C.M. Simpson's Blog, page 91

Carlie's Chapter 1 - Dear Tiger: Don't Look Back

LAST WEEK, Book 2 ended with Tiger telling Simone to be safe. This week, Tiger reveals that he has lost everyone he loves and is on the run.Chapter 1 – Tiger on the Run
Dear Simone  I know you haven’t found me yet, but it doesn’t matter.Lots happened after your last batch of letters. Worst thing is that I am on my own. Things went horribly wrong on Deskeden.Mum and dad are gone.What can I say? They’re just gone.I am doing the last thing they told me to do, the very thing you asked me to do.I am on the run.Run, they said. Please run. Run. And don’t look back.We’ll be right behind you.RUN!And I did.They lied. To save me.I will never forgive myself, Sims. They told me to run and I ran. They told me to not look back, but I did.Stars help me, but I did, and now I wish I hadn’t.Mum and dad aren’t just gone, Simmy. They’re dead. And don’t tell me I’m imagining things. I looked back, and I saw them die. I saw what killed them, and I will never be safe again.And I’m sorry.Because now I’ve told you, I don’t think you are safe either. But I can tell you what to look for, and maybe that will help you keep your mum and dad instead of losing them.Please listen. Please don’t think I’m crazy, but, when the world around you seems to shiver. Run.Grab the hand of the person closest you and run. Don’t try to go back for someone out of reach. There won’t be time. If the world around you shivers, or gets suddenly hot or cold, you have to run.Promise me.I’ve lost everyone else. I can’t lose you, too.Knowing you are out there, gives me hope.I am going to make sure they don’t follow me, and then I am going to come and find you.You are all the family I have left.When I think of you, I think of home.Stay safe for me, Simone. I need you.
Hugs
Tiger
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The complete series is available as short, individual ebooks, and will become available as an omnibus, later this year. In the meantime, you can find them on this blog, until one week after the last chapter in the last book of the series has been posted, at which point this series will be taken down, and a new series serialised on site.
books2read.com/u/4Awrze
books2read.com/u/mgrxdR




















books2read.com/u/4DoG8D books2read.com/u/b5Mng1
books2read.com/u/3GYBla books2read.com/u/4782k8

Wednesday's Verse - The Veiled Moon

This week’s verse moves from  a science fiction verse about space flight  to a poem about the rising moon. It is taken from 366 Days of Poetry , a collection of mixed-genre poetry released in 2016.
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The Veiled Moon


The veiled moon rises high,
s struggling comet,
imprisoned by clouds,
trapped close to the earth,
its wedding-gown, whitened, drapes,
black-edged centred by bright luminescence,
a featureless glow in the centre of shrouds.
Round-faced moon-eyed chrysalis-like,
yet emergent.
Great moon rises, thunderhead free,
night sky and star convergent.
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You can find the first two poetry collections at the links below - although there are plans to reissue them with more genre-appropriate covers in the future. The third collection will be released later in the year. books2read.com/u/mVLQZb books2read.com/u/bxgyLd

Tuesday's Short - Headlines from the Starman

This week’s short story takes us from urban-fantasy science-fiction setting of a paranormal policing agent who discovers just how differently time moves in the elven lands to the newspaper commentary on the discovery of an alien and the makings of an intergalactic political incident. Welcome to Headlines from the Starman.

When a mysterious pod is found on the moon, and an alien emerges, the press have a field day.

This science-fiction short story is a first-contact tale that explores the relationship of the press to politics and to reality.Headlines from the Starman

For centuries he’d been there and, as far as we knew, he’d slept. The Starman. The Starman in the moon. He hadn’t been found when man first visited, and it wasn’t until humans were onto their third colony on that ancient satellite that he was unearthed.

