Miranda Kate's Blog, page 17

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 243

This week's picture prompt is by British artist Pauline Jones. She call's it 'With a soft thud'. She has some really interesting art. Worth checking out. 

I wasn't sure where this one was going, but it went all Sci-fi

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here. 

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.



Moonbeams
Phila hadn’t seen anything like it. The sonic boom had been heard across the island, but the glow had frightened them more. When they crept out of the trees to see what it was they discovered a piece of the moon.

How could it fall from the sky and why did it still glow? They’d been taught the sun was what lit the moon. Or were they mistaking it for the moon because of its shape?

Phila had been the first to walk up to it. She knew she would be leader one day and showing her strength now during this moment of crisis was important. She felt the power of the light on her skin. It seeped into her and lifted her mood. She reached out her fingers and they disappeared into the light, eventually resting on something solid. She could feel the light strumming through every sinew of her body.

She heard gasps from the tribe and looked round to find them on the ground below. She was up in the air, held in a moonbeam. But she didn’t panic; she felt totally calm.

Then she realised she was higher still as she could see their entire island and even the ring of reef that protected them from the high seas. Then she saw the curve of the ocean and the stars above as she ascended. She still felt no fear, sure that she would be okay.

She could still breathe even though the planet was reducing in size below her. Where was she going to?

She turned her body round, turning her back on her home and there it was: the moon. They’d lived their lives by its cycles and prayed to it for generations and here it was growing larger and larger.

It glowed too, like the slither that had landed on the beach. Under the surface light emanated. As the planet filled Phila’s vision, clusters of lights became visible and structures. There was life here.

She drew closer and closer, taking in the landmasses, until she was over just one, an island like her own. She began to see the tops of trees and people gathered on a shoreline of a sparkling sea. They looked up at her in awe as she began to descend towards them. When she landed they moved towards her encircling her. She smiled at them, and then recognised they were her tribe. How could that be?

She looked around and saw the crescent of rock that had landed next to her, but it no longer glowed. Instead she did. Her body gave off the light she had been consumed by moments ago. People were reaching out to touch her, and when they did they fell to their feet and bowed.

What had happened? Had she become a God?

The moment the thought occurred, her mind was filled with all she had to know and do. She saw their future in her mind’s eye and it wasn’t this place. In fact they needed to leave their home here on this island and on this planet to find a safe haven above. It was the only way they would survive what was coming as their planet fought to regain its health and purge itself of its parasitical infection.

Phila knew the destination and the means. She called to them to gather everyone. They needed to leave immediately.

The frenzy that took place as her people put their trust in her filled her with love, which in turn expanded the light emanating from her. Once they were gathered she reached out her hand to the one closest and told them to all link hands together so they were one unit reaching back into the woods behind the beach.

She turned and placed her other hand on the rock, and as before she was lifted up and taken away from their island, except this time she was not alone, they were all with her. And this time when she arrived in the moon’s periphery she saw the world she’d glimpsed earlier, but as she descended it no longer resembled her own.

The structures she had seen opened up to an underground world, hidden from view, yet all aglow like herself, as were the people – their people, the rest of their tribe, one they had once been a part of but had splintered off and fallen to earth like the crescent that had fallen to fetch them. They were home and safe.

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 242

This week's picture prompt is a photo taken by me! This is looking up into the stairwell of my house from the hallway up to the loft bedroom. I just love the view.   

A writer friend of mine once said that when are you not sure how to end something or feel it's not very interesting, try and turn it on its head. It worked for this tale. 

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here. 

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.

Visitor
She pushed her back up against the wall, craning her neck round to see up into the stairwell, and held her breath while she listened. She wasn’t hearing things; there was definitely someone moving about up there.

A shadow flickered across the ceiling at the very top. She took in a sharp breath, adrenaline shooting through her, causing her legs to feel jelly like and her stomach to do a flip. How long had they been moving about up there? She heard a scraping sound. That was a drawer opening.

She could hear more drawers opening and decided she had to go up there and confront them. She clutched the baseball bat that she’d left in the corner of the hallway and crept round to the bottom of the stairs and started to ascend, keeping close to the wall and treading into the edges of each step to minimise creaking.

At the first landing she stepped round a squeaky piece of laminate and tiptoed to the bottom of the stairs to the top landing. They were opening closets now too. The possibility of having misheard was gone. That was enough for her to muster the courage to climb the last staircase.

