Chelsea Gaither's Blog, page 8

Seduced by Moonlight--chapter 21

We're introduced to a brand new guard. He's a hunter-deity. Also obsessed with biology, which I find actually kind of cool--hunter wants to understand the hunted and all. However, it's just an excuse to kiss Merry's ass:

 He was also the only sidhe to ask me what I’d do with my degree if I hadn’t been Princess Meredith.

Probably the same thing you would have done if you were Princess Meredith: exactly jack shit. See, when people want something badly enough, they do the thing. Merry wasn't valuable to the royal family until very, very recently, and Andais would probably have liked nothing quite so much as Merry working very, very far away in someplace like Africa or Antarctica cataloging tiny bugs or cold water clams. But Merry didn't pursue her generic biology degree into something more significant, choose a specialty, or elect to work in a biology-related field once she got out. She got a biology degree the way people get a degree in business. It's not that you actually want to study something as a career, it's that you want to get to say you have a degree so you can get hired.

So there's no tragety here. Sorry.

By the way, have I mentioned that LKH has a biology degree?

Ah, but she had to hide from Andais. That's why she became a detective, rather than a zoologist. Andais would check up on her degree.

Right.

So we get yet another guard and--

When he was close enough for me to see his eyes, I had that moment of dizziness that his eyes always gave me. His pupils were petaled layers of red, blue, yellow, and green, like a multicolored flower.

Also: his irises might be multicolored pony princess flower petals, but if his pupils are that opaque, the dude is blind.

Nice use of your biology degree, Laurell.

This dude is Amatheon, and he's Cel's friend. He refused to come to Merry at first, so the Queen did something horrible to him: she cut his hair.He has to touch the ring and see if he and Merry are a fertile match...or else.

It takes four pages for him to get to Merry. Six pages later, he still hasn't touched the damn ring. Instead, we've introduced two more guards, one of whom gets a solid two-kindle-page paragraph about how pretty he is. They all ask to touch the ring and finally, as the chapter ends, Merry holds out her hand.

Next chapter: Usna, pretty boy of the long-ass paragraph, reacts to the ring. Merry gets another man. It's kind of approprete that this one came from a magical cat, seeing as how Merry's collecting them. The drunk dude from a chapter or so ago also reacts to the ring. It reacts to the next guy, but when the nice guard that Merry's known from childhood touches it, it stays cold. Because God Forbid we get one actual nice, congenial person in this mess.

And of course, it reacts to Amatheon, who makes it clear that he'd rather sleep with an actual dog than Merry, because she's part human.

Yes. It's so horrible being mixed magical races.

Guys, I'm sorry for the sarcasm, but the fact that there are no real world races in this book kind of makes the "fairy mixed race" thing kind of hollow. You get to pretend real hard about saying something worth the paper it's printed on, while simultaneously continuing the exclusion you're claiming to fight against. It's not enough to use pretend races. You have to find a way to get the real ones in there too.

They bring cloaks for Sage and Nicca, even though I could swear Sage and Nicca had cloaks two chapters ago. They roll the drunk over into a corner and throw a blanket over him--I'm serious--and head out for the press converence. End of chapter.

We spent one whole chapter touching rings and describing the resulting orgasms.

This book will never have a plot. Ever.

There isn't enough booze in the world.










 

Seduced by Moonlight--chapter 20

Nothing. Is happening. In. This. Book.

I just wrote a book in which a woman travels from one city to another. It took me one fucking chapter to get her from South Texas to Boston. ONE CHAPTER. ONE. YOU CANNOT EVEN GET FROM SOUTH TEXAS TO BOSTON ON ONE FUCKING PLANE. So why in the name of all things good and holy and pure has it taken this fucking long for Merry to get to St. Louis?

I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHY THEY'RE DOING THIS. There's a party that they have to do, and there are balls, but...but why are they going here. WHAT IS HAPPENING. WHY IS THIS HERE.

We entered the lounge that is just for private planes and there met the rest of my guards.

WE MET THE REST OF MY GUARDS IN THE PRIVATE PLANE LOUNGE. STOP. KILLING. WORDS.

Merry and Frost have a tiff over Frost's fox fur coat. Because it's floor length and it's far more interesting to argue about how many foxes died to make it than it is to discuss how fucking silly Frost looks in a floor length fur coat. 

 Coming from Los Angeles to St. Louis in the middle of winter was almost a physical wrenching.

Is there a reason why Merry has to bitch about everything? Also: It probably felt colder in Los Angeles. Mostly because Los Angeles is a coastline city, and humidity makes 40F fucking miserable. When it freezes, the humidity drops out of the air and suddenly all those lovely winter clothes actually work. When it's just that little bit above freezing, the humidity seeps straight through however many layers you're wearing and makes you cold. I go up north during the winter, I wear a long sleeved shirt, a sweater, and a coat. I stay down here, there are not enough sweaters in the universe.

Also: Merry made Nicca wander around a St. Louis January in a blanket and pants and nothing else. Because his wings can't be accommodated. Nevermind that one chapter ago, Nicca had a decent cloak. Nevermind that there are many, many kinds of blanket he could be wearing. Nevermind that you love this person and you really want to take care of him. Nope. Just give him a cotton blanket.

Barinthus is here. We get a long, long, LOOOOOOOOONG paragraph about his hair....AFTER we discuss everyone's winter gear in detail. EVERYONE'S. GEAR.

 The Unseelie Court's publicist talks to the cops.

Okay, that's awesome. Why can't we have her story? She'd actually have to do things. Lots of things. It'd be interesting.

But of course she's another female, so she has to be dumb as a post. A cop asks her if there's a problem, Publicist says there's no problem, Cop makes the duck quote (looks like, talks like, ect) and Merry has to explain it to Publicist chick thusly:

I’d never had much patience with women who hid their intelligence. I thought it set a bad precedent for the rest of us. “He means if it looks like a problem, sounds like a problem, and acts like a problem, then it’s a problem,” I said.

And then we get the Obligatory Pissing Contest between the Faerie guards and the cops, because it wouldn't be an LKH book if we didn't stop whatever passes for a plot dead so we can measure somebody's dick.

It turns out that one of the Guards the Queen sent--as opposed to the ones that Barinthus picked--is a chronic drunk, and the head cop doesn't like it. Neither does Barinthus. So we're going to TALK ABOUT IT for a while.