“He’s from a starfaring nation,” the scientists had said.
Starman travelled the universe while mankind hunted termites with gorillas, the newspapers screamed.
People were fascinated by the discovery. The tabloids circled like hungry sharks, gobbling up every scrap of information they could find, and regurgitating it in a cloud of exaggeration.
“What are we going to do with him?” the scientists wanted to know.
“Well, you can’t dissect him.”
“We had no intention of that. We just want to know what to do with him.”
Scientists Banned from Dissecting Starman, the newspapers claimed.
People were outraged, politicians deluged with email, social media flooded with calls for protests and petitions to save the starman from death. Investigations into the ‘evil’ of science were called, and perfectly legitimate and law-abiding science projects almost ground to a halt. Scientists and politicians alike hurried to reassure the world that the starman was in no danger of being harmed. The press, they claimed, were exaggerating.
“The electronics on his pod are showing signs of activation.”
Starman Capsule Could Explode, the newspapers screamed.
Again, the politicians and scientists found themselves in alignment.
“There is no danger. The science is light-years more advanced than our own, but we have ascertained that it is not a bomb.”
Scientists Baffled by Starman Tech!
The first communications signal was picked up by an amateur radio enthusiast.
Mysterious Signal Discovered on Earth.
Who Else Seeks the Starman?
Aliens in our Midst!!
And the pod replied, sending out a cryptic series of codes, avidly monitored by alien enthusiasts and conspiracy theorists the world over.
Invasion Fleet Imminent!
Government Calls for Calm as Starman Capsule Activates.
In the end, no one came, but the starman’s pod opened anyway.
“What have you done?” he asked.
“Nothing,” the scientists said.
“We saved you,” the politicians told him.
He gave them a look that anyone could interpret.
“Why did you wake me?”
“We didn’t mean to,” the scientists told him.
“You would have woken anyway,” the politicians replied. “Isn’t it a good thing we found you?”
“Where is your technology at?”
Starman is Extra-terrestrial Spy!
“Why do you need to know?” the security advisors asked.
“To prepare your defences.”
Starman Threatens Attack!
“Why?”
“Let me speak with your scientists.”
Starman Shuns Military!
In the end, the starman got his way. He was more than a little dismayed when he discovered how recently mankind had made it into space.
“You will need allies,” he said.
Starman Offers Aid From Outer Space!
“And to muzzle your press.”
Starman Seeks to Silence Free Speech.
In the end, the scientists and politicians convinced him it was better to have the reporters on his side, to feed them titbits in order to keep them quiescent. There followed articles on the starman learning to swim, playing tennis and soccer, teaching our engineers how to construct the engines they’d need for interstellar travel.
“It was forbidden to teach you,” he said.
Starman Shares Forbidden Secrets!
“You were still fashioning clubs out of trees.”
“You visited the planet?”
“No, I only observed it through long-range scanners. Landing was planned, but…” his face took on a closed look.
“But?”
But the starman would not be drawn. He directed their attention to other matters.
Hydroponics came next, and ship-board gardens.
Luxury Starliner in the Offing.
The starman watched the ship grow in gantries on the lunar surface. He supervised the testing of its engines, downloading blueprints and test parameters from the databanks within the pod. He found wiring diagrams, and talked with the technicians who would design its life-support systems. And he sat long vigils in the comms centre, at a terminal dedicated to his use. Two years after waking, he received an answer.
Unfortunately, the answer arrived at the same time as the trogarian ship made lunar orbit. The moon erupted in panic. The starman said something in the language only a few of us had ever studied, and refused to translate it. The communications officer aboard the trogarian ship, laughed.
“Your Highness,” he said, “you had to know we’d find you sooner or later.”
“What happened to my people?” asked the starman, as a hush descended around him.
Highness? The press had a field day.
Starman Hides His Royal Status.
Starman A Royal Fugitive.
What are the Secrets of the Starman’s Past?
The press began looking for titbits of their own. The comms tech was replaced by a commander sitting in front of the screen.
“They didn’t know?”
“I did not tell them.”
“Did you warn them of the danger?”
Starman Imperils Earth.
“I told them there was danger.”
“You did not warn them?”
“It is not their war.”
“It is, now, and they must choose a side.”
“Do they know what you stand for?” the starman asked.
“Do they know what youstand for?” the trogarian officer countered.
“Both sides should present their case,” the politicians ordered, and were met with amusement from the trogarian starship, and discomfort from the starman in their midst. The look of surprise on his face was almost comical when the trogarian agreed.
“I am Captain Argranivar Cogarian,” he said, addressing the assembled politicians, scientists and communications personnel. “I am authorised to negotiate with the planetary leaders of your Earth for the surrender of His Royal Highness Barevarn Emdrinian.”
Curious faces were turned toward the starman.
“Highness?”
He, at least had the grace to look abashed.
“Let me explain in private,” he said, gesturing towards the screen.
“Agreed,” said the trogarian captain. “I will send the files showing our perspective, and renew contact in eight-hours’ time.”
“That will not be enough time for us to discuss your information,” protested Earth’s highest representative.
“But it will be sufficient time for you to be presented with talking points for the next meeting.” The trogarian’s expression was slightly predatory.
“Demands,” muttered one of the scientists, as the blank screen signalled an end to the communique.
“Not the contact you were hoping for?” Earth’s representative asked, turning to the starman.
His face showed regret.
“No. I was hoping for someone else,” he said, and there was pain in his eyes. “I will retrieve the files you need and retire while you consider them.”
“I think you should go with the Defence attaches,” the representative said. “They will find somewhere secure for you to wait, while we review the material.”
The starman’s lips tightened, but he did not argue. The press were having the time of their lives.
Starman Imprisoned.
Royal Imposter?
Royal Refugee Hunted to the Moon.
As it turned out, that last statement was almost true.
“I am the last of the immediate line,” Barevarn said, in a recording dated to the beginning of mankind’s rise to civilisation. “The war has brought our rule to an end, but we will not be forgiven for being born to what we were. The royal council has deemed that only those who had a voice in the decisions should be made to pay for them. To this end, they are scattering their descendants to the stars. We will find sanctuary among whatever people will take us, or we will find death. Either way, we will sleep. These are the sins for which our parents will answer.”
And there followed a history, from the ruling point of view, footage of the royal life, of the lives of those less fortunate, information smuggled from the halls of alien corporations and families who believed they had an older claim, a civilisation both at its pinnacle and in decay. It was a story we had seen repeated throughout our human past, but one that spanned planets. We could only stare in wonder.
And then we noticed the time. Three and a half hours had passed.
“We’ll need to make sure we have time to discuss what we’ve seen,” the Earth Representative had said. “We want to be in some position to be able to assess their ‘talking points’ when they present them.”
“Set the timer for three-and-a-half hours from now. We can at least give them the same amount of time to present their case,” suggested his advisor.
“Agreed.” The representative turned to the technician overseeing the conference room. “Can you do that?”
“Certainly, sir.”
The next set of files came from the trogarian captain. They told a very different tale, although there were similar elements. A royalty that kept a choke hold on development until no advancements could be made without their blatant profiteering. Corporations imprisoned in the stagnant backwaters of old technology so they couldn’t compete. Lethal force visited on entire worlds for a single voice of dissidence. When the timer was struck for the start of discussion, they had reached a part of the history where nothing moved without being royally suppressed.
“But, where then did they get the ability to rebel?” was the first question from one of the military advisors further down the table.
“We would have found a way,” said another.
“Who do we believe?” came another voice, one of the Earth council members.
“Do we have to believe either of them?” the advisor countered.
“We will be asked to choose a side,” the Earth representative reminded them.
“You don’t think we could just ask them, very nicely, to leave?” That suggestion was met with pitying looks for the speaker. He spread his hands as if to say the question had needed to be asked, and the discussion continued.
“What about the starman?” came the question from one of the press representatives. With communications to the outside world blocked for the duration of the meeting, the reporters were, for once, paying attention. None of them looked happy with what they had seen. The decision was not clear-cut.
“Either of those presentations could have been created by our hearts-and-minds departments,” murmured through the ranks of politicians and press alike.
“Well, it’s not like he’s in a position to rule, is it? I’d suggest we see if he is seeking asylum, or a temporary visa,” came from another Earth council representative.
“Senator! This is no laughing matter.” The primary Earth representative was outraged.
“You have to admit, though, it is funny.” The councilman unrepentant.
“I have to admit no such thing.”
“Why don’t we go through the files again and see what correlates,” the advisor suggested.
“It’s not like we can verify any of it,” one of the senators grumbled.
“That is a problem, but I think we can overcome it,” said the chief communications technician.
“What do you mean?” Earth’s representative wanted to know.
“I mean I’ve been monitoring the frequencies the starman has been using.”
“And?”
“Well, the signals travelled in only one direction.”
“So?”
“It was the same direction the ship came from.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, if he’s hiding from them, why is he sending broadband signals into their part of space?”
“What do you mean broadband?”
“I mean, those signals weren’t designed to avoid detection.”
“You mean he might have deliberately called that ship in?”
“I mean we have to consider the possibility that this is all an act.”
“But that’s preposterous.”
The technician subsided, but returned the Earth representative’s look with a raised eyebrow.
“Is it?” The Earth council advisor picked up the thread.
“I… it’s unbelievable.”
“I think it’s entirely plausible. I think we should try re-transmitting that signal in every direction possible.”
“But we’d never get away with it.”
“What’s to get away with? We’re not under attack. We haven’t been forbidden to communicate with the rest of the universe. I don’t think we’ve got anything to lose.”
“But won’t it annoy the trogarians?” The Earth representative asked the question that had crossed the minds of all those in attendance.
“My guess is that they’re going to be annoyed at whatever we do. My guess is that they’re going to demand the delivery of the prince, and when they do, he’ll ask us for sanctuary, and if we give him sanctuary, then they’ll use that as an excuse to attack.” The advisor voiced another set of fears.
“What if we don’t?”
“Then I think there’ll be another ship out there, one that will intervene, and we’ll discover he’s had allies all along, but, either way, I think we’ll face the same result.”
“And what’s that?”
“Earth’s annexation.”
Murmurs rose in agreement, pressmen reached for their communicators and then put them down in disgust when they saw they were still blocked.
“But they can’t do that.” The Earth representative voiced what they all felt.
“Sir, there’s a large technologically superior starship parked above us, one that we didn’t see coming in. I think you’ll find it is either more than capable of annexing our comparably backwards planet, or that it’s not alone. Either way, sir, I believe we are in dire need of some outside help, and that we should try to find it while we can.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, sir, that we can currently transmit, and that this might not be the case for too much longer.”
The Earth representative looked around those gathered, and saw his own doubts on their faces. The advisor waited for him to decide what to do next. His task was over.
“What do you think?” the Earth representative, finally, asked, and from the hubbub that followed, received the only direction that might save them.
“Transmit,” he said, when the unanimous decision was returned.
The comms chief left the conference room and, after a moment’s hesitation, they all followed.
And so they were all in attendance when the trogarian ship responded.
“What is the meaning of this?” the captain demanded.
“We are trying an experiment,” the Earth representative told him.
“On what grounds?”
“On the grounds that we are human.”
“What has that got to do with anything?”
“We don’t believe we are alone in the universe.”
“Since that much is clear, what makes you think you have to explore that idea any further?”
“Since you have arrived, and we are curious to see who else is in the neighbourhood.”
“Are you trying to start a war?”
“No, captain. Are you?”
The trogarian’s face changed colour, its humanoid features becoming less defined.
“Is this a direct transmission?” the Earth representative asked, looking over at one of the technicians.
“Yes, sir, but it appears to have an overlay.”
“Can you remove it?”
“I can hear what you are saying,” the captain interrupted.
“Then perhaps you’d like to show us what you really look like?” the representative countered, looking at the on-screen relay.
The trogarian stared at them for a long moment, and then glanced off-screen, its expression changing.
“I believe we have reached the agreed time for us to set our talking points,” it said, and the screen wobbled.
In the background, the Earth representative was aware of the chief communications officer speaking, low and urgent, and hoped he was transmitting a broadband cry for help. The screen wobbled again, and the trogarian captain’s face changed. None of those who saw it could suppress an exclamation of surprise.
Not human, was obvious, had been obvious from the scarlet tinge to the man’s very human-like features, but whatever the technician had stripped from the broadcast now showed a very different creature.
“What are you?” the Earth representative asked, motioning for calm as alarm rippled through the seated press.
“We are the Arach,” the creature said, although how they could understand words from the clatters, chitters and hisses they were hearing was beyond them. The arach’s skin gleamed a dull dark red, and two sets of forelimbs were visible above the console.
The Earth representatives chose to focus on something else, instead.
“Arach… as in short-for arachnid?”
That elicited a hiss of amusement tinged by scorn.
“You could say that.”
“And the starm… the prince?”
“Is not.”
They waited for the arach commander to elaborate. As they did, realisation dawned.
“If you are one race, and he is another, then…”
“The footage we sent was slightly altered. Two species rose to dominance on our world.”
“So what is he?”
The door hissed open, and the starman entered, along with more press. They could tell he was the starman from the way he dressed, but little else was the same.
Starman Descended from Extra-Terrestrial Dinosaurs! was immediately saved for later use.
His reptilian features and patina of scales made the tail look almost normal. The starman did not waste time.
“The messages were sent to the same quadrant because that is where both our races dwell.”
“So you knew they would come.”
Starman puts Earth at Risk.
“They were coming, anyway. They’ve been seeking pod beacons for millennia. It is the only way for them to ensure our people have no rallying point.”
“We’ve found most of the others.” The arach’s voice rendition was gloating.
The newly arrived press, for once, were silent, having finally noticed the creature on the communications screen.
“But not all,” the starman countered. “Some have outwitted you for longer than they needed.”
He turned to Earth’s leading representative.
“Your decision to broadband your plight was… unexpected.”
“But?”
“Effective. I should have thought of it myself.”
One of the reporters recovered enough for a headline: Earth Council Contacts ETs in Secret! went into the saved folder.
“And?”
The starman turned to the arach commander.
“Look to your sensors.”
The arach glanced away. It was only for a moment, but they all saw the shudder that ran through his body. When he looked back, he was tense with anger.
“You know this means war.”
The starman was unruffled.
“We were at war, anyway. Only the Earthers did not know it.”
The press discovered their mobiles were no longer blocked, and seized the moment.
War Declared on Earth!
Spider People Declare War!
“You are going to explain this,” the head Earth councilman said, and it was not a question.
Earth Council Confused.
“Shortly,” the starman said, and moved to another console.
The main communications screen split into two, and then one of those halves split into two again. He glanced back at the Earth representatives.
“You havedone well,” he said.
He manipulated the controls once more and a third panel appeared. Each of the new panels showed a fleet of dots moving closer to Earth. The third panel flickered, and another member of the starman’s species appeared.
Starman No Longer Alone!
The ships on the two side panels, blipped out and then back in, closer to Earth than before.
“Micro-jumps,” the starman said, and even he sounded impressed.
He glanced up at the third panel.
“Trogarian arach, Elemar, and Hualesh,” he said.
The lizard man on the screen wrinkled his nose. The arach rattled its mandibles, but no translation was forthcoming. The Earth Council representatives stared—and then the lead councillor threw the switch, and the screens went dark. He turned to the starman.
“Explain,” he said.
The starman glanced at the press, and the councilman curled his lip.
“They were your idea,” he said, “but I think I’ll keep them around for a while.”
Earth Council has Nothing to Hide, the news sites reported.
“It has taken millennia for us to rebuild our forces,” the starman said. “Millennia during which the arach have suppressed our people, and used them as cattle.”
There was a collective gasp from the press gallery.
Cannibals Attack Earth.
The starman ignored them.
“We needed a base of operations.”
“You were going to annex our world.” The Earth representative did not mince words, and he did not sound impressed.
Lizardman Take-Over Attempt Foiled
“You would not have survived the arach.”
“We would not have needed to, if you had not come to our moon.”
“You were living in caves and running after mammoth with sticks when I arrived.”
“That’s not the point.”
“No. The point is that I have given you the means to survive.”
Starman Claims Earth Owes Him Its Survival!
“And you think we should hand over our world to you and your people in exchange?”
“That depends on how badly you want to live.”
Starman: Come with me, if you want to Live, quipped one reporter, quoting an ancient movie.
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s a fact.”
The Earth Council leader waved a hand towards where the other two fleets had been displayed.
“And what about them? They have come at our request.”
Aliens Come to Earth’s Aid, one news site claimed.
“You don’t even know who they are.”
“They can’t be any worse than our current options.”
“They might.”
“And why would we believe you?”
“Because I hold the key to your survival.”
The Earth Councilman looked the starman up and down.
“Not any more,” he said, and he turned to the security personnel who had been in the room for the transmission. “Escort Prince Barevarn out of here.”
Starman Kicked Out of Conference.
“You can’t do that!”
Starman Resists Arrest.
The Earth Councilman did not dignify that with a response. He waited until the starman had been taken from the room, and then opened up communications to the incoming Elemar and Hualesh ships. First contact was never going to be easy. First contact with the whole world’s survival on the line? That was going to be a challenge.
And because the Earth Council did not know how to make their communications private, negotiations were done in the open, as the ships approached, with each of the interested parties staking their claims. Even when they were excluded from the communications centre, the press found other ways to follow what was happening—amateur space nuts who could hack the signal, became celebrities overnight, and the resulting headlines gave humans the world over, a vague idea of what was going on.
Lizardmen of Trogar Owed Compensation.
Trogarian Spider People Leave Empty-Handed.
Spider People Vow Revenge
Earth Alliance with Elemar and Hualesh Established.
The reporters fed on the negotiations for months.
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Headlines from the Starman is available as a stand-alone short story at the following links: books2read.com/u/mdKG0d.
You can also find Kristine Kathryn Rusch's latest free short story over on her blog: kriswrites.com. Why don't you go and check it out?

Carlie's Chapter 13 - Dear Tiger: I Don't Think I'm Human Anymore

LAST WEEK, Simone was poised for flight. This week, Tiger tells her to be careful.Chapter 13 – Don't Take Any Chances
Simone,

Before you send your next report…Look. I just wanted to tell you not to worry about the extra information. Just get yourself out of there, before they come back with whoever it is they’ve sent for.Don’t take any chances for me.I’ll find a way.I’m already in their system. I can get further in, if I have to.Just… be safe.Wherever you are.
Love  Tiger
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The complete series is available as short, individual ebooks, and will become available as an omnibus, later this year. In the meantime, you can find them on this blog, until one week after the last chapter in the last book of the series has been posted, at which point this series will be taken down, and a new series serialised on site.
books2read.com/u/4Awrze
books2read.com/u/mgrxdR




















books2read.com/u/4DoG8D books2read.com/u/b5Mng1
books2read.com/u/3GYBla books2read.com/u/4782k8

Wednesday's Verse - Flying to the Sky

This week’s verse moves from  a speculative poem about human communication to another science fiction piece about space travel. It is taken from 366 Days of Poetry , a collection of mixed-genre poetry released in 2017.
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Flying to the  Sky


Flying

to freedom heights,

flying to where cold bites
through coats and skin and flesh to bone,
alone,
and yet,
in company we fly above,
Earth and air, sea and sky.
We starship fly.
We fly!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------You can find the first two poetry collections at the links below - although there are plans to reissue them with more genre-appropriate covers in the future. The third collection will be released later in the year. books2read.com/u/mVLQZb books2read.com/u/bxgyLd

Tuesday's Short - Harper's Choice

This week’s short story takes us from Harper's early days in the Parnormal Operations Squad where unicorns can lead to all kinds of trouble to a point in her future where rescuing pixies leads her to discovering just how differently time moves in the elven lands. Welcome to Harper's Choice.


