Lise MacTague's Blog, page 3

What’s up in 2017?

[image error]What is up in 2017? As usual, I have lots of plans for my writing, and as usual, that’s the easy part. It’s becoming painfully obvious that the writing-adjacent stuff is as important as the actual-writing stuff, and I need to be more diligent about it, too.

So the writing stuff… This year, Five Moons Rising comes out. Already, I’ve been working with my editor on getting it polished up for publication in June. In fact, I returned the manuscript to her for the final time yesterday, now it goes to the proofers. I’m extremely excited about this one. It’s a departure from Jak and Torrin’s story, but I guarantee the readers will fall in love with Malice and Ruri like I did.

I’m also working my way through drafts of my next novel: Demon in the Machine. I don’t have a publication date for it yet, but I’m thinking either very late 2017 (which is probably a stretch), or more likely 2018 sometime. This one is a lot of fun. It’s not nearly as dark as my offerings to date, and since Five Moons does stray into rather dark territory on occasion, that’s probably a good thing. This one is steampunk set in Victorian London and features a half-demon archivist and a cat-burgling debutante.

I’m working on one short story right now, and I have plans for at least one more this year, maybe more. Like last year, these will probably be a combination of brand new characters/locations, and revisiting old worlds. That I’ll have to play by ear…

And of course, I’ll be starting another big project, once Demon is in the can and off to Bella. I have a lot of ideas (as usual), so picking one is going to be the hardest part. My little book of notes and ideas gets more and more full as time passes. If I ever lose it, I’m sunk.

Finally, the writing-adjacent stuff. On the fun end of the spectrum, I’ll be continuing to review books for The Lesbian Review, and I’m working with The Lesbian Talk Show on a new project! That’s right, Andi Marquette and I have teamed up to put on a podcast!! It’s called Lez Geek Out! and it explores where the lesbian community overlaps with popular/geek culture. Our first episode is up, and the next one should be out next week. I’m looking forward to this little adventure.

I’m going to the GCLS conference again this year! I had a really great time last year, and I got to meet lots of readers and fellow authors. This time, I’ll be going with a fresh new release, and I couldn’t be more excited!!!

On the less fun end of the spectrum is the beast I’ve been wrestling with since the publication of my first novel. That’s right, I still need to slay the marketing beast. But! I’ve been talking to people, and I have some ideas, so all I have to do now is implement them. Watch this space for an email newsletter. It’s my top priority once I get my current project put to bed.

So that’s it for me. I’m sure I’ll pick up some extra things as I go along, but for now, that’s the plan!

2016 revisited

[image error]I wasn’t feeling too great about what I accomplished in 2016 until I took a look at what I actually did. Turns out I’ve been beating myself up for nothing, I actually got a decent amount of work done. There’s been a lot of upheaval in my life this year, what with a move across country, my current lack of a job, and the results of the election. This is why I do these posts. It’s easy to lose sight of what you’ve been working on when life happens.

So to recap, here was what I had planned for 2016:

Polish Five Moons Rising for delivery
Write a romantic short story for Bella
Write a freebie short to be posted here
Get Vortex of Crimson into shape for publication in October
Start a big new project for the second half of the year

I managed to get all that done, and then some! Five Moons Rising was delivered on time, even a couple days early, if I remember correctly. It’s currently slated to come out in June 2017, which is a bit of a bump back from its original release date of April 2017. That actually works pretty well with what else I have going on, so I’m not going to fret too much about it. My big hope is it comes out in time for the GCLS con, so I can do readings and some marketing then.

I wrote the romantic short story written for Bella. It ended up being called “The Getaway,” after a few title changes, and was published in Bella’s Happily Ever After anthology.

Not only did I get that freebie short story written, but I actually ended up writing two! The first is called “Touched,” and stands on its own. It’s pretty damn hot, but I hope it also makes the reader think. The second is “Landing Day,” and it’s a novelette featuring Jak and Torrin in their first major holiday together after the events of Vortex of Crimson. I had a lot of fun writing it. It felt like writing fanfic for my own characters. It’s been a while since I wrote those two, and getting to revisit them was fun. It also allowed me to start setting things up for more stories in that universe down the road. Was that a giant tease? Why, yes! Yes, it was. Anyway, they’re both available in PDF as free downloads. I’d like to get them converted to other formats so they’re more easily read on ereaders, but that’s yet to come, I’m afraid.

Vortex of Crimson did come out in October, so that was good. Less good was that I didn’t do all the marketing with it that I’d been planning. The election threw a wrench into a lot of things I was working on, and my marketing efforts, such as they are, took a big hit. So my biggest disappointment this year is in my inability to market myself under adverse conditions. It’s hard for me under the best of circumstances, but November definitely wasn’t that. So if you haven’t picked it up yet because you didn’t know about it, it’s out now! It’s the third book in the On Deception’s Edge trilogy. I know there are people who won’t start a series unless it’s finished, and this one is definitively done. Jak and Torrin’s story has come to a close (except for the little epilogue which is “Landing Day”), so you don’t have to worry that I’ll never finish it.

Finally, I more than started a new project for the second half of the year! I pretty much finished it too. My newest project, and one I’m currently working to get into submittable shape is Demon in the Machine. If you read my previous post planning for 2016, I had a few ideas for what the second big project was going to be. And I did none of them. This one is all new! Demon is steampunk set mainly in Victorian London. It features an opposites-attract romantic subplot between Briar: a half-demon archivist, and Isabella:  a high-society cat-burgling debutante. Their attraction grows at the intersection of a plot involving demonic forces and technological intrigue. They have no idea how high the stakes are, or how they’re going to handle the forces arrayed against them and the ones pulling them together. It’s great fun. I had a blast writing it. It’s much lighter than my previous novels have been. After Five Moons Rising, I was ready for a change of pace. Not that I didn’t have fun with Five Moons, but the story there is much darker.

So that’s what I was up to last year. Check in again when I try to wrap my arms around what 2017 will look like.

Landing Day – Chapter 4

The fourth and final installment in Jak and Torrin’s holiday novelette, in which we find out exactly how big a mushball Torrin is.

The happiest of holidays to all my readers! I know 2016 was a rough year, but I’m thankful for each and every one of you. May 2017 be a far better year than the last one!

Chapter 4

Torrin was having second thoughts, which she didn’t care for at all. Jak already had one, hells she had two and access to others on the base. The gift idea that had seemed so genius to Torrin at the time ate away at her. Though from the way Jak kept eying the large brightly-wrapped package in the back seat of the car, she was intrigued. Covered as it was in traditional wrappings of yellow and orange, the box looked even bigger. There were other gifts piled back there, but Jak’s eyes had homed right in on her name on the tag.

Jak held a small pile of packages on her lap. She’d refused to let Torrin handle them, for which Torrin really couldn’t blame her, not after the way she’d tried to find out what she was getting the other day, not the number of times Jak had caught Torrin snooping about their flat. She hadn’t managed to discover Jak’s stash. Where had she been hiding them? Her smuggler’s sensibilities were highly offended. Torrin excelled at hiding loot, and uncovering it, but somehow Jak had managed to foil her highly developed instincts.

They arrived at her mothers’ house, the little bungalow nestled among sandy hills. Brown grasses showing only the occasional clump of green were all that was left of Irenya’s lawn during the dry season. It was a hot day, even for Nadi. The car’s interior had been nice and cool, but as soon as they opened the door, the heat enveloped them. It was so dry, any sweat evaporated off her skin immediately without cooling her anywhere near enough.

Irenya peered out the front door, then came out to meet them. The heat didn’t seem to bother her at all.

“Pass me some of those boxes,” she said to Torrin. “Let’s get you two inside as soon as possible.”

Jak had acclimated well enough to many things on Nadierzda, but the dry heat wasn’t one of them. She smiled gratefully and hurried up the walk. Torrin passed her mother enough boxes to be able to handle the rest. She made sure to hold on to Jak’s gift.

“Thanks,” Torrin said to Irenya.

“Don’t mention it,” Irenya replied. “I need your help to finish our present to Raisa.”

“Of course. How did you keep her away from the room?”

“It was easy enough. I claimed it as a place I could use to change out of my work clothes. I’ve been using it for months since you and I started talking about the project.”

“Clever.”

“We’ll see about that when she realizes I’ll be changing in the bedroom again.”

They were at the front door, so Torrin didn’t have to respond further. As soon as she stepped inside the tidy little house, she was swept into a hug by Raisa.

“Safe Landing, Torrin,” Raisa said.

“And to you, Raisa.” She shrugged to indicate her arms full of boxes. “Let me put these by the fountain and I’ll greet you properly.”

“When you get the chance.” Raisa gave her a final squeeze then let her go. “I’ve been told you’ll be helping your mother with a mysterious project. I’m to keep out of your way.” Her eyes sparkled with excitement.

They’d set up the fountain in the living room, in the same place it had been placed for as long as Torrin could remember. The fountain had been handed down to her mama from Tamra’s mama. It was one of the few reminders of her first wife that Irenya had kept, and all the more precious to her for it.

