I’ll just get you a badge and you can be on your way.”

*              *              *

            It took three hours before DV managed to get noticed in the wrong way. People saw him, certainly. Alderman Douglas was in the midst of a campaign for state senator, which meant that even here, in his personal business, the halls were frequently frantic with activity. Many of his aides and employees saw the man dressed in dull business-casual attire, but since he was wearing the proper badge, they had no reason to question his presence. True, it might have roused their suspicions to see him time and time again, led them to wonder just what it was he was doing that had him wandering about. That certainly would have gotten him busted sooner; however, it never came to pass.

            Every time someone saw DV, they were seeing him for the first time.

            It was an electronic safeguard that tripped him up in the end. Those were the bane of his existence, for they weren’t as easily influenced by his particular talent. DV was captured in a server room that was locked, alarmed, and secured against exactly the type of entrance he’d perpetrated. Getting in had been simple; it was downloading the last of the incriminating files that had caused a digital alarm to sound and resulted in three armed guards, far less pleasant than the one downstairs, storming in and drawing their weapons.

            Really, he had no one to blame but himself. Gearbox had furnished him (albeit not always knowingly) with equipment so cutting-edge that it should have easily bested these security measures; the trouble with tech-genius stuff was that it was only as good as its user, and DV was too old to keep up with all the advances in electronics. Luckily, he was not so old that his hearing had failed him, so as he noticed the stampeding footsteps converging on his location, DV pulled the small device free from the server and slipped into a hidden pocket in his belt. It wouldn’t buy him much time, but sometimes a little was enough.

            “At ease, boys.” DV raised his hands in surrender as soon as the first lackey burst through the door. “You caught me, I’ll come along peacefully.”

            “What are you doing here?” The biggest guard was the one talking; he must be in charge or too dumb to keep his mouth shut. Either worked for DV.

            “Nothing much, just planting a virus. A virus that, by the by, will wipe your entire system in the next hour. Of course, I might be persuaded to stop it, if Alderman Douglas asks really nicely.”

            Any idiot could guess this was probably a bluff; not that it mattered. If the guard was in charge, he would run this up the line to avoid getting heat for his decision. If he was stupid, then he wouldn’t catch on to the bluff. Or, if DV got lucky, he’d been so dumb that he’d try and attack the would-be-hacker. Having one of them within reach would open up all sorts of wonderful opportunities.

            As it turned out, his guard was the responsible type. Without taking his eye, or his gun, off of DV, the guard tapped an earpiece on his right side. “Sir, can you get me the alderman? We’ve got a situation and he needs to be made aware.”

            DV let out a disappointed sigh. Oh well, this could still prove to be entertaining.

*              *              *

            Alderman Douglas had an unsurprisingly nice office. Millionaires tended to enjoy their creature comforts, and Bertrand Douglas certainly had the money to qualify. A man who started his career as a lawyer then went in to investment and corporate accounting, Bertrand Douglas had made a fortune while helping other wealthy people protect theirs. All of which was perfectly legal, on the books. In the data DV had seen, however, there were more than a few anomalies. It wasn’t what he was looking for, but leverage was leverage, regardless of how it came about.

            DV sat in the very plush chair, hands zip-tied to one another behind his back, and marveled at the décor. Very chic, minimalist, with a few vintage accoutrements scattered about. DV had been in the lair/office of many a wealthy, wicked person over the years, and this was easily one of the better decorated. The guards behind him had no eye or appreciation for their surroundings. All they cared about was the man they’d been instructed not to let out of their sight.

            They were so wound up and focused that when the door finally flew open, two jumped and one nearly squeezed off a shot by accident. Alderman Douglas paid them no mind; his employees may as well have been pieces of unwanted furniture for how often he looked at them.

            “So, you’re the man who claims to have taken my computers hostage.”

            “That I am. Derrick Vindreck is the name, but you can call me DV. Everyone does.”

            “DV, you say?” Alderman Douglas crossed the room and settled in to his own chair, positioned behind the wide wooden desk separating him from the clearly lying man with the strangely-colored eyes. “Well, Mr. DV, my technicians have been sweeping every server and servo since you leveled your threat and have uncovered nothing that matches the virus you described. Care to explain?”

            “Oh, sure. I made it up.” DV kept eye contact with the alderman, carefully working his hands in between the chair and his back. Nothing in his shoulders gave away the procedure currently underway, not even when his skin began to tear. Sometimes he wished he’d gotten one of the physically adaptive abilities like so many other Heroes, that way he wouldn’t end up so sore after every job. Still, he shouldn’t complain; at least the high-backed chair meant the guards didn’t have direct line of sight on him. That would make this much easier.

            “You made it up?” Alderman Douglas arched one of his well-shaped eyebrows, a motion he’d clearly practiced countless times in the mirror.

            “Had to. I didn’t think your goons would understand any of the real threats I could level.”

            “But of course; you had to dumb it down for the guards.” The alderman started to motion for those same guards they’d been discussing, indicating he was done with this mad intruder’s prattling. DV was tempted to let him – it would play well in to his plans – but he needed a little more time first. Besides, he wanted to bastard squirm at least a little.

            “Sure, it’s not like they even know about you hiring those Super thugs to intimidate your political competition. Pretty sweet gig, scaring the others out of the race so you run unopposed. Telling them I knew about that might seem the more clever option, but that’s the sort of threat that only works when the person understands the truth behind it.”

            The manicured hands stopped in mid-air, the alderman’s attention suddenly rapt on his still-seated guest.

            “Or I could have used the financial stuff, but again, I seriously doubt they’re plugged in enough to understand terms like fraud, embezzlement, and larceny. No, the virus was the way to play it. Big enough to get your attention and broad enough that even a layman would understand the threat.” DV hid a wince of pain with a theatrical wink and his left hand slid free. Everyone thought zip-ties were so much better than cuffs, but anything could be broken if a person was willing to do enough damage to their hand. That was one step toward freedom down, two to go.

            “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

            “Come on, Bertrand, you’re going to need to do a lot better than that when the reporters are hounding you. A canned response following a long pause? They’ll tear you up for that kind of amateur-hour shit. Of course, it doesn’t ever have to reach the press if you don’t want it to.” He gave the alderman a reassuring smile, hoping the ambitious politician wouldn’t notice the slight change in DV’s appearance.

            “You’re after a bribe, then? Forget it. I admit to no wrong-doing, and even if you did find some anomalous files, they’ll be inadmissible in court. Breaking in to my office without a warrant is hardly proper procedure.”

            “Boy, if I were a cop you’d be spot on with that. Sadly, the rules I play by are a bit different. Let me ask you something; are you familiar with the Hendricks v. DVA case?”

            “Any lawyer worth his salt knows it. It upholds the admissibility of preemptive investigations if the crimes directly involve violent Supers, but that only applies to…” That was when it clicked for Alderman Bertrand Douglas: those nearly-purple eyes were darkening, ebbing toward a shade that bordered on black. This was no man embracing the nation’s trend of imitating Supers; he was the real deal. And if he’d come here investigating the Super violence Bertrand had funded, that meant he was the worst possible thing that could walk in the office: a Hero.