“The world turns differently for each of us, and we have no choice but to take its hand and dance the next set of steps.” (Argyllis, 2017)


Harper disagreed. Rescuing pixies from drug-runners, and working alongside unicorns and elves was part of her job. The world had turned, and she had chosen, but, when she is badly injured and taken into the elven realms, Harper finds she has a whole new set of steps to choose—and that time, indeed, moves differently in the Other World.Harper's Choice


“The world turns differently for each of us, and we have no choice but to turn with it, to take its hand and dance the next set of steps.”

Those were the words Argyllis had lived by, and by those words he had died. I stared down at his body, and thought of what a liar he had been. We always have a choice what steps we can dance to the world’s rhythm. We don’t have to dance the way it demands. We can dance a counterpoint and not let our steps be chosen for us.
Argyllis had known that. He had merely hidden behind his set of false wisdom so he had an excuse for what he did. I looked around at the burning warehouse. Well, he had no excuse for this. I looked down at his body, and all I felt was numb. Around me, the pixies swarmed and flew, flitting through the falling cinders to makes sure no one had been left behind.
The elves had taken their dogs clear of the fire, and the unicorns were trotting down each burning aisle to make sure they’d found each and every smuggler that had been involved. I just stood, staring at the burning equipment they’d used to turn the pixies into dust, Argyllis’s body at my feet. All I felt was hollow.
He’d been going to gift me to the trolls.
I was frozen by the thought of it, stunned beyond terror, held in thrall by disbelief. The hand that curled around my bicep and pulled me away from the blaze should have come as a surprise, but I felt nothing.
“Come on.”
I was aware of the warehouse gradually emptying, of the unicorns gathering around me, the pixies forming a protective shell around us, didn’t resist as I was led past the police cordon, my escort accepting a blanket from one of the paramedics as we passed. We kept moving as he draped that blanket around my shoulders, and then tucked an arm across my back.
It was like moving through a dream. Surrounded by unicorns and pixies, my uniform holed by embers, my hands… I looked down, and then I remembered how to feel, and stopped dead.
“Shades of the Luca,” my escort swore, as I gasped.
“Don’t look,” he added, as I started to raise my hands so I could see them better.
Of course, I ignored him, and only the arm he had around my shoulders, and the hasty grip on my wrists stopped me from crumbling. I could see… I could see burnt flesh… bone. I wanted to be sick. I wanted to run, and leave my hands far, far behind. I wanted… I didn’t know what I wanted.
“You got them out of the vat,” he said, holding me tight. “You saved them all.”
I wasn’t sure that would be compensation enough for losing both my hands.
“The druids can help you,” he said, and I wanted to laugh, managed it, too, if that tiny, broken sound could be counted as a laugh.
We kept moving forward, further from the warehouse, moving through the trees at the edge of the park, and then beyond. I hadn’t even been aware we’d crossed through the barrier between worlds, until the druid stepped into our path.
With whickering snorts of anxiety, the unicorns nudged me forward, buffeting my escort as well. He didn’t protest their rough handling, nor complain about being smeared by the blood on their muzzles, or the gore dripping from their horns, but he kept his arm tight across my shoulders, his hand around my wrists.
“Help with what?” the druid wanted to know, and then he saw my hands, and I caught the look he cast the one who’d brought me. He glared around at the gathered unicorns and pixie swarm, and then he looked into my face, and down at my hands.
I followed his gaze downwards, and wondered if I should hurt more, if it was normal to feel so cold, and so empty, or if I should be worried that I felt so very, very alone.
“Who did this to you?” the druid asked, looking back up to my face and snaring my eyes with his own. “Who?”
And I knew he did not mean who had hurt my hands or caused the multiple burns all over my body, but who had ravaged my soul.
“Argyllis,” I said, and fell, knowing I was lifted, before I hit the ground.