The door was ajar at the top. She could see the shadow of a person moving around the room. They seemed to systematically be going through all the cupboards as though looking for something.

She jumped forward, and kicked the door open fully, making the person inside jump, holding the bat up, ready to attack. The man and woman inside the room froze and put their hands up.

There was an open suitcase on the bed and they were busy filling it. They must be going on holiday, which would explain why they were up at three o’clock in the morning rather than sleeping soundly, like they were supposed to be doing.

She immediately regretted her decision to come upstairs and confront them rather than leave. She couldn’t take on two of them. The only upside was that with her bulky clothing and mask, it disguised how big she was or what sex – plus they weren’t a young couple, so they were less likely to challenge her anyway.

‘Get on the floor!’ she shouted in a low gruff voice. ‘Faces down.’

They did as she demanded.

She glanced round the room, and spotted some jewellery on the dressing table. She grabbed it and stuffed it in her pockets, making it look like that was what she was here for. It wasn’t, she was just covering for her shock and delaying her retreat as she thought through how she was going to do it.

She could grab the bag of stolen stuff she’d put in the hallway as she went out the front door. Lenny was in the car outside ready to go, although if they saw them drive away they might be able to trace them. She needed to be fast.  

She didn’t waste any more time stalling, and after one last brandish making sure they were still face down on the floor, she took the stairs two at a time. But as she rounded the first landing, she caught her foot on a loose piece of flooring and went head first down the final flight of stairs, cracking her head on the wall as she fell, and giving her neck a fatal twist on the last step at the bottom.

She lay sprawled on the hallway floor, one hand on the bag of loot as though making one last grab for it, dead.

It looked like Lenny would be driving home alone. 

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 241

This week's picture prompt was taken by Thomas Pluck, the author of The Boy from County Hell. Thomas said this image was taken in Winslow, New Jersey, across the road from the blue hole where the Jersey Devil was purportedly seen bathing. (Folklore)

Another picture that lends itself to Tricky's endeavours. The last one was just last week, on Week 240. 

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here. 

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.


Going Underground
Tricky considered the hole. It had to lead down to the underground bunkers, where else would it go? But it didn’t look like the others; there was no door on it, and there were plants growing out of it. Although plants grew out of everything that had been left to ruin – and a lot had been left to ruin since the shift. But plants weren’t fussy. If there was light and water they had all they needed. They didn’t fuss about locations or safety; they weren’t as fragile as humans. They were flexible and persistent.

Tricky reached out her energy and felt the faint, delicate strands of the plants. They weren’t strong here; there wasn’t that much sustenance down below. That would suggest tunnels.

Tricky had to stop dallying and get her prissy little resistant arse down into it and find out if it was what she sought. She secretly hoped it might be an old sewer – not that she liked the idea of being in the stench of decaying shit, but it meant she could procrastinate a while longer if it wasn’t to the underground tunnels that housed Stanislav’s network. She wanted to orientate herself before coming face to face with any of them. You had to work out where the backdoor was before you went in the front door.

She took a breath and gripped the jade in her pocket. She felt the brilliant green energy engulf her and sighed her relief. At least she had some kind of warning system in place.

She sat down on the edge of the hole and swung her legs in. She couldn’t see the bottom for the plants, but trusted it wouldn’t be far. She gently lowered herself in and found the bottom at just under shoulder height. She squatted down and rummaged in her skirts, looking for the torch she had tucked away.

They might have lost some things from before the shift, but making batteries wasn’t one of them – or processing power in general. Solar and wind were abundant on the landmass, and they’d developed interesting and cheap ways to harness it. Batteries were cruder than they used to be, but were still sealed and able to be used in the small portable devices that housed the tiny, bright LED lights. All the parts were still made, but not in mass quantities. It wasn’t necessary to make more than was needed, that was just wasteful.

She flashed it up both ways and saw nothing but a narrow tunnel. She crouched low and travelled to her right, until the light reflected a wall of rubble; a cave in. She went back on herself and kept on going. Her back was starting to ache bending in such a way, when it came to an end and opened out into some kind of junction. Tricky stood looking at the three tunnels leading off the one she had come along. This would be the quickest way to get lost, especially if there were more of these junctions.