She took her time putting out the presents, while searching for her gift from Jak. There was nothing.

“You’re taking your time,” Jak said from the doorway. “Is everything all right?”

“She probably threw her back out.” Nat joined Jak by the door. She leaned against the frame. “I hear that happens a lot when you get older.”

“Very funny.” Torrin deliberately arranged a package just so, then stood up.

Jak watched her with wide-eyed innocence. Nat made no attempt to hide a wide grin.

“I need to help Mother with some things,” Torrin said with as much dignity as she could muster.

Nat stepped into the room. “Maybe we should open one present now.” Her eyes raked the pile of gaily-wrapped packages with poorly-concealed avarice. It was a line she used every year. She squatted in front of the presents.

“Not a chance,” Irenya said.

“But Mother, look at all that.” Nat’s outstretched arms took in the substantial pile. “How can you expect me to wait until after dinner?”

“It builds character.”

“They have this argument every year.” Torrin’s loud whisper to Jak was ignored by Nat and Irenya.

“I have more than enough character,” Nat said.

The words were the same as they’d been in previous years, but Irenya’s reaction was vastly different. She hesitated, her eyebrows knit together for a moment.

“One present then.”

Nat rocked back on her heels and turned to give Irenya a shocked glare. “I’m going to see if Mom needs help with the baking.” She brushed between Jak and Irenya in the doorway.

Jak and Torrin shared a look while Irenya reached toward Nat. She let her arm drop back to her side.

“I’ll check on her,” Jak said quietly.

Torrin nodded, and Jak followed in Nat’s wake. Nat didn’t take offense at what Jak said. She probably thought the sniper was the only one who understood.

“I can’t talk to her anymore,” Irenya said.

“She’s not mad at you, try to remember that.”

“I try, but it’s hard.” Torrin’s mother smiled bitterly. “It’s hard for me not to give it back to her when she gets angry.”

“I know.” Torrin reached around and draped an arm across Irenya’s shoulders. “I remember.” She squeezed gently to show she wasn’t trying to get in a dig. “You’re doing better this time.”

“Raisa’s a big help.” She straightened her back and dusted her hands off on her thighs. “We have work to do.” Irenya strode from the room, leaving Torrin to follow along in her wake.

There was much more work to do than Irenya had implied. To listen to her talk, it had sounded like she was almost finished. If the loom was even halfway assembled, Torrin would have been surprised. They had a lot of work to do if they were to be done by dinner. Torrin picked up a spanner and stepped into the fray.

As they worked, Torrin became uncomfortably aware that her mother was getting old. The sturdy muscles she’d developed over a lifetime of physical labor were still there, but they’d become ropey. Things simply took longer, which explained why there was so much to do on the loom. Torrin doubted Irenya had even noticed the decline. She’d put aside as much time as she’d normally needed for the project and was coming up short. Not that Torrin minded helping out. She liked to work with her hands, but if she’d known this was in the offing, she’d have brought her work gloves and coveralls.

The time passed quickly enough. Irenya responded with her typical monosyllabic answers when Torrin tried to engage her in conversation. Eventually, Torrin stopped trying, but she couldn’t take the refusal to chat personally. Irenya didn’t shut down conversation because she didn’t like Torrin, she simply didn’t like to talk. Torrin wished she’d realized that a couple decades ago. It would have saved her years of hurt feelings. Was this what growing up felt like? The ability to look at her parents’ actions and realize how little they had to do with her. For the first time, the silence between them didn’t feel awkward. Torrin hummed as she worked, a smile on her face.

By the time they finished, the sun had swung around to the back of the house and was barely kissing the horizon.

“Just in time for dinner,” Irenya said. She stretched broadly and rotated her neck until the joints popped loudly.

Torrin winced, she hated that sound. “I need a shower.”

“We both do. You take the one in the house, I’ll clean up quick in the outbuilding.”

When Torrin opened the door, the combined scents of goat and machinery lubricant in which they’d been laboring were wiped out by the smells of dinner. The top notes were savory, but she thought she could detect freshly-baked cookies and pudding beneath. She stood in the doorway, transported back to a time when she’d been young, when Landing Day had been the most anticipated time of the year, better even than the rodeo.

“Smells good, doesn’t it.” Irenya elbowed Torrin lightly in the side.

“It does.”

“Well, hurry up and shower so we can dig in. Sooner dinner’s done, sooner presents’ll be opened.” She looked behind her into the room. Irenya was as excited to give Raisa their gift as Torrin was to give Jak hers. Maybe. They shared a look of anticipation. “Go on.” Irenya pushed her out the door.

Torrin showered and changed in record time. The sonic shower made dealing with her hair a breeze, though it lacked the hedonistic pleasure of the water one she’d installed in their flat at Jak’s request. She had to borrow some of her mother’s clothes. They were a little short through the wrists and ankles and much more rustic than she preferred. No one would accuse Irenya of being fashion-forward. Still, the clothing would do for family. Torrin had nothing to prove here.

She made her way back to the kitchen. Jak and Nat sat chatting on one side of the counter while Raisa puttered about on the other, putting the finishing touches on dinner. Completely unaware of Torrin’s arrival, their discussion continued unabated,.

“How are the nightmares, then?” Raisa asked as she ladled gravy into a shallow dish.

“Getting better,” Nat said. “I sometimes get a full night’s sleep. My therapist is very pleased. The cats don’t like the nightmares at all, though. I wake up and they’re hiding under the bed. They don’t come out until I call for them.”

“Poor things.” Raise tutted sympathetically. “What about you, Jak?”

“It’s not so bad. Having Torrin there helps. I don’t feel like I’m so trapped in them.”

What Jak wasn’t saying was that she didn’t really want the dreams to go away altogether. They’d talked about it when the frequency of her nightmares had actually increased upon their return to Nadi. As terrible as the dreams were, they were Jak’s strongest tie to Bron.

Torrin crept a few steps back from the doorway, then entered the kitchen, making sure to scuff her feet. It was no mean feat in socks, but she managed.

“Oh wonderful, you two are finally done with your mystery project in Irenya’s mud room.” A small smile curled at the edge of Raisa’s mouth. If Torrin’s mother thought she was fooling her wife, she was sadly mistaken. Clearly, Raisa knew what was going on, she was simply much less of a snoop than the rest of her family.

“Yep. Mother should be in soon, she’s getting cleaned up.”

“Then we can start setting the table.” Raisa shooed Nat and Jak from their comfortable perches through the simple expedient of handing them dishes. They disappeared into the next room while Torrin accepted the first of the sides.

Irenya managed to time her entrance perfectly. They had just finished bringing out the last of the dishes and placing the cutlery when she walked in through the back door, accompanied by a blast of heat and sand.

They sat around the table. Irenya took her place at the head and carved the roast as everyone passed around the sides. Traditionally, the youngest members of the family would tell the story of how Zana Krikorian and her women discovered Nadierzda and settled on it. There were no children now, but someday soon there would be. Torrin smiled to herself as she looked around.

Nat had been the last one to tell that story, though she’d been prone to embellishment. When Nat told the story, the settlers were forced to fight off all sorts of beasts, each more ferocious than the last until Irenya had to tell her to knock it off and tell the story properly.

Conversation was quiet but animated. From the way Nat’s eyes kept straying toward the next room, she was distracted by the surprises waiting there. Torrin knew Nat would love her present. The time was right, though the idea still made her throat tighten.

Irenya seemed content to linger over her mug of bitrian after the meal while Nat’s fidgets grew more and more pronounced. Torrin caught the tiny smirk hovering around Irenya’s lips when she took another leisurely sip of the steaming beverage. Their mother was messing with Nat, and with no sign of remorse. Beyond that, Torrin also though it was time. Her palms were sweaty with excitement and worry. Would Jak like her present? Surely she would, but what if she didn’t?

“I think it’s time for presents,” Torrin announced, pushing her chair away from the table.

“Didn’t think you’d be the one to crack,” Irenya murmured as they all moved to the next room.

The first person to mention opening presents after dinner was the last to open theirs. It was a cunning strategy her parents had developed to deal with Nat’s over-enthusiasm. In fact, Torrin couldn’t recall a year when Nat hadn’t been the last one to open her gifts. From the slightly stunned look in Nat’s eyes, she wasn’t sure what to make of the situation.

Torrin claimed one corner of the couch and pulled Jak against her. A sharp object poked into her ribcage.

With an evil smirk, Jak pulled a small box from her coat pocket. Torrin’s name was clearly visible on the tag.

“So that’s where you’ve been hiding it, you saucy wench!” She shook her head. “I’ve been trying to get a better look at that for days.”

“I know.” Jak looked so pleased with herself that Torrin stuck out her tongue at her. “You can open it now.” Jak tried to hand it to her, but Torrin held up her hands.

“Oh no, she can’t,” Irenya said. “Torrin knows the rules. She has to hand out the gifts and wait quietly until it’s her turn to open them.” She turned out the lights in the room, leaving only those from the fountain. The glow through the fountain’s water shone a shifting pattern of light onto the ceiling.

