Some of the authors I like and respect have given the advice to start a blog, and at first I was reluctant. I'm not the kind of guy who likes to put his thoughts out there much, and besides, I'm a normal guy. What would I write about?
The answer, I found, is about my writing. I pledge to write a little bit every day(even if I'm feeling blah) and post something about it here. My goal for this year is to publish six new books.
Right now, I'm working on a few projects. One of them is the sequel to Bonehammer's Daughter, a superhero novel set around the life of a team of teenage superheroes. There is also a Sci-fi book series planned, and I'm working on an Urban Fantasy book right now I call Homunculus.
Here's a taste of Homunculus:
Jessica Jean LeCombe sat behind her
father's desk, reading the morning news when her manservant, who
liked to be called Jarvis, knocked and announced, “You have a call,
Miss. It is your uncle, Master Theodoric.”
Jessie sighed. “Business or
pleasure?” she asked. Uncle Theo was her only living relative, and
he had raised her when her parents died. He was also Grand Warden of
the southeast United States, and her boss.
“Business, I'm afraid. I believe he
has a case for you.”
Jessie folded the paper and retrieved
the handset of the ancient telephone on the desk. “Hi, Uncle Theo!
Are you calling about my birthday party? Will I finally get that
pony?”
Theo barked a laugh from his end of
the line. “You already own a stable with three horses, Jess!”
“Yeah, but I don't have a pony. Or
a unicorn! That would be so cool!”
“You know better. Unicorns don't
do well in captivity, and they are on the protected beastiary list.
Now, enough horseplay. I have a job for you, Warden LeCombe.”
Jessie straightened up in her chair
and responded with a crisp, “Yes, sir. What service may I
provide?”
“There was a disturbance in
Softpetal, Florida. There might be normal humans involved.”
“What were muggles doing in a
Brownie settlement?”
“I hate that term. Ever since those
books came out....”
Jessie rolled her eyes. “Fine,
uncle. What were mundanes doing in brownieville?”
“That's better. Wardens should use
proper vocabulary on the job. It makes the reports easier. We think
they ran afoul of a fey confusion charm, and ended up lost.
Investigate. The Sidhe High Guard will handle the prosecution. Get
moving, Warden.”
Jessie hung up the phone after her
uncle rang off and stood with a sigh. The High Guard was the
internal police force of Fairie, the magical realm of the Fey,
including all the settlements. The Wardens, who handled policing the
human races of the magical realm would only be called in if one of
theirs witnessed the incident. Most norms that wandered into a fey
town never wandered back out, or if they did, they weren't the same.
Jessie wondered who was watching Softpetal?
Jessie gathered her kit. First, she
shrugged on her Father's old greatcoat. The severely over-sized
garment was the core of her tools, having many pockets for spell
components and artifacts, and a holster for her wand. The wand was a
carved piece of wood, a little over a foot in length, which she used
as a spell focus. It allowed her to instantly cast her combat
spells. It was also invaluable in her cantrip casting and ritual
work. Her pockets were already loaded with useful stuff, but to this
she added an ancient iron horseshoe. Iron was proof against Fey
magic, and touching it would help her pierce any Glamour she came
across. Glamour was fey illusions, and they often used them to
conceal or alter reality around them. The fey were dangerous, even
to a Warden.
“Jarvis, what do you know about
Softpetal?”
The butler, who was tidying up her
breakfast dishes, looked up. “Why would I know about a Brownie
settlement, Miss?”
Jessie rolled her eyes. “Because
you are Jarasvacidorn, Third Price of the Summer Court, Devourer of
the Heart of the Dragon Xiolacidern, and Master of the Rosethorn
Blade?” At mention of his true name, the butler's glamour dropped.
He no longer looked like an old man with close-cropped grey hair and
spectacles. He had long, golden hair tied back in a braid, long
pointed ears, sharp angular features, and piercing violet eyes that
glowed from within. He was High Sidhe, An Elven prince. He was
bound in servitude by one of her ancestors several hundred years ago,
and , according to him, found it a comfortable and interesting way to
pass his time. High Sidhe were nearly immortal, and finding things
to occupy their time and stave off boredom was their main occupation.
Bored Fey were the leading cause of trouble between them and the
humans.
“Mistress LeCombe, I live to serve.
I do not know anything of this town Softpetal, as it was founded
after my binding. The Brownie are, in general a peaceful lot, known
as house-elves to mortals. They actually like humans, and are known
to find a worthy human and secretly assist them, sometimes following
a family for generations. They are not as mischievous as most Fey,
but sometimes play pranks on humans they find dishonorable or
unworthy. These pranks are usually harmless and not malicious. They
make good house servants, and are always in demand in Fey households.
If you should encounter any who would like to serve, Madame, I could
use some help in the East wing. This old house gets dusty,
especially as empty as it is these days.”
“Thank-you, Jarvis. That will be
all. I'll be gone for awhile, but I don't anticipate this taking
long.”