            “Guards! Kill him!” There was still time to save things, still time to clean up this mess if he could stop his captive from telling anyone what he’d found.

            “Um, kill who?” This was the first guard, who was looking at his coworkers with an expression of sudden confusion. The others were mirrors of him; not one of the three knew what their boss was talking about.

            “Out of sight,” DV muttered just before he sprang to action. In a single motion he leapt to his feet and kicked the chair back, sending it skittering along the floor and crashing into one of the guard’s kneecaps. Without giving anyone a chance to react, DV continued his escape, racing toward the frosted glass door that secured the alderman’s office. He slammed into it, propelling himself outward and smashing the door into the adjacent wall so hard that the glass shattered to bits.

            The words “get him” died on Alderman Douglas’s tongue as his brain scrambled to remember what had just happened. He’d been doing… something. There were guards here, one of whom was clutching his knee, and the door to his office was broken. That must be it; he’d called them in and one of the oafs had plowed his knee through the door, shattering the glass.

            “That will be deducted from your paycheck,” Alderman Douglas said, slamming his fist onto the desk. “How many times must I tell you idiots to be careful? Honestly, you’ve gotten me so angry I can’t even remember why I asked you in here. Get out, and send someone from maintenance up to take care of this.”

            For a moment, the guards stared at him with dumbfounded gazes, but soon their own brains began filling in the memory gaps as well. The human mind abhors a vacuum, and memory is already such a pliable thing. It was almost no task at all to shift a few facts around until they formed a story that made sense.

            “Sorry about that, sir,” the first guard said, grabbing his injured coworker by the elbow and dragging him out of the room. “We’ll get it taken care of right away.”

            “See that you do.” Alderman Douglas sat back down at his desk as the last of the three exited the office. There was still a tickle in the back of his mind, some nagging sensation that there was an important thing he’d forgotten. He brushed it off as overactive worry. When one was as busy as he, there were bound to be a few things that slipped through the cracks. That was what the little people were there for: to clean up after him.

            In the hallway, the guards passed a man whose dark-purple eyes cusped just on the verge of black who was calmly waiting on the elevator. They gave him a business-appropriate nod, which he returned, and then continued on their way, immediately forgetting about him.

*              *              *

Establishing Link…
Link Established
Start Conversation

            Msg – 1422 – DV: Sending a data upload via the usual channels. Alderman Bertrand Douglas has been hiding and stealing quite a bit of money to finance his election. Some of it was going toward paying off a gang of Supers to scare or injure his opponents out of the race.

            Msg – 1423 – Dispatch: How did that escape us? Those incidents are usually reported as soon as they occur.

            Msg – 1423 – DV: From what I saw in the files, one of them can muddle memories. Not a full wipe or negation, but enough to leave victims confused.

            Msg – 1444 – Dispatch: We’ll send Heroes with appropriate resistances. Apprehension will occur within the next three hours.

            Msg – 1445 – DV: While you’re at it, can I get Fix-Up or someone to come patch me? Got captured during my recon and the escape left me short some blood and skin.

            Msg – 1446 – Dispatch: If it’s critical priority, we can get a healer and teleporter to you in five minutes. If you’re stable and safe, it will be a few hours.

            Msg – 1446 – DV: Hours it is, then. Also, I’ll need to borrow some new toys from Gearbox soon. Running low on gadgets.

            Msg – 1448 – Dispatch: I’ll put something on the books, but you know he hates when you raid his armory.

            Msg – 1448 – DV: Guess it’s a good thing we’re the only two who remember that.

End Conversation
Link Terminated

*              *              *

            “I’ll have the usual.” The man at Karen’s booth hadn’t bothered to pick up a menu. He sat there, narrow frame and curiously wide shoulders, dressed in an uninteresting grey shirt, a black tie, and a white-cloth bandage wrapped around his left hand. He had bruises beginning to show just along his hairline, small cuts running down the side of his face, and what looked a lot like dried blood splattered on his tie. Karen was so distracted by his evident injuries that she didn’t even notice the pale lavender color of his eyes.

            “I’m sorry, the usual?” Her auburn hair fell to the side as she tilted her head in confusion and concern.

            The man sat silently for a moment, then let out a heavy sigh. “Two eggs over easy, a side of bacon, and a cup of coffee.”

            “Right away.” Karen jotted down the order, doing her best not to stare at his injuries as she scooped up his menu and headed toward the kitchen. This was a relatively safe city, but things still went wrong on occasion. If he’d been jumped or something, she didn’t want to make him feel more self-conscious about it. The diner was almost empty; it was too early for the late-evening rush. Thankfully, Karen would be gone by the then, the last hour of her double-shift finally over.

            She grabbed a carafe of fresh coffee, a clean glass, and some cream, then brought the whole assortment to the injured man’s table. He was staring at the television hung in the corner when she arrived, reading the closed captioning about some local politician’s arrest that had gone down earlier in the day. Karen had been a bit interested at first, but after seeing the same minimal footage cycle several times, all her captivation had waned.

            “Looks like some Heroes brought down a crooked politician.” He didn’t look over at her as he spoke, instead grabbing pink packets to dump in his coffee cup.

            “My mother always says ‘crooked politician’ is a redundant term.”

            The man dropped his pink packets as he barked out a laugh of surprise. He glanced up at her, and for what was the first time and also very far from the first time, Karen noticed the strange color of his eyes.

            “Your mother is a smart woman.” He said it with more certainty than she’d expected, as though he knew firsthand just how right she was. “I’m glad to see the Heroes sweeping up the worst of them.”

            Karen nodded. Supers could be a troublesome bunch, and Powereds were a category all their own, but it was hard to dislike Heroes when they were out and about every day saving people. “My mother also said they were people doing God’s work.”

            “Did she now?” This time he didn’t laugh, but he did give her a gentle smile as he filled his mug with coffee. “And what do you think of them? The Heroes, I mean.”

            “I think they do great things, but they’re also lucky sons-of-bitches,” Karen admitted. “Flying around in beautiful costumes, greeted by crowds of people cheering when they arrive, knowing each night they go to sleep that they made the world a better place; who wouldn’t want a life like that?”

            “Do you ever wonder if they get lonely?”

            “Lonely? With all those fans begging for their attention?”

            “Fans and friends are different things,” the man pointed out. “To me, bearing all the power and responsibility, it would get hard after a while.”

            “Still, seems a far sight better than being a regular old person, doesn’t it?”

            “Maybe for some. There’s bound to be a few who are burdened by it, though. Ones who take the responsibility to heart, who live their lives so completely as Heroes that it consumes the other side of them. Heroes who never take off the mask, or remove all the reasons for needing one in the first place. Maybe they don’t start out that way; it just sort of happens after too many close calls. They realize that the only way to protect others from the consequences of their choice is to ensure there are no others to protect.”