“Fine, but you’re getting your gift second to last,” Torrin said. “I think it’s only fitting that Nat gets the first present, since she’s never had the experience before.”

She made a show of perusing the small pile of gifts before picking out her present to Nat. It was a small package, easily among the least impressive on the pile, but it was heavy. “Here you go.”

“Thanks,” Nat said dryly. “Glad to see you’re starting with a bang.” For all her grousing, Nat tore into the package, showing no regard for the layers of thin paper Torrin had used to wrap it. She pulled a metal cylinder about the width of her hand from the box and held it up. “This is great! What on Nadi is it?”

“It’s the locking mechanism for the Calamity Jane’s airlock.” Torrin’s lower lip wobbled a bit as she smiled. “Do you know how hard it is to find something concrete to symbolize giving a ship to someone?”

“Hilarious, Torrin. Now where’s my real gift?” She craned her neck to look around Torrin at the remaining packages.

“That is your real gift. The Jane is yours.”

“It’s true, Nat,” Jak said from the couch.

“You’re shitting me.” Nat looked from Torrin to Jak and back again.

“Language, Natalya,” Irenya said.

“Yes, Mother.” The reply was automatic. Nat looked down at the cylinder and back up at Torrin. Her eyes shimmered wetly. She engulfed Torrin in a hug, squeezing so hard Torrin was certain she heard her ribs creak.

“You’re welcome,” Torrin said, laughing. If the laugh was a bit snuffly, no one commented. “I think we should give Raisa her gift now.”

Irenya leaped from her perch on the arm of Raisa’s chair and tugged her wife up to join her. She practically dragged Raisa down the hall. Nat and Jak followed along behind them while Torrin took a moment to wipe her eyes. She would miss piloting the Calamity Jane, but Nat had more use for her now. Torrin wouldn’t need her, not if she was staying on Nadi to have babies with Jak.

Raisa’s excited voice echoed down the hall when she saw the huge automated loom Torrin and Irenya had assembled. She joined the small group in time to see Raisa giving her mother the most thorough kiss she’d ever seen. It went on for quite some time. She exchanged awkward glances with Nat and Jak, who then looked anywhere but at each other and the spectacle in front of them. Jak leaned forward to examine part of the mechanism. Torrin studied the frayed edge of her shirt’s too-short wrist.

“Should we wait for you in the living room?” Nat finally asked.

“No need,” Raisa said. She gave Irenya a smoldering look that promised things Torrin never wanted to contemplate her mothers doing.

“All right, back to the gifts,” Torrin said, shooing Nat and Jak before her. The knowing chuckles of her parents chased them down the hall.

They must have indulged themselves in another kiss. By the time Raisa and Irenya rejoined them, not only were they quite mussed, but Torrin had sorted everyone’s gifts out.

What followed were a string of thoughtful presents that took much too long to open. To Torrin’s way of looking at things, there was far too much discussion over how lovely this gift was, or the usefulness of that one. She had to admit that the blanket Raisa had woven for her and Jak was beautiful.

When all the gifts had been opened, Jak tried again to give her the package from her pocket.

“Not quite yet,” Torrin said. She pulled her and Jak’s gifts to her mothers out from behind the fountain and passed them over.

Both women were entirely too composed about opening them. Torrin kept herself from snapping at them to move faster, but it was a close thing. Irenya and Raisa pulled the tiniest socks Torrin could find out of their respective packages at almost the same moment. They traded identical expressions of befuddlement.

“This is very nice, Torrin, but they’re not my size,” Irenya said.

“Oh, they’re not for you,” Torrin assured her. She bounced up and down a bit in her chair. “But you’ll want to hold on to them for later.”

“I don’t understand,” Irenya said.

“Oh, Torrin!” Raisa said over top of her wife. “Which one of you is it?” She looked back and forth between her and Jak.

“Both of us, actually.”

Jak put a hand on Torrin’s thigh. “Or it will be. I told her it was too soon to tell you, but she couldn’t help herself. We’ve been to see Kiera. They’ll extract our eggs in a couple weeks, then use the genetic material to fertilize us a few weeks after that.”

“Eggs?” Irenya’s eyes were ready to bug out of her head.

“That’s right,” Torrin said. “You’re going to be a grandmother, and before a year has gone by. Kiera foresees no issues for us. We’re genetically compatible and biologically fit.” When the expected dig about her age didn’t materialize, Torrin looked around. “Where’s Nat?”

There was no sign of her sister. No one else had seen her slip out.

“I’ll go find her,” Jak said. She scooted off the couch before Torrin could say anything, leaving Torrin to contend with her beaming parents.

They had all sorts of questions she couldn’t answer, reluctantly leading her to admit Jak might have been right about their announcement being a little premature.

Irenya launched into a history of the family, detailing what each illustrious ancestor had accomplished. Torrin assumed it was to help her with name choices.

“Then there was your great-great Aunt Hildie. She invented the opalescent glaze that’s still one of the most popular colors on Nadi porcelain today.”

“We already know one name,” Torrin said, gently but firmly cutting into her mother’s litany. “We’re calling one Brona.” Where was Jak? And Nat for that matter. She wanted to give Jak her gift.

“Of course.” Raisa nodded. “It’s a lovely name, and it makes so much sense.”

Jak finally reappeared. “Nat needed some air. She’ll be back. She said we should keep on without her.”

“All right.” Torrin rubbed her hands together.

“Just a moment, Torrin.” Irenya held a hand out toward her. “Maybe we should wait.”

“Nat thought you might say that. She doesn’t know how long she’ll be.”

“Very well.” Irenya lowered her hand.

“Here’s your present from me, Jak.” Torrin slid the long box out from behind the couch. “Don’t worry about the paper.”

Jak had methodically unwrapped each present so far as if she might give offense if she didn’t take her time. She flashed Torrin an excited grin and tore off the paper in a flurry of scraps, quickly revealing the metal box beneath. She thumbed open the catches and opened the lid.

Torrin slid to the side to get a better look at Jak’s face. It lit up with delight. There no question as to whether or not she liked it. Torrin exulted silently inside.

“It’s beautiful, sweetie!” Jak exclaimed.

“What did she give you?” Raisa asked. She and her wife craned their necks to get a view of was bringing Jak so much joy.

Wordlessly, she turned the case around on her lap.

“That’s very nice, but what is it?” Irenya asked when confronted with a case full of components.

“It’s a sniper rifle,” Jak said. “A really nice one.”

“That’s very…romantic.” Irenya might like Jak better than she’d thought she would, but she still wasn’t thrilled about her vocation. Her smile was wooden and not terribly convincing, but at least she’d tried.

“It’s custom-made,” Torrin said. “I had it built to your measurements. Everyone I talked to agreed those are the finest gas-propulsion rifles in the galaxy. You’ll be able assemble it to your own preferences. I made sure they included all the options.”

“I love it, baby. It’s perfect.” Jak turned the case back around and stroked the pieces reverently. “I can’t wait to try it out.” She looked over at Torrin and her face fell.

“What’s the matter?”

“This must have cost you a fortune. My gift for you is silly.”

“Nothing you could ever give me would be silly.”

Jak looked away, but Torrin placed a finger under her chin and gently turned her head back around.

“I mean it. I treasure everything you’ve ever given me. If you gave me pocket link and told me it was special, I would keep it always because it came from you.”

As Torrin hoped, Jak smiled. She fished the small package out of her pocket and handed it to Torrin. “For you, my love.”

Torrin accepted the box with a kiss. She weighed it in her hands. It was light. She turned it over in her hands and tried to find the tape Jak had used to fasten the paper together. There was no tape. Her clever love had figured out how to fold the paper so it stayed put.

The wrapping unfolded like a flower, revealing a simple wooden box. Torrin opened the lid and stopped, staring down at its contents. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but it hadn’t been this.

“You didn’t,” she whispered.

“Of course I did,” Jak replied as softly.

Torrin blinked rapidly to clear the tears from her eyes. They spilled over onto her cheeks in front of everyone, but now she could see the beautiful blue comb cradled in satin.

“What is it, Torrin?” Raisa asked softly.

She tried to tell them, but couldn’t get the words past the lump filling her throat. Torrin swallowed once, then again, but couldn’t force out more than a whisper.

“A comb?” Irenya said when she showed them.

She coughed once then cleared her throat. “Jak made me one after she rescued me. She saw how much trouble I was having with my hair. I had to leave it behind when we left, but I loved it. It was the first thing she ever gave me.”

“It’s not the original, of course,” Jak said. “That’s long gone. But Audra had the last Troika expedition to Haefen bring back various samples of wood. I was able to make another one. It’s even better than the first one. I was able to sand the wood this time.”

“It’s perfect.” Torrin cradled Jak’s cheeks gently between her hands and placed their lips together. Jak’s lips moved against hers for the softest, sweetest kiss they’d ever shared. “You’re perfect,” she said. “We’re perfect.”

Back to Chapter 3

Start on Chapter 1

 

Jak, Torrin, and Nat are characters from my series On Deception’s Edge. The trilogy is complete and available from Amazon and/or Bella Books.