*   *   *


The first time I woke, I did not care. The trees arched overhead, and the warm bulk of a unicorn was nestled against my back. A small flock of pixies kept watch from the edge of the blanket, waving as my eyes fluttered open, and then closed again.
The second time I woke, the pixies were gone, and I was alone in my blankets. I wondered where the unicorn was, and then wondered why I cared. The pixie that landed on the edge of my bed made me smile. I knew him, even though I did not know his name.
“You made it,” I said, and my voice was no more than a whisper, as if I had worn it out with shouting.
I felt sadness and relief, when the pixie sat down by my head and laid a gentle hand in my hair.
“Thank you,” he said, as I closed my eyes.
The third time I woke, the pixie was gone, and his absence had me in tears. I closed my eyes, again, and fell asleep to the sound of quiet hoofsteps, and soft whickers, wondering where the pixies were, and why the unicorns sounded so far away. I had the feeling something terrible had happened, but I didn’t know what.
The fourth time I woke, it was to the roar of a troll, and I rolled out of bed and had my back against the far wall of the room before I was fully awake. I was looking for a weapon, any weapon, but I couldn’t see one, and my hands were bandaged and sore. I probably couldn’t hold a weapon if I tried. When the troll roared again, there was agony in its voice, and I saw the first golden beams of sunrise touching the leaves above.
Knowing I was safe, I sat down on the edge of the bed, contenting myself with just staring at the dawn. I lay down and slept, as the first pixies flitted out into the sunlight. They were still there when I woke again, but I heard no trolls. I sat up and watched the pixies spiral skyward, rejoicing in the day’s arrival, while I slowly realised I was looking out at the forest from the heights of a tree.
“Nice,” I murmured, understanding why I hadn’t woken up beside another unicorn.
Footsteps echoed over the wooden floor, and I turned towards them, realising there was a balcony beyond my window to the trees. A familiar shape moved across one of the windows, and stopped outside the door.
There was no knock, just the door swinging open and the elf coming through.
“Are you ready to return to your world?” he asked, and I saw no compassion on his beautiful face.
“It wasn’t a dream?” I asked, and he shook his head, making the memories that had haunted my sleep become all too real. “I… Please, just…”
And I buried my face in my hands, blocking out the sight of him, the sight of the pixies dancing in sunbeams beyond.
“Just what?” he asked, when I’d sat, too quiet for too long.
“Just go,” I said, not daring to look at him. One does not tell the fey to go away, not when they are guests in the fey realm itself. Even I knew that.
Of course, he did not go. He did not move. He just stood there, until I lifted my head out of my hands and looked up at him.
“You’re still here,” I said, before he could speak a word.
“And you need to leave,” he said. “You’ve been here far too long.”
I looked down at my hands. They looked the same as they always had—well, as they always had, except for that one time when I’d seen them after the warehouse fire. I stared at my palms, trying to work out how long I had to have slept for the flesh to have grown back, the pain to have gone, and then I looked up at his face.
“How—” I began, but he cut me off.
“The druids!” And his tone was sharp.
I stared.
“They’ve exacted their price.” From the sound of it, that topic was closed, but still I asked.
“What do I owe…” My voice dried in my throat, at the look on his face.
“It is paid,” he said. “And for your service, we exact no cost.”
“My what?” I asked, and a look of impatient fury marred his features.
Remembering the fire, I stood up, and looked around.
“I’ll go,” I said, and he pointed at a stack of clothes folded on a nearby chair.
“Get dressed.”
The clothes made me realise I wasn’t wearing much, but the elf didn’t seem to care. I glared at him.
“You’ll have to leave,” I said.
“No.”
“I need to get dressed.”
“Your point?”
“You could at least look away.”
He stared at me for a long moment, and then nodded, crossing to the window.
“Better?”
Given it reminded me there were no curtains, and the window looked out into a forest full of pixies, not much, but I gave him the answer he wanted.
“Yes.”
It was the fastest clothes change I’ve ever done. For one thing, I didn’t know if he’d stay looking out the window, and, for another, pixies or not, the fact anyone could see in made me really uneasy. Seems I could feel something after all.
“This way,” he said, when I was done, and he headed for the door.
This time, I was able to follow on my own. I did not need a swarm of pixies, and a herd of unicorns to guide me. I did not need the strength of his arm across my shoulders to keep me upright. I felt nothing, and wondered if the numbness would ever fade, or if that was part of the price the druids had asked.
We went down a staircase made of planks and ropes, suspended between a branch and the forest floor, and then out across grass partially buried by fallen leaves.
“It’s autumn?”
“You slept.”
“How long…” I began, but he held up his hand for silence.
“We are about to cross the veil.”
“It’s Canterbury Park,” I told him. “How bad can it be?”
He looked at me, and I caught a flash of pity.
Maybe.
It was either that, or indigestion. Finally, he shrugged.
“You never know what you’ll find on the other side,” he said, and we were about to move forward, when I heard footsteps running through the leaves behind us.
We both turned, and the elf cursed.
“Luca’s shadow!”
“Are we there, yet?” I asked, and wasn’t prepared when he turned and gave me a powerful shove, propelling me past two she-oaks, and through the scraggly growth of a bottlebrush.
“Go!”
“Hey!”
There was no response, so I picked myself up, and turned around to see where I’d landed.
Luca’s shadow, indeed! Shock shivered through me, and I turned back the way I’d come. There was no way. No freaking way…
I took three deep breaths, and held the last one in, then I closed my eyes and did a slow one-eighty away from the forest. Counting to three in my head, I opened first one eye, and then the other. Oh. Hell! No.
I wondered if running back into the forest would do me an ounce of good, but I kept my eyes open, letting my head get used to the idea of what I saw. Maybe I was under the influence…
I was still trying to wrap my head around what was in front of me, when something came crashing through the undergrowth behind me. I thought of unicorns and then I thought of trolls, and then I remembered sunlight, and dawn, and pixies dancing, and registered I was seeing nothing but twilight and streetlights, and I started to run. I was too close to the veil to do anything else.
If it’s a troll, I thought, I’m toast. What if it’s something else? But I didn’t want to think about that; I just wanted to outdistance whatever it was that was tearing through the bottlebrush behind me.
I reached a streetlight and was glad to find pavement under my feet. Behind me, I heard a thump and a clatter followed by an angry shout, so I sprinted forward. Streetlights weren’t a problem. Things that go bump in the night, especially things that come charging out of elven forests, can be—and I didn’t want to stop and find out I’d been right.
The streets were wider than I remembered them, the warehouses gone, replaced by elegant, double-story apartments, but that wasn’t what had made me stop beneath the streetlight at the edge of the park. No, that had been the shuttle rising above the apartments about two blocks down. I heard someone call out behind me, and then footsteps.
“Wait!”
I kept running, and the footsteps picked up pace. Whoever it was called out again.
“Please wait.”
The ‘please’ almost did it, but the street was deserted, the streetlights too far apart—and I knew there were creatures that could mimic a human voice. I ran on, heading towards where I’d seen the shuttle rise.
“You’re hallucinating,” said the little voice in my head, but I ignored it.
If I was hallucinating, then I’d come to, eventually.
“Oh, God,” called the voice behind me, and it sounded more plaintive than ever. “Don’t leave me on my own.”
It was the ‘oh, God’ that did it. None of the creatures of the dark used that phrase. They called on specific deities, old deities, and that was if they called on them at all. I slowed down, taking a chance, and stopping in the cold, white glow of a street light.
I wasn’t taking thatmuch of a chance.
To my surprise, the thing following me was human, and he was loaded down like a pack mule. I watched as he passed under one of the street lights half a block down. He really washuman… and sort of familiar.
“Who areyou?” I asked, waiting as he came closer.
He looked like he was wearing a paramedic’s uniform.
“I gave you a blanket,” he said, and caught the blank look I gave him. “After the warehouse. You were in pretty bad shape, so I gave… you… a blanket.”
He stopped in front of me.
“Didn’t want shock setting in,” he finished lamely. “You don’t remember me?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, well, you were pretty out of it, and the elf wouldn’t stop.”
That was one way to put it, but I didn’t want to remember. Man didn’t seem to recognise it, though.
“They said you were dead,” he said. “That you died in the fire. I tried contacting your department, but…”
I waited for his voice to peter out, then pointed to the extra pack he was dragging along by its straps.
“You want a hand with that?”
He glanced down as though remembering it.
“Oh, yeah. Thanks. They let me grab some supplies. Said time moves differently in the other realm. This one’s yours.”
There was a roar from behind and slightly to the right of us, and I turned in time to see another shuttle lifting from behind the buildings. The medic stared at it, and I half-turned to follow his gaze.
“You are shitting me,” he said, his voice not much more than a breath, and I felt my world shudder.
“You saw that?” I asked.
“It was a bit hard to miss.”
“You mean I’m not high?” I pressed, and he looked at me, and shook his head.
“Like I said, time moves different in the Other Realm.” He paused, and I could see his face had gone a funny shade of grey. “Was that a space ship?”
I glanced up at the thing, let my eyes take in its shape and form, and then I looked back at him.
“Shuttle,” I said, and he stared at me, mouth agape.
“You knowwhat that is?”
I pushed back the sense of unreality threatening to overwhelm me, and nodded.
“Yup,” I said, trying to convince myself I was in control—that, maybe, I was on a movie set, a really sophisticated one. “That was a shuttle.”
The paramedic was having none of it.
“You’re telling me we’re in the future?”
“Yup,” I said, wishing we weren’t doing this, here, in the middle of the street, and that I had something to counteract the shock. “Let’s go find chocolate.”
“Chocolate?”
“I need chocolate,” I said, figuring the sugar would help both of us fight the shock. “They’ve got to have chocolate, right?”
“I… yeah. Chocolate.” He moved up beside me, dividing his attention between me and the sky.
I reached out and took the extra pack he’d brought, and we walked a few more steps in the direction of the buildings the shuttle had taken off from, and then he stopped again.
“You think they remember us?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “What’s your name?”
“Remy. Remy Black.”
I took a step, and he mirrored the movement, so I took another, and he kept coming. I breathed a sigh of relief, and kept us moving to where the shuttles came from. There was bound to be a police station there. Well, there should be one… or someone that knew where one was. Maybe this kind of thing had happened before, and someone would know how to deal with it. Maybe… I heard Remy’s steps start slowing down again, but I kept moving.
“You a paramedic, Remy?”
“Yeah. Where are we going?”
“I thought I’d drop in at the station. See if the POS is still around.”
“POS,” and he started to snicker. “You think they still call it that?”
This time, I stopped, and I turned, and I looked him in the eye.
“You better hope they do, Remy. Otherwise, we’re gonna have a helluva time explaining how we got here.”
He paled a bit, and then gestured at something behind me.
“Well, now’s your chance,” he said, and I turned back in time to see the two cops who’d come out of the building see me and Remy.
“You!” one shouted, and I grabbed hold of the urge to run.
Nothing makes a cop madder than if you make him run to catch you, and the pack I’d taken off Remy was heavy. Speaking of Remy, I glanced at him, ready to grab him if he made a break for it, but I didn’t need to. He was looking from the cop to me, and back again. Following his gaze, I realised he wasn’t the one they were talking to.
“Yes officer?”
“Hands where I can see them.”
I held my hands clear of my body, and they came closer. Remy had taken a step closer to me, his movement drawing attention.
“You! Don’t move.”
And Remy froze.
Their hands hovered over the guns at their hips, but they didn’t draw. I stood as still as I could, and waited. Beside me, Remy did the same. One stopped, and the other approached.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Officer Harper, and this is Officer Black.”
“Harper and Black,” said the officer who’d stood back from us, and I realised he was talking into a small, round badge on his collar. “Yeah. Black’s wearing a 21st century paramedic’s uniform, and Harper…” He glanced over. “She’s wearing the usual tunic and breeches.”
I watched the exchange, but didn’t move a muscle. ‘Usual tunic and breeches’ sounded like they did know how to deal with this kind of thing. Maybe that should have worried me. In fact, it didworry me, and I cast a quick glance over at Black. The frown on his face didn’t make me feel any better.
I glanced around the street, and the officer in front of me tensed. He reached out and grabbed my arm, just as the sound of a high-speed engine caught our ears.
“Inside!” he shouted, turning to drag me back towards the building we’d been heading towards.
“You, too!” his partner added, as a floating vehicle the size of a mini-van slid around a corner at the other end of the street. He took the two steps he needed to reach Remy and grab hold of him. “Come on!”
Neither of us argued. The guys we were following were in uniform; the minivan was a blue so dark it was almost black—and it had no markings. It made me wonder if it was this world’s equivalent of the white mini-vans used by so many murderers in our own time, but I didn’t stop to ask. We made it through the doors just as the vehicle drew parallel with the curb.
“Don’t stop,” ordered the officer who had a hold of my arm. “We’re not safe, yet.”
Which made me wonder why policemen had to run.
I didn’t have much time to think about that, as we ran through a mostly empty concourse lined by shops, travel agents, and duty-free stores. If I didn’t know any better, I would have said we’d made it to the airport—except Canterbury Park was nowhere near an airport, and there wouldn’t have been space to build one, back in my own world. Just exactly what had happened to bring the place to this?
I had so many questions, and a lot less time to ask them than I realised.
“What did we do?” I asked, as they ushered us into a holding cell, and took away our packs.
I thought about fighting for the pack, I honestly did, but we were in the holding cell by then, with one officer back up by the door, and the other one holding out his hand, and I thought better of it. No way either of us would reach the farthest one before he could draw and fire. I looked at Remy, and he looked back, gave me a shrug, and slipped his pack from his shoulders.
I followed suit, and we let the officer make it out of the cell without trying to get them back.
“Hey,” I said, as they locked the door behind him, and they looked up. “Got any chocolate?”
“Got any coins?”
Remy and I exchanged glances, then Remy patted his pockets, and I patted mine. We both knew the answer, but who could resist pulling a chain or two, when they’re world’s been pulled right out from under them? The officers didn’t bother staying for the show; they walked away, shaking their heads. I sighed. At least the holding cell was familiar… to me, anyway. I’d put enough people into one.
Which made me wonder some more. I looked at Remy, checked off shoes and laces, checked off his belt, guessed they didn’t think we were much of a suicide risk—or they didn’t care, either way. Remy sat himself down on the floor, leant back against the wall, and put his hands behind his head.
“Yeah,” he said. “This is so much better than where we were. Wonder how long they’ll keep us waiting?”
“At least there aren’t any trolls.”
I sat down on the opposite side of the cell, leaned back against the wall, and closed my eyes. I’d probably had enough sleep to last me a lifetime, but old habits die hard. Too many years of catching zees between ops and paperwork were kicking in, and I couldn’t think of anything better to do. There was no point asking Remy when we were. All he’d say was ‘time moves differently in the Other World’, and I knew that already.
We weren’t sitting there long. Once the door into the cell area had closed behind them, things settled into silence… and they took a while before they got noisy again. The door rattled open, and I opened my eyes. Remy opened his, and we shared a moment, while we decided if we could be bothered getting up to see what was going on. In the end, we decided to go back to looking like we were asleep.
I settled back against the wall and closed my eyes, and then opened them just enough to see Remy mirror me. And then we waited. I don’t think either of us were surprised when the footsteps coming down the corridor stopped right outside our cell, and then we were up on our feet before we could stop ourselves. Me, because I had sudden visions of a violent newcomer being added to our cage, and Remy, well, for whatever reason had him looking that hunted. We turned to face the bars.
“These are Officers Harper and Black. You can see from the way Harper’s dressed that she’s been in elven hands. We’re assuming that because they were together, they crossed at the same time, but we haven’t had time to question them, given how quickly you arrived.”
The patrolman who’d brought me in wasn’t alone, and I wasn’t sure I liked the looks of the company he was keeping. I exchanged a look with Remy, and we moved to stand, side by side, in the centre of the cell. The patrolman ignored us and continued with his spiel.
“From his uniform, and the records we’ve found, Officer Black is a paramedic from the twenty-first century, and we know Harper was involved in the Paranormal Operations Squad running at the time.”
This drew sudden interest from the men and women standing in the corridor, and I felt went from feeling uncomfortable to downright uneasy. Remy shuffled a little closer, until I could feel his shoulder close to mine. Whatever was coming, he was sticking with me… at least, I hoped that’s what that meant. I took the time to assess the patrolman’s companions.
Three men, two women, all hard edged and stone-faced. All as human as they come. I wondered if that was a good thing. The Squad had been bringing in elves as officers in my time. Pixies, too. But then, these guys and gals didn’t look like POS officers. They were paramilitary of some kind, each of them wearing the usual black fatigues I’d come to associate with mercenaries in the movies, and each of them just as armed. Had to admit, that last one surprised me a bit.
Back in the day, we’d never have let armed visitors into the cells. The patrolman’s next words caught me by surprise.
“So, you interested?”
I watched as the leader pretended nonchalance, looking us over with the bland, bored look of someone hiding how they really felt. The look, though, that was pure professional assessment, kinda like a sergeant inspecting potential troops. I didn’t know whether I wanted to be found lacking, or to meet with his approval. The world sure was turning fast.
I was glad of Remy’s shoulder against mine.
“Could be,” the guy said, “but it depends on how much you’re asking.”
“Harrogates is offering the standard.”
“Harrogates are a pack of butchers.”
The patrolman shrugged, glanced over at us and back up at him.
“I don’t set the price,” he said, “but I’m sure you could do with another medic.”
Now, I was torn. I might not be a medic, but I didn’t like the sound of this Harrogates outfit.”
“Do we get a say?” I asked, and the patrolman shot me a nasty look.
“You say any more, and it’ll be the last thing you do say for a very long while. You can go out upright, or in a box.”
I opened my mouth, and then shut it again. Sonuvagun looked like he meant it, even if I couldn’t quite see how he was going to back it up. I settled for raising my eyebrows at him, and giving him my most doubting stare. It didn’t quite say ‘bring it, little man,’ but it was darn close. One of the women, behind him, smiled.
It was fast, a flash of approval that came and went so quick I almost missed it.
“Harrogates don’t have to know,” the leader said, just as we heard the door to the corridor open.
They turned to look. We tried to peer around the corner, without moving any closer to the bars. It was like being at the zoo, with the lions on the outside of the cage… or the sale yards with buyers looking on, but I was trying not to think of that.
“Garrett.” The mercenary leader was clearly not pleased, and the newcomer wasn’t alone—he had two medics and a box following in after.
“Brant.” Obviously, the feeling was mutual, but Garrett wasn’t going to let that get in the way of business. “We’ll let you have the medic, but we want to the investigator.”
“We’ll outbid you for both.”
“I doubt it.”
“Care to tell me why?”
Yeah, I thought, realising he wasn’t asking why he’d be outbid, but why Garrett’s crowd was after me. Tell me why.
“Reports have her as dying in a fire, but there’s another one that said he saw an elf take her, alive, from the warehouse, and that she was badly burnt.”
I remembered, felt the blood leave my face, couldn’t help glancing down at my hands. Garret kept talking, though, like none of them had noticed what I’d done—except they were all looking through the bars, right at me.
“Well, I don’t see a mark on her, do you?”
The merc leader, Brant, made a show of looking me over, and I resisted the urge to hold my hands up for inspection. There was no point in being too cooperative. Besides, if Garrett, or either of those medics came anywhere near me, they were going to get a good close look, anyway—at my fist.
When Brant shook his head, Garrett continued.
“We want to see what the residual of druid magic looks like.”
I saw Brant cast a quick glance at me, saw him swallow, hard, as he turned his gaze back to Garrett.
“We need an investigator with her experience,” he admitted, and I saw the patrolman’s face take on a look of calculating greed.
Garrett shrugged.
“You’ll find someone else.”
“We have priority.”
Garrett cast a self-satisfied look at the patrolman.
“Not today, you don’t.”
“But you already know what the residual looks like. I’ve seen the reports.”
“What can I say? You can’t have too much of a good thing.”
Brant tossed me a quick glance, and Remy nudged me in the ribs. I nodded. This could go all to hell on us, but I wasn’t leaving with Garrett without a fight—and then several things happened at once.
Brant said, “But…”
And Garrett cut him off.
“It’s non-negotiable.”
To which Brant replied, “So, negotiate this!” and slugged Garrett so hard he was out cold on the floor before anyone could blink.
Except Brant’s crew, two of which shot Garrett’s companions before they could drop the box, and one of which had a good hold on the patrolman who’d been doing the sales pitch, the patrolman who was now very quiet as he spread his arms wide, and let one of the mercs take his keys.
Brant flipped Garret over onto his stomach and held out his hand to the other patrolman, who handed him the cuffs he’d been wearing on his belt, no questions asked. He’d gone a funny shade of pale and kept his hands up, while Brant’s crew went to work around him.
The cell door opened.
“Come on,” was an order and not a request, and Remy and I went.
The rhythm of the world had changed around us, but we could still choose some of the steps we had to take. These looked like the prelude to an interesting dance. Maybe we’d be able to find the rhythm.
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Harper's Choice is available as a stand-alone short story at the following links: books2read.com/u/31xPnn.
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Carlie's Chapter 12 - Dear Tiger: I Don't Think I'm Human Anymore