            The man paused to take a sip of his coffee, breaking the spell Karen all at once realized she’d fallen under. He seemed to sense it to, as his mood suddenly lightened.

            “Sorry about that, I’m slowly reaching the age where I’ll give my opinions to anyone whether they want them or not.”

            “No, it’s an interesting thought. I never looked at Heroes that way. I mean, I always assumed Powereds were the only ones who had it rough, not being able to control their abilities and all, but Heroes may have some drawbacks too. You’re pretty smart, Mister…”

            “Verdant. Devin Verdant.”

            “How funny, my last name is Verdant. We might be related,” Karen said.

            “Could be, but I doubt it. There are a bunch of Verdants in this area.”

            “Tell me about it; I went to high school with three of them, one whose name was Kasey. Teachers got us mixed up all the time. Well, you sip on the coffee; I’m going to go see if your food is about ready.”

            “Thank you, Karen,” Devin Verdant said.

            His food was ready, and she quickly brought it over to him. Though she meant to talk more with the odd man, her tables began filling up. The longer she worked, the harder it was for her to remember why it was she’d wanted to speak him, or what they’d talked about in the first place.

            He finished his food quickly, keeping an eye on her as she scuttled about. She’d forget him soon: his ability was far more dialed down than it had been at the alderman’s office, but it wasn’t off completely. No one had ever really been able to figure out what his power was; it overcame telepathic and illusion defenses with no trouble at all. Only those with outright immunity to mental alteration were able to hold on to their memories of him. Even on film, he would be seen and forgotten in the same minute; the same would happen even if it was just his voice. Of course, he could have always turned off his ability if he really wanted to be remembered.

            With minimal rummaging in his wallet, DV produced a hundred dollar bill and set it on the table to pay his eight dollar tab. She wouldn’t remember which table had given this to her; that was for the best. If she’d known, she might have realized he always tipped in such a way, and that would have led to questions that he didn’t want her asking.

            He headed out into the early evening air and checked his watch. Fifteen minutes until his meeting with Fix-Up, and then on to recon work for his next project. DV wasn’t a fan of downtime; it gave him time to dwell on all the things he’d sacrificed along the way. With a final glance through the diner’s window at the young auburn-haired waitress scurrying about, DV headed off toward his next meeting.

            There was work to do.

Fool’s Errand

By Drew Hayes

                My kind do not eat babies. The others will be cross at me for spilling such a secret, but it is my right through virtue of my job to speak the truth. I’ve always found the concept to be laughable, anyway. We are corruptors by our nature, your ilk is well abreast of this fact, yet you think we would dine on the innocent? Ludicrous. Demons eat souls that are flavored with sin, the seven spices that stroke our palettes. The soul of an innocent is no more appealing to me than a pile of horse-shit to humans, and it is as toxic as the bite of a cobra. No, demons can only claim the souls of the wicked, such has been the law since the first angels were cast out. I state all of that in order to say this: I never wanted the silly woman’s baby. The baby was merely a token, a pawn in a game she didn’t realize we were playing.

                As an imp, I do not possess the more formative qualities of many other demons. I am not particularly strong or fast, and a good sword can easily slice me in twain. Granted, the damage is momentary, but it is still an altogether unpleasant experience. I have my magic, of course, we demons would be ill-equipped without it. And, most important of all, I have my wit. This is not a trait inherent to all imps, in fact, most of us are too dull to be useful as anything more than runners or messengers. No, my unusually quick mind is a singular occurrence, a twist of fortune that fell in my favor. It afforded me the wherewithal to leave the pit and make my own way in the human world. Mind you, I must still be careful, which is part of why I found myself a steady stream of income.

                I was a Fool, and yes I will take offense if you don’t capitalize it. The Fool is a proud tradition in the greater kingdoms, a skilled entertainer and gleefully serpent-tongued observer of human nature. I served King Lyland as I had served his father before him. Royalty were ripe for sinning, often I would become aware of the opportunity for temptation, only to realize they’d acted on it before I could influence them. It was a cushy job, I was kept well fed and even afforded such luxuries as my own quarters. But such excellent employment came with certain… duties.

                One evening I sat in my quarters, reading a book to keep my mind sharp, when the door opened and King Lyland entered.

                “Majesty,” I said, rising immediately. The bells on my outfit tinkled softly with my every motion. For many of the royalty, that festive sound would be their death knell.

                “Fool,” he greeted me, for my title was a thing I took as much pride in as he his royalty.

                “How may I serve you?”

                “There is a girl in the town,” he told me. His large hands shuddered as he spoke, a sure sign that his lust was almost overflowing. The insatiable look in his wide eyes confirmed what I already knew. “A miller’s daughter. Golden hair, cream-colored skin...”

                “Legs for miles and breasts like mounds of cream. I get the idea.” The king shot me a sour look, but ended his attempts at description.

                “I want her.” The naked desire in his words nearly produced an audible growl from my stomach. King Lyland had been ripe for so long, but I was hesitant to indulge my hunger just yet. There was not yet an heir to the kingdom, which meant his death would cause chaos. I liked my job, and I understood an upheaval in regimes might threaten future employment. Besides, King Lyland knew my secret, and that made him easier to work with.

                “And you shall have her, my king,” I assured him. He nodded, his round face flopping up and down. Each fold of flesh shone with gluttony, and I felt my own hunger flex against the prison of willpower I caged it in. Soon, but not yet. “May I have leave of the court tomorrow? I shall investigate this woman, and then form a plan.”

                “Of course,” he told me. “Make it so, Fool. Bring her to me.”

                “Anything my king desires,” I told him, as I had when he was a child and I was the Fool singing and dancing to keep him entertained. It was the same words I’d told his father, until the day when the time was right and I gorged myself on his lifetime of sins. The former king had been a terse, warring man. Pride and wrath had different flavors than gluttony and lust, variations I looked forward to savoring. “Anything you wish, I shall endeavor to make so.”

                The king nodded again, then left me to my devices. When he exited, I picked my book back up and resumed reading. It seemed the next few days might be interesting.

*              *              *

                I wore the form of a sparrow to see the girl, a small bit of illusion and transmutation not unlike what I did to resemble a human in the king’s court. I left at dawn, flying through the land of Lyland’s small empire, a mere token compared to what his father had amassed, and landing on a tree near the miller’s home. It was the sort of cared-for-ramshackle all the lower classes put up, trying to thatch the roof with love in place of adequate supplies. I stayed in the tree all day, watching the miller leave and the girl go about her daily tasks.

                Lyland had been right, the girl was beautiful, for a human. More than just a well-crafted body and angelic face, she shone with the sort of radiant energy that would have made her appealing even if she’d been homely. Unfortunately, she was also pure as the sunshine that she toiled in. Humble, kind, dutiful, and pious, the girl practically stank of decency. This meant she couldn’t be lured to the king’s bed with common means, and Lyland was too soft-hearted to take the girl with threats or force.