 

Landing Day – Chapter 3

The third installment in my Jak and Torrin happy little holiday story. This one is rather NSFW, so maybe wait until you get home to read it.

Landing Day – Chapter 2

The second installment in my Jak and Torrin, happy holiday novelette. Things are starting to get interesting for Torrin, and you know how much she just loooves that!

I’ll be posting Chapter 3 on Friday, December 16th.

Chapter 2

Torrin pored over the list of figures on her screen, trying to force herself to concentrate. The cryostasis hangover was no worse than normal, but reading dry reports wasn’t helping.

The ride home had been uneventful. What took two days had passed in what seemed like mere hours to her and Nat. There had been no other cargo, so the final duties of their trip had been easy enough. Torrin had still insisted on putting Nat through the post-trip checklist. There was no sense in letting her slack off at this point, and besides Torrin was trying to deal with the blinding headache and mild shakes of her reaction to cryosleep. Nat handled it marginally better than she did, and besides, if she had an assistant she was bloody well going to take advantage of that. Beyond that, she needed to know, for her own peace of mind if nothing else, that Nat was ready for the responsibility. To her credit, Nat had complied without fussing, and had taken off as soon as it was obvious everything was in order.

They’d cut the trip close. Landing Day was only a few days away. For a while, Torrin had worried that her contacts wouldn’t come through in time, and that she would need to come up with another present for Jak. It was Jak’s very first Landing Day and their first as a couple. Torrin wanted to be an occasion neither of them would forget.

“Don’t forget about dinner at Irenya’s,” Torrin had called at Nat’s rapidly departing back in the space port. It was a yearly ordeal she’d done her best to avoid. Things were better between her and her mother since she’d brought Jak home. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, but if it was, Torrin wanted as much distraction as possible.

She’d received a raised hand as her only acknowledgment. Torrin wasn’t about to face their mothers alone, and besides she had surprises for everyone. This was going to be the best Landing Day ever.

Nat’s route and aggressive flying style had shaved about half a day off the return trip. As soon as Torrin finished with this last bit of work at the office, she’d be able to surprise her sweetie. After a few days’ absence, there was always work that needed her attention, but she wanted to be focusing on something else right now.

Torrin stared at the columns of numbers on the report. This part had hard enough to concentrate on without the competing promise of being in Jak’s arms. The curl of arousal at her center was a powerful distraction. She rubbed her eyes in an attempt to force herself to focus, but the problem wasn’t in her eyes, it was between her legs.

A little bit to take the edge off, that was what the situation called for. She undid the top fasteners on her jumpsuit. The shipsuit didn’t allow for easy access. She keyed shut the lock on the door from her console. It wouldn’t be the first time one of her partners happened upon her in a state of undress in the office, but it would be the first time she’d be the office’s sole occupant.

Cool air caressed the center of her chest, tightening her nipples to nearly painful points against the stiff fabric of her suit. Torrin reached inside and pinched one nipple while freeing the remaining fasteners, the ones that covered her true destination.

“Oh, Jak,” Torrin whispered to the empty office. She kept her voice down. The walls back here weren’t nearly thick enough to cut down on noise between the partners’ offices. Nothing untoward ever happened in Mac’s office, but she’d had a front row seat for more than one of Audra’s assignations. One day Audra would slow down, but that day showed no sign of being imminent.

She pulled on her nipple, tugging hard. In her mind’s eye, Jak had her lips wrapped around the sensitive flesh and was biting down. Her eyes looked up into Torrin’s, carefully gauging how hard to bite. A flash of pleasure shivered through her belly into her groin.

“That’s it, baby,” Torrin breathed. “You know what I need.” She slid her hand down the front of her pants, letting her fingertips skate over flesh swollen and wet with need. From the copious amounts of wetness, it had been five months, not a mere five days since she’d last seen her lover.

“Show me what you got.” Jak’s voice rang out loud and clear.

Torrin had her legs open before she realized the directive hadn’t come from her dream lover.

“I think you’ll be pleased.” Audra’s voice filtered more softly through the wall. “She did her best for you.”

“I just hope her best was good enough,” Jak said. “I was clear in my instructions.”

What on Nadi is going on over there? Torrin got up and pressed her ear to the wall her office shared with Audra’s. Who the hell is doing their best for my woman? If Torrin found out who the mysterious woman was, she would break her thumbs, then she would stop being nice.

They must have moved away from the wall. Torrin couldn’t make out anything useful, only muffled murmurs. She debated fiercely with herself. She had to find out what was going on.

And yet… The conversation had been so vague as to be meaningless. If she burst in on them now, it would look as if she didn’t trust either woman. Neither Jak nor Audra would ever betray her, of that she was certain. So what was left? Curiosity, and the burning need to be certain she wasn’t about to be betrayed.

Stop that, she said sternly to herself. Someone who is about to leave you wouldn’t be planning their life with you. They wouldn’t be taking on even more responsibility. And you know how seriously Jak takes her obligations. It was true. The idea of a disloyal Jak was an oxymoron right up there with the League’s Office of Naval Intelligence. Though now that she thought about planning their life together, when Jak wanted to talk about their future, Torrin had been dodging the subject.

This wasn’t getting her anywhere. Torrin took a couple deep breaths to bring her blood pressure back down to something more reasonable. Her errant libido well and truly quelled, at least for the time being, she did up her jumpsuit.

The discussion between Audra and Jak continued a little longer.

“Thank your woman for me,” Jak finally said. “I think this is exactly what I need.”

“She’ll be pleased to hear that. What are you up to now?”

Exactly what she needs? Torrin wracked her brain for what that could mean. A sex toy, maybe? She already had a large collection, and surely Jak knew she could talk to her if she needed something else. Jak was rather hesitant when it came to discussing sex-related topics, though. She sometimes verged on prudish. Best to handle this carefully is that was the case.

“I’m going to head out on a quick hunt. It’ll give me something to do until Torrin gets home.”

“Should I send her after you if she gets in early?”

Audra knew very well Torrin was already back. She’d stopped by her partner’s office to say hello when she’d gotten in. She was up to something, as usual.

“That would be great.” The excitement in Jak’s voice was impossible to misunderstand.

Torrin couldn’t help the smile that stretched across her cheeks in response to the one she heard in Jak’s voice.

She could have stopped Jak when she left Audra’s office, but Torrin wasn’t about to admit to eavesdropping on their conversation. There was no reason to give Jak the wildly inaccurate impression that Torrin didn’t trust her.

So she waited. And waited. Jak might have left Audra’s office, but Torrin could hear her as she stopped and chatted with various women in the office. For all that Jak thought of herself as socially awkward and a loner, she’d made many friends since moving permanently to Nadierzda. Torrin wondered if Jak knew how charming she was. Probably not. If she did, she wouldn’t be so effortlessly endearing.

It had been a few minutes since Torrin had been able to make out Jak’s voice over the low hum of the office’s environmental systems. To be on the safe side, she stuck her head out the door and looked around. If Jak was still in the building, she was somewhere among the cubicles of Troika Corp.’s outer office.

Torrin knocked lightly on Audra’s door.

“Come on in,” Audra said cheerily.

“What are you and Jak up to?” Torrin came right out and asked the question on the forefront of her mind. There was no point in beating around the bush with Audra.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Audra blinked innocently up at Torrin. She leaned back in her desk chair. “Just like I don’t know what you were up to on Chaurus Station the past few days.”

“Ugh, Chaurus.” Torrin pressed her lips together at the reminder.

“What’s wrong?” Audra sat straight up, the teasing twinkle gone from her eyes. She looked ready to take on the galaxy on Torrin’s behalf.

“They had my info on file.”

“Oh no! Any warrant info?”

“None, thankfully.” Torrin dropped onto the couch that took up one side of the office. “Looks like I’m well and truly grounded. If a place like Chaurus has my specs, then there likely isn’t anywhere else that doesn’t.”

“I’m sorry, Torrin. I really am.”

“It’s not like I wasn’t expecting it.” Torrin ran her hand through her hair, a habit she’d picked up from Jak. It worked better when she wasn’t wearing a ponytail. “Damn Mori. I didn’t think she’d move this quickly.”

“I don’t doubt that we scooped some inner world merchant clan who had their eyes on Haefen. It probably kicked up the chain when Jak’s home world was taken off the table.”

“Maybe.” It didn’t change much, whatever the reason.

“So now what?”

“I find other ways to keep myself occupied, I guess. It’s not all bad. Jak and I have all the time in the world now. We can settle in and play house.” Parts of that didn’t sound completely dull. Playing house had some intriguing connotations. They hadn’t talked much about their future since getting back from Haefen six months previous. The time had been mostly spent getting Jak into a regular groove, and helping Nat readjust. That and Torrin had changed the subject whenever Jak brought it up.

“I meant about the smuggling side of our business.”

Audra’s dry clarification pulled Torrin out of daydreams of Jak with a baby at her breast. She stopped herself from looking down to see if she had one there too.