The Sidhe shook his usual Glamour into
place, and nodded to his mistress. “Very good, Miss. Have a
pleasant day.”
Softpetal was a storybook village,
full of small, one-story cottages with wood framing and terra cotta
roofs. Everything was perfectly manicured, the hedges trimmed, the
flower beds neatly groomed and separated by color and species, and
the grass a vibrant green. The shop-fronts in the small downtown
were just as neat and squared away, making it the most picturesque
and orderly place Jessie had ever been. The homogeneity set her
nerves on edge, until she arrived at the cafe.
The cute one-story cafe was just as
pretty and OCD-neat as the rest of town, except for the large crowd
out in front. The brownies, uniformly shorter than the human norm,
with brown hair, eyes, and skin, were crowded in front arguing among
themselves, and trying to all look into the plate-glass window at the
same time. Towering over the crowd and blocking the door was a
blond-haired Sidhe in the distinctive crimson and gold uniform of the
High Guard. The uniform was similar to the uniform of the Swiss
Guard, who watched over Vatican city. Typically, the Sidhe claimed
that the uniform design had been stolen from them.
Jessie took out the pentacle-shaped
badge that marked her as a Warden, and spelled it to adhere to the
outside of her coat. The badge was also Glamoured to look like a
Sheriff's badge to a normal human. It wasn't even a lie, as she was
officially listed as an officer in all the state offices. She made
her way through the crowd of agitated Fae and approached the High
Guardian. “Greetings from the North American Magic Council,
Guardian. I hight Jessie, Warden of the realm. May I have the honor
of a name to address you?” The formality was required with most
Fae, and the request of a name was essential. She wouldn't be given
a True Name. Those had power over the Fae. She would be given
instead a nickname or a handle, perhaps something their family or
friends addressed them as.
“Warden Jessie, it is a pleasure to
meet you. I hight Aston, of the House of the Summer Queen. It will
be an honor to work with one of your family. The tales of your
family's defeat of the wielder of the Rosethorn blade are still
bandied about the court.”
Ugh, just what she needed. One of
Jarvis' brothers in the High Guard. “Merry meet, good Ashton. The
honor is mine. Wither art the humans, so recently run afoul of
villainous magic?”
“They rest inside, in the care of
the proprietor of this establishment. I did check the scene and
victims for fell witchery, but found only traces of a merry Glamour,
a childish prank, perhaps.”
“Were you able to glean the identity
of our merry prankster?”
“Indeed, fair Warden, it was a
Brownie child. I have detained him and his Mother, inside for you.”
Jessie nodded, and they entered the
Cafe. Inside, the cafe was just as neat as outside, and seemed to be
themed as a 50's diner. There was a long counter with fixed
barstools and an antique brass register, coffee brewing on the
machines, and a window into the back, where the smell of cooking
wafted in. The rest of the room had tables and chairs or booths
occupying it. Red vinyl covered everything, except the Formica
tabletops and the black and white checkered floor. A jukebox in the
corner quietly played Elvis Presley. The proprietor and his wife
looked like characters from the old TV series “Flo,” and were
fussing over a family of three, who looked a bit befuddled, but
happy. In the corner, a woman wrung her hands in worry, sitting
across from a sullen teenager. The window had been Glamoured to show
the street as empty outside, and turning, she saw that Ashton had
taken on the aspect of a local police officer, although he looked
like he got the uniform style off of a 1940's film cop.
Jessie walked up to the family, who
were enjoying coffee and pie in one of the booths. The father looked
like an average guy, and she guessed that his favorite pastime
involved football and beer with about twenty of his closest friends.
The woman looked like she was some sort of professional, with a neat
skirt-suit and sensible heels. Their little girl was looking out the
window. She was dressed in a frilly pink dress, and had a sippy cup
of juice clutched in one hand as she stared through the Glamour on
the window at the Brownies outside. Jessie estimated her age at two
or less. “Hi,” she introduced herself. “I'm officer Jessie
LeCombe of the Broward County Sheriff's Office. How are you folks
doing?”
“Pleased to meet you, Officer
LeCombe,” the woman replied. The confusion and dreaminess was
swept aside as her professional side took over. “I'm Tracy
Littleton, and this is my husband Mark. And this little bean is my
daughter Lacy.” Lacy looked over at her Mommy when she heard her
name, then turned back to the window. When Jessie touched the
horseshoe in her pocket, she saw that one of the Brownie women on the
other side of the glass was making faces for the little one.
Jessie shook hands with the parents,
and felt the traces of magic on them. It was a standard confusion
charm, and the magic signature was young and brash, but not
malicious. With a thought, she cleared the last webs of magic from
their thoughts and asked what happened.
“I don't know why this is such a big
deal that they needed to call in the police on it. We were on our
way to Orlando, to take Lacy to the Magic Kingdom for her birthday.