                Many demons would have seen the situation and given it up for a loss, gone back to the castle and tried to assuage an angry king. I, however, did not survive outside the pit because I lack the ability to think my way through problems. Kernels of an idea floated through my mind, bouncing off one-another without finding traction. It was only when her father came home that a true plan began to convalesce. His daughter might be beyond my reach, but a lifetime in poverty had cultivated a healthy amount of greed in the old man. He’d also found a reputation as a teller of tall-tales, pride worming its way in by giving him a way to steal attention.

                Had I been wearing a mouth instead of a beak, I would have smiled. Instead, I took wing and made my way back to the castle.

*              *              *

                “Marriage?” King Lyland asked, staring at me uncertainly. We were again in my quarters, what we were discussing had no place in his throne room.

                “The only way,” I repeated. “The girl is too moral, too devoted to her idea of goodness. She will not come under you willingly unless you have won her hand and her heart.” This was true, even only a day of watching the girl had given away that much. Demons often speak the truth, we simply don’t speak all of it.

                “I can shower her with gifts,” King Lyland suggested. I pushed away the condescending grin that danced on my lips. Snideful mockery would get me nowhere, today.

                “She has no desire for them,” I explained. “For one like her, a classic method is often the best.”

                “Classic?”

                “You must save her great peril,” I told him.

                “What peril shall I save her from?”

                At last, I allowed the grin to break onto my face, a small bit of my true countenance shining through the human facade.

                “Me.”

*              *              *

                The plan took little time to enact, as I’d intended. Within the week her father had spun some malarkey story about his daughter weaving straw into gold. It was a bit more ridiculous than I’d hoped for, but I had King Lyland go ahead anyway. The girl was taken, ostensibly to give a chance to prove her father’s lies to be truths, and shut away in a tower with nothing but a spinning wheel and straw.

                Well, almost nothing.

                I emerged after watching her cry for a few hours, innocence in turmoil being one of my favorite forms of entertainment. The invisibility I’d worn fell away, and she gasped at my new appearance. Gone was my fine Fool’s outfit, in its’ place were simple brown rags, which were still a far sight better than looking than my body. Hunched body, misshapen face, and a nose that managed to be flat and too large at the same time, I was certainly hideous by her human standards.

                If you think this is bad, you should see my real form.

                “Good evening, dear lass,” I greeted. “What causes you such tearful fits?”

                For a moment, she held back, and I feared my whole plan might come undone. Then, with a wavering voice, she spoke.

                “Who are you?”

                “I’m one of the forest folk,” I told her. Being a peasant, she’d no doubt heard tales of the fey that lived in the forest. There actually were a few, but they were an unimaginably tiresome lot to deal with. Nothing but chatter about seeds and harvesting seasons. “I was passing by when I heard your wailing.”

                “How do I know you’re one of the folk?” Smart enough to ask, I had to give her that.

                “We’re in a sealed tower,” I pointed out. “But if you wish to see more, I can oblige.” I plucked a piece of straw from the ground and ran it between my fingers. It shifted beneath my touch, turning silver and stiff. Within seconds I held a long piece of straw that appeared to have been forged from steel.

                “A-Amazing,” she said, staring at the pseudo straw in my hand. Just like that, her hesitance came tumbling down. She told me everything, her father’s foolish claim, the king’s demand she prove herself, how they’d both be put to death in the morning. She wove a tale of helpless desperation, one I was intimately familiar with. Only when she was done did I speak, and it is a testament to my self-control that I kept the smug satisfaction out of my voice.

                “I believe,” I told her softly, “I believe we can make a bargain.”

*              *              *

                Demons cannot turn straw into gold, or at least those of my caliber cannot. What we can do is cast illusions designed to deceive every sense a human has, so when she saw and felt the piles of gold that had once been straw, she believed it whole-heartedly.

                For this mountain of worthless illusion, I demanded only a lock of her hair, which I threw away as soon as I left. It stunk of goodness and I had no desire to have such scents lingering about. I then told the king it was done. He hurried down to her, ostensibly to examine her work but really to stare at her and imagine his hands upon her flesh. He wanted to claim her that very morning, it had demanded all my wiles to convince him that it would take more than a single night of peril to send her to him.

                The girl needed to be desperate, she needed to believe that a king was her only hope. Three should do it, there was power in that number. Three nights, three bargains, three moments of compromise. The last would be the hardest, thankfully that job fell on me. I had confidence in myself. I was a Fool, I knew how to play on an audience’s feelings. She was my audience, for now, a single viewer to the one-man show I produced.

                That night we had an encore performance. She was scared, but this time her fear was diluted with hope. I waited to appear, just long enough that true terror began to set in. When I stepped forward from the shadows, she engulfed me in a wide-armed hug that nearly made me gag from all the purity she exuded. I made a show of haggling a bit this time; per my instructions, Lyland had doubled the size of the room and the amount of straw for me to spin. I warned her that my magic was limited, and that such things came with a price. She begged and pleaded, honey-colored eyes ringed red from tears. At last I conceded, accepting as payment a small brooch her mother had left her.

                In the morning, I took my leave, abandoning her to Lyland’s lustful eyes. Unlike the hair, I kept the brooch. Such emotionally bound items can be useful, from time to time. In the afternoon, Lyland came to me, telling me he was tired of waiting and wanted the girl now. He meant to go propose that very moment. While I loved his infantile tantrums in general, I had no patience when they were directed at me.

                “You will wait,” I informed him, no frivolity or humor in my voice. Even my ever-jingling bells were silent. “You have asked me to deliver this to you, and I shall, but it all will be for naught if you act too soon.”

                “I’ll decide what’s too soon,” he yelled at me.

                “I am the king’s demon,” I told him, my voice soft and a touch of hellfire lighting up my eyes. “I am sworn to serve the king unfailingly. I will tolerate no mortal halting me from fulfilling the orders of my king.”           

                “But I am the-”

                “No. Mortal.” My teeth grew long and my claws grew sharp. The fire in my eyes danced freely, and for a moment I feared Lyland would actually shit his expensive breeches right there on my floor. “Once I have agreed to a task, I never fail.”

                “Right… right you are, Fool.” King Lyland said, stammering as he tried to wrest back control of the situation. Mortals, they go to all the trouble of consorting with demons, then get flustered when we act to our nature. For the moment it severed me better to be a lapdog, so I bowed deep. By the time I came back up, I was the court jester once more.

                “One more night, sire. One more night, and she’ll be desperate for you.”

*              *              *

                It was a hard sale, I’ll admit.

                “My child!” She looked at me, face aghast at such a suggestion. “Why would I give you my child?”

                “Magic has a cost,” I told her. Tonight, my forest fey persona appeared weary and haggard. The mountains of straw surrounding us were four times that which had been present on the previous night. “What you ask me to do will drain me considerably. What I ask of you in return is fair recompense, given that my actions will save two lives and I demand only one.”

                The angry retort on her tongue died away at the mention of her father. He was integral to this process, had it been only her life on the line she likely would have taken death. The noble are difficult to tempt, that doesn’t mean they are hard to manipulate.