“Oh.” Torrin blushed. Audra cocked her head and stared at her, both eyebrows raised. Her face got even hotter. There was no reason for her to be embarrassed, not that Audra knew. If Audra could read Torrin’s mind, she would be rolling on the floor. “Nat will take that on.” She waved a hand vaguely in Audra’s direction.

“I know you were thinking about her in that capacity. Is she up to it?”

“I think so. It’ll be good for her. I’m planning on telling her over the holiday.”

“So long as you think she can handle it.”

“She’s tougher now than she ever was.” Torrin smiled sadly. “No one should ever have to deal with what she did, but I think she’s over the worst of it.”

“If you say so.”

“So what were you and Jak up to?” Audra hadn’t been the one to change the subject, Torrin had done that, but that didn’t mean she would let it go.

Audra simply smiled.

“Never mind, I’ll find out myself.”

“Do you need me to tell you where Jak went.”

“I think I can find her myself. I do have ways of tracking down information, you know. I am a trained professional.” One who’d heard as much as she needed to through the walls of their offices.

“All right then.” Audra’s eyes were so crinkled from amusement at the corners that they’d almost disappeared.

“Have a good Landing Day if I don’t see you before then.”

“And a safe Landing to you too, Torrin.” Audra threw her arms around Torrin’s ribcage and squeezed mightily.

Torrin’s return hug was no less heartfelt, though not as bone-breaking.

She returned to her office and powered down the console without taking another look at the columns of numbers that still awaited her on the screen. They could wait. She had more important things to attend to.

Chapter 3 (active December 16th)

Back to Chapter 1

 

Jak, Torrin, and Nat are characters from my series On Deception’s Edge. The trilogy is complete and available from Amazon and/or Bella Books.

Landing Day – Chapter 1

I wrote a short story about Jak and Torrin’s first major holiday together after the events in Vortex of Crimson. And of course, me being me, it didn’t stay a short story. I think it’s technically a novelette, as it clocks in around 11,000 words.

But! Since my wife is a genius, she suggested I release the story one chapter at a time over the month of December. You can thank her or curse her for the idea, as you see fit. Chapters 2 through 4 will be out on Friday of each week.

Chapter 1

She’d been gone for far too long. Torrin paced as best she could from one end of the Calamity Jane’s small bridge to the other. It wasn’t the first time she’d paced off the six-and-a-half steps today. In fact, since Nat had left the ship to make the rendezvous, Torrin had been pacing almost non-stop.

She glanced at the nearest readout. Station time made it 1930 hours. Nat had been gone all of twenty minutes.

Is that all? “Tien, re-sync the readout with station time, if you please.”

The AI’s hologram flickered to life on the center of the nearest console. As usual, she was clad in traditional Chinese robes. Her semi-transparent face was devoid of expression as she turned to bow slightly to Torrin.

“Torrin, I have re-synced the time as you asked.”

There was no more emotion in her voice than Torrin could see on her face, but still Torrin knew something lurked beneath the placid exterior. Was it exasperation? Maybe amusement. The readout flickered once, but the time refused to change.

With a sigh, Torrin forced herself to sit in the captain’s chair. This trip had been too important to leave to someone else, the cargo too precious for anyone but her, though Nat was the one making the actual pickup. Her sister needed to get more comfortable with this kind of work. It had made perfect sense when she was planning the trip. Torrin’s right knee jiggled in place. It should be her meeting up with the contact, not Nat. Granted, she’d made certain Nat was armed to the teeth. Anyone who tried to get the drop on her would be shocked. In addition to the bristling arsenal of visible weaponry, Nat also had some nasty surprises lurking out of sight. Plus, she’d completed the intensive self-defense course Torrin had developed for her employees with the help of the Banshees. Anyone ambushing her sister would have far more on their hands than they’d bargained for.

None of that would have kept her out of Crimson’s hands. Torrin was back on her feet. That little voice was as right as it was inconvenient. If something happened to Nat again, no one would forgive her, least of all herself.

“I’m going out,” Torrin announced to the empty air of the bridge.

“Torrin, I do not think that is a good idea,” Tien said.

“Nat’s been gone for…” Torrin leaned over to check the readout again, “…twenty-three minutes.” She flopped back down in the chair.

The front viewscreen shimmered, distorting the view of hangars and docking bays around them.

“Frozen hells,” Torrin whispered, leaning forward for a better view.

“Torrin, this was in the data dump we received from Station Central when we docked. I am surprised you missed it.”

“I had other things on my mind.” Things like making sure Nat was set to meet one of her contacts and to take on all comers if something went pear-shaped. “I thought I had a little more time. At least it’s a flattering picture.” She watched glumly as her holopic rotated on the screen. It was an old one. Her hair still hadn’t grown out to its former glorious length. It had only recently gotten long enough to stay in the ponytail when she pulled it back.

Thanks to the vindictive Captain Mori and her overreaction to their communication troubles on Haefen, Torrin’s likeness and a list of her supposed crimes against the League of Solaran Planets had been circulated among all League-affiliated worlds and stations. That was bad enough, but there had been no call to put a warrant out on her. Outing her as a smuggler had made it all but impossible to move unnoticed. That alone was a huge blow to her career. Knowing that she could be arrested simply for daring to enter League space was part of why the pickup had been arranged in this backwater.

Chaurus Station had very little to recommend it. A refueling and resupply station for the transports out of the mining colonies ubiquitous in this corner of the galaxy, it didn’t get much more remote. It was small potatoes, which was perfect for a training run with Nat, and picking up her cargo.

“There’s no mention of Nat, is there?”

“No, Torrin.”

That was a relief. There had also been no mention of the warrant. Chaurus was quite emphatically not a League station, not with the haphazard way it had been built and was currently being maintained. When Torrin had piloted their way into the hangar, she had very carefully not looked too closely at the walls of the station. There had been enough station debris floating around it to let her know what she would find.

Still, Torrin hadn’t built up the success she had without gleefully treading on a few toes. She wouldn’t put it past some of the smugglers she’d out-maneuvered to snatch her up and deliver her to the League. They might not get a bounty for her, but she would be out of the way. And who knew, if they were enterprising enough, they might find some League cop looking to make their way up the chain of command. Selling her to an ambitious member of the authorities would sweeten the deal even more. It’s what she would have done, but only for the worst of the dirt-bags who did business on the Fringes.

Okay, so I won’t go into the station except as a last resort. Torrin reached behind her ear and activated her subdermal transmitter.

“Everything as it should be?”

“It’s fine.” If Nat had been in front of her, Torrin would have been hard-pressed not to smack her arm over her tone. She knew her baby sister was rolling her eyes.

“Be sure to keep an eye out.” It took almost inhuman effort to keep her own irritation out of her voice, but somehow Torrin managed it. “My likeness has made it into station files here.”

“I know, it came up when I checked the station dump before I headed out. There’s no need to come over all snippy. I don’t know how you missed that.”

Snippy? She’d been anything but. “I was a little occupied.” Okay, that’s snippy. Torrin gritted her teeth into a smile before asking sweetly: “Any sign of the contact?” This was why she worked alone.

“None yet, but I’m early.” Nat swallowed something.

“Are you having a drink? This is a training run, not some port of call for a cruise.”

“I’m in a bar, Torrin. It would look strange if I didn’t have a drink.” Nat’s voice was overly reasonable.

“Don’t go overboard. Bars are dangerous places if you’re not paying attention, especially in a place like this.”

There was a short pause while Nat took a breath as if she’d been about to say something. She blew it out and started again. “I’ll be fine, Torrin. Really.”

She wasn’t really talking about the meeting. “I know,” Torrin said softly. “I worry.”

“Well, stop it.” Nat’s tone softened the words somewhat, but there was no mistaking the message.

“Got it. Let me know if you need me. Torrin out.” She terminated the connection and tried to relax into the chair. There was nothing to do except wait for Nat’s return or her call.

The distress call never came, but Nat showed up about an hour later.

“What took so long?” Torrin had been waiting by the access hatch since Tien notified her that Nat was cycling the airlock. “Did you get it?”

“Your contact was late so I started a conversation with a lovely woman at the bar. I had to break it off to take care of your business, but it would have been rude to leave without saying goodbye.” Nat smirked. “Goodbye took a while.”

“Mm hmm.” Torrin shook her head. “You could have called.”

“I said I’d let you know if I got in any trouble. I already have two moms, I don’t need another.”

Just like that, Nat flipped from affable to angry. Her moods had stabilized somewhat since her ordeal on Haefen, but she was still prone to sudden shifts. Torrin held up her hands in an attempt to mollify.

“I got it.” She brought her hands down slowly as if in doing so she could also sweeten Nat’s suddenly sour mood. “Did you get it?”

“Yeah.” Nat passed the long metal case over to Torrin. If she shoved it into Torrin’s hands a little harder than necessary, Torrin pretended not to notice.

“Great!” Her face lit up with glee. She propped it on some exposed conduit and opened the case. Everything was in order as best she could tell. To be on the safe side, she’d have Olesya look it over when they got back to Nadierzda.