So then Publicist and Merry fight over making the men and Merry look pretty enough for photographs.

DO SOMETHING. DOOOOOOOOO SOMETHING. FUCKING DO SOMETHING. PLEASE.

Merry resorts to threats to get out of being primped up and the chapter ends.

Trees died for this. Forests of trees. We have accomplished absolutely nothing and we are almost halfway done with this book. L. Ron Hubbard wrote a book about a man deliberately sabotaging his own mission (And someone else sabotaging the sabotage, and someone else sabotaging the sabotaging of the sabotage, and so on) and that book accomplished more than this. For fuck's sake, MICAH did more in less space than we've done here.

THERE. IS. NOTHING. HERE.

Seduced by Moonlight--chapter 19

Merry looks at the ring of magical heterosexual matchmaking.

The ring was a heavy silver octagonal, not perfectly round, as if it molded to all the fingers it had encircled. It was actually a very plain, almost mannish-looking ring. Inside there were words carved, in an ancient form of Gaelic, too old for me to read, but I knew translated to read, “Insert.”

I think LKH thinks in phallic objects.

It takes three kindle pages and much cajoling from the men to get Merry to put the damn thing on. See, this is why it's bad to start a book without a plot. You have to waste time on this shit.

So the ring will spark with whomever is Merry's True Soul Mate, and the men start fighting over who gets to be the first. And of course Frost pulls rank. Because that's what poly is all about--positioning and power plays and wait a minute nope, that's what abusive relationships are about. I was under the impression that a good poly relationship makes everybody happy--guys and gals.

So Frost and Merry touch each other and have orgasms. And while that's basically what happens whenever Merry touches anybody, this time it's special because the ring did it as opposed to something else.

So Rhys goes next, and then we stop this process cold to recap that Prince Cel is being tortured with a magical potion of sex for six months, four of which are already gone. And we have to establish that the tabloids are going nuts over everything having to do with Merry, which I actually buy (to a point) because the sex contest thing is pretty much common knowledge.

Galen next. And it's electric. Literally. As a bonus, it produces the first legitimately funny line in the whole novel:

I made a mental note. Even if I didn’t like electricity as foreplay, if some of the men did, then things could be worked out.

God this could have been such a good book. If, you know, there were an actual plot. 

 They dwell on the electricity thing for a while, thus draining it of all possible amusement. Kind of amazing how LKH manages to steal every bit of value from her legitimately good writing moments.

The chapter closes with everyone giggling over a Frankenstine joke, save for Frost, who doesn't get it.

Seduced by Moonlight--chapter 18

So yesterday I wound up with chickens. Four of them. They are about a month old, have a great deal of feathers, and make the most adorable little peeping noises. This is an adventure that I have very little knowledge about. I have already learned that you can feed chickens everything. If it goes in a compost pile, it goes in a chicken coop. I kind of like this, as we've been avoiding buying a lot of fruits and veggies as they eventually go bad. Having something to do with leftover veggies that isn't "Throw them away" is really, really cool. Also: fuzzy idiots are adorable.

Also: The book giveaway I started over on Goodreads? It's in the home stretch now. So if you haven't entered and you'd like to? Go do that.

So. How's Merry?

It wasn’t that Maeve Reed’s personal jet wasn’t comfortable , because it was.

Any complaining after this sentence is invalid.

Oh, and it's the fact that Doyle has a flying phobia. You know who else has a flying phobia? The author of this book! What a coincidence.

Frost continues to pout that Merry is thinking about Doyle.

This continues to be pointless and annoying. This guy should not be in this relationship if it effects him this badly.

Rhys knelt in front of me. He was wearing his white eye patch with the tiny seed pearls on it.

...you know, there comes a point where even Jareth would go "That's just too damn much for me". His eye patch. Has seed pearls. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. That's what you get if you put Tarintino in charge of directing a fantasy movie.

Rhys gives Merry back the Queen's ring in a very melodramatic fashion. Seeing as how it hasn't come up since the first book, you may have forgotten that it's the magical version of a fertility test. It finds people their One True Wub while also indicating wheither or not they'd make a fertile match. Because we have to remember, the Fae are infertile right now and fertility is all that matters.

 Rhys owned a house outside the faerie mounds. A house with electricity, a television, and everything. He was probably one of the only sidhe who knew who Humphrey Bogart had been, or who Madonna was.

So Rhys is a sociopathic asshole too. Okay, gotcha.

Seriously. If he lives outside of the fairy mounds he should understand social systems well enough to know that the Mound is not healthy, has never been healthy, and that trying to follow its rules OUTSIDE of its juristiction is probably the dumbest thing you can do short of sticking a fork in a light socket. He should be helping people get out, not playing hide-the-beefsteak with Merry. He should be capable of recognizing that Merry is just as fucked up as the rest of the Fae royals.

But then again, this is an LKH book where an eight-foot wingspan (and, for that matter, bedroom) is considered large for a human sized bird. 

  Sage tromped up the aisle to us. He was wearing a pair of Kitto’s dress slacks and a T-shirt that had had to be ripped up the back to accommodate his wings.

WAIT. WAIT ONE GODDAMN MINUTE.

SAGE IS KITTO'S SIZE? IS HE SHRINKING? HE HAD BETTER BE GODDAMN SHRINKING. LKH SHOULD NOT INTRODUCE YET ANOTHER CHARACTER THE SIZE AND PROPORTION OF A PUBESCENT CHILD. THAT'S JUST...NO. LADY SHOULD KNOW BETTER.

(Galen's) hair spilled over his naked upper body, because his wings were even larger than Sage’s, and though we’d tried to get a silk-and-spandex tee over them, in the end we’d been defeated.

At this point I'm assuming that LKH got a lot of the damned things from a wholesaler.

And then the ring info-dump, which is still going on, takes a turn for the stupid. And homophobic.

Rhys nodded. “The ring had begun to fade in power— we knew that because the great matchmaking ball had failed some decades before. A sidhe would come to the door of the ballroom, and no one would step forward. But we didn’t understand that the ring had kept us safe, not just happy and fertile.”

See, in their fertile true-love matches, the Fae were perfectly safe. The ring guaranteed a happy ending, so if you were in a ring approved true love match no one would die. But if you're gay, or your true love isn't fertile for whatever reason, you're SOL.