                “You have no child yet,” I reminded her. “I am not asking for a thing you already love.”

                “It makes no difference,” she muttered. “My child… I cannot make such a bargain.”

                Outwardly I looked concerned, while inwardly I celebrated. I’d been counting on this.

                “The price must be paid,” I told her. “However, I am not a heartless beast. I will offer you an addendum to our bargain. If, before your baby’s first cries, you can guess my name, then I’ll relinquish all claims on the child.”

                She stared at me uncertainly, chewing on her lower-lip with a feverish pace. I already knew what she was thinking. She was remembering the king’s leering stares, imagining the resources he would have at his disposal. The girl wasn’t overly smart, however, she was bright enough to connect the dots I’d set out before her. Though the king had forged no place of love in her heart, there was a way to save her father and her child, if she were willing to acquiesce to the king’s desires. Noble people, those pure of heart, they are so damnably easy to predicte.

                “I… I will agree to your bargain,” she said, eyes cast to the ground in shame at what she had done. This choice made her shine all the brighter, she had selected the path of self-sacrifice in hopes of preserving those she loved. That was alright with me, the girl had a role to play in my future and it wasn’t as a dinner. A clever hunter uses all his resources, not just the ones that fill his belly.

                “Then a deal is struck,” I announced, turned my attention to the straw.

*              *              *

                In the morning, when King Lyland proposed to her, the miller’s daughter accepted and within a year she was the queen. I danced for her often, the Fool that sang songs of frivolity and filled the courtroom with laughter, along with the jingling of his bells. Lyland told her nothing of my true nature, for even his idiocy had boundaries, and she held no suspicion that the forest fey who’d saved her was now doing a humorous jig to make her laugh.

                Soon, aided by fertility potions I procured from a witch and slipped into their food, the royal couple announced they would become a royal family. The queen was expecting. As soon as the announcement was made, a small company of knights was sent into the forest of nearby lands, ordered to find the identity of a small man matching my illusion’s description.

                Lyland wanted to save the money and give her an easy victory, but I knew better. Easy victories are suspicious victories. For her to be saved, it must come at the last moment. On the first moon, in the fifth month of her pregnancy, I appeared before her as the forest man, hunched and ugly and ready to hear her guesses at my name. Credit to her, the queen spoke until her throat bled and her voice faded completely, before giving up. I told her I would return on the first night every new moon until the child’s birth, so she could guess my name. My next appearance yielded no better results, nor did the following one. By the time the final time drew near, she was almost in a frenzy, sending every person the castle could spare, and some they couldn’t, out to bring her new names.

                Only then did I appear as the forest man in front of one of the searching knights. I celebrated by leaping around a fire, and in the course of that celebration made sure to yell the name Rumpelstiltskin no less than five times. If he’d been thinking a little more, perhaps he’d have wondered why a fey would dance around a fire, singing and yelling the very name he was hoping no one would discover. Nearly nine months on the road had whittled away whatever piece of his brain might have asked such questions, and he promptly raced back to the castle with his newly uncovered information.

                My grand finale was quite a spectacle, the queen playing dumb, offering up name after name, before playing the winning card she’d so thankfully acquired. I whaled and moaned and gnashed my teeth, swearing vengeance upon her, her house, and everyone in the castle, before finally vanishing in a puff of smoke. It was poetic, inspiring, and a performance I will die still proud of. The queen bought it, hook, line, and sinker.

                If you’re wondering, Rumpelstiltskin is a word from the pit. It’s a term for headless animals that bleed from their stumps yet still manage to defecate all over the place. There was no particularly deep connection to it, I just felt like it had the right sound for a child-stealing fey’s moniker. My true name remained my secret, as any smart demon’s should be.

*              *              *

                Two years later, I still perform for King Lyland and his queen, but now I also perform and tend to Princess Wyla. I dance with her freely, twirling her about the courtroom while the royals and hangers-on laugh in derision at my antics. I care not, my success is measured in Wyla’s squeals in delight. I am the Fool of this court, the maker of merry who says silly things in funny ways, slipping out of mind as soon as the sound of my bells has faded. King and queen cackle at me, though the king does so with a touch of hesitance in his heart. Perhaps he has realized that, with an heir, he is no longer quite as necessary to me as he once was. Perhaps, being a married man and father, he has finally begun to take stock of his life and realized all the sins he has committed. All those sins, and then he keeps a demon in his home.

                I’m not worried, Lyland is too cowardly and stupid to make a move against his demon, his nanny, his pet monster. Wyla will not be the same, she inherited her mother’s strength, that much is already clear. It makes little difference to me, there are plenty of sinners in the court to sake my hunger, and even if the queen and princess don’t know of my usefulness, they’re not likely to turn me out. Not so long as I keep dancing, and singing, and jingling.

                After all, everyone loves a Fool.

Fool’s Errand

By Drew Hayes

                My kind do not eat babies. The others will be cross at me for spilling such a secret, but it is my right through virtue of my job to speak the truth. I’ve always found the concept to be laughable, anyway. We are corruptors by our nature, your ilk is well abreast of this fact, yet you think we would dine on the innocent? Ludicrous. Demons eat souls that are flavored with sin, the seven spices that stroke our palettes. The soul of an innocent is no more appealing to me than a pile of horse-shit to humans, and it is as toxic as the bite of a cobra. No, demons can only claim the souls of the wicked, such has been the law since the first angels were cast out. I state all of that in order to say this: I never wanted the silly woman’s baby. The baby was merely a token, a pawn in a game she didn’t realize we were playing.

                As an imp, I do not possess the more formative qualities of many other demons. I am not particularly strong or fast, and a good sword can easily slice me in twain. Granted, the damage is momentary, but it is still an altogether unpleasant experience. I have my magic, of course, we demons would be ill-equipped without it. And, most important of all, I have my wit. This is not a trait inherent to all imps, in fact, most of us are too dull to be useful as anything more than runners or messengers. No, my unusually quick mind is a singular occurrence, a twist of fortune that fell in my favor. It afforded me the wherewithal to leave the pit and make my own way in the human world. Mind you, I must still be careful, which is part of why I found myself a steady stream of income.

                I was a Fool, and yes I will take offense if you don’t capitalize it. The Fool is a proud tradition in the greater kingdoms, a skilled entertainer and gleefully serpent-tongued observer of human nature. I served King Lyland as I had served his father before him. Royalty were ripe for sinning, often I would become aware of the opportunity for temptation, only to realize they’d acted on it before I could influence them. It was a cushy job, I was kept well fed and even afforded such luxuries as my own quarters. But such excellent employment came with certain… duties.

                One evening I sat in my quarters, reading a book to keep my mind sharp, when the door opened and King Lyland entered.

                “Majesty,” I said, rising immediately. The bells on my outfit tinkled softly with my every motion. For many of the royalty, that festive sound would be their death knell.

                “Fool,” he greeted me, for my title was a thing I took as much pride in as he his royalty.

                “How may I serve you?”

