R.R. Virdi's Blog, page 5

Author Spotlight with Ben S. Reeder

Author Spotlight
Ben S. Reeder

Author Interview Questions

 

1: Hi, and thanks for joining today. In your own words tell us about yourself, not you the author, but just you!

A: Well, first, I’m a child of the 80s, which really dates me. Born in Hawaii, raised in Texas and lived in Missouri since 1990. I knew when I was young that I wanted to experience a lot of things, and my life has reflected that. I’ve been in the Air Force, worked at a poultry farm, a group home for developmentally disabled adults, as a house painter, at a New Age bookstore (second best job ever), as a massage therapist and in customer service. I’ve also played in the SCA, various LARPs and I’ve been an avid gamer since Basic D&D came in a box with Keep On the Borderlands. I also do a podcast with several of my friends, Geek Fanthology. I have two step-kids and  six grandkids.

2: Why did you decide to become an author and what’s the best part? Yeah, it’s a double-whammy of a question. So unexpected!

A: You sneaky little otter you! Slipping me a double whammy. As to why I decided to become an author. That goes back to my youth. I think I always knew I’d do some sort of storytelling. When other kids were out daydreaming of being famous athletes or rock stars, I was in the backyard creating elaborate settings with action figures and scrap from my dad’s garage, making up stories about epic battles and heroic quests. My mom kept telling me I should write some of it down, and in high school, I started doing just that, penning a pulp style action series I called “Omega Force.” I ended up giving it to one of my friends one day to read, and it ended up going through six other sets of hands with notes at the end telling me to write more. But when my English teacher intercepted the hand-off one day, I think my fate was sealed. He had me come pick it up after school, and told me I was a decent writer, with the potential to be a good one. He kept pushing me to improve my craft all through high school.

The best part about being an author? I get to do what I love for a living, and being an author gives me a level of freedom I’ve never had before. As long as I have a computer and internet access, I can write from anywhere.

3: So, tell us about your work. Sell us on it! Why should we read it and why it will capture us?

A: Ah, The Demon’s Apprentice series, my current primary focus. You should read it because of the characters. Chance is a damaged character struggling for redemption, tough as nails on the outside but vulnerable once you get past his defenses. And the supporting cast in the series is equally fun. His mentor is a wise-cracking rogue wizard, his best friend is a gangly nerd with more guts than common sense, and his girlfriend is an alpha level werewolf. He hangs out with a cambion (half-human, half-succubus) prostitute who knows the mystical underworld like the back of her hand.

The stories are full of action, drama and what has been described as one of the more realistic and understandable magick systems out there. If you cheer for the underdog, if you like your heroes a little dark and your villains even darker, then The Demon’s Apprentice series is for you.

4: Why did you choose the genre you write in over others to start your publishing career? Did others appeal to you more and you chose this? Was there a bit of choice weighing or was it rather simple?

A: I’ve always been a fan of fantasy and urban fantasy, so it made sense that I’d start there. As to how I ended up writing YA, I think the best answer there is “By accident.” The Demon’s Apprentice started as a background story for a character in a role-playing game, but the game and the story in my head went in different directions. So I kept writing the story in my head, and ended up with a novel.

5: So far, what would you say has been the hardest part of being an author?

A: The hardest part about being a full time author is the detail work. Handling finances, taxes and, most importantly, time management. My greatest enemies in the battle against time management? Angry Birds and Fallout 4. Or any pleasant distraction on Facebook.

6: Now for the ever-so-shocking follow-up question. What’s the best/easiest part, if there is one?

A: Conventions! I love being able to hang out with other fans and geeks and sharing that little bubble of space and time where we get to be ourselves unabashedly for three days. Like my readers, I’m a fan. Any time I get to hang out with other fans is a good day.

7: Tell us about what your experiences in the author life have been like. I don’t mean the writing aspects. I mean the daily human life. Tell us what it’s like to live the day life you do and be an author at the same time. What’s it like when people in your life and, the people you come across, find out you’re an author?

A: Being an author full time is a lonely job. I usually spend most of my day at my desk pounding out words or doing research. Some days I’ll grab my laptop and go to one of the local game shops to get something like social interaction. I avoid coffee shops, mostly because I’m not a big coffee drinker but also because that isn’t where my tribe hangs out, as it were.

When people find out I’m a writer, it usually happens in stages. First they find out that I write, then they find out I write full time. Around here, the first reaction is usually polite interest. Then when they find out I do it full time, they act surprised that they’ve never heard of me. Because aren’t all full time writers famous or something?

8: Writing is a hard craft and a harder career. What are the things that keep you going, both in improving the craft and enduring the downs/lows of the career?

A: Really, the thing that has buoyed me at every stage of my writing since I first published has always been my readers. Whenever I’ve hit a low spot, it never fails that someone drops me a line to say something nice, or ask me when the next book is coming out so they can get their next fix.