“Until the battle of Rhodan,” Frost said, “where we lost two hundred sidhe warriors. Most of them had been wed to their love matches.”

This infuriates me beyond all reason. Imagining that society--the pressure to marry your ring-match, the shame of having an unapproved lover die. You'd even be denied the right to properly grieve because that wasn't your "one true love" or whatever. In fact, you know what that straight up reminds me of? The assigned marriges of the FLDS. Doesn't matter if it's a prophet getting messages from God or a fucking fairy ring, having your partner assigned for you without your imput is FUCKING WRONG.

Thank god that goddamn ring's been broken for thousands of years. That's probably one of the VERY few things that has kept the Faerie Courts anything close to sane. You throw that level of control on top of the rest of it, you got a pressure cooker waiting to explode.

And of course LKH is taking a hot-button human right's issue that everyone has issues with (FLDS mormons aren't the only ones marrying off their CHILDREN, for example. And I'm deliberately using US only examples because most people believe this doesn't happen in the states. That it's just something that happens in "third world" countries. Yes. Yes it does.) and is turning it into an uber-romantic fairy-tale ending because WHY NOT. Yes. Let's push the stupidity Disney started when they sanitized the rape out of Snow White and Sleeping Beauty. Pushing the idea that you can know somebody is perfect for you within seconds of meeting them, that love is an instant connection felt across a crowded room, how could ANYTHING BAD HAPPEN BECAUSE OF THAT.

And of course Merry is terrified at putting on the ring because it will make her choose just one of all her lovely lovely men.

...I now want to rewrite this entire story and make it be all about Merry bucking all these fancy rules and just doing what's good and healthy because this current shit is making me sick.

What if the ring didn’t find my perfect match here and now? What if my perfect match wasn’t any of them? What if that was why I hadn’t become pregnant?

For the TEN THOUSANDTH TIME, IVF. Go get a petri dish, go get knocked up, sort the rest of this shit out later. And you can't even argue that the man-made shit would be bad for the fairy baby because I believe all the stuff used for IVF is glass.

I stared back down at the box. If the ring chose someone else, Galen would have to find a new dream, a new love, a new everything.

 And people do that all the time. It's sad, but it's part of life. If you don't want to give people up, don't give people up. Don't hang with the restrictions. As long as you mantain your own health and the health of however many lovers you get, you do what you need to. Following arbitrary rules erected by a magic ring and a psychotic queen isn't healthy. Even the Christian God is more flexible than this shit.

The chapter ends with Merry opening the ring box.

IVORY SCARS IRON BARS is up for Presale!

Here it is on Smashwords.

As soon as the preorder links are up on the other venues, I'll link to 'em here, special.

It's gonna be a fun ride, my lovelies. :D

Cover Arts!

This guy. This guy.

This is Josiah Court, and he is a scene-stealing (Fuck, BOOK stealing) smooth-talking, take no prisoners son of a bitch that I absolutely did not intend to write. I was like "oh, hey, character needs to go here!" and this guy came out. And he screws so much shit over I would hate him if he weren't my favorite exiles character so far. WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE SO COOL JOE WHY DO I HAVE TO LIKE YOU SO GODDAMNED MUCH.

Also: The next time I try to paint a knapped blade, just shoot me.

Anyhoo, here's our finished cover.

Seduced by Moonlight--Chapter 17

Well, lots of awful, nasty, depressing shit went down this week, none of which I am allowed to talk about. But the good news is that, for now, it is OVER, and I won't have to deal with any of it again until sometime in July...if ever.

So. How's our terrible book?

In the morning the golden goddess of hollywood was crying at our kitchen table. It might have been baby hormones, but then again, it might not.

And it goes on to wonder if Maeve isn't crying to manipulate Merry with her goddess powers. Her husband of twenty years died less than a month ago. The mortal being she defied an immortal, power-mad king to have a baby with. A baby she concieved specifically to have something of that mortal with her after he died (Which ain't the best reason to have a baby, but it's better than "I'm saving my own ass" AKA Merry's motivation). I mean for fuck's sake, remember when you were seven and you lost a tooth? And no matter what you did you could not stop exploring that absense? Maeve's got that. Only with a person, and a lot of pain because she won't ever get that person back.

Look, why are tears such a challenge to Merry? Maeve is crying because Maeve's husband died. It's not an attempt to manipulate her. It's only something that has nothing to do with Merry at all. Why can't we allow another woman to have deep, world-shattering greif?

Merry bitches that Maeve doesn't get blotchy when crying. Or, more specifically, that Maeve doesn't have the decency to get splotchy. It's a personal affront, her not getting red faced from the tears.

Maeve then gives Merry the most deadly insult one Fae can give to another: She doesn't compliment Merry on her clothing properly.

Yep. Clothing insults. We're in High School.

We then get a full description of Merry's clothes, including this abomination:

A green silk-and-spandex T-shirt

I mean, they exist but WHY. WHY DO THAT TO SILK. WHAT DID SILK EVER DO TO YOU.

AND WHAT IS WITH THE SILK T-SHIRTS. WHAT IS SO GREAT ABOUT A T-SHIRT CUT THAT WE HAVE TO IMMORTALIZE IT.

Galen had had to search Los Angeles over to find an honest-to-goddess tea cozy to keep our tea warm.

Oh that is so much bullshit. First of all, you can buy one off the goddamn internet, which exists in this universe. Second, there are tea rooms all over fucking Los Angeles. And you can get them there. So no. I don't buy that having a tea cozy is all that uber freaking special.

 A sound very close to a sob broke from her lips. “I had sex with that . . . that false sidhe.”

On the one hand, Maeve's choices are Maeve's choices, Merry's choices are Merrys. On the other hand, rape by deception is a thing. I know, because it's part of what happened to me. Using a lie, or concealing a fact, to obtain sexual consent that would otherwise be withheld is rape. In my opinion there aren't any exceptions. Someone who would hurt you if you are honest with them is not someone you should be having sex with. Damage is still done and other considerations--ie in this case Maeve is a gigantic racist--do not negate the violation. Anti-social or bad behavior/thoughts on the part of the victim does not justify the crime committed against them.

So either Maeve made a bad call and regrets it, or Sage didn't explain that he wasn't really Sidhe and Maeve was raped last night.

I set my tea down and went to her. I couldn’t stand to hear that broken sound. I’d heard it often enough over the last few weeks since her husband had died, but lately, less.