                “There is a girl in the town,” he told me. His large hands shuddered as he spoke, a sure sign that his lust was almost overflowing. The insatiable look in his wide eyes confirmed what I already knew. “A miller’s daughter. Golden hair, cream-colored skin...”

                “Legs for miles and breasts like mounds of cream. I get the idea.” The king shot me a sour look, but ended his attempts at description.

                “I want her.” The naked desire in his words nearly produced an audible growl from my stomach. King Lyland had been ripe for so long, but I was hesitant to indulge my hunger just yet. There was not yet an heir to the kingdom, which meant his death would cause chaos. I liked my job, and I understood an upheaval in regimes might threaten future employment. Besides, King Lyland knew my secret, and that made him easier to work with.

                “And you shall have her, my king,” I assured him. He nodded, his round face flopping up and down. Each fold of flesh shone with gluttony, and I felt my own hunger flex against the prison of willpower I caged it in. Soon, but not yet. “May I have leave of the court tomorrow? I shall investigate this woman, and then form a plan.”

                “Of course,” he told me. “Make it so, Fool. Bring her to me.”

                “Anything my king desires,” I told him, as I had when he was a child and I was the Fool singing and dancing to keep him entertained. It was the same words I’d told his father, until the day when the time was right and I gorged myself on his lifetime of sins. The former king had been a terse, warring man. Pride and wrath had different flavors than gluttony and lust, variations I looked forward to savoring. “Anything you wish, I shall endeavor to make so.”

                The king nodded again, then left me to my devices. When he exited, I picked my book back up and resumed reading. It seemed the next few days might be interesting.

*              *              *

                I wore the form of a sparrow to see the girl, a small bit of illusion and transmutation not unlike what I did to resemble a human in the king’s court. I left at dawn, flying through the land of Lyland’s small empire, a mere token compared to what his father had amassed, and landing on a tree near the miller’s home. It was the sort of cared-for-ramshackle all the lower classes put up, trying to thatch the roof with love in place of adequate supplies. I stayed in the tree all day, watching the miller leave and the girl go about her daily tasks.

                Lyland had been right, the girl was beautiful, for a human. More than just a well-crafted body and angelic face, she shone with the sort of radiant energy that would have made her appealing even if she’d been homely. Unfortunately, she was also pure as the sunshine that she toiled in. Humble, kind, dutiful, and pious, the girl practically stank of decency. This meant she couldn’t be lured to the king’s bed with common means, and Lyland was too soft-hearted to take the girl with threats or force.

                Many demons would have seen the situation and given it up for a loss, gone back to the castle and tried to assuage an angry king. I, however, did not survive outside the pit because I lack the ability to think my way through problems. Kernels of an idea floated through my mind, bouncing off one-another without finding traction. It was only when her father came home that a true plan began to convalesce. His daughter might be beyond my reach, but a lifetime in poverty had cultivated a healthy amount of greed in the old man. He’d also found a reputation as a teller of tall-tales, pride worming its way in by giving him a way to steal attention.

                Had I been wearing a mouth instead of a beak, I would have smiled. Instead, I took wing and made my way back to the castle.

*              *              *

                “Marriage?” King Lyland asked, staring at me uncertainly. We were again in my quarters, what we were discussing had no place in his throne room.

                “The only way,” I repeated. “The girl is too moral, too devoted to her idea of goodness. She will not come under you willingly unless you have won her hand and her heart.” This was true, even only a day of watching the girl had given away that much. Demons often speak the truth, we simply don’t speak all of it.

                “I can shower her with gifts,” King Lyland suggested. I pushed away the condescending grin that danced on my lips. Snideful mockery would get me nowhere, today.

                “She has no desire for them,” I explained. “For one like her, a classic method is often the best.”

                “Classic?”

                “You must save her great peril,” I told him.

                “What peril shall I save her from?”

                At last, I allowed the grin to break onto my face, a small bit of my true countenance shining through the human facade.

                “Me.”

*              *              *

                The plan took little time to enact, as I’d intended. Within the week her father had spun some malarkey story about his daughter weaving straw into gold. It was a bit more ridiculous than I’d hoped for, but I had King Lyland go ahead anyway. The girl was taken, ostensibly to give a chance to prove her father’s lies to be truths, and shut away in a tower with nothing but a spinning wheel and straw.

                Well, almost nothing.

                I emerged after watching her cry for a few hours, innocence in turmoil being one of my favorite forms of entertainment. The invisibility I’d worn fell away, and she gasped at my new appearance. Gone was my fine Fool’s outfit, in its’ place were simple brown rags, which were still a far sight better than looking than my body. Hunched body, misshapen face, and a nose that managed to be flat and too large at the same time, I was certainly hideous by her human standards.

                If you think this is bad, you should see my real form.

                “Good evening, dear lass,” I greeted. “What causes you such tearful fits?”

                For a moment, she held back, and I feared my whole plan might come undone. Then, with a wavering voice, she spoke.

                “Who are you?”

                “I’m one of the forest folk,” I told her. Being a peasant, she’d no doubt heard tales of the fey that lived in the forest. There actually were a few, but they were an unimaginably tiresome lot to deal with. Nothing but chatter about seeds and harvesting seasons. “I was passing by when I heard your wailing.”

                “How do I know you’re one of the folk?” Smart enough to ask, I had to give her that.

                “We’re in a sealed tower,” I pointed out. “But if you wish to see more, I can oblige.” I plucked a piece of straw from the ground and ran it between my fingers. It shifted beneath my touch, turning silver and stiff. Within seconds I held a long piece of straw that appeared to have been forged from steel.

                “A-Amazing,” she said, staring at the pseudo straw in my hand. Just like that, her hesitance came tumbling down. She told me everything, her father’s foolish claim, the king’s demand she prove herself, how they’d both be put to death in the morning. She wove a tale of helpless desperation, one I was intimately familiar with. Only when she was done did I speak, and it is a testament to my self-control that I kept the smug satisfaction out of my voice.

                “I believe,” I told her softly, “I believe we can make a bargain.”

*              *              *

                Demons cannot turn straw into gold, or at least those of my caliber cannot. What we can do is cast illusions designed to deceive every sense a human has, so when she saw and felt the piles of gold that had once been straw, she believed it whole-heartedly.

                For this mountain of worthless illusion, I demanded only a lock of her hair, which I threw away as soon as I left. It stunk of goodness and I had no desire to have such scents lingering about. I then told the king it was done. He hurried down to her, ostensibly to examine her work but really to stare at her and imagine his hands upon her flesh. He wanted to claim her that very morning, it had demanded all my wiles to convince him that it would take more than a single night of peril to send her to him.

                The girl needed to be desperate, she needed to believe that a king was her only hope. Three should do it, there was power in that number. Three nights, three bargains, three moments of compromise. The last would be the hardest, thankfully that job fell on me. I had confidence in myself. I was a Fool, I knew how to play on an audience’s feelings. She was my audience, for now, a single viewer to the one-man show I produced.