“That’s the big secret?” Nat peered over her shoulder at the contents of the case.

“Yes.” Torrin snapped it closed before Nat could look too closely. “Not a word to anyone.”

“Fine.”

“I mean it, Nat. I know how you get when you know a secret. No hints, no oblique asides. If you blow this, I’m going to be really upset. Besides, secrecy is something you’ll need to get down if you’re going to take over this part of my work.”

“I’ll be good, I promise.” Nat grinned, little trace left of her earlier anger. Tightness still lingered at the corners of her eyes and mouth, but that never completely went away these days. Her eyes were far more relaxed than they’d been six months ago, and Torrin hadn’t given up hope that Nat would eventually get back to her old self. Therapy had been good for her.

“Thank you. Now let’s get out of here.” Torrin stopped to stow the case carefully in her quarters, then joined Nat on the bridge.

Nat had taken her usual spot in the jump chair. It was shoved to one side of the bridge, affording a place someone aside from the pilot could observe what was going on, but with access to none of the ship’s controls.

“Move over,” Torrin said, flipping her hand at Nat.

“What do you mean?” Nat stared at her.

“You can’t very well take the ship out from here, can you?” There were a couple screens nearby and a small console, but they were useful for little else than observation.

“Do you mean it?” Nat’s eyes shone as she processed what Torrin was saying. “You’re going to let me pilot us out?”

“I told you you’re going to take over this arm of the business, didn’t I?” Torrin’s grousing was an act. Mostly. Finding her holopic in that station’s data dump effectively completed her grounding. She could wish she’d had more time, but that wouldn’t change things. It was almost worth it to see Nat’s face light up, and to see the old Nat shining through. “Prove to me you can finish up the job. It’s not over-”

“Until we’re home, docked and the cargo has been stowed.” Nat finished the sentence without the eye roll she usually provided when finishing one of Torrin’s stock phrases. “Aye, aye, ma’am!” She really was excited, if she was willing to call Torrin “ma’am.”

Torrin stood to one side while Nat disengaged her safety harness. She tried not to cringe when Nat plopped herself into the captain’s chair. Instead, Torrin focused on engaging the harness and biting her tongue while Nat worked her way through safety checks and the navigation plan with Tien.

Nat’s plan was good, though not the one Torrin would have used, but she kept her mouth shut. The path wouldn’t expose Nadierzda to discovery which was all that mattered.

There was little to complain about when they uncoupled from the station and Nat took them out. She was an excellent flyer, even if she did lack Torrin’s flair. Her flying style was more aggressive than Torrin’s. Nat had a tendency to rely on the power of the engines and dispensed with much of Torrin’s finesse. The ride was certainly fast, if not as smooth, but that was what inertial dampers were for. And anything that got them back to Nadi faster also got her back into Jak’s arms faster, so Torrin wasn’t about to complain.

Chapter 2 (active December 9th)

Jak, Torrin, and Nat are characters from my series On Deception’s Edge. The trilogy is complete and available from Amazon and/or Bella Books.

Writing lesbian SF in the aftermath of the election

I had a post planned for earlier in November, but things happened. Horrible, election-type things that I’m pretty sure I don’t have to go into here. Needless to say, I was blind-sided and I’m still trying to wrap my head around what happened and what it means for people like me and all the other groups of people who are suddenly feeling very exposed.

So… yeah. I’ve dealt with it so far by retreating to my writing world and having my characters kick some major demon ass. A little vicarious conquering of evil, as it were, and it’s done my heart some good. In the grand scheme of things, it’s not the most productive way to deal with the election and the potential loss of rights people have worked toward for decades, but it’s something.

It also got me thinking.

Why do I write lesbian science fiction? I assure you, it’s not for the glamour and/or the paycheque. It’s something I love doing. These are the stories inside me that I want to tell, and there are a few people out there who want to read them. So fine, that’s all well and good on the surface. But what is it about these types of stories that I keep coming back to? Sure, there’s adventure and conflict, romance and relationships. These are all good things, but I’ve been thinking about why they resonate with me the way they do.

Then the election happened.

A lot of people I follow on the various forms of social media talked about the importance of telling the stories of those on the outside, those who will be especially vulnerable over the coming four or more years. That made a great deal of sense to me! Suddenly, doing the thing I love seemed subversive in a way I’d never considered before. All I’d wanted to do was tell some good stories and entertain people who don’t normally see themselves represented in SF, and now it even has a greater purpose. I don’t write great literature, after all. I write fun adventure stories that are pretty much what you see on the surface, so yay me, right?

And then I read the article: Do Better: Sexual Violence in SFF. It’s a call to arms to imagine different futures for the female characters in science fiction and fantasy, away from sexual violence. As I read through the article, I found myself agreeing with what the author had to say. That women in fiction are exposed to much of the sexual violence and degradation as they are in real life is puzzling. Surely the women from those imagined futures should no longer have to deal with such things. That would be great and lovely. And so I read this paragraph:

I get a little mad, because we can imagine horrors beyond human comprehension, and yet still we insist that rape is the worst thing that can happen to our female protagonists. We can open a rift between universes and allow a tentacle to herniate through a void in the sky, but we can’t suspend our disbelief enough to erase casual misogyny from the worlds we build. We can give a wizard access to a centuries-old volcano-powered spaceship, but we balk at the notion of a woman who has never been made to feel small and afraid. (http://www.tor.com/2016/08/22/do-better-sexual-violence-in-sff/, paragraph 10.)

For the record, I’m not disagreeing with any of this, but it made me think more closely about my work. Themes of sexual violence do surface in my stories. My first trilogy, On Deception’s Edge, is mostly set on a planet where the women of one of two warring nations are bound in sexual slavery. Why? Because it was one of the most horrible things I could think of. Apparently, my powers of imagination aren’t strong enough to develop a world where sexual violence toward women isn’t a thing, which is certainly only one of my many failings as an author. I’m working on it. However, in this story, I wanted to give my female main characters the most evil of situations I could think of to fight against.

Neither character is herself enslaved, one is a disguised as a man and is a member of the all-male army of the other nation, the one that doesn’t treat its women quite so badly. The other is a smuggler from off world, who makes the mistake of coming to this world looking for a big score. Each of them has to deal with an environment of far more than “casual misogyny.” This world seems not nearly so far-fetched today as it did when I started write it five years ago.

The article and examination of my fiction crystallized things for me. The adventures are fun, the romance is great, but what really attracts me to this kind of writing is giving my fictional women the ability to kick some ass against some of the very same crap they’re exposed to today. Literature is a mirror. As much as I would like to be able to create worlds where women are never exposed to sexual assault, violence, or degradation, it is more important to me to give them the agency to fight back. That’s what I want to see, a fist in the eye of the patriarchy. I’m sure it’s more subversive to create worlds where this isn’t an issue, but I’m not the subtle type. My fiction is my line in the sand. With it I will fight the battles I see around me every day, to the best of my abilities.

I’m not glorifying sexual violence against women. I don’t wish to see any woman abused, assaulted, raped, or any other form of violence for my entertainment or for that of others. I do want to see women fighting back against their oppressors and succeeding. That’s what keeps me writing.

Vortex of Crimson Goodreads giveaway

Vortex of Crimson, the final installment of the On Deception’s Edge trilogy is finally out! It’s been a long time coming. When I think about it, it’s hard to believe I first started the trilogy in 2011. I’m happy the day is finally here, but sad to say goodbye to Jak and Torrin. They were remarkably forgiving characters, which is a good thing for a debut effort!

To celebrate, I’ll be doing all sorts of things, the first of which is a Goodreads giveaway! There are two copies of Vortex up for grabs, so click below to enter if you have a Goodreads account.

Goodreads Book Giveaway


Vortex of Crimon
by Lise MacTague

Giveaway ends October 25, 2016.

See the giveaway details

at Goodreads.

Enter Giveaway

As for the rest of it, stay tuned over the next week or so for more opportunities to win, including at least one signed set of the entire trilogy.

The deal with Smurfette

I’m going to do something a little different today. I’m going to go on a bit of a rant. Why? Because it’s my page, I can, plus I can’t stand Smurfette!

“But Lise, surely there are better things to aim my rage at,” you say. That’s as may be, but the mind doesn’t choose what to be irked by, and beside that, I think it’s a worthwhile target for rage.

Bear with me…

Did you know that this is the original Smurfette? (The one on the left, bestowing an obviously unwelcome smooch to a bemused generic Smurf.)

Surprised, aren’t you? You were probably imagining the blonde, pretty, fashionable Smurfette. If you look up her origin story, you’ll discover that she was originally created by Gargamel as a way to mess with the Smurfs. (I’m referring to her origin in the comics, since that’s how I was introduced to the Smurfs. We had no television when I was growing up, so I’m happily unaware of the Smurfs cartoon from Hanna-Barbera.) He basically created her out of clay as a version of the all-male Smurfs, but gave her long hair.