Oh wow, she's been having baby hormones for weeks, then. You insensitive twit HER HUSBAND HAS JUST DIED.

I touched her shoulder, and she cried harder. “Did Sage hurt you?” I asked, and thought it was stupid even as I said it.

Not being hurt doesn't make rape not be rape. The question here is "Did Sage let you know he wasn't Sidhe before you had sex?" That's a very important question. On one side we have some pretty ugly regret, but there's something even uglier on the other side.

This will never be properly addressed. Instead, we move on to Maeve's seduction of Sage.

“You seduced him. It was wonderful. And now you’re having morning-after regrets?” I said. “Silly, isn’t it.” “The fey don’t regret sex, Maeve.”

This is coming off more and more as "things like that don't happen in our family." Obviously the Fae do regret sex because MAEVE IS REGRETTING IT.

Frost comes in and calls Maeve on her racism--acceptable, but there's still a really big question here that needs to be answered before you can go "Oh, this is racist behavior". When you don't understand exactly what happened to you, it's a lot easier to fall back on -ist ish patterns of thought. This neither excuses the -ism or the act against the person with the -ism. It's a pattern of behavior that further clouds the issue: Maeve's consent in this act is iffy at best.

In fact, if you want to delve in deeper, Sage's judgement is compromised by his greif over his wings, and Maeve's is further compromised by her greif over her husband. Neither person is in a place where either could make a sane judgement call re: sex. So instead of acknowledging that everything about this is fucked up we're just going to make it into an issue of racism between imaginary creatures because that's much easier than addressing the violation of questionable consent.

And then it's time to show how Merry is a perfect paragon of egalitarinism and harbors no racism in her shining fairy heart and how Maeve is evil mcevilness because she doesn't see how Merry can love non-Sidhe Sidhe even though they are totally Sidhe when they have sex.

Then they argue over the Seelie/Unseelie courts and Merry is all "Come to the dark side, we have SEX" and Maeve is unsure. Frost lords the fact that he's The Jack Frost over Maeve, and points out people remember him when they don't remember Conchenn.

Powers are swapped between Maeve and Frost. I have no idea.

I watched them , and understood why my human ancestors had thought they were gods. Now they’d probably be mistaken for angels, or big men from Mars.

No. No they would not be mistaken for angels. I'm sorry, but biblical angels are bad ass and OH MY FUCKING GOD type scary. I have seen/read exactly two depections of angels that fit the biblical accounts and they are the WTF death scary angel thing from Hellboy 2 and Progo from The Wind in the Door. Lovecraft's accounts are closer to biblical angels. One of them is described as a wheel within a wheel covered in eyes. To badly quote Mercedes Lackley, they introduce themselves with "Fear Not" for a good reason. Your first reaction is where the fuck is the shotgun and will it even work on this thing.

The physicality of the kiss was chaste, but his power thrust into her like a spear of silver light.

Then it's not chaste.

So Frost again offers to accept Maeve into the Unseelie court. Maeve wants to go back to the Seelie, and they won't take her back if she's sullied her genes with lower fae. Somehow this segues into how Merry has to face and probably kill Taranis.

Mistral is mentioned. He becomes a lover in a later book. Nice to introduce him now. He's Andais's new boy toy.

“See, Taranis even lets his court adopt the words of a faith that tormented and tortured our followers,” Frost said. “He has allowed his court to become an ape of the humans.”

Get fucked Laurel. Please. Yes, the Catholic church did incredibly shitty things to Ireland, but the faith itself is a body of beliefs that absolutely does not condone that kind of shit. I've recently come to the realization that Jesus was a pretty progressive radical who would look around at the churches today and go "You mean I have to fix it again?". What's being expressed here is not the fault of Christianity. It's the behavior of the group in power expressed against the group out of power. The same people who hung Christ on the Cross are the people who manned the Inquisition a thousand years later. They just step in, delete whatever they don't like, and continue on with the status quo. Blaming any one trait for this behavior simply allows it to perpetuate over and over and over and over again.

Also: I'm pretty certain that Christianity did, indeed, borrow the concept of Hell from Roman paganism. So yeah, you get to keep that one, Frost.

And now we finally get to know why Merry and company are living in Maeve's house:

They're her bodyguards.

Just...wow. Just wow.

Maeve runs out of the room crying because Frost won't accept her "No, thank you" to his invitation. Frost turns the conversation to the goblin ball mentioned at the beginning of this novel, and the Seelie court ball mentioned near the ass end of the last one.

The chapter ends with everyone acknowledging that this is all very dangerous and Merry shouldn't go. But that she will, anyway.

Seduced by Moonlight--chapter 16

Alright, gang. Pre-sales for the next Exiles book Ivory Scars, Iron Bars (Or, rather, for part one of the next exiles book) should go live on Smashwords tomorrow, and eventually on other websites. It'll be released on the fourth of July. If you plan on getting a copy, please buy it during the pre-sale period.

If you're new to either Exiles or the blog, or both, I've made the first part of the first book (the Silver Bullet part of Silver Bullet, Black Hounds) free on Smashwords, and Barnes and Noble, and basically everywhere except Amazon, because Amazon is uncooperative and behaving badly ATM.

So yeah. Get caught up, kids. It's gonna be a great ride.

Meanwhile, back at the (bunny) ranch....

Doyle is writhing on the ground screaming, and covered in blood. He's randomly shape-shifting into a dog. Because LKH needed something to happen and actual plot is too damn hard.

It amazes me how utterly plotless LKH's writing is. I mean, I get not having the entire thing written out. One of the issues I had with ISIB was realizing I needed to put about 15K more words into the middle to get the ending to work, and that it didn't matter what plot elements needed to go there (I mean, it did, but there wasn't any one thing sticking out) as long as the energy at the end didn't get diluted. I spent two days brainstorming, came up with a couple things that fit the theme (one of which was REALLY cool) and filled it in. But there is nothing in this book. There's no theme. There's no plot. There's no consequences. Right when we start really considering one of the new plot elements--the boys' "godhead", the magic cup, Sage's transformation, Merry's possession by goddess--something new comes up. There's a hissy fit, or a sex scene, or yet another new power is introduced, and everything else is forgotten.

LKH describes the pool of blood around Doyle--because shape-shifting is violent and scary--as "spreading wetness"

For a woman guilty of continual thesaurus abuse, she sure uses the same damn words a lot.