9: What do you love about the genre you write and what others appeal to you?

A: Urban fantasy is very accessible as a genre. It gives a writer the opportunity to take things that are already part of our modern mythology and build their own interpretation into them. So suddenly vampires can be something new and different. Werewolves are sexy. And so on. We’re basically taking myth and retasking it to create completely new stories that cast our favorite monsters and heroes in a new light.

Steampunk is a genre I’ve enjoyed reading, and one I’d love to be able to write well, but it’s also a tough one to get right. It requires, I believe, a level of immersion and dedication to the mindset that isn’t easy to do casually. Of course, I grew up on epic fantasy and sci-fi, so I’d love to do some work in those genres.

10: What can we expect from you next? Tell us about the plans for your series and body of work.

A: The Demon’s Apprentice series, will, of course, continue. I’ve also planned a spinoff series for Lucas after high school, as he continues the fight against the dark aspects of the supernatural. I’m also working on a series I’d like to submit for traditional publication that is post-apocalyptic urban fantasy. In the pipeline, I also have a Weird West steampunk collaboration I’m working on, a portal fantasy I’m about half-way finished with, a couple of superhero stories and a military sci-fi story that are in the early stages of development. And a paranormal dystopian series that I want to do.

11: The writing and publishing world has changed a lot. Self-publishing, small to medium presses popping up, and things like becoming a hybrid between indie pubbing and traditional. What are your thoughts on that? Any predictions on what the future might hold? What would you like to see, both as an author yourself, and, as a consumer/reader?

A: I’m firmly in the hybrid camp. Self-publishing has democratized the field of publishing, allowing writers to release the stories people want to read. And I firmly believe that those writers who persist WILL make it. The publishing industry has begun to favor the independent bookstore once more with the arrival of Amazon on the scene, since smaller businesses can respond faster and more precisely to their local customer base better than a national chain can craft a generic response for all of its stores. Independent bookstores can also do things big stores can’t, like order from certain distributors with different return policies.

Unlike a lot of naysayers, I also think that the publishing industry, while changing, is not going anywhere. In fact, the rise of the self-published author has become an unlooked for blessing to the Big Five, since it allows them to find new talent with less risk, writers who bring with them an established reader base that will only add to the publisher’s efforts. Publishers are already adapting to this.

12: The always done and asked question. Who are your favorite authors? What are you favorite books? What are you reading now? Tell us. Tell us!

A: Let’s see. Jim Butcher is one of my faves for modern authors, and Kim Harrison. I grew up as a fan of Heinlein, Tolkien and Asimov, but one of my favorite lesser known legends of sci-fi is H. Beam Piper, especially his Little Fuzzy books. One of my favorite all time books is Gossamer Axe by Gael Baudino. That one had a strong early influence on me as an aspiring writer, as did Ariel by Steven R Boyett. But the book that turned me into a writer? Dead Beat, by Jim Butcher.

13: I’ve got to know…what’s your favorite word to use. Every author has one. What’s the word you catch yourself using a lot? We’ve all got those as well. What’s your favorite word just to say? Something where you like the way it sounds. What’s your favorite curse worse, if you’ve got one and or use them?

A: My favorite word to find an excuse to use is usually my character’s name. There is something about naming a character in prose that I enjoy. The words I’ve caught myself using and have to eliminate are appeared/looked, was and basically or essentially.

Favorite expletive: Damn. When used properly, it comes off as very English. Understated and therefore perfect to show how deeply screwed things just got.

14: Tell us about your latest release!?

A: Well, not this month, but my last release was Charm School, at the beginning of August. My next release is going to be “In Absentia,” a series of short stories that take place while Chance is away at boarding school.

15: Lastly, where can we find you? Facebook? Twitter? Website? Links to your material. Go on, don’t be shy. Share!

Click on any of the below links to find out about Ben and his work!

A: I’m working on a new website, but for now: www.chancefortunato.com is my primary website.

Amazon Author Profile: https://www.amazon.com/Ben-Reeder

 

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/BenReederAuthor/

 

Twitter: @TheOneTrueBen

Author Bio:
“You ought to write some of this stuff down! You could be a writer!” These are words of wisdom from my mom, and lo and behold, I finally listened.

I’ve been writing since high school, and reading since I could reach the bookshelf. I was born into a military family, spent four years in the Air Force after high school, and books have always been my friends, my escape and my window to other worlds. When I wasn’t exploring other worlds via words, I was exploring some of the more interesting nooks in the real world. I’ve been a gamer since D&D came in a cardboard box, played in the Society for Creative Anachronism on and off for two decades, and worked in everything from video game arcades to poultry farms to a New Age bookstore (best three years of my life).

My own reading tastes run to urban fantasy and the occasional steampunk story.

I love my readers, and extend my thanks to each of you. Every writer owes their success to their fans. Thank you, True Believers.