LAST WEEK, Simone revealed that she was in grave danger from the company. This week, she sends Tiger another letter, telling him she's leaving, and which of her classmates to look for. She promises to be in touch.Chapter 12 – Time to Go

Okay Tiges,  This will be the last letter you get from me for a while. I’ve attached all the files, and I’ve forwarded you some more. You should have those already, okay?Looks like some of the doctors have already left. The head traffic outside my door is less than usual, and some are thinking of what they’re going to be doing, or of seeing their families, again. They want to hug them close and not think about what’s happening to me. I didn’t know families weren’t allowed on this facility. That’s pretty interesting—and pretty scary, too.I mean, what are these guys doing that their families aren’t allowed to come visit?So I did the digging I promised—and I can see why the company might not want families anywhere near this facility. I mean, if things went wrong, like: if something got out, or someone’s kid walked down the wrong corridor and opened the wrong door… Yeah, or if the bio-system failed, and the life-support systems routed the wrong way through the wrong section, it would be a disaster.I mean, in a magnitude of stars, it’d be like a supernova.Quick overview: Lainee Warren, Chen Na, Luiza Tenichi. Those three were all students at Ambron’s. I didn’t know them, but they’re all here. I wish I had time to go see them, but that’s not going to happen. Not now.From what I can tell, they all show some psi abilities, and they’ve all been getting visits from the same psi I have been. I hacked her notes. She’s not very complimentary, and she’s freaked out by all of us. Me, because I can block and I kicked her out of my head. Also because she says I’ve got a high potential for use in something called ‘wet’ ops. I don’t like the sound of that, Tiges. You know I hate swimming.Anyway, not about me. Lainee. Lainee can smudge things in other people’s minds—and you can just bet I’m going to give that a go, now that I know about it; it sounds like fun. Forgot my homework? What homework, Miss? You get the idea. Lainee can do it very well, and she’s a real brat about it, too. She also has an aptitude for plants. This would be good, but they mentioned something about her blood, and about keeping pesticide on stand-by in case she got ‘frisky’.I don’t like the sound of that. I only skimmed the last report by the psi, and the last one by her doctor, and I don’t have time to go back and read the rest. The doc’s report says Lainee’s deteriorating, that the last rat they put into her room lasted almost no time at all. Like it was some kind of record. I thought it was because they were testing the atmosphere, or something, but I think they were testing Lainee. It sounds a bit like she’s going the same way as Marrietta.If you’ve got an order you want to read things in, can you read hers somewhere close to the top? Can you make sure she’s safe, and, if she needs to be broken out of there, can you find someone to do it?I’m really worried about her.I’m also worried about Na. Last report says she’s emerging from the hunting stage. Emerging, so, now we know there’s an end to it. The doctor’s last report for her said she hadn’t touched the last three rats they’d thrown into her enclosure.Enclosure! I mean WTH! How dare they put anyone in an enclosure! That’s… I have no words for that, Tiges, but it makes me mad. It makes me want to go see if the place they’ve put Marrietta and the others is an ‘enclosure’. If so, then so help me, because no one is going to be able to help them.They might not have been the nicest people, but they were my classmates. They were people. They were HUMAN! Sorry. Sooo cross, right now.Anyway, Na has some different abilities. She sends out a sort of psi wave, even when she’s not hunting. One of the doctors said he visited her, and that she looked towards him. He said, if they hadn’t had Jan with them. Jan’s the psi that used to visit me, by the way. Anyway, if they hadn’t had her with them, they wouldn’t have known. She didn’t know what it was, but she said she felt this ‘wave of curiosity’, and then Na had gotten up, and greeted them. She’d used their names, even though they’d never been introduced, and she’d asked for a change to her diet: protein bars, said they could keep the rats. The report sounds quite offended, but I thought it was funny. Seems like I’m not the only one with an attitude.So. Good news. Na is being given her own room, and is allowed to resume her education. I’m still a little worried about her, but the report says the process was accelerated for her, and that she might be through it. This only leaves me worrying about what they might want to use her for, but she seems okay, for now.Whoever we get to help us, Tiges, they’d better be able to cope with unusual abilities—and I’m not sure there are too many organisations around like that. Can you help me find one?Last one—and I have to hurry. I have one chance to make a break for it, and then the military guys are here. And then it’s Heavens help me. I caught that thought from the last doctor who visited. I wish I hadn’t, but I’m glad I did, because, now, I know.Okay, you need to know that Luiza is different. The report I skimmed through has labelled her a dreamer. They had ‘precog’ with a question mark right next to that, so I’m thinking she might be some sort of predictor. To be honest, I’m a little scared of thinking too much about her, in case she sees what I’m going to do and tells them.Do I think she would? I don’t know. I don’t know the girl—and I don’t know what she can do. I mean, we’re all on the cutting edge, right?Anyway, they’re experimenting by feeding Luiza all the information they have on one specific thing, and then getting her to write down her dreams. And they’re talking about bringing in a ‘reader’ to sit by her bed at night, and monitor what she’s dreaming.I think she’s okay, for now, but I don’t like what they’re doing.I mean, they didn’t tell any of us what they found when they did their medical checks. They haven’t warned us that we’re changing, or asked us what differences we’ve noticed. Don’t you think things would go more smoothly if they did?And time’s up.I’ve got to go.Don’t look for me, here, Tiges.Actually?Don’t look for me, at all.I’ll find you.Just… stay safe, Tiger.
Stay safe.  Love
Simone.-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
The complete series is available as short, individual ebooks, and will become available as an omnibus, later this year. In the meantime, you can find them on this blog, until one week after the last chapter in the last book of the series has been posted, at which point this series will be taken down, and a new series serialised on site.
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Wednesday's Verse - Conversing with the World

This week’s verse moves from  a science-fiction series of haiku about ships leaving for the stars to a series of experimental verse about human communication. It is taken from 365 Days of Poetry , a collection of mixed-genre poetry released in 2014.
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Conversing with the World



Prat the kak,
chew the fat,
talk to colleagues and your friends.


Meaningless prattle,
to tell tales or tattle,
kids to each other, and each to themselves
in a time where words are a means to an end.


Spinning shit,
talk a bit,
drop me a line,
come chat any time,
conversing with the world.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------You can find the first two poetry collections at the links below - although there are plans to reissue them with more genre-appropriate covers in the future. The third collection will be released later in the year. books2read.com/u/mVLQZb books2read.com/u/bxgyLd

Tuesday's Short - Harper & the Unicorn

This week’s short story takes us from the far-flung romance of an interplanetary couple and a rescue from invading trolls to the kinds of trouble that following unicorns can lead to Welcome to Harper & the Unicorn.
When Harper goes after a lone unicorn without back-up she’s breaking every rule, and none. The only questions are: will her partner get to her before things go totally to pieces, and exactly how much havoc can one lone unicorn and a P.O.S. officer create before back-up arrives?Harper & the Unicorn