Doyle then randomly shape-shifts into a horse. Because fuck if I know.

Then we take a break so that we can let Merry rub against Frost's penis. Because that's more important than actually stringing events into a logical and interesting narrative.

Doyle then turns into a random eagle, which is new because he's never been an eagle before. Apparently the horse and dog are two forms he locked away in the Nameless, but the eagle came straight out of the Magic Vag.

Oh, and he's a man-sized eagle with an eight foot wingspan. This bedroom is really fucking small because he can't open his wings. Guys, my bedroom is bigger than eight feet wide and my bedroom is a tiny fucking shoebox. Also, you know what else has an eight foot wingspan? The first few birds on this list. Most of them have longer wingspans. One of the notable ones is the Golden Eagle. Which is not man-sized. The biggest wing-span is an albatross's eleven footer, and that isn't man-sized either.So Eagle!Doyle had better never fly, ever, or LKH's prized biology degree should be returned for a refund.

Doyle changes back into a man, completely naked. But his hair is still ankle length and is still braided.

He turned himself inside out shape-shifting, but LKH wants us to know his braid remains undisturbed.

It is so nice to focus on these meaningless fucking details when we're halfway through the book AND WE STILL HAVE NO PLOT.

Doyle collapses. Frost picks this moment to physically restrain Merry from going to him because he's jealous.

WHY CAN'T THESE PEOPLE BE HAPPY? Why do they have to CONSTANTLY bicker and fight and bitch and whatever about who gets to sleep with whom? The only person in this group who shows any capacity whatsoever for polyamoury is Merry, and that's iffy. The rest of these guys are ripping each other to shreds every time she turns around. And while it's nice to be fought over, and that's probably the fantasy driving Frost's transformation into an Asher clone, it makes NO SENSE in the context of this series, these characters, and this competition.

And then this gets really, really disgusting.

See, it's not good to have jealousy issues, but it is normal. Lots of people have them. When you have them, you communicate them to your partner and come to some kind of agreement in which you deal with your issues, they deal with theirs, and the relationship continues apace.One way to manage jealousy issues is open, honest communication in a closed relationship. You're not comfortable sharing, but as long as your partner is cool with sticking to you and only you, that's not an issue. The flip side of that is respecting your partner enough to just end the fucking relationship when it's obvious neither of you can make it work.

Merry does not do this.

First she calls Frost on his jealousy. That's not the wrong part. The wrong part is that instead of saying "Let's talk about it" she blames Frost for creating the circumstances that have lead to his jealousy.

I shook my head. “Frost, it is not Doyle being in my bed that’s made me pull back from you. It’s you who’s made me pull back.”

Look, up until this point the Merry/Frost situation is just two people in a relationship that neither party can accommodate. Frost can't share, Merry can't be monogamous, and the stress of it is tearing the relationship apart. But when you're talking about something irrational, like jealousy, it's nobody's fault. It becomes an issue when the person with issues uses said issues to justify something cruel--picking fights, getting violent--but an honest expression, a sort of "Hey, I've got this big issue and I'd like your help working on it" which is more or less what Frost is doing here, is good. It's in the open. Now they can work on it.

But then Merry turns it around so that it is ALL Frost's fault. If he had been more perfect, Merry wouldn't have gone to other men and he'd be fine. Which is patient bullshit because Merry is sleeping with all her men and will have to continue to do so.

Frost shuts down on her. So she hits him. In the chest, because she can't reach his face, but it's physical violence in a relationship where she holds all the power. He cannot respond to her or defend himself because the other men will kill him. He can't leave because he will never have another relationship--Queen Anadais's celebacy rule--and he can't express himself honestly because he gets victim-blamed and bitch-slapped.

Merry tells Frost he needs to stop pouting. SHE JUST HIT HIM. She then drags the other men into the arguement and gets them to agree with her. This is basically the cultervention all over again and it's ugly. It's being played as a woman standing up for herself and her body, but the dynamic is utterly wrong. Merry is not standing up for herself. She's abusing Frost verbally and physically because he just told her something she doesn't want to hear.

“That’s not true. I love you when you are yourself, but you have to stop letting everything hurt your feelings. You have to stop pouting.” I stepped back enough so I could look up into his face without straining my neck. “I spend so much energy worrying how you’re going to take something. I don’t have the energy to spare to tiptoe around your feelings, Frost.”

These are the lines an abuser would use. These are lines that my abusers have used on me. Stop being so sensative is abuse-speak. It's like punching a victim in the groin and asking them why they can't handle pain.

The only way Merry could say this and not be full of shit is if Frost had the right to leave. She doesn't want to tiptoe around his feelings, he doesn't want to share, he should get to end the relationship and find someone else. But he can't. If he leaves the relationship, he goes back to Anadais. He goes from a moderate abuser to a horrible one who will probably punish him for sleeping with Merry, for failing to protect Merry, and for kicks because she feels like it. Frost has no support system outside of Merry and the fairy mound. He has no recourse, he has nowhere he can go. Merry could kill him if she wanted to and there'd be no consequence for her. He cannot leave.

And the thing is, he starts to. Maybe he's just leaving the room, but a withdrawal right now, with Merry belittling his feelings, creates the kind of void that can end abusive relationships. An abusive relationship is an excercise in mind-control, and the best moments to break out are when the abuser takes things just a little too far.

So having hit him with the stick, it's time for the carrot.

“She doesn’t want you to leave,” Rhys said. “She loves you. She loves you more than she loves me.” He didn’t sound hurt; it was more a statement of fact. Since it was the truth, I didn’t try to argue. “But every time you pull the cold, arrogant act, Merry pulls away . When you pout, she pulls away.”

“I am not the queen, Frost,” I said. “I don’t want a toy in my bed. I want a king at my side. I need you to be a grownup.” It should have been silly to tell someone hundreds of years my senior to grow up, but it was necessary. Sadly.

Doyle spoke from against the pillows, and his voice held the effort that speech cost him. “If you could curb your emotions , she would love you and no other. If you could but understand, there would be no contest.”