                That night we had an encore performance. She was scared, but this time her fear was diluted with hope. I waited to appear, just long enough that true terror began to set in. When I stepped forward from the shadows, she engulfed me in a wide-armed hug that nearly made me gag from all the purity she exuded. I made a show of haggling a bit this time; per my instructions, Lyland had doubled the size of the room and the amount of straw for me to spin. I warned her that my magic was limited, and that such things came with a price. She begged and pleaded, honey-colored eyes ringed red from tears. At last I conceded, accepting as payment a small brooch her mother had left her.

                In the morning, I took my leave, abandoning her to Lyland’s lustful eyes. Unlike the hair, I kept the brooch. Such emotionally bound items can be useful, from time to time. In the afternoon, Lyland came to me, telling me he was tired of waiting and wanted the girl now. He meant to go propose that very moment. While I loved his infantile tantrums in general, I had no patience when they were directed at me.

                “You will wait,” I informed him, no frivolity or humor in my voice. Even my ever-jingling bells were silent. “You have asked me to deliver this to you, and I shall, but it all will be for naught if you act too soon.”

                “I’ll decide what’s too soon,” he yelled at me.

                “I am the king’s demon,” I told him, my voice soft and a touch of hellfire lighting up my eyes. “I am sworn to serve the king unfailingly. I will tolerate no mortal halting me from fulfilling the orders of my king.”           

                “But I am the-”

                “No. Mortal.” My teeth grew long and my claws grew sharp. The fire in my eyes danced freely, and for a moment I feared Lyland would actually shit his expensive breeches right there on my floor. “Once I have agreed to a task, I never fail.”

                “Right… right you are, Fool.” King Lyland said, stammering as he tried to wrest back control of the situation. Mortals, they go to all the trouble of consorting with demons, then get flustered when we act to our nature. For the moment it severed me better to be a lapdog, so I bowed deep. By the time I came back up, I was the court jester once more.

                “One more night, sire. One more night, and she’ll be desperate for you.”

*              *              *

                It was a hard sale, I’ll admit.

                “My child!” She looked at me, face aghast at such a suggestion. “Why would I give you my child?”

                “Magic has a cost,” I told her. Tonight, my forest fey persona appeared weary and haggard. The mountains of straw surrounding us were four times that which had been present on the previous night. “What you ask me to do will drain me considerably. What I ask of you in return is fair recompense, given that my actions will save two lives and I demand only one.”

                The angry retort on her tongue died away at the mention of her father. He was integral to this process, had it been only her life on the line she likely would have taken death. The noble are difficult to tempt, that doesn’t mean they are hard to manipulate.

                “You have no child yet,” I reminded her. “I am not asking for a thing you already love.”

                “It makes no difference,” she muttered. “My child… I cannot make such a bargain.”

                Outwardly I looked concerned, while inwardly I celebrated. I’d been counting on this.

                “The price must be paid,” I told her. “However, I am not a heartless beast. I will offer you an addendum to our bargain. If, before your baby’s first cries, you can guess my name, then I’ll relinquish all claims on the child.”

                She stared at me uncertainly, chewing on her lower-lip with a feverish pace. I already knew what she was thinking. She was remembering the king’s leering stares, imagining the resources he would have at his disposal. The girl wasn’t overly smart, however, she was bright enough to connect the dots I’d set out before her. Though the king had forged no place of love in her heart, there was a way to save her father and her child, if she were willing to acquiesce to the king’s desires. Noble people, those pure of heart, they are so damnably easy to predicte.

                “I… I will agree to your bargain,” she said, eyes cast to the ground in shame at what she had done. This choice made her shine all the brighter, she had selected the path of self-sacrifice in hopes of preserving those she loved. That was alright with me, the girl had a role to play in my future and it wasn’t as a dinner. A clever hunter uses all his resources, not just the ones that fill his belly.

                “Then a deal is struck,” I announced, turned my attention to the straw.

*              *              *

                In the morning, when King Lyland proposed to her, the miller’s daughter accepted and within a year she was the queen. I danced for her often, the Fool that sang songs of frivolity and filled the courtroom with laughter, along with the jingling of his bells. Lyland told her nothing of my true nature, for even his idiocy had boundaries, and she held no suspicion that the forest fey who’d saved her was now doing a humorous jig to make her laugh.

                Soon, aided by fertility potions I procured from a witch and slipped into their food, the royal couple announced they would become a royal family. The queen was expecting. As soon as the announcement was made, a small company of knights was sent into the forest of nearby lands, ordered to find the identity of a small man matching my illusion’s description.

                Lyland wanted to save the money and give her an easy victory, but I knew better. Easy victories are suspicious victories. For her to be saved, it must come at the last moment. On the first moon, in the fifth month of her pregnancy, I appeared before her as the forest man, hunched and ugly and ready to hear her guesses at my name. Credit to her, the queen spoke until her throat bled and her voice faded completely, before giving up. I told her I would return on the first night every new moon until the child’s birth, so she could guess my name. My next appearance yielded no better results, nor did the following one. By the time the final time drew near, she was almost in a frenzy, sending every person the castle could spare, and some they couldn’t, out to bring her new names.

                Only then did I appear as the forest man in front of one of the searching knights. I celebrated by leaping around a fire, and in the course of that celebration made sure to yell the name Rumpelstiltskin no less than five times. If he’d been thinking a little more, perhaps he’d have wondered why a fey would dance around a fire, singing and yelling the very name he was hoping no one would discover. Nearly nine months on the road had whittled away whatever piece of his brain might have asked such questions, and he promptly raced back to the castle with his newly uncovered information.

                My grand finale was quite a spectacle, the queen playing dumb, offering up name after name, before playing the winning card she’d so thankfully acquired. I whaled and moaned and gnashed my teeth, swearing vengeance upon her, her house, and everyone in the castle, before finally vanishing in a puff of smoke. It was poetic, inspiring, and a performance I will die still proud of. The queen bought it, hook, line, and sinker.

                If you’re wondering, Rumpelstiltskin is a word from the pit. It’s a term for headless animals that bleed from their stumps yet still manage to defecate all over the place. There was no particularly deep connection to it, I just felt like it had the right sound for a child-stealing fey’s moniker. My true name remained my secret, as any smart demon’s should be.

*              *              *

                Two years later, I still perform for King Lyland and his queen, but now I also perform and tend to Princess Wyla. I dance with her freely, twirling her about the courtroom while the royals and hangers-on laugh in derision at my antics. I care not, my success is measured in Wyla’s squeals in delight. I am the Fool of this court, the maker of merry who says silly things in funny ways, slipping out of mind as soon as the sound of my bells has faded. King and queen cackle at me, though the king does so with a touch of hesitance in his heart. Perhaps he has realized that, with an heir, he is no longer quite as necessary to me as he once was. Perhaps, being a married man and father, he has finally begun to take stock of his life and realized all the sins he has committed. All those sins, and then he keeps a demon in his home.