Today, I sat in the old gum tree, looking at the ground below. A footpath left a concrete barrier between the edge of the road and the sparse, dry grass beneath me. I’d been sitting there for almost an hour when I finally saw what I’d been waiting for—a unicorn, trotting happily down the middle of the road, its hooves tap, tap, tapping on the dotted centre line.
There you are, I thought, but I did not say it out loud.
Unicorns had very good hearing, and I was already walking the very sharp and slicey edge of a very precarious problem. I watched, and I waited, and I prayed the wind wouldn’t shift. Unicorns also had a very good sense of smell. Pretty soon it was going to…
There!
It came to a prancing halt, still in the middle of the road, tilting its head this way and that, until I was sure it had scented me. As I watched, it raised its head and snuffed the air, and then it looked up—and then back down—the road, and took a sideways bound off the street and into the shadows of a nearby walking track overhung by pine-like she-oaks.
What the hey?
It stayed on the tarmac making up the combined bike and pedestrian path, trotting swiftly until it reached the first bend, and then it took another sidewards bound, that landed it four metres off the path, looking back towards the road. I watched the tilt of its head, glad I was screened by a fine film of she-oak needles as well as gum leaves.
Whatever it was up to, it was being Hella cautious about it.
I stayed up in the tree, following the ghost-white shimmer of its fur as it doubled back towards the bridge. That was curious—as far as I knew the portal to the Other Realms only worked one way, and that was the side of the bridge I was on. The side under the she-oaks… well, I hadn’t thought to try coming through that way.
When I couldn’t’ see the unicorn’s ghostly outline, anymore, I scanned the area for anyone else who might be watching, and then slid over the edge of the branch, letting myself dangle by my fingertips, before dropping to the ground. Straightening up, I dusted myself off, and looked around, again. Still no-one—not even the guy across the road, and he seemed to see everything.
Well, if he wasn’t out watching the unicorn, then he wouldn’t be out watching me, either, now, would he?
I walked across the road and down the path under the she-oaks. It wasn’t hard to find the unicorn’s trail. Like big horses, those things weighed close to half a tonne. It was a bit hard to hide the divots it had left behind when landing. The only thing it had managed to do was stop anyone from finding its back trail.
And why, I wondered, would it want to do that?
The more I thought about it, the more I didn’t like it. Unicorns usually travelled in threes or fours, and they almost always travelled with a pixie or ten. This one had been completely alone, and was acting like it would like to stay that way. Time to find out why, before it went and got itself into more trouble than even a unicorn could handle.
I let my hands drift down to unclip my holster, checked my body armour was still fastened and hadn’t come adrift because I’d caught it on something while climbing the tree—and I kept moving towards the bridge as I did. Unlike the other side, the arch nearest the path was almost perpetually in shadow, but the unicorn tracks led past the first arch, and under the second. Keeping a careful eye on the near arch, I followed.
There weren’t many reasons a unicorn would be prancing about on its own—and fewer still for one dancing down the middle of an urban street mid-morning. This had been the third time this week, and twice had been enough to alert me that something was wrong. I’d left a message for my partner, since she’d headed out early to chase down a lead on the latest bunch of dust-runners in our jurisdiction. Nothing like everything happening at once.
Leilani would get it—and she’d be pissed that I hadn’t told her about the unicorn when I first saw it. She could just live with that; after the first time I’d told her about seeing a unicorn, she’d earned some caution. And she needed to own that, elf or not.
I pinged the station.
“Tell Lei, I’m heading in the second arch on the other side of the Steg’s Bridge. She can follow the unicorn tracks.”
In the background I heard what might have been raised voices, but I didn’t have time. Three times, right? That was a magic number in the Otherworld. Sometimes it was a lucky one in this world, too. My only question was who was about to get lucky: me, the unicorn, or whoever had called it.
I walked under the bridge, making sure to put my feet in a unicorn print every step of the way. Sometimes the magic couldn’t be replicated. This way, I’d be using the unicorn’s intention to take me wherever it had gone. I sniffed the air.
There was only a faint smell of horse to tell me a unicorn had even been here, but what I was really glad to note was that there was no fetid stench to indicate a troll. Not yet, anyway. I moved under the bridge, taking one step after another, in the unicorn’s prints, all the while keeping an eye on what I could see of the other side. I didn’t want to come out in the same world I’d started in, especially as I didn’t think that’s what the unicorn was trying to achieve.
It was a relief to see the outside world waver, shuddering into darkness before being replaced by a view of some other place entirely. I crept forward, one hand on the butt of my pistol as I slide-stepped to the exit. The unicorn’s hoof prints kept going, but I stopped still, and looked.
I don’t know what I expected to see, but I wasn’t ready for a Kombi-van parked beside the glass-like surface of a very large, still pool, a sizeable tent standing off to one side. The tent was fronted by a small wooden folding table surrounded by folding chairs, while two deck chairs and a large gas barbeque were set to one side. The campsite appeared to be devoid of life, but I couldn’t see the inside of either the tent or the Kombi.
I crept forward trying to see which way the unicorn had gone, not surprised when a sudden high-pitched neigh tore through the air. Glancing back, I noticed that the tunnel seemed darker than it should have been, but was otherwise still. When nothing moved at the campsite, I slid forward, remembering to twist my head and look up as I emerged from beneath another bridge, in another world.
Coming out into the sunlight, I noticed that the light on this side of the bridge was fading, and that ribbons of colour decked the sky. Nightfall, the perfect time for treachery. The unicorn screamed, again, and I forgot the shadows, forgot the open cave and the empty campsite, and ran towards the sound.
I might not know why the unicorn was here, but I didn’t care; I wasn’t going to let it come to any more harm than it had already found. The lake lay to one side of the camp, but a forest rose on the other, all tall trees clustered thickly together. With trunks like pillars, and the gaps between clogged by bushes, I couldn’t see a way forward—until I remembered the unicorn’s tracks.
They acted like a path, their shadowed divots clear, even in the dying light, even in the cavern-like darkness under the trees. I still hadn’t worked out what land this might be, and I had no idea who dwelt here, but I was pretty sure I was about to find out.
The unicorn’s trail led directly into the forest, the space between its prints extending as though it had come out from under the bridge and started to run. That suited me fine. As I sprinted forward, out of the dusk and into an early night, I lost the trail, but it didn’t matter. I could hear the unicorn up ahead.
Whatever was happening, it wasn’t going down without a fight. I pulled my pistol clear as the narrow trail gave way to a more open space—and, there, sweeping its horn in a deadly arc, even as it lashed out with its hooves, the unicorn fought against those who sought to contain it.
I came to a scrambling halt, dropping into a bent-kneed firing position, ready to run or fight, whichever was needed most.
“Let him go!” I screamed, and all heads turned towards me.
All except the unicorn’s; he took the opportunity to down a distracted opponent, striking down two more before reversing in the direction of my voice. I took two steps to the side so it had space to reach the path—and so that it didn’t block my line of fire, because the things that had ambushed it…
I don’t think I’d ever seen their like, not in the human dimension, anyway.
They, for their part, seemed more amused than afraid, although I noted that one or two knew what the pistol was. Their eyes touched warily on it, and they flinched when I aimed it in their direction.
“What is it you seek, human?”
Well, from the way he said it, the name of my race was not a compliment. I let my lips curl into a snarl.
“My friend,” I said, although the unicorn and I had never made that acquaintance.
The creature’s eyebrows lifted, and it tilted its head. The unicorn didn’t take its attention from the creatures in front of us, but the closest ear flicked back, and it snorted.
“I wasn’t aware we’d left any of its friends behind.”
And it was my turn to feel uncertain. Just what in all of Hades had I stumbled into? I looked from one of the monsters to the next. All were tall, and had a form similar to the other underworld fae, but that’s where the semblance ended.
These had flesh the colour of sunburnt brick or ripe persimmons, or a storm-lit sunset, hair like coal or ice, and eyes as dark and pupil-less as any demon’s. Thorns formed a double ridge down the backs of their arms, and their feet looked more reptilian than elven, right down to the large claw protruding from the back of their heels.
“Then you can give them back, too!” I snapped, and took one hand off the pistol, so I could gesture at the ground in front of me. “Here. And now.”
They might have laughed at that, but the unicorn gave a low rumbling whinny, and their smiles died.
“He was supposed to bring his herd in exchange for the pixies,” they said, and I felt my skin grow cold, refused to let the fear show in my eyes.
His entireherd? What had ever made them think the unicorn would do a thing like that?
“Why?” I asked, making it a demand.
“We need stock,” came the reply, and unicorn neighed a soft denial.
Somehow I didn’t think these guys meant mounts, and I certainly hoped they didn’t mean meat, but what other form of stock they might nee—
“Breeding stock,” their spokesman said, as though reading my mind.
Oh. I didn’t know what to say to that, heard footsteps on the trail behind me in the silence that followed. Before I could respond to that, the unicorn pivoted and lashed out with both hind legs, taking out the nearest elf… demon? before sidling away so it could watch both its attackers and whatever was approaching down the path.
I didn’t need to see the face above the hunting rifle, or the steady aim of the HK held by another familiar opponent to know I was hopelessly outclassed. The unicorn gave a soft whicker, its ears pricked, its eyes on me. I lowered the pistol, heard swift steps as the rifleman came over, his hand held out, demanding the weapon, even as he kept his weapon shouldered and aimed.
“Dawson,” I said, dangling the pistol from my fingers so he could take it.
“Harper,” he replied. “Put ’em on your head, and tell your pet to stand down.”
I looked over at the unicorn, and it moved to stand beside me, resting the lower half of its face against my side, its horn protruding out in front of my chest.
“Sorry, boy,” I said. “We tried.”
He snorted, and turned, taking me around with him until we faced the direction of what I’d decided were thorn elves. Their leader watched, no expression on his face, no hint of feeling in his eyes.
“Why did you come?”
“To find my friend,” I said, and the elf nearest me stepped in and drove a fist into my gut.
The thorned ridge running across its knuckles slammed into my body armour, and some of the impact got through, making me grunt. A second elf approached the unicorn, a halter of braided vines in his hand. The unicorn snorted, but allowed it to slip the halter over his head.
When it was on, the beast gave a great sigh, and followed the tug of the swiftly attached lead rope. I went to walk with him, but a strong, red hand on my shoulder stopped me, and all I could do was watch as the unicorn was led through an opening in the rock wall on the opposite side of the clearing. As soon as its tail had disappeared through the opening, the lead elf turned to Dawson.
“Bring the payment. You will have your dust by dawn.”
“If you let us film their end, we will double the fee.”
“Film?”
And Dawson held up his phone.
“We capture the images of their end in this device, and store them so we can watch them die long after they are gone.”
“Show me.”
Dawson safetied his rifle, and passed it to his partner, Hill, if I remembered correctly. The elves watched him, and I realised that none of them were holding weapons. Not a single one. How in Hades had they been such a threat to the unic—
Seconds later, I was on my knees, my own scream echoing in my ears, and Dawson paused in his journey to their leader. I lifted my head, and pushed back to my feet. The unicorn had been fighting that, on his own, and he’d stood for longer than I’d managed.
“The unicorn knew what to expect,” the leader said, as Dawson held out his mobile for inspection.
I watched the elf switch attention.
“Have him do it again,” Dawson said, pointing at me, and positioning the mobile so it could take a perfect shot of me.
I’d like to say I was expecting the wave of pain the wound itself around my skull and lanced through my brain, that I resisted it, but I wasn’t, and I didn’t. This time, when I lifted my head, Dawson was holding the phone up for the elven leader and showing him how to play the small clip he’d taken. I heard my own scream several times, before the leader smiled.
“Direct me,” he said, and Dawson obliged.
I hit the ground twice more, before the thorn elf was satisfied with his mastery of the device.
“I will take this,” he said. “You will have your images.”
“But...” Dawson began, and the thorn elf held up his hand.
“Of those that enter our halls, none are allowed to return.”
“None?” Dawson looked over at me. “Truly?”
The elf followed his gaze.
“None,” he said, and I did my best to keep the fear from my face, to still the roiling in my gut.
Dawson gave me a speculative stare.
“I don’t suppose we could barter for more video…” he began, and the thorn elf scowled.
“Another time. Make good on this payment, first.”
“Just don’t kill her first,” Dawson said, shifting his attention back to the elf. “There’s folk will pay good money to see it.”
I ran the number of arrests I’d made and dust rings I’d broken up through my head, and figured he was right. It was just a darn shame I wasn’t going to be able to take him down with me.
“Indeed,” the elf answered, and then waved him back towards the trail. “You can go. Do not return until this time, tomorrow. Do not return without your payment.”
Dawson went. He looked at the mobile in the thorn elf’s hand, and, for a moment, I thought he might be going to ask for it back. I also saw when he decided that would be a bad idea, and that he should just go. I almost panicked at the sight of it, but grabbed the fear and held it tight.
It’s not that I liked Dawson, but he was human, and these guys so were not. It wasn’t even because Dawson wouldn’t hurt me if he got half a chance, because he very much would; the Heavens knew I’d ruined enough of his plans for him to think I deserved it. No, it was just because I didn’t want to be left behind.
I turned, and started to walk after him. It was a fool’s dream, but it was worth a try. It was also very short-lived. This time, it was a firm grip on the arm that pulled me up short, instead of the blinding pain that had been meted out before.
“This way.”
I hadn’t known that more than their leader could speak English, and tried to shrug the hand away, but felt thorns emerge, tearing through my shirt and into flesh. After that, I followed, coming to a stop before their leader.
They were a lot taller up close than they’d looked from the clearing’s edge, and they were heavier than your average elf, broader across the chest, with more heavily muscled arms. I forced myself to raise my head and look their leader in the eye. It was a lot harder than I’d thought it would be, since every instinct I had was telling me to be afraid, to not antagonise, to look away, look down, to wait for death. I pushed the impulses back, and looked him in the face, instead.
“I am an officer of the Paranormal Operations Squad,” I said, hating the way my voice shook. “We keep the peace in the human lands. Dust trafficking is forbidden. Dawson will be indicted.”
The thorn elf didn’t blink. He met my gaze with a solemn gaze, studying my face with fathomless eyes. I caught the glimmer of a clear membrane flicking across his eye, in an almost invisible blink, and then he raised his hand and caught my chin between a curled forefinger and thumb.
“In these lands, I rule,” he said, “and we trade with whom we please. We are not subject to your human laws.”
Again I heard that slight twist given to the name ‘human’, but the elf ignored my reaction. He tilted his head from one side to the other studying the lines of my face, and then moving his head as though looking down past the armour to my cloth-clad legs and booted feet.
“It is hard to see your form beneath this,” he said, rapping the side of my armour with the knuckles of his other hand, “but your face promises strength and youth.”
I watched his eyes, trying to follow his gaze without being able to see where it went. From the way he moved his head back and forth, I figured he was taking another tour down my legs before he headed back to my face. There really wasn’t anything I could say to that, so I let him break the silence.
“Dust is not all we traffick in, and there is a market in the otherworld for human stock,” he said, appearing to focus on my face
I stiffened, trying to jerk my chin out of his grip, but it tightened. I caught the smallest hint of thorn, and froze.
“Intelligence is not always a desirable trait,” he said, “but someone looking for troll hybrids…”
And I froze, found my voice, sought to erase the tremble.
“That, too, is forbidden.”
His lips curved into something resembling a smile.
“Not in mylands, it’s not.”
Well, there was that.
“My people will barter…” I started, lifting my hand towards the pocket that held my phone.
He captured it before it was halfway there, holding it still.
“Your people?”
“The Squad.”
As I said it, a roar thundered out from the direction of the bridge, and the remaining thorn elves moved to interpose themselves between us and the path leading out of the woods. He let go of my chin, keeping his hold on my wrist.
“There is no time. Even if you were to contact them, they would not be able to get through. The way to our lands is very well guarded.”
I remembered the Kombi by the lake, the comfortable camp, and wondered if the elves had warned Dawson and his sidekick. It was as though the elf could read my mind.