I'll love you if you change for me. I'll love you if you do everything right. I'll love you if you quit having feelings, if you'll ignore it when I hurt you, if you'll play my games right. This is the classic ploy. And again: there is nowhere for Frost to go. Unlike Anita during her wake-up moment, Frost does not have gym buddies who will beat the everloving shit out of Merry and company, he does not have an in with the cops, he does not even understand human society. These people have trouble understanding television sets. The ins and outs of the social safety net are well, well beyond them. So what Merry is doing right now is saying "This will not change. This will never change. But if you try to change--nevermind that it's to a standard that I will never explain--I'll love you."

Stop feeling and I'll love you.

Frost asks Merry what they can do. She says the most awful thing anybody has ever said in any of these books:

“Let’s do this,” I said. “Every time you start to pout, I just tell you to stop. You try to stop when it’s brought to your attention.”

It sounds nice and light and fluffy, and it sounds like a good compromise IF You ignore all the shit that just happened. Frost can't leave this relationship. Frost's emotional stability is highly challenged by the polyamourous lifestyle dictated by Anadais's challenge. Merry has absolutely no interests whatsoever in trying to help Frost adapt. Instead of actually dealing with his feelings, Merry is telling him that she'll gladly patrol his emotions for him and help him stuff them back in the box when she doesn't like that look on his face.

LKH might as well write "Keep sweet" in there. This is a concept that has damaged many many many lives and it's being presented here as a good compromise. But there's no compromise here. Frost's feelings are not being addressed. Instead, they're being hidden so Merry won't ever have to deal with them and so Frost can never fully express them. No one should ever be shamed for crying, or for expressing dissatisfaction, or even for anger. These emotions exist. Getting them out and into the open means you can start dealing with them and working on healing them. Saying I feel this way without blame is an important step. You cannot deal with your emotions if you do not admit you have them. Of fucking course an abuser is going to make you bottle it up and do everything they can to stifle that expression. They don't want you to deal with your emotions.

Everything ends with Merry and Frost sharing a hug.

And speaking of the cultervention from Danse Macabre, I got curious and checked the copyright pages for both DM and Seduced by Moonlight. The emotional context of this scene is so similar to what happened to Anita that I wanted to know. Aaaaaand it turns out that the Danse Macabre scene is Cultervention 2.0. DM was published in 2006. So for some reason LKH really, really likes writing about abuse victims being manipulated into staying in their abusive relationships.

I really, really, REALLY dislike this book.

Book Sample the Second

I've decided to post multiple sample chapters this time, due to the long wait.

The ms itself is going through final revisions (as in final final final) and Ivory Scars, Iron Bars should be up for pre-order by the end of this week. There will be two more sample chapters in June, and it'll go on sale July 4th, 2014

 The  first book in the series, Silver Bullet, Black Hounds, is...well, under the link.

Chapter one is here.  Chapter two is beneath the cut. Read away, my lovelies.