She just turned two, you know. Well, I-4 was packed, so Mark got
off, trying to find a back route, and we almost hit a deer. I must
have been flustered after that, because I don't remember driving
here, but the next thing I knew Constable Ashton was buying us coffee
and asking if we were alright.”
“And are you alright?” Jessie
asked.
“Oh, fine! This pie is amazing!
You really must try some!”
“Thank-you, Tracy, but I can't. I'm
on duty right now.” She stood up and walked over to Ashton, who
was sitting at the counter with a cup of Earl Grey. His eyebrow went
up as she sat beside him.
“They seem fine. It would be best,
I believe, if they should find themselves at Disneyworld with no
recollection of this detour, all safe and sound.”
“Indeed, that is my assessment as
well. Would you like to, or should I?”
“I would never presume to compare my
magic to the power of the High Guard. It would seem that this is
your jurisdiction, however, and the Fae are fabled in the power and
complexity of their memory charms.”
“Then I shall take care of this
forthwith, and return shortly to discuss the disposition of our teen
prankster.” Jessie nodded, and the Sidhe stood and approached the
family, casting a sleep spell over them before he arrived. Jessie
asked the Brownie couple for a cup of coffee “Black, with nothing
in it,” and went to the prankster and his mother.
When she arrived, she touched the
horseshoe and saw that she wasn't dealing with a pair of Brownies,
but with Pookas. The mother had white rabbit ears growing out of her
brown hair, and the boy had a small pair of deer antlers. “Hi, I'm
Jessie LeCombe, of the Wardens.” The mother turned even whiter,
not at mention of the wardens, but at the name LeCombe. The teen
just crossed his arms, and stared at her.
“May I have your names, please?”
The rabbit pooka nervously stammered,
“Oh! Of course. My name is...er, Rebecca, and this is my son,
...Umm Colin.”
“Rebecca and Colin. It is a
pleasure to make your acquaintance. Colin, perhaps you could tell me
why I'm here today?”
“Because the Guard decided to call
the council in on a purely Fae matter?” He sulked.
“Try again. Let's start with that
family over there, having their memories modified. What was your
involvement with them?”
“My son..” the female pooka
began, but Jessie cut her off with a gesture. She then pointed at
Colin.
“Let's hear it, tough guy. How did
a mundane family end up in a Fae town?”
“I was romping through the forest
when one of those human carriages came roaring down the road and
almost hit me. I barely made it to the side of the road! So I
glamoured them and was sitting there watching them shout at each
other when that Sidhe bastard pinched me for malicious tampering with
humans.”
“And why were you bounding around
the road as a deer?” The boy ducked his head and mumbled. “What
was that?”
“I was looking for hunters.
Bedeviling hunters is tradition! Besides, one of them shot at my Mom
last month!”
His mother looked aghast. “Colin!
Human baiting is forbidden! It's also dangerous! What if there were
iron in their bullets? You could have been killed!”
“It's fine, Ma! I used to do it
with Ravenna all the time, it's no big deal!”
“It is against the rules of the
Summer Court, Pooka.” The High Guard had approached behind Jessie.
“That makes it a big deal. Would you care to punish him, or shall
I, Warden?”
“What is the penalty for human
baiting?”
“Death.” Ashton didn't appear
amused, and Jessie felt he was being serious. It bothered her,
though. The prank hadn't been malicious, but it was serious. Still,
the death penalty? From the shhet-white faces and the stillness of
the pookas, she saw that he was telling the truth, not that the Fae
could lie.
“I believe that I shall intervene in
this matter, with the permission of the High Guard?” Ashton
nodded. “As the crime ended with no injuries and fatalities, and
due to the seriousness of the crime of assaulting non-magical humans
with magic, I pronounce sentence upon the pooka known as Colin:
Servitude to a mortal family for one hundred years and one day, to
begin immediately. In the event that this sentence is violated, or
should Colin further violate the Laws of the magical community, the
penalty of Final Death shall be invoked, to be carried out by a
representative of the North American Council of Magic. Does this
satisfy the High Guard?”
“Indeed. Colin, you will surrender
your true name to Warden LeCombe.” He drew his long, shimmering
silver sword. “Immediately.”
Jarvis met Jessie at the door, and
helped her out of the coat. “Did everything go well, Miss?” He
inquired.
“As well as can be expected, Jarvis.
It was a case of human baiting.”
“I trust the miscreant is dead?”
“Remember you asked me to bring back
help?”
Colin slouched in the door and looked
around the main hall. “Nice digs, Warden,” he grunted.
Jarvis looked like he had smelled
something bad. “That is not a Brownie.”
“Jarvis, this is Colin. He will be
under your command for the next hundred years, or until you leave us,
whichever is first.”
Jarvis's face got more sour. “Yes,
Miss. There is tea in the drawing room.” When Colin tried to
follow Jessie, Jarvis snagged him by the sleeve. “You will come
with me. I have a list of tasks for you that should just about last a
hundred years....”