“Their camp is warded. They have been warned not to leave it until an hour after dawn.”
Oh, they had, had they? Well, all I had to do was make it back to the camp before the trolls left their bridge, and I’d be warded, too.
“Not against us, you wouldn’t—and we have a pact with the trolls.”
Which was when I realised that he really had been answering my thoughts—and that he hadn’t let go of my hand. I glanced down, noting the firmness of his grip. Well, that couldn’t be good.
“But I don’t want to go with you,” I said.
It was worth a try. There was no humour in his face when he replied.
“So few of our captives, do.”
I pulled back, trying to pull my hand out of his, as the trolls roared, again. This time, when he looked towards the path, I followed the turn of his head—and saw his guards casting him anxious looks, their hands flexing as though preparing to seize weapons. So much for having a pact.
“Trolls are unpredictable,” he explained, and turned back to the cliff face, wrapping an arm around my back and pulling my hand across his body as he kept a hold of it. I felt the briefest touch of thorns, but they did not puncture skin: a warning, then. “Time we went.”
I tried to dig my heels in, to twist out of his grip, willing to risk the trolls than an eternity in fae custody, but he lifted my feet from the ground, and began to run. I tried to reach my phone with my one free hand. I didn’t know what signal I had now, but I was betting it was better than the one I’d have from under the cliff.
This time, he didn’t stop me. I doubt he even noticed. Good thing, too. I didn’t try to take the phone out of my pocket, just felt for the buttons to activate it, and hoped Leilani could pick up the call. We’d built-in the distress signal a while back, but this was the first time I’d used it. There was no way of telling if it would even work.
We hit the wall at a quick jog, moving through a curtain of stone like it wasn’t there, and continuing down a broad, well-lit corridor. Frankly, I was disappointed; I’d been expecting something more magical. The guards came in behind us, and none of them stopped.
I heard another troll roar as the rock parted to let them through, and then I thought I heard something else.
What was that?
For a second, I thought I’d imagined it, but then the elves slid to a halt, and pivoted, and this time I did see weapons—long blades of light, silver shields pulled out of nowhere, armour that grew around them as though it was built of air and light. I found myself dropped and shoved unceremoniously aside.
At any other time, I might have tried to escape, but not this time. I knew the sound of a silver bugle when I heard one… even if I couldn’t work out why any prince of the Sidhe court would be calling on territory that was not his own. They usually preferred diplomacy, and that played behind a curtain denying human scrutiny.
I picked myself up from the floor and moved so that I was behind the lead elf, but where he could see me. I’d been on enough operations to not want to be a casualty of friendly fire… or, in this case, well, I wasn’t sure what I’d call it, but I didn’t want to die by it, either.
The movement earned me a slight shift of the head, and I knew he was angling his gaze so he could see both me and what lay ahead.
“Stay!”
I snorted. Like Hell, I would.
I’m not sure what the reaction would have been, if there had not been another troll roar, followed by a clash of metal and the sound of cascading stone—and then the bugle rang loud and clear, and hoofbeats rolled down the tunnel like thunder. I didn’t know what these guys would do, but I knew how most crooks would react in their situation, and I ducked under the arm that snaked out towards me, slipping out of reach before I could become a bargaining tool.
“Nice try, sucker.”
He had no response for that, because the riders kept coming. I moved back so that they could see me past the elves blocking their path. I’d always associated silver bugles with our allies, and I saw no reason to change that, now. I could only hope they’d come for the unicorn, too.
I wished Dawson hadn’t taken my gun. I could really do with a weapon, right now, and somehow I doubted the elves would hand me one of the things they’d conjured out of nothing. I figured that whatever was coming, my allies would want to speak to the ruler of the lands they’d just ridden into, or to get a hold of him so they had a bargaining point of their own.
And that was something I could help them with.
The horsemen weren’t mucking about. I caught a glimpse of troll gore spattered over mounts and riders, and then I caught a high, shrieking neigh that did not come from the horses in front. In fact, if I was right, that didn’t come from any horse. The neigh came, again, a wild ringing bugle that echoed past me, seeking an answer from the tunnel’s depths.
Oh, shit.
The unicorn’s herd had arrived.
I watched the thorn-elf guards take a stand, saw one turn back as though he’d grab his leader, and then the foremost riders hit and there was no time to think. The leader had braced up in the centre of the tunnel, but he was no longer looking at me. I took a chance and charged, hitting him as hard as I could in the back, driving a foot down onto his calf, just below the knee.
His leg bent under the pressure, but I’d hit too hard and he fell forward. Didn’t matter. I rode his fall, and landed on his back, feeling the sharp edges of his scaled armour cutting into my knees. After that, it was a matter of hooking my arm around his throat and hanging on. Nice that the shield trapped one of his arms in front, and he fought to keep a hold of his sword.
Made choking him down that much easier.
The sound of battle rang out in front, but so did the thunder of hooves. I looked up. The riders had engaged the bodyguards, slipping from their mounts’ backs to take on their foes. Their horses stood where they’d halted, providing a partial barrier to the storm of white galloping through the cliff-face in their wake.
Again, that bone-chilling neigh, and, this time, an answer from further in. More cries joined the chorus, and I tightened my grip on the elf leader’s throat, and crouched low over him, relieved when the unicorns parted like a wave around me.
“You can thank me, later,” I whispered, putting my mouth close to my captive’s ear, “because you’d be a smear on the floor without me.”
He coughed something that didn’t sound complementary, so I tightened my grip. The last of the unicorns thundered past, and I looked up. Most of the bodyguards were down, and being secured. Well, that was going to go across like a tonne. The elf with the silver bugle dangling around his neck was one I recognised, and I wondered where his girlfriend was, because she was usually right beside him when it came to slaughtering trolls, regardless of how much she hated being betrothed.
Funny that.
He looked over at me, and then registered who I was kneeling on, and trying to choke. He had just started towards us, when one of the remaining bodyguards saw what I was doing and knocked aside the blade being held at his throat.
I heard metal ring against metal, saw the strength of the blow he landed on his captor, and watched as he pivoted and charged in my direction. This was awkward. I crouched lower, hoping he’d miss, but I moved too soon, and he slammed into my side. I figured it would be better to let go than break my prisoner’s neck. Much easier if we had a living leader to do diplomacy with.
Can’t say hitting the floor with I don’t know how many kilos of angry armoured elf on top of me was a good thing, but I was a bit too busy dodging fists, and trying to keep the roll going in an attempt to end up on top and not underneath to care. I guess it didn’t matter what race it was: nothing pissed a bodyguard off more than seeing his principal having the life choked out of him.
I didn’t quite make it. Something to do with mass and what not, that and the guard had had a lot more practice at dislodging attackers than I had in being bulldozed sideways off someone I was subduing. That was something we hadn’t covered in training. Thing was, Leilani hadn’t been involved in the first wave of attacks. She’d come in the second, and she was itching for a fight.
She must have followed my attacker across the corridor, because she swept him off me before he could get a good grip on me. By the time I’d realised she’d saved me, she was busy slamming the guard’s head into the floor, so I looked around, trying to see what had happened to the elf lord I’d been sitting on. It was almost a relief to see him staggering to his feet, right up until I registered the sound of returning hoofbeats.
Last time I checked, unicorns weren’t into diplomacy. Vengeance, yes. They had that one down pat—but diplomacy was for the elves. I rolled half-way to my feet and dived, reaching out to wrap my arms around the elf lord’s legs and bring him back to the ground. After that, I tried to pull him under me, working my way along his body in the hope I could cover enough of him to protect him from being trampled or gored as the angry beasts made their way past.
“Stay down!” I shouted, and could hear the Lord of Winter shouting something in the fae tongue, but whether it was at the elf lord, the unicorns, or me, I couldn’t tell. I just wrapped myself around my former captor, and hoped it would be enough.
It was a relief to hear the first break in the rhythm of the approaching hooves and see the large, white form go sailing over me. I think the thorn elf understood what was happening at about the same time, because he stopped struggling and went perfectly still in my arms—and we lay like that for several very long heartbeats, until the unicorns had passed, and I dared untangle myself from around him.
This time, I wasn’t quick enough to move out of reach, and he’d dragged me in front of himself and put a dagger to my throat before I had time to get clear. I might have thought about calling him ungrateful, but I had other things to worry about.
“Nothing personal,” he said, and I was very careful to think nothing in reply, to focus all my attention on the elves who’d moved to close the corridor once the unicorns had passed.
Across from us, Leilani had secured her prisoner. I rolled my eyes sideways enough to see that she’d shoved the barrel of her gun up under his chin, and was dragging him around to where his lord could see him. I wasn’t sure how much good that would do the bodyguard, given just how spiteful…
The blade of the dagger pressed against my skin, and I remembered that this elf, at least, could hear my thoughts. It wasn’t something I could warn anyone about, anyway. I have to admit, the Lord of Winter’s opening line was a bit of a show-stopper.
“Lord of Thorns, we come in peace,” he said.
I stared at him, but he ignored me, focussing all his attention on the elf lord whose domain he’d invaded. I felt the blade press a little harder against my throat, and wondered if elven magic would be enough to patch the kind of hole it would leave, or even if it would be fast enough, but the Lord of Winter wasn’t finished.
“We thank you for offering the Seshara Tribe protection in their time of need, and for their safe return, and thank you, also, for the return of the unicorn stallion that protects both their tribe and their herd.”
He stopped, giving the Lord of Thorns time to formulate a response, and I felt the blade ease, the thin welling of blood it left in its wake. I didn’t relax. Now the knife wasn’t at my throat, I didn’t know where it might end up. Staying very, very still seemed like a good choice—or, at least, slightly better than driving an elbow into his armoured midriff. Best not to disrupt the peace talks, right?
I felt the elf lord’s hand tangle in my hair, did not like the coldness of his voice when he replied.
“That does not explain why you still hold my guards as prisoners.”
The Lord of Winter let his lips bend into a smile that was as deliberate as the rest of his carefully choreographed word dance.
“It seemed the best way to avoid a diplomatic incident.”
I could feel the tension thrumming through the Lord of Thorns as he considered his response, and I couldn’t fault him. If someone had just kicked in the front door of my home, taken my men prisoner, and taken back something I’d wanted to use to turn a profit, I might not have been feeling too charitable, either. But, if they were also a lot more powerful than I was, and were offering peace instead of threatening vengeance for me having taken the disputed property to start with, I might accept it… and plan exactly how I might get even, later, when I had more of an advantage.
It was almost a relief when I felt some of the tension leave him, and he pushed me forward, letting go of my hair and letting me stumble towards the Lord of Winter. I regained my balance, straightening up as I kept walking forward, listening as he spoke.
“This is true. Thank you for the unexpected honour of your visit. I hope you will understand that we have no accommodation fit to receive you, and can only to offer to escort you back to the human realms. I pray you will not take offence.”
I kept walking, forcing myself not to rush, even as the Lord of Winter signalled that his guards should release those belonging to the Lord of Thorns. I dreaded our paths crossing, feared that one of those nearest would do something rash, but I didn’t stop moving up the corridor.
It was also hard to resist the urge to look back, and see what had happened to Leilani. To my surprise, not one of the guards passing by me lashed out in vengeance for the insult I’d offered when I’d attempted to choke their lord into submission—and Leilani joined me shortly afterwards. The Lord of Winter dipped his chin in acknowledgement as we passed, but he didn’t take his eyes from the lord whose realm he had invaded.
“If you would lead the way,” he said, when Leilani and I had reached the two horses at the rear, “we would appreciate your escort.”
I stifled the thought that if the thorn elves led the way, they would be less likely to stab us in the back. Instead, I copied the Sidhe as they stood aside for the thorn elves to pass, and then we followed them out—walking behind them as we led our horses through the cliff walls the Lord of Winter had so easily breached. We also followed as they led us down a narrow trail that was much better defined than it had been when I’d walked it earlier. Finally, they led us under the stone arch of the bridge.
I glanced at the clearing where the Kombi camp had stood, as we passed. It appeared to be completely empty, and I wondered if that was a result of the thorn elves’ wards, or if the Lord of Winter had removed Dawson and his minion back to the human realm where they could be charged. It was something I could always ask later.
We passed by several piles of rubble that I did not remember seeing on the way in, and I remembered the bestial roars I’d heard just before the Lord of Thorns had forced me into his realm. So much for his well-guarded entry and pact with the trolls.
When we reached the she-oaks beyond, I was surprised to see the first brush of dawn lending colour to the dew drops sparkling on their leaves, and remembered that time moved differently in the other lands. I watched as the Lord of Winter bade the Lord of Thorns farewell, and then noticed the herd of white waiting on the walking track.
The sparkle from the dewdrops was nothing to the sparkle coming from the pixies adorning every mane and forelock—the very silent pixies, who watched the departing thorn elves with the intensity of cats observing a mouse hole. They stayed silent, until the thorn elves had disappeared back beneath the bridge, and the Lord of Winter had mounted and turned his mount towards the path—and then they cheered.
The Lord of Winter acknowledged them with a gracious bow of his head, and then rode up onto the walking track, and guided his horse towards the other side of the road.
“Come,” he said. “There is room in my domain for you.”
Four of his guards rode up beside him, forming a wedge around him. The unicorns snorted and whickered, and the pixies replied in a chorus of tiny voices that I didn’t quite understand. Just when I thought they would move off, the Lord of Winter looked back to where Leilani and I stood beneath the trees. I watched as he raised his hand to the centre of his brow, and bowed his head, again, in our direction.
Leilani returned the gesture, and he turned away, leading the unicorns, the pixies, and his bodyguards up the path, over the road, and back down under the bridge—returning to his homelands before the sun had fully risen. The horses we’d led back ran after them, falling in beside the elves, and following their stablemates without a backward glance.
My partner and I walked after them out to the road, where Leilani had parked our four-wheel drive. We made sure we were in the big vehicle with the doors locked, before the elves had vanished beneath the bridge. As soon as we were sure they were all safely gone, we drove back to the station.
As Leilani killed the engine, I leant back, and gave a deep sigh.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I should never…”
She shushed me.
“If you hadn’t, we’d be down a tribe of pixies and trying to explain to a very upset Sidhe lord why we had failed to act when we had the chance. You did okay.” She paused. “The paper work’s going to be a bitch, though.”
I straightened up and reached for the door. The paperwork was always a bitch.
We walked into the station, together, and I was surprised to see both day and night shift still at their desks. Heads were raised as we came in, and then they stood and started clapping. I might have about faced and walked back out, except my partner grabbed me by the arm, flipped our colleagues off, and steered me through to the chief’s office, shutting the door very firmly behind us.
“What was that all about?” I asked, and the chief started to chuckle.
“What?” I repeated, and he waved at Leilani in a gesture that ordered her to explain.
My partner laid a hand on my shoulder.
“You know what I said about paperwork?”
And I nodded, not sure where she was going with this, but almost certain I wasn’t going to like it.
Her arm tightened, and then she sat down in one of the seats in front of the chief’s desk, pushing me into the seat beside her.
“Let me see,” she said. “You managed to rescue a tribe of pixies, free a unicorn guardian, piss off the lord of an entire clan of fey, discover a new portal to the Otherworld, andput yourself into debt with the Lord of Winter. That’s not a bad night’s work, Harper—even for you!”
Well, shit! That wasa lot of paperwork. I’d be lucky to see the outside of the station before the month was out—and if the Lord of Winter decided to call in his debt…
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Harper & the Unicorn is available as a stand-alone short story at the following links: books2read.com/u/38rqqL.
You can also find Kristine Kathryn Rusch's latest free short story over on her blog: kriswrites.com. Why don't you go and check it out?