Tricky wasn’t claustrophobic by nature, but the thought of being stuck down here in the darkness made her shiver. There were no trees or plants here strong enough to lend her support; she only had her own energy to rely on and it could run out in these concrete chambers. She could leave a trail of gemstones though; she had plenty of those with her. She took out a garnet, placing it on the ground at the entrance of the tunnel she had come down. She slowly went round each of the other entrances and stood listening, not just with her ears but with her very being. And that’s when she heard it. It was travelling down the tunnel opposite the one she had arrived through, a vibration she had experienced before, the night of her mother’s death.

A glow appeared, cutting through the torch light, but it wasn’t coming from the vibration, it was coming from her skirt pocket. Tricky pulled out the jade and the green light it gave off lit her surroundings, lending it an eerie gleam that did nothing to calm her.

Her mother’s energy was responding to that vibration, but was it a warning, or should she investigate further? Would this tunnel lead to the nerve centre she sought? Tricky hesitated, hating her uncertainty which was born of reluctance – although she’d never pretended to be brave and courageous, oh no, Tricky didn’t go in for any of that guff. There was nothing wrong with running the other way, sometimes it was the sensible thing to do. But in this case it wouldn’t get her anywhere, and she needed to get somewhere – she needed to get to their lair, hopefully by hidden means. She took a deep breath and started up the tunnel.

My Top 5 Horror Book Recommendations

There's a new website for readers that is building it's catalogue of books and authors, called Shepherd.

I was asked to provide my Top 5 recommendations in my favourite genre: Horror, and add a little bit about myself and why I like this genre. Take a look to see what I said. 

(click on the picture below)

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 240

This week's picture prompt is from Serbian artist Vladislav Pantic. He calls this one The Wood Spirit. He also has a lot of Harry Potter fan art, on his website. Worth checking out. 

My entry this week brings a potential scenario for a Tricky story. You can tell I'm immersed in her tales at the moment. Just an endless stream for MWF entries. Last one was Week 238. 

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here. 

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.


Sneaky Spook
Tricky hadn’t spent a night in the forest for a couple of years, and especially not this part. She knew her home terrain well, but although she’d visited and passed through this area many times, it wasn’t as familiar to her. There were trees here that were new to her and some variant species. They weren’t the new purple and blue trees, but they were loftier and wider in trunk and had a hardened energy she’d not come across before. They towered over the other trees, their bark giving off a red tint.

From her place up in the canopy of a sprawling oak that had been a young sapling at the time of the shift, she took in these giants. She knew they had existed before the shift and clearly some of these had survived it; you didn’t grow that big in just two hundred years – well not if you were a tree. Although maybe they had accelerated growth, Tricky didn’t know. She pondered the possibilities from her nook in the branches, distracting her mind from the reason she was up here in the first place.

A light caught her eye. She thought it was a firefly. They were making a comeback in these parts. They liked the warmer climes up here in Ferriston; not that it got very cold anywhere really, but a couple of degrees affected these species. But she realised she was wrong as she watched the light grow and a figure appear.

It wasn’t a tree sprite – at least not one she’d ever experienced. It had no defined features, just an outline: a human outline, with head and arms and an impression of legs. It seemed to be moving through the trees as though looking for something.

Tricky took a breath and reached out her own energy to it, to try and decipher who or what it was. She felt a tingling at the base of her spine that ran up to her neck. It left her feeling cold. Whatever this was, it wasn’t good.

She shifted her position, so she could keep it in view. It stopped around the base of the tree opposite, one of the giant reds as Tricky liked to think of them. It stayed hovering there. She couldn’t work out what it was doing. Was it waiting for someone or something? There was no indication in its ethereal state.

She leaned over the bough she was resting on, and tried to get a closer look. A few leaves and a bit of bark loosened, falling to the ground.

The second they landed the figure swept up into the air towards Tricky. She pulled herself back sharply but the sudden movement caught her off guard and she fell, landing heavily on the ground below.

The wind was knocked out of her and she struggled to take a breath, the bright light of the figure appearing in front of her, causing her eyes to water. She blinked rapidly and within the head of the energetic body that floated in front of her a face emerged. It was him; Dimitry Stanislav. He’d found her.

She scrabbled to her feet, but it was too late. She felt his dark energy wrap around her, pulling tight, binding her, and she was lifted off the ground before she could engage any protection. She’d be returned to that hell-hole below for another round of beatings and there was nothing she could do about it. 