The idea was that she would so distract the Smurfs that Gargamel would be able to get up to whatever shenanigans he had planned for them. The only problem was, Smurfette was really annoying to them. She couldn’t cook, or sew, which was pretty much wasted no a village full of specialists in various areas. Beyond that, she wasn’t interesting to kiss, probably because she didn’t look feminine enough. All the Smurfs find her irritating and without redeeming value, so Papa Smurf takes her to his mushroom house, does himself some smurfy-type magic, and suddenly Smurfette is gorgeous. She has long blonde hair, and cute shoes and a pretty little dress. Add to that a cute button nose, and a coquettish act, and suddenly the Smurfs can’t control themselves around her.

She’s gorgeous and distracting, and everything Gargamel hoped she would be to them. They’re getting into fights over who gets to spend time with her and generally acting like idiots. But here’s what gets me… Nothing else has changed! She still can’t do anything. She still burns the cooking, but now the Smurfs think that’s cute. The only thing that’s different about her is now she looks feminine and girly.

What the hell? Even at the age of nine, I knew this was a steaming load of excrement. Way to bring it home to little boys and girls that the only value a woman can hope to have in the world is based upon her looks. Never mind that her only perceived value is that of a possession, an ornament upon the arm of some man, but that doesn’t matter as long as you look good. Not only that, little girl, you should want that! You should want some boy to twist himself into pretzels over your looks and get into fights with other boys. Not only should you be okay with this, but it’s something you should actively pursue. Sure, there are no other women for you to talk to in this village, only boy Smurfs being complete idiots, but that’s what you want!

And there’s my other problem. The Smurfs are all portrayed as male. Until the introduction of Smurfette, I viewed them as pretty much sexless blue beings. They had no gender, they didn’t need a gender, which also means they didn’t need Smurfette. That’s when I realized that male is viewed as the default setting, even though men are in the minority.

So nine-year-old me said screw that, and went outside to grub around in the dirt with my brothers and their friends.

Five Moons Rising – preview

My newest book, Five Moons Rising will be out April 2017. To celebrate its brand new cover, I’m sharing the first chapter with everyone. Meet Malice, a genetically-engineered supersoldier who is tasked with hunting down the things that go bump in the night.

Keep in mind, this is my final draft. The published copy may be different, but you won’t know unless you pick it up in April.

Chapter 1

She barely kept her feet, hunched over as she was, trying to desperately to pull in a full lungful. The large pillar kept her hidden well enough for now, but it wouldn’t be adequate concealment for long. The stitch in her side was nothing compared to the knot of fire higher up along her ribcage. The bastard was damn fast. If she’d been almost any other human, she would be lying dead on the floor, a crater bashed into her ribcage. As it was, her torso bled slowly from half a dozen shallow puncture wounds. Whatever he was, he was covered in spikes. That had been a surprise. She was lucky it hadn’t been worse.

Sucking in a slow deep breath, she tried to focus on her surroundings through her agony. There was none of the grinding that would have accompanied broken ribs. Beyond herself, she listened as hard as she could for the slightest whisper out of place.

The darkness of the loft pressed in on her and seemed to swallow all sound. All she could hear was her strained inhalations and she struggled to get them under control. If she could hear it, chances were the thing hunting her could as well.

Where is he? He’d gotten the drop on her, moving faster than she’d believed possible. According to her intel, he was little more than a run-of-the-mill demon, though of a type they’d never seen before. It hadn’t stopped him from clawing out his own little corner of the shadow-world.

Why did it have to be a demon? She hated demons the most out of the creatures she was set to take down. Demons came in so many horrible flavors, not like the rest of the supranormals. Werewolves and vampires started out human, at least. Demons were so different they might have been from an alien planet, not that her superiors would confirm or deny that. Human values meant nothing to them, they simply didn’t operate on anything near the same set of morals. Her theory, not shared by her employer, was that they came from another dimension. Such ideas bordered on the mystical and were not acceptable to the United States government, but their theories had so many holes and required such mental gyrations that they weren’t any more reasonable. She’d never met a demon she could stand to share a room with. Her current quarry was no exception.

A puff of air across her cheek was her only warning and she dropped to her knees, one hand on the floor, the other slicing through the air, the katana an unthinking extension of her body. His hand thudded into the pillar where her head had been less than half a breath before. Masonry exploded and small bits showered down on her head. The katana bit, blade sliding deep into his thigh. A hiss that turned into a wordless shriek was her satisfaction.

Determined not to lose her advantage, she surged to her feet, turning the sword in both hands and lining up for another strike. As fast as she was, the demon was faster. He blurred away from her and disappeared back into the darkness, leaving her fencing with shadows.

There was no time to consider her next move. He was on the run and she had to track him down before he made it out of the building. Now that he knew she’d been set upon him, he could easily disappear and that could not happen. He couldn’t be allowed to prey upon the unwary any longer. Countless scores of young runaways had already been sacrificed to his appetite.

Stalking through the empty loft after him, she was glad she’d at least marked him. Droplets of bright blue blood glowed and smoked on the concrete floor, corroding it, leading her onward. She peered deep into the gloom. Even enhanced as it was, her night vision was barely enough to keep her from running into the debris that littered the ground. He had a decided advantage in the dark and she pulled a compact cylinder from her pocket, holding it in her right hand as she stalked the darkness.

The droplets stopped and she looked ahead into the dark. There was no sign of him, but from behind her came the barest the rustle of spine upon spine. She grinned tightly and squeezed her eyes shut tight. The cylinder in her right hand went off with a blinding flash as soon as she pressed the button. Even with her eyes clamped shut and facing the other direction, light still exploded across her corneas.

Another scream met her efforts and she dropped the cylinder, bringing her right hand to grasp the end of the handle. In one smooth motion, she turned and raised the sword. The demon cowered in front of her, hands over too-wide eyes that oozed thick blue blood, giving Malice her first good look at the thing. A spiny crest jutted aggressively from the top of his head. He was covered everywhere in spikes of varying lengths, even on the backs of his fingers. Her blood still stained the protrusions on one hand. His movements were jerky and quick, almost impossible to track.

“Don’t,” he choked, voice thick with pain. “For the love of God, Malice, please don’t.”

Malice gazed down at him. How many of his victims had pleaded with him in just the same way? They hadn’t deserved their fate but he certainly did. She brought the sword down in a smooth arc, cleaving through his neck and both up-raised hands. They hit the floor in a series of small thuds as his body slumped over.

Already, the acrid stench of his death threatened to overwhelm her. Another reason to hate demons, Malice thought. They can’t even die cleanly. Not for the first time, she wished supranormal corpses would simply disintegrate into ash, the way vampire ones did on human television shows. This wasn’t Buffy the Vampire Slayer, for better or worse. She had no sidekicks to rely upon, no snappy banter; it was just her and her prey. Reality, as was so often the case, was much messier than fantasy. His body should corrode away to nothing over the next twenty-four hours, if her previous experience was anything to go by. At least he’d had the sense to make his lair in an abandoned factory building. She could leave his corpse and be relatively certain nobody would blunder across it. It wouldn’t do for some luckless human to stumble across the body. They weren’t supposed to know about the nightmares that congregate in the underbelly of society. The government made very certain to keep knowledge of the beasts from their constituents. Their presence was an inconvenient truth, which was where Malice came in.

Impassively, Malice stared at the blackening corpse for another moment before turning. She pulled a cloth from her pocket and drew it along the blade of her katana. Demon blood was so corrosive it would pit the metal given more than a few minutes. Satisfied the blade was clean, she dropped the cloth. Already, holes were being eaten through the fabric. It would dissolve completely long before his now-inanimate corpse would.

Through the abandoned loft and down four flights of deserted stairs, Malice kept the katana ready in her hand. Demons sometimes ran in packs. She wasn’t sure about this one. His spiky exterior and impossible speed were brand spanking new. He could have had a dozen brothers and sisters with him, or he could have been the last of his kind. If there were others, they wouldn’t catch her unaware. Malice hadn’t survived as long as she had without keeping her head on a swivel.

Nothing moved in the shadows and she emerged into a dark courtyard. Light poles dotted the perimeter, and broken glass glittered in the light of the moon below each one. Folded in a neat pile in one corner was a black trench coat. Malice picked it up and slipped it over her shoulders. The katana slid back into its sheath on her back and she pulled up her hood to disguise the sword’s handle. With easy strides, she left the courtyard, never looking back at empty windows that seemed to follow her every move.

The area was mostly industrial and deserted at that time of night. Malice walked swiftly down silent blocks, past shuttered factories and storage facilities. Her truck was a few blocks away from her target’s nest. She’d been trained never to get too close in a vehicle, and years of experience had only reinforced that training. Most supranormals had excellent hearing. She smiled slightly as she contemplated the other reason. If she didn’t survive the mission, her superiors didn’t want anything to connect her to them. She would be simply one more dead Jane Doe in a city full of them.

There were many reasons why she and her remaining cohorts were stationed in major cities. The beings they hunted were drawn to large urban centers, full of humans who wouldn’t be missed, full of easy meat. In the wash of humanity, another dead body wouldn’t be a big deal. Malice knew that when she died, her body would spend its last days in a drawer in the morgue before being interred with the other John and Jane Does beneath the tall trees of Homewood Memorial Gardens. It was only a matter of time. Of her original platoon, six were already gone and that was of the sixteen who had survived their training and… enhancements. It had only been what, five years since she completed her training?