Carlie's Chapter 11 - Dear Tiger: I Don't Think I'm Human Anymore

LAST WEEK, Tiger begged Simone not to say goodbye. This week, Simone reveals that she is in grave danger and has to escape the company facility she's in - and that she might have trouble keeping in touch.Chapter 11 – Gotta Get Out
Dear Tiger,
I don’t believe you did that! Are you INSANE? You nearly got us both caught. Did you know those exercises you taught me were military-grade? As in special ops classified? Did you even know what database you were in? Because I got them right, and they work real well, but I should never even have known they existed. They’re not normal blocking exercises. I didn’t know. The first ones were easy enough. I think if I’d stopped there, I’d have been fine, but I didn’t. I got my head around those ones really fast. The psi thought they were cute, when she came to visit, but then she told me I shouldn’t be trying to teach myself things I didn’t understand, and she pulled them apart like a fox rampaging through a hen house. There were feathers everywhere. Well, there were bits of my brain everywhere. I don’t think the company wants me to know how to keep them out of my head. Not yet, anyway. Maybe not ever. It made me so mad, I screamed at her until she taught me how to build better ways of blocking, and she wasn’t happy. Not at all. I tell you, Tiger, when I checked what she’d taught me, I found at least two mistakes in every step. I went back over your notes, and I found out how to do things properly, and then I went deeper. I didn’t realise I’d gone through your notes and followed the source code to the address. I just thought you’d added a tricky bit to stop me from getting bored. When I said you pulled these from a classified database, I’m not kidding. You are a very bad boy—and I mean that in the nicest possible way. I worked all night on the exercises you sent me, and the next set I found. They were a lot of fun. I even slept in, and the company sent me a rude letter to tell me I was going to be penalised with short rations as a result. That was nothing to what the psi said they were going to do. When she arrived, I thought it would be fun to use the faulty blocks she taught me. When she tore through those, I pretended to be really disappointed, and she told me not to worry, that everyone makes mistakes the first time out. It was all I could do not to tell her that anyone will make mistakes if they haven’t been taught the right way to start with. You’d be proud. I managed not to actually say it. I think she pulled it right out of my head, instead. ‘What do you mean?’ she asks, looking really mean all of a sudden, and that’s when I lost my temper. I picked the biggest, nastiest block I could think of, and I slammed it down. I forgot it had an attack as well. I not only stopped her from trying to see what I meant, but I pushed her right out of my head. It was glorious! Until she stood back up. Yes. Stood back up. When I pushed her out of my head, she fell right of her chair. That was the coolest thing I’ve done in a very long time. What wasn’t cool was what she said next. She kind of looked at me, and she looked just a little bit afraid. She did nothing but look, for a whole minute, and then she straightened her tunic, running her hands over the front like there were wrinkles. ‘We’re done,’ she said, and I heard her thinking we were done for good, not just the day, and that Black Ops could have me. I might have followed that thought into her head, but she must have caught me looking, because she threw up this mental wall, and kicked me right out. And she told me to stay out. She even called me a freak, but not where I could hear it. I don’t even think I was supposed to know she was thinking it, but it leaked past the wall, and I heard it as plain as day. She was mad at me, Tiges. Mad. And more than just a little bit afraid. I don’t think I’ve ever made anyone afraid of me, before. I’m not sure I like it. Anyway, Tiges, she called the doctors to come get her out. Said she had a Medical Code 9, and they had to hurry. I looked that up, later, and discovered it meant she had encountered a potentially unstable psi, and needed intervention before she got killed. Intervention? I don’t like the sound of that. And I really don’t like being called unstable. I’m glad she’s not coming back. It’s what’s coming back in her place that has me worried. I pulled it out of the doctor’s head, when he opened the door. Medical Code 9? he was thinking, and he gave me a really strange look. Her? Nice of him, I thought, and then my visitor said they had to isolate me until a Level 5 assessment could be made—whatever one of those is. He was horrified. “But…” he began, but she hushed him, and steered him out of my cell, which didn’t stop me from hearing the next thought that went through his head. But that will break her head open like an egg! I don’t want my head broken open, Tiges, and I’m sorry. From what I’ve been hearing from the minds passing outside my room, all the doctors are a little bit sorry for me. They’re all also relieved that the person they need won’t make it here for three or four more days. Most of them are planning on taking a day off when he arrives. At least, I think it’s a he. That’s the impression I’m getting from all their heads. I don’t have a lot of time, Tiges. I’m sorry because I won’t be able to get you all the data you’re probably going to need. Not before I go. And, after… Well, that’s going to be something else, isn’t it? I might not even be able to find my way into the servers here. It won’t stop me trying, though. You did it. How hard can it be, right? Genius… Yeah. Anyway, I’ll get you everything I can lay my greasy little hands on in the next few hours, and I’ll send it to you. After that, I’m gone. I’ll send this now, and then I’ll send what I can find. And then I’m out of here. If I don’t hear from you in the meantime, you’ll know why. Be careful, Tiges. Things just got exciting.
Love
S. ShellK. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------
The complete series is available as short, individual ebooks, and will become available as an omnibus, later this year. In the meantime, you can find them on this blog, until one week after the last chapter in the last book of the series has been posted, at which point this series will be taken down, and a new series serialised on site.
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