Raziel lived in a block of apartments just off South Padre Island Drive. De facto student housing, though it wasn't entirely taken up by Texas A&M alumni. Attractive yellow walls and landscaping heavy on the oleanders gave it a nice, comfortable atmosphere, like dryer-warmed sheets spread out on the lawn. The view of the Laguna Madre was probably the best for a few miles. You could see the round tower on the Aggie campus, Harbor Bridge’s pale ghost, and even the Lexington’s nighttime lights from here.Raziel's silver Jag parked next to a space filled with boards and lawn chairs. In theory, it was blocked off so that people on Faerie business would have a place to park. Casey figured the woman did it to protect her car. The Spectraflare paint job broke into neon rainbows even at night, and Raziel would never allow a single scratch on her pricy baby. Casey didn’t want to get out and undo the mess, so she found a parking space not too much father from Raziel's apartment, and got out to walk.Her right knee ached dully, though not as badly as it had a few months ago. The parting gift from her former husband: titanium steel alloy and a kneecap facsimile. He'd pulverized the natural bone, taking out on her legs what he hadn't dared do to her face. And then he'd had the gall to drag her down two flights of stairs before calling nine-one-one. Cue the crocodile tears. She fell. It was terrible. Oh, can't you please do something?But it's over. Habits of thought slip through the mind like prayer beads through fingers; the effort is to keep those habits healthy. Hard to do, when memory surfaces with every bend of the knee. Each time she got out of a car, walked down stairs, walked up stairs. Walked further than twenty feet: He hurt me, but it's over. It's over. It's over. But it wasn't perfect. You could always build defenses around that grain of sand, but even pearls reminded you that you had been invaded. She went to the ease-of-access elevator and pushed the button for the top floor. Raziel's apartment was on the third story, three doors down from the elevator. She rang the bell and waited a few seconds for the door to open. At first glance, the woman who answered appeared to be of mixed race leaning towards black. Then the color truly registered: gray, with a violet-and-violence tinge around the edges. A color any good Texas girl would recognize. Tornado warning. Run. Her gray gaze sharp as daggers, her makeup came in dark burgundies and gold. Her business suit was sky-blue merino, her silk shirts probably Armani.She lives, Casey thought, not for the first time, on government assistance. I can't afford silk shirts. Until she sold that land, which had been like amputating a part of her body, she could barely afford food. And she'd been lucky to find a clean t-shirt that didn't have something cutesy on the front."Come in." the gray lady said, and Casey walked into her domain.It was like walking into a web of cotton candy. Lace doilies, frills, a general, congenial  Better Homes and Gardens atmosphere. Frou-frou, pillows, bowls of glass candy. Artfully distressed picture frames. She'd hated it the first time she'd walked in, and she hated it now. If you scraped one of the artfully crackled armchairs, you'd find the text from the next page waiting beneath the ink. They both walked through that first room without a pause. The next hall was a stark, unforgiving gunmetal, the floor black stone. Marble or granite, Casey couldn’t tell. There were no pictures on the wall, and other than a white ceramic basin on a dark-stained stand, no furniture. One left turn, and Raziel unlocked the door to her office.It was an armory run by an obsessive compulsive psychotic. The heavy desk in one corner was still neat to the point of mathematical grid-lines, the razor-sharp dagger in the letter-opener display bare, save for that last half inch buried in the stand. A wall-mounted starburst of swords and knives, all of them gleaming, sat exactly behind Raziel's chair. When she was in place she had a halo of sharp objects, the divine emissions of a warrior goddess. An elaborate suit of armor stood over in one corner, the fox-shaped helm overlooking a pair of polished six-shooters with bullets so shiny you could see your own reflection in the tips. And for all the care, all of these objects had an aura of being well-used. Even that armor. No, Casey thought. Especially that armor. Many monsters, animal and human alike, had fallen under the hooves of Raziel's warhorse. Back when she had a warhorse, that is.Uneasiness sat on Casey's shoulders. Raziel smiled down at her as if she were a particularly interesting bug with a history of adorable tricks.Last year, Casey had been stunned to learn that she herself was...well, she didn't want to call it magically gifted. But she had a kind of window into the fairy realm. Something she'd always mistaken for writerly inspiration. There was a real place called Ambercross. There were real creatures called Elestrin, Duskin, Wym. It wasn't a very clear window, though, and she didn't need Raziel and Marco to explain it. The core idea, some of the names and places, that was the real part. But she was a writer. That wasn't magical influence. It was years of study, research, work. By the time that core, that kernel of magical inspiration made it to her conscious mind, she'd already worked it into something completely unrecognizable.  She and Marco, and even Raziel to a lesser extent, had sat down and looked at her writing...and even with them present, it was hard to tell what was real and what she had cobbled together for good storytelling. Which is probably why it's dragging so hard. I'm overthinking everything.Raziel smiled down at her. "Would you like to take a seat, Ms. Winter?"Casey did, sitting in one of the two chrome-and-leather office chairs Raziel had in front of her desk. This was a working office. Corpus Christi's Fae population came here to discuss options. These chairs were frequently occupied. Raziel didn't go for the throne-like monstrosity on the other side of the desk. Instead, she took the other office chair and crossed her legs like a fashion model photoshopped out of humanity. She's being motherly. Casey thought. I am so totally screwed.They looked at each other for a moment, Raziel's gaze steady, chin resting on hand. Casey studied her fingernails. They were a little dirty. The silence stretched on, and on. And on. Well, I'm not going to be the first to break it. Raziel chuckled quietly to herself. "Well played, Ms. Winter. Tell me. What do you think of my little seaside fiefdom?""I think it's underpopulated. You lost Lyrene, Prix and Ero last year. Far as I know, nobody else has moved in." She could have slapped herself. Two out of the three had died at her hands...and she wouldn't have hesitated over the third.The smirk darkened. The burgundy lipstick made her look as if she'd drunk the blood of her enemies a few minutes ago. "Well, you'd be wrong. We've had four applications from significant powers just in this last week alone. Two elves, one sylph, and a rather nice brownie I let down very gently. They're dears, but I don't want to foster that kind of thing."Casey blinked. "Aren't brownies...you know, nice?""They are nice, child. That is the problem. I don't mind having a few misfits in my city. Tim Anderson and his husband provide things, stay out of trouble--did you want to contribute something to the shower we're throwing for the baby? Leslie Feilding sent enough for a very nice bassinette--but more dwarves than that? The mineral rights in Corpus will evaporate overnight, and companies will start to ask questions. Brownies mean hobs and nixies, and that usually means brand new drugs, and bewitched lovers, and songs and stories--and you know how tender our relations are with the police here."Oh, yeah. Casey had ringside seats for that little show last October. The Fae were the worst kept secret in human society. They'd managed to stay underground, somehow, but all the ones Casey had met had some kind of social worker. You couldn't be in social services without knowing about Faeries. Some of the local cops--like Arthur Ramirez, a very nice man--were probably in the dark. Detective Baker, however, bristled every time Marco or Raziel showed up. It wouldn't take a lot to make the local police turn on the local Fae. Another murder would probably do the trick. Drugs definitely would. Speaking of which..."There's Faerie drugs?"Raziel rolled her eyes. "Yes. And they're not illegal in the wider world. Which means it is our job to keep a lid on it. Most of the larger cities have a couple good elves in the police department so they can turn it into PCP or bath salts when the drug tests arrive. We don't have to do that here. We have the lowest Fae population of any major American city, and I'd like to keep it that way." She folded her hands in her lap. "If for no other reason than because it's less work for me.""So you're throwing the new ones out?" She asked."Oh, good god, no. Every creature--even the annoying ones--deserve to be somewhere safe, where they can at least be respected. No, I'm not going to throw the Fae out of Corpus. I'm going to invite them in.""I think that logic gave me whiplash," Casey said."Didn't you wonder why I kept two Phooka in my city? They're a very dangerous thing to have around. They tend to do...well, exactly what they did last October.""You had mercy on them."Raziel laughed, long and loud and pure. "There isn't a merciful bone in my body, child! They kept the rest of the Fae away. Two Phooka? I can keep an eye on that. Find placement and jobs for them, feed them magic, keep them comfortable, and put them down when things go south. Twenty or thirty Wym? We'd be overrun. And as long as the world has no reason to fear Corpus Christi, the entire world will want to come in."That's probably the most cold-blooded thing I've heard in my life. Casey shivered. "Fine. So what does this have to do with me and Boston?""I want something dangerous, and I think I've found a gentleman who fits the bill. Unfortunately I don't have an exact address on my quarry. I've been told only that it--he, rather--lives somewhere in Boston and is ready to move elsewhere. My contact has promised to introduce me, but only if I do him a favor. He runs a very...specialized underground auction house. Mostly serving up items of an occult nature to humans who actually know their way around a magic spell, though they do a lot of business in mundane valuables.""I'm with you so far." Casey said."He needs a lot authenticated, and he requested--demanded, really--that I bring you up to Boston to perform the authentication.""I don't know jack about magic." Casey said. Humans couldn't do it, and she wouldn't want to try."I understand. However, my friend was quite adamant that it must be you, and that you must be there in person.""Can I refuse?" She said."Of course. If you did, I wouldn't even withdraw my protection. The McHallys aren't searching quite so close these days, but I'm sure scenting their daughter's murderer would be simple if I stopped guarding you. And you are too...interesting for me to lose just now. But I can't promise that this city will be safe for mortals much longer." Casey winced at that first part. She had killed Lyrene McHally at the beginning of last October's fun and games. It was justified. The Merrow had been trying to kill her at the time. But the McHallys--something like gangster mermaids--had made it clear: Eye for eye, tooth for tooth, Casey's head on a platter. The only reason they hadn't found her was Raziel's efforts to keep her hidden.The Gray Lady softened and eased a bit forward in her chair. "Casey, I am not asking you this as if you are my subordinate. I am asking..." She sighed, rubbed the bridge of her nose. "We are not friends. We are not likely to become friends. But I do need your help."Casey closed her eyes. Like we were saying. No spine at all. "You'd get me over a barrel eventually anyway." She sighed. "I'll do it."