Malice grimaced slightly and twitched her mind away from the scant memories she still retained of that time. Even what little she remembered was more than she cared to. They said that memories of physical trauma were never as sharp as the actual pain, but that didn’t seem to apply to what had been done to her. Her bones ached, cold and sharp, and Malice brought her sister’s face to mind. Cassidy’s smile chased away the last vestiges of remembered agony.

Her truck was where she’d left it. The black Mitsubishi pick-up truck gleamed under a lone street lamp. She extended her senses but nothing seemed out of place. She emptied her pockets, pulling out more light grenades, a couple knives, a taser, and placed them in the tool box in the truck’s bed. Her katana had its place in a specialized holder in the box’s lid. Satisfied that everything was secure, Malice headed home.

It was a long drive home, over forty-five minutes. At least with as late as it was, Chicago traffic wouldn’t be the headache it usually was. She flipped on the radio and relaxed as pounding drums and heavy guitar riffs seemed to absorb the adrenaline that still coursed through her veins. It would be a while before she would relax completely after the night’s takedown. This one had been closer than most. Still, not as close as some.

Malice pulled off the side street and onto the tri-state. Prudently, she kept her speed down. Traffic blew by her on the left as she made sure not to be the fastest one out there. If she was pulled over for speeding, she would have a hard time explaining the contents of her tool box.

The wind whistled through her window, stripping the last bits of acridness from the inside of her nose. She breathed deeply, tucking a stray lock of hair behind one ear. Regs demanded that an operative with long hair club it back into a tight bun, but she preferred the ponytail. At just above her shoulders, her hair didn’t always cooperate with a bun and the pony was easier. It wasn’t like she had some sergeant waiting at home to get on her back about it, only her handler and he certainly didn’t go out on missions.

Slowly, the Chicago skyline passed by on her left, lights twinkling merrily at her through the stillness of the evening. It was a gorgeous autumn night, but late enough that traffic on the tri-state was almost non-existent and she made it home five minutes earlier than she’d anticipated.

Her neighborhood wasn’t that different from the one she’d just left. It was mostly warehouses and as quiet at night. She pulled up in front of one of the older buildings, three stories of weathered brick and frosted glass windows. It took up half the city block. Bending over, she felt around for the small button hidden under her dash. It was little more than a depression in the molded plastic, but clicked loudly when she pressed down.

The large metal door a few yards away raised, metal creaking slightly in protest. As soon as the door was barely high enough to drive under it, she roared in, pressing the button again. The tortured squeal of the door reversing in its track echoed throughout the cavernous first floor. It reminded her uncomfortably of the demon whose existence she’d terminated scarcely an hour before.

The entire area was open and mostly empty. Large pillars marched along the interior and did much to break up the emptiness. Malice could have parked anywhere but she pulled up next to a small area enclosed with chain link fence. She opened the door and vaulted from the truck’s running board onto the edge of the bed. Bending her knees, she picked up the toolbox in both hands. It was heavy, but nothing she couldn’t handle. Since no one was around, she made no effort to hide her strength. The weight would have been too much for most men, never mind most women, but she handled it with little more than a grunt.

She knew she was on the short side. Statistics might say the average height of a woman in the US might be 5’3”, but she always felt short when around other humans. Even her baby sister was taller at 5’6”, and that rankled. The day Cassidy had discovered Mary Alice was no longer the taller one still burned in her memory. As a moody teenager, that had done nothing to improve her attitude. That had been the day she’d joined the US Army.

At least her strength was a hell of an equalizer. Some people thought they could mess with her, normal humans who didn’t know any better. Little did they know that even the fastest and most ripped man had little chance against her, all thanks to Uncle Sam.

With another grunt, she stepped up on the side of the bed and dropped to the ground, bending her knees again to absorb the extra weight. Malice gasped aloud at the pain in her ribs. She’d forgotten about her injury. Adrenaline and a boosted metabolism had driven it from her mind. She set the box on the ground and took a deep breath. It didn’t feel like she’d damaged herself any further, but she needed to be more cautious.

Against the chain fence was another tool box, identical in appearance to the one she’d just removed. This one actually carried tools, and not ones meant for dispatching supranormals. Carefully, she lugged it to the end of the truck and balanced it against the bumper as she pulled down the tailgate. Placing the box on the bed, she gave it a good shove. It slid the length of the bed before coming to a rest against the cab with a muffled thump.

Satisfied, Malice headed over to the freight elevator just on the other side of the enclosure. Wooden gates stood open, and the elevator car waited for her. Weariness dragged at her. It was all physical, the adrenaline finally waning. She knew from experience that her mind would continue to churn for hours yet. It was good to be home where she didn’t have to worry about anything else.

Inside the elevator, she pulled the wooden gates closed before pressing the button for the top floor. A reluctant rumble accompanied the car as it moved between the floors before coming to a stop on the third floor. She opened the doors and stepped into the echoing loft. Almost home, she thought. Her quarters were all the way across the large empty space. If anyone ever tracked her to her home, she wanted as much warning as possible. Her distance from the elevator gave her some peace of mind, but she really wanted to unwind. A hot bath sounded divine, and was still too far away.

Privacy screens created the illusion of walls, turning the cavernous space into something cozy and comfortable. Malice dropped her trench coat on the floor by the door. It wasn’t really a door, more like a gap between the screens, but she couldn’t help but think of it as such.

I should really pick that up. She hesitated for a moment. Nah. There was no one to nag her. That was a good thing. Why does that always sound like I’m trying to convince myself?

A blinking light in the kitchen caught her eye. Her cell phone lay on the island, blinking mindlessly, the light gleaming off the stainless steel countertop. She had a message.

She had seven messages, as it turned out. Malice eyed the screen before sighing. That didn’t bode well. Only a couple of people had the number and a reason to leave her a voicemail. Even if they all called at once, there wouldn’t be seven messages. Malice left a very light impression on the human world. Tapping in her password, she brought up her voicemail and set it to speaker.

“Hi, Mary Alice.” Her sister’s voice filtered tinnily through the speaker. Malice smiled and pulled her shirt over her head, ignoring the slight twinge that went through her ribs. “Don’t forget, we’re on for lunch with Mom before she heads home. You can’t get out of seeing her for much longer. I can’t wait to introduce you guys to the new place I went with my classmates.”

Cassidy’s voice did more to relax her than even veterinary-grade sedatives could. These days her metabolism was too high for most drugs to have more than a fleeting effect upon her anyway. She smiled as her sister prattled on for another minute or so while she prodded her side with cautious fingertips. Satisfied that the worst she had to deal with were a few bruises and shallow cuts, Malice advanced to the next message.

“Mary Alice, it’s Uncle Ralph. I miss you kiddo, call me.” Despite the words, the voice was brusque, almost impersonal and Malice rolled her eyes. Her handler wanted to know how the night’s activities had gone. He was always impatient. After five years of working together, he still thought he could rush her into debriefing. She needed to come down before she’d talk about it. He knew that, but it didn’t stop him from trying to prod her into talking it out sooner than later. He would simply have to wait. Daylight would be more than soon enough to touch base.

“Hi, Mary.” Her head snapped up at the voice that filtered through the phone’s speaker. Her voice light and slightly breathless, the woman sounded nervous. “I had a great time the other night, and you said you’d call, but you haven’t. I hope you don’t mind the call, but I got your number from your gallery.”

Oh no, she didn’t! Disbelieving, Malice slumped into one of the high chairs at the island. She stared at the phone. It had been a mistake to go on that second date, she’d known it when she agreed to it with Ann. The girl was nice and they’d had a lot of fun at her apartment. So much fun, in fact, that Ann’s downstairs neighbor had pounded on the floor to get them to tone it down. But all it had been for her, was an opportunity for some fabulous sex and to blow off some much-needed steam. Apparently, Ann hadn’t taken the hint.

She picked up the phone and scanned through the other messages. They were all from that Ann chick. With a groan, Malice deleted them without bothering to listen further. She was going to need to change her phone number. That was no big thing, she did it periodically as a security precaution, but Ann had said she’d gotten her number from the gallery. Her hand tightened around the phone and she quickly relaxed her grip when the phone flexed slightly. It wouldn’t do to crack another screen.

The morning was the earliest she’d be able to track down the gallery owner and find out what the hell had happened. If the answer wasn’t satisfactory, she would have to take her sculptures elsewhere, somewhere that understood the value of discretion.

She glanced around the darkened kitchen then heaved out a sigh of irritation. There was no point trying to unwind for bed. Her heart rate was back up and thudding in her chest. She was keyed up for more action, almost tingling with the need to hit something. If she wasn’t going to be able to sleep tonight, then she might as well do something useful. It was time for a little workout. Maybe if she worked her body past the point of exhaustion, she’d be able to grab a couple hours of sleep before the sun came up.