Interview with New In Books

Here's an interview about Dead Lake and how the main character, Tricky, entered my life, and why I love writing her so much. Also find out more about what I read and my quirky writing habits. 

(click on the picture to go to the article)

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 239

This week's picture prompt is from a twitter writer friend. JLGentry, although at the current time he is taking a break from the platform. This is of his decking at his home in Connecticut, and he shared it for a themed picture-sharing day on twitter called #SundayPixLiminal. (click here for the meaning of Liminal)

Okay, so this went dark, and I liked it. It also went WAY long - 1,200+ words after editing - but I like it as it is, so I am breaking my old rules on this one. This might even get developed one day I like it so much! 

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here. 

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.


Debauchery
The rustling was the first thing I registered, then the wind on my face. Something batted across my cheek and I cracked an eye open a fraction. The light was searing, seeming to run right into the centre of my brain, like a lightning strike, awakening me to the throbbing that was my head.

I moved my arm, resting my palm on the surface. It was wood, but it didn’t smell like wood. It smelt like dried blood, or was that from my nose?

I could see a brownish red out of the slit of my eye. I dared to open it a touch more, I could see a pattern. It was the grain of the red-stained wood decking.

The jumble of memories didn’t want to form into anything cohesive, but there had definitely been some kind of party: a lot of people, in a house.

I felt something on my face and caught it with my hand. It crumbled against my fingers: an autumn leaf. It was then that I started to register the temperature. It was cold. I wasn’t conscious enough to shiver.

I attempted to move onto my side. It took too tries, but I managed it. I didn’t dare lift my head up. But I opened my other eye and saw the railings that ran round the wooden veranda and an expanse of land beyond. It was mostly lawn, with a few scattered trees. I remembered the house: people laughing, glasses clinking, and music.

I moved my tongue round my mouth. Something was sore. I brought my palm up to my cheek. My jaw was swollen and my cheekbone hurt. I’d been hit. But by who?

I tried to recall, but my mind seemed foggy. I could only get a few snatches, nothing consistent: the odd face, some kind of fumbling body on top of me. It’s then I realised it wasn’t just my face that was sore. I glanced down at myself. I had clothes on, but they were dishevelled, and my skirt was the wrong way round. I ran a hand along my hip and leg. My underpants were still on – or had been put back on. I couldn’t be sure. I had to get up to figure out where I was and what had happened.

I knew trying to get upright would be difficult. For a second all thoughts stopped as bile rose into my mouth and I lurched onto my feet and hung over the railing, ready to let it all go. But nothing came. I just coughed a little, my head banging. But as I was up on my feet, so I took advantage of the new perspective.

The house was quiet and shuttered. I staggered to the French windows that led out onto the decking, but they were locked, blinds drawn. I frowned and made my way down the steps off the veranda, walking round the property. Everything was closed up, all blinds drawn and some external shutters. It was a large place and when I arrived at the front, the driveway was empty and the front door locked.

Had I been dumped here? Was this where the party had been? My mind still wouldn’t give up any answers, but either way I was stranded.

I walked to the road. It was rural, I could only see woods and forest. The road disappeared up over a hill in either direction. Left or right? I didn’t know. Maybe I would be better off staying, try and find a way into the house. Maybe there was a phone and I could call someone.

I tried the front door again, but it was just as locked as it had been a few seconds ago. I took my time circling the house again. One at the back didn’t look straight. I checked and realised it was one of those window that could tilt as well as open. It was tilted back a crack. I pushed it at the top and it opened some more. It was one of a pair. I could just get my hand in to its neighbour. I turned the handle so it swung inward. I pulled myself up and inside. It was a bedroom and it was empty of personal belongings. Was this an empty house?

I went out into the corridor and walked into what I thought must be the living room. Everything was dark due to all the blinds being drawn. There was a strange smell, a familiar smell. I had smelt it outside on the decking when I’d come too: dried blood.

I followed the wall over to one of the windows and pull one of the blinds at the bottom. It flipped up, rolling into itself.

And then I turned and saw the carnage; bodies everywhere; naked male bodies, bloody and beaten.

I froze and listened; nothing. I moved over to one of them on the sofa. Their eyes were shut; they could be sleeping. I put my finger to their neck. The flesh was cold. I couldn’t find a pulse.

I looked more closely at their face. Did I know them? I couldn’t recall having seen them before, and when I walked round the others, taking my time, I didn’t recognise them either – all eight of them.