Seduced by Moonlight--chapter 15

I am stunned, boys and girls. Chapter fifteen opens with one person displaying actual selfless concern for another human being in crisis.

“Rhys, go with him,” Doyle said. “See that he comes to no harm.” Rhys went without a word. He was still nude, as was Sage...

It's like stars and rainbows and--

 I had a moment to hope that there wasn’t anyone outside the wall with a nightvision camera.

You wanna know what a sociopath really looks like? It's this. Your boyfriend/lover might commit suicide because you just crippled him, and you're worried about the goddamn press outside. It's a social tone-deafness that hurts you and everyone around you. The inability to feel empathy combines with the belief that the rules just don't matter and produces one seriously fucked up individual. Merry Gentry is a terrible person.

 Doyle has to spell out that Sage might be suicidal because he's lost his wings. Yes, it's an accident, but for fuck's sake Merry. Running off in tears should indicate that one is severely, SEVERELY upset. And speaking of terrible people...

“It’s my night,” Nicca said. He hadn’t taken part in the conversation until now, and when I looked into his brown eyes what I saw tightened things low in my body.Yep. Suicidal crisises will not halt the progression of wall to wall sex scenes. And so while one man sobs because his identity has taken a severe blow, the rest of the men argue about whose turn it is in bed.

Nicca balled his hands into fists. “No, we aren’t finished.” And his voice was like something that should call you from deep within the ground. He might have had wings, but his energy was all earth.

And this has to do with the price of tea in China how? And way to vaguely describe shit. I could choose to interprete this as one of those stupid little bells the victorians used to string up to coffins so nobody would get buried alive (spoiler: It never worked)

Doyle moved back from the bed, using his body to move me backward, as if he still didn’t trust Nicca. “No one who has not become a god can sleep with Merry until we understand what the chalice and the Goddess want.”

 They agree that only Frost and Rhys will get to sleep with Merry until they've figured out what, exactly, sleeping with Merry actually does to them.

Note: Merry has no input on this whatsoever. I begin to suspect one reason LKH's main characters are always polyamourous straight chicks is so that she never has to write dialogue with verbalizing women. Seriously, this is page after page after page of men talking with Merry interjecting an occasional "Here, please"

Then they go to check on Sage. By which I mean they all talk about sage and decide that Maeve Reed is "comforting" Sage, probably using her vagina. So Sage is fine.

All of the Fae in this universe need medication, case workers and sensativity training.

With Sage occupied, they move into an "As you know, Bob" about the fairy relics. Because apparently none of the new Fae for the past few centuries have bothered to learn a goddamn thing about their culture.

Gee, no fucking wonder their Goddess skipped town for a few generations. Not bothering to learn about their native culture, relics, religion and resident gods would piss anybody off, and gods aren't exactly known for being warm and fuzzy when it comes to being forgotten.

And it goes exactly nowhere. We identify that the Seelie court lost most of it, the Unseelie court just got a downgrade, and this might be because the Seelie pissed the gods off harder than the Unseelie did, but this isn't addressed. Frost tries to push and

Frost opened his mouth to speak, but Doyle cut him off with a gesture. “No, Frost, we will not reopen this wound. Not tonight. Is it not enough that you will share her body until we are sure the rest of us are safe?”

DUDE. MERRY IS A WOMAN. NOT A HOUSE PLANT.

Merry daydreams about rolling in Nicca's new wings until she's covered in "multicolored dust". As someone who collected a lot of butterflies as a kid (...before I grew up and grew a conscience) I can tell you that this? This is fucking dangerous for butterfly wings. It ruins them. Merry is daydreaming about utterly ruining her lover's brand new wings because they could make her pretty.

Nicca then tries to get confrontational with Doyle, so they all decide that he's been posessed by a random wandering Celtic god. Because WHY NOT.

Merry solves it by prayer.

Seriously.

I prayed a prayer I’d spoken a thousand times before: “Mother help him.” The moment the words left me, I felt the world tighten, as if the universe had caught its breath.

She is divinely inspired to make Doyle and Frost restrain Nicca so she can make him drink from the magic cup. She gets him to do that, they roll around in Nicca's wings for a while and then...uh, travel through sunlight and butterflies?

...okay, who spiked the magical cup of the Goddess with acid.

Then they drop into a random medival forest. All four of them. Merry, Nicca, Doyle and Frost. Random ass forest. Then somebody talks and they're back in the bedroom. Nicca is himself again. The random posession of the gods took a grand total of four, maybe five pages.

And then Merry describes how pretty Nicca's wing-colors look on her skin, because he shed absolutely everywhere. And her eyes and hair are really, really shiny. And Frost does this:

“You don’t want me, Merry,” Frost said. “I wasn’t born sidhe. I’m not fit consort for a goddess.”

THESE GUYS GLOW DURING SEX WHY IS THIS UNUSUAL.

 Oh, and hello, wasted potential:

“I was never a child, Merry. I was never born. I was a thought, or a thing, a concept if you will . Yes, a concept given life by the gods.

This is Frost speaking. And that would be so cool. Why are we not reading a book about that? (I think it's called American Gods, and it's by a much, much, MUCH better writer, but I digress)

“You can only get godhead once, and you’ve had your turn,” I said. “Now it’s just extra magic that you have to learn to deal with. It’s simply a matter of discipline, practice, and control.”

No. No no no no no no no. Merry's role this entire time has been "What the fuck does that mean?" The boys get to "As you know, Bob," and Merry gets to sit there, be clueless, and ask questions to clarify shit. She does not suddenly get to understand the Magic Vag of Holding when nobody else can hack it. How the fuck does she know you can only get a godhead once? Is there a punchcard inside her labia or something?

And now it's time for Merry and Frost to make out. This chapter needs to end. Why hasn't it ended?

Screaming, clawing, screaming, more screaming, and right about when Merry and Frost are about to insert tabs into slots, Doyle starts screaming and having seizures. His skin splits open and FINALLY the chapter ends.

We've had fifteen chapters of sex. Solid. We've had no plot. We've had random shit thrown at us, but we've had no plot whatsoever.

This is LKH's "good" series. God help me.