                I’m not worried, Lyland is too cowardly and stupid to make a move against his demon, his nanny, his pet monster. Wyla will not be the same, she inherited her mother’s strength, that much is already clear. It makes little difference to me, there are plenty of sinners in the court to sake my hunger, and even if the queen and princess don’t know of my usefulness, they’re not likely to turn me out. Not so long as I keep dancing, and singing, and jingling.

                After all, everyone loves a Fool.

                Hot damn, that was a hell of a weekend. Even a few days later, feels like I’m still recovering from all the events, socializing, and running around to help keep the plates spinning. For those who don’t know what I’m talking about, last weekend was Authors & Dragons Con 2021 in Nashville, where we had live events, constant gaming, and more than a few fun surprises.

                Before we dig into the meat of that, just wanted to say a special thanks to everyone who attended A&D Con this year, and especially to the folks who contributed their time and talents to help make it happen. With everything going on, we know travel wasn’t easy, and really appreciate those of you who undertook the effort.

                As to when the next A&D Con will be… that remains to be seen. I got to speak with some of you during the con about this topic, but wanted to make sure and address it somewhere accessible to all. For now, we are currently in something of a “sit and see” situation. While we love throwing this con, it’s also very important for us to do so safely, and with delta now on the rise that’s not something we’re sure we’ll be able to do. Booking arrangements for cons are complex and expensive, so even if things clear up somewhere in 2022, it might be too late for us to be capable of securing facilities. If we’re unable to have a physical one for 2022, we will absolutely do another digicon, and if it comes to it, for every year until we’re able to go in-person again.

                Now then, onto one of the bigger, more ambitious announcements I’ve gotten to make: we’re bringing Shingles to the (metaphorical) silver screen! It was our delight to drop a surprise trailer to Shingles: The Movie at A&D Con 2021, and a relief to see the crowd so excited. Want to watch it for yourself? Well then take a gander:

                For those unfamiliar with them, Shingles are a series of comedy/horror novellas written by various authors. They tend to be especially gruesome or dark humored, depending on who is writing which particular entry, but otherwise span the gamut of topics from evil ventriloquist dummies hungering for past glory to stage magicians stuck in a deadly fighting tournament. They’re released monthly, then combined into audio compilations by Tantor twice a year.

                Shingles: The Movie will be an anthology comedy/horror film pulling from various stories, one from each author, with a wraparound segment tying it all together. Which, speaking as someone who has watched countless horror movies, is honestly my favorite format for them. The job will be helmed by Steve Rudzinski of indie hits such as CarousHELL, who we first reached out to because we liked his work so much.

                As this is my blog, I should probably touch on which of my Shingles stories will be included in the movie, but here’s the thing… mine is a bit in flux. Those who have read my Shingles entries might recall that none of them are exactly small scale, limited words be damned. Alien spaceships, entire film studios, an abandoned theme park, and an magical island death tournament; my stories all tend to have some extravagant settings. Books don’t have to budget for locations, but films are another story. However, some of the set pieces would also be really cool additions to a visual medium, so it’s something of a trade-off.

                The fix we finally found was to tier the funding plans so that we’d have a point where we could make a movie, but also able to pivot to a slightly more ambitious version if funding went well. Hopefully, you’ll get to see Slaughter on Giggletime Mountain brought to real life, but rest assured we do have a more cost-effective script for one of my books at the Plan B From Outer Space funding level.

                Let me say upfront, I know this a big swing for the fences. Making movies itself is challenging, and while compared to the budgets of huge blockbusters the number we’re aiming for is a drop in the bucket, for those of us in normal life it’s still a sizable amount of money. But throwing a convention was a pretty big swing too, back when we did our first in 2019. Heck, just the act of being full-time writers demanded several huge swings that easily could have gone nowhere.

                All you can ever do is your best. We’ve got a script we love, a director we have loads of confidence in, and a plan to make this happen on a budget that might just be in reach. What happens next remains to be seen, though personally I’ve got both sets of fingers crossed (which made typing all this quite a challenge) that we pull it off. It’s a chance to add something to a genre that I’ve gotten untold hours of entertainment from, and I genuinely think folks would enjoy.

                Hopefully we’ll get the chance to see if I’m right!

Shingles: The Movie Indiegogo

For those curious about the series, here are a list of the Shingles titles written by me. They are all standalone, and can be read in any order:

Shingles #4 - Aliens Wrecked Our Kegger: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07BRCCQ9F

Shingles #10 - Slaughter on Giggletime Mountain: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07HWPSCZQ

Shingles #17 - They Came from Studio 13: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07RCBQKF8

Shingles #33 - Action Kadabra: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08H3Q8G8B

                One of the few constants of this job is change. When I started out, web-serials were a fringe form of writing near the internet’s edges, audio was for traditional publishing only, and blogs were considered an essential part of any online author’s toolkit. To put it mildly, all of those elements have shifted in the decade-plus since I started posting my writing online. Serials are now getting an official program from Amazon on top of their own successful platforms, audio is an accessible essential for every author thanks to options like ACX, and as for the blog, I daresay I’m one of the last holdouts.

                I’ve talked about it before, but for me, the blog has always been an indulgence; a place to put fun ideas that have no other outlet in regular stories or shorts. I kept it going even after they faded from use out of personal enjoyment, and while I do still have fun making them, I’ve been feeling for a while that it’s time for a change.

                Cutting to the chase: The blogs will no longer be a weekly entry. I’m not getting rid of them entirely, however from this point on they’ll pop up intermittently, rather than every Friday. This wasn’t a choice I made easily, but after several weeks of pondering, I think it’s the best move.

                Ultimately, it came down to a matter of timing. I’m not in my early 20s anymore; life asks a lot more of me, and I wear down easier. There are only so many hours of writing time I can utilize, and while I love the blog on weeks where I have something in mind, it can feel like misusing my time when I’m struggling to find an entry. Especially when I have other projects and ideas that could really use the attention.

                That’s why I’m moving the blog to intermittent, so I can still put something up when I’ve got the inspiration. Otherwise I can put that energy toward a book-in-progress, a one-off idea, or just tinkering with something that might one day become a real story.

                If you’re one of the people who enjoyed the Audio Blogs, I’m sorry to add that feature will be ending as well since there won’t be constant new content. If you’re one of my Patreons who enjoyed voting for those Audioblogs though, there is a silver lining! In reworking the Patreon to adjust for the removed audioblogs, I added one of the more requested features: a Discord server. It’s up and running right now, and so far we’re off to a fun start!

                I’m tempted to do some sort of recap of the blog through the years, but that makes it seem like the end of this feature entirely, instead of just a schedule change. Besides, the best blog recap I could make already exists in the form of Underqualified Advice (and Other Amusing Diversions). And I think we all know that sooner or later, there’s bound to be another add from Kort, strange TV-land prison, or memo from Carol at Thunder Pear Publishing.

                Thanks to everyone who has stayed with me through the years on this section of the site! I hope you enjoy the entries still to come, even if they arrive at irregular intervals.