This time I really did need to throw up. I rushed out of the room, hand over my mouth and tried several doors before finding the bathroom. I managed to get the toilet seat up in time to expel whatever it was I had consumed the night before.

I went to the sink to wash my face. There was a mirror above it. And when I saw my face, I knew.

It had been me; the fight had been over me. I had only known one of them – the one I had come with – but they weren’t among the bodies. They were gone. They must have been the one that had shuttered and locked up everything. But why had they left me here? Did they think I was dead too?

I also knew where I was. I had to get out of here too, before the owners came back. They could arrive at any time.

I went back into the living room and pulled the blind back down, leaving it the way it had been found. I climbed back out the window and closed it behind me. I ran out to the road and turned right, up the hill as quickly as I could, using the trees that came up to the edge of the road as camouflage. There would be a strip of shops soon. I would use a pay phone there. He’d come and fetch me. He had to if he wanted me to keep my mouth shut.

Dead Lake on sale for Valentine Week!

 

Happy Valentine's Day!

As a treat for Valentine's week Dead Lake is on sale for 99c/99p

Grab it while you can.

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 238

This week's picture prompt is from author Lisa Shambrook, taken of an old mirror in her father's barn. 

This had to be another Tricky tale, I knew it as soon as I saw it. Exploring some characters & themes for the third book in the series. The last Tricky exploration was Week 237

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here. 

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.

Man of Mirrors

When Annie had called him the Man of Mirrors Tricky had thought it referred to his vanity, and the way he liked to ponce about in his vintage top hat and tails. She didn’t doubt that he had a mirror or two to primp and poke at himself, but the problem was nasty people could try all they might to be good looking – and maybe on the face of it (pun intended) they were – but if you were ugly on the inside it always showed through. Stanislav was no exception.

But it turned out the mirrors didn’t allude to his penchant for self gratification in his reflection, it related to how bloody adept he was at using them to open time bubbles and portals to other places.

It hadn’t been something Tricky had expected. She was only just beginning to understand how he had managed to learn such skill. She had no idea that people of her ilk taught the ungifted, but it didn’t surprise her that it would be someone like Gandalf; he taught anyone anything, bugger the consequences. That’s how such craft got into the wrong hands, that and choosing to walk the darker path.

It didn’t half irk her though. Stanislav was a conniving bastard at the best of times, but with this kind of gift, it made him downright dangerous. And it meant she had to up her game too. She’d never had it tested like this before; no one other than her mother could match her – not even Gandalf , or Douglas Bottle as he was properly named. So how the hell had Stanislav managed to run rings round her? Or was he not alone? Was there someone else helping him? Then it dawned on her who that might be. It made sense. He had gifts beyond all of them.

For the first time in all of this, Tricky felt truly frightened. She’d had moments, like down there underground, when she hadn’t been quite sure she’d see daylight again, but this was something else. If they combined their efforts they could do more than just take over the landmass, they could control everyone and everything in it. In effect the people would become their prisoners. And having seen what they did to their prisoners, Tricky didn’t like that at all – oh no, not one little bit.

Tricky stood up in the barn she’d found to sleep in and brushed the hay off her clothes. She’d seen an old mirror near the entrance and had an idea. It was still set into the wood lintel that had once sat on a dresser. It didn’t give much reflection in the nightlight, but she wasn’t here to look at herself.

She shuffled about in her underskirts and pulled out the items she desired. The germwort and creasy had been easy to replace, they were abundant everywhere, but it had taken her a while to find the obsidian again. She was just glad she’d dropped it like Dufray had done, otherwise all of this would be pointless, including his sacrifice.

She placed them in her palm and gently squeezed. She heard the mirror crack, even though there was no mark, and the surface rippled like a lake. She squatted down and tested it with her hand. Yes, it had opened. She put her face into the surface. It was like putting your face into a bowl of water, except you could breathe on the other side.

She blinked her eyes and looked around. Yes, this was what she was looking for. She pushed the rest of her body through, until she clambered out the other side. It was like a white room with no doors.

She shuffled around in her skirts again, this time higher up. She didn’t think they’d found it when they’d taken her; she was sure it was still there. Then she felt the hard edge and pulled it out: A small palm-sized mirror. She was grateful to Nathan for giving it to her. He knew more about the things she needed that she had expected; enchanted glass always came in handy.

She held it up, facing it over her shoulder, and looked side on into it. She could just about see it; a faint colour round the edges. Then she moved it a fraction and the picture filled the mirror. There he was in Ferriston woods. He’d made his way back. You couldn’t miss that dumb hat of his. Stanislav might think he was able to outwit Tricky, but there was one crucial thing he seemed to miss, her affinity with trees. Not only could she place exactly where he was, she knew the trees he had just passed personally. Tricky smiled. 

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 237

This week's picture prompt was created by Softyrider62, a Swedish digital artist on DeviantArt. He has some incredible art, very science fiction influenced. He calls this Cocoon Worlds. 

I've gone a bit over this week, but I can't edit it anymore without it losing its essense. It's another Tricky short, exploring some ideas. It's been a few weeks since she's featured. The last time was back in Week 231.

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here. 

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.



Spying on a spy
Tricky didn’t often entertain the notion of existence, it seemed a bit poncey and philosophical, something Nathan would do, but not Tricky, oh no. She was too busy being IN existence, rather than fussing about the way and what of it. But this was here in front of her and gave her pause for thought.

She wasn’t quite sure how she’d got here. She’d followed that Stanislav through into what she thought was another time. She was still baffled how someone like him even knew such things existed. She’d yet to work that out, although she was gathering her suspicions. He was one of those that liked to be all mysterious – or pretend to be. He thought of himself as Russian, being as that was his ancestry. Russia had been a particularly large area of land they called a country back before the shift had dissolved them all. Apparently people from there were all dark and dazzling and reckoned themselves. At least Stanislav did.

Him and his stupid old world costumes; he thought he could stun her and mess with her, but he didn’t fool her, she knew what he was – an arse. And unfortunately she’d met plenty of those.

But did she dare admit that he might have managed to catch her off guard? Tricky wasn’t one to admit anyone getting the better of her, but this place – if it was a place – was something she had yet to understand.

They were definitely other times, but they were encased in egg shaped bubbles. But she always thought times ran parallel or linked into other times, not separate units.

They were also transparent.

Tricky peered into one, and could clearly see the world inside: sky, bird life, clouds, landscape. Yep, they were other times. But it was like looking through one of her crystal spyglasses. Was that it? Was that what these were? Were these Stanislav’s? Had Tricky tripped into one of his stashes?

But these were huge, bigger than life size. How was that possible?

She stepped up to one and touched it. Yes, it was solid. She rested her palm on it and brought the nasty piece of work to mind; his ridiculous top hat and his pompous tails, let alone that horrible walking stick. He didn’t use it for walking, oh no, he’d found another use for that as she’d found out when they had held her in those tunnels. Ugh, how she hated him!

The egg responded and the world inside swirled, tinting everything red to reflect her anger. And there he was bigger than life with that grubby little attempt at a beard on his chin, the tuft of it sticking out like a twat.

He was laughing, but she couldn’t see at what. It was hard to see him properly, being that he was blown up to about ten times his normal size. How did he use these things? If they were his things.

Then she heard the laughter and spun round. There he was just a few feet away. She glanced back at the egg shaped crystal glass, which had returned to its original image. Had it just been some kind of reflection? She didn’t know.

‘Clever lady, you worked it out.’ His patronising tones irked her.

‘Doesn’t take much to get the better of you.’ She grinned a fake smile at him.

‘But what do you plan to do now we are here?’

‘That’s for me to know and you to find out.’

‘Is it now? I think not.’ He laughed again, spun and vanished.

Shit! How the hell did he do that so fast?

Tricky took a breath and blew out hard, snapping her fingers. She caught a trace of his energy before it passed through. She reached out her own to coil round it, gathering it in. She took another breath and hummed. It was enough to enlarge it. She shivered as it covered her; its turquoise colouring giving her a chill.

Then she took out a piece of obsidian, germwort and creasy, and placed them one by one in her palm. She closed her fingers over them. They crackled, and the air moved around her. She gently blew across her fist and the sound increased until she saw a split in the air. She moved her body sideways against it and blew on her knuckles again, feeling it give, letting her through into bright sunlight.

She saw a road in front of her. It was familiar. She’d run down it not long ago. Then it had been to get away from him, now she needed to catch him.

But if she knew where she was, it wouldn’t take much to know where he was.

It was time to get stealthy – and tricky. Oh yes, she’d show him a whole new meaning to her name.