Uh, motivational thingy?

Am doing a heckin’ wise wake up today. Get your listening tunnels open and on (those are your ears btw, or what you might call your sound funnels) cuz I have a motivates to drop on you!


 


*Let my head clear first though* Ugh burned out author party take over stuff and…teh congestion! *Am loopy on cold meds*


 


Okie. *Clears throat*


 


Why do we do it?


 


Why do we sit and write?


 


The hours are long. Deadlines are tight.


 


Endless worries, self-doubt and no respite.


 


Why do we bleed?


 


Well, because art is something we all need.


 


It’s true.


 


You’re making something only you can see.


 


You’re plucking at thoughts, the obscure, a total mystery.


 


Shaping it, coloring it, bringing it into clarity.


 


You’re making something out of nothing.


 


Not just for the world.


 


But for you.


 


It’s true.


 


And that matters, more than you can ever know.


 


Do you think every person will tell you just how much your work means to them.


 


Those kinds of rewards rarely show.


 


But they’re there.


 


Heck, I’ve had people here tell me my work is their favorite ever.


 


Ever.


 


I can’t believe that.


 


Times I thought I’d hear that?


 


Never.


 


But now…I have.


 


You don’t know what will come of your writing.


 


Some days you’ll struggle to remember why you’re fighting.


 


It’s because it’s something you love.


 


It’s because you’re making art there’ll never be another copy of.


 


It’s something only you can do.


 


Something only you can say and make.


 


That means that dream is only yours to reach.


 


Not for others to take.


 


No one can really stop you.


 


Hard to believe, but it’s true.


 


Write the stories you want to hear.


 


Write the things you love.


 


Because you’ll never know what will come to be.


 


If you write the stories you’d love to see.


 


Yeah, it’ll be hard and will take years.


 


They’ll be days with no reviews, zero sales.


 


You’ll pay in blood, in sweat, and in tears.


 


Some days the only reward’s a bunch of words and tales.


 


But, you love ’em.


 


Others will too.


 


It’s hard to see and believe that when you’re down.


 


When you’re blue.


 


But, give it time.


 


It’s a great equalizer…or something they say.


 


It takes us all a while to pay our dues.


 


Look at your heroes.


 


They’ve had to do it.


 


Take a long walk in their shoes.


 


We’ve all started as zeroes. But, we don’t have to finish as one.


 


But the point is to finish.


 


Each and every piece.


 


To get it out there. To be brave and share.


 


Because I swear to you, if you do that, you’ll find you fans, the people that care.


 


There’s a whole world out their of wonderful people ready to fall in love with your work.


 


To let you know it means something to them. Maybe the world.


 


It’s not an easy path, and it sure as heck won’t always be fair.


 


But, it’s the one you’ve chosen, and awesome things can happen…


 


If you but dare.


 


So, the choice is really yours. And I’m trying to help prove it true.


 


That, if you sit your butt down and write, there’s really nothing can you can’t do.


 


I mean, look at me.


 


I’ve been bumbling forward without a clue.


 


Things are turning out alright. Heck, I just launched book three!


 


I don’t really have the answers. I just write.


 


But sometimes, that’s all you really have to do.


 


*Showers motivates on all the people*


 


You get a motivation. You get a motivation. You get a motivation. You get a motivation…and a breath mint…it’s morning…why you no brush? That’s disgusting… Go brush your teeth.


 


This has been a R.R. Virdi thingymabob!

Author Spotlight Frank Morin

Author Spotlight
Frank Morin

Author Interview Questions

1: Hi, and thanks for joining today. In your own words tell us about yourself, not you the author, but just you!

A: I’m an avid outdoor enthusiast, a devoted family man, and my life is guided by my faith. I try to smile as often as possible, and I am a firm believer that ice cream is one of the best medicines ever invented.

2: Why did you decide to become an author and what’s the best part? Yeah, it’s a double-whammy of a question. So unexpected!

A: I’m a storyteller. I love good stories, and I see the world and people as an immense library of stories I haven’t yet experienced. If I lived in earlier times, I’d probably be a minstrel (although my family will attest to how badly I sing – so maybe just a roving storyteller). I tell stories that I love to read, and I’m my own biggest fan.

The best part about writing is connecting with people. I love knowing that my stories make a positive impact, even if it’s just to entertain or help someone forget about a difficult day.

3: So, tell us about your work. Sell us on it! Why should we read it and why it will capture us?

A: I write big, exciting stories, with lots of action and big casts of unique characters, who I push to the uttermost limits. I write YA fantasy and sci-fi/fantasy time travel thrillers.

My YA fantasy series is Big Magic, Big Adventure, and Lots of Humor. It’s growing in popularity, and it’s a blast to read. Book three in the series – No Stone Unturned – is already out as an ebook, and we’re holding the launch party for the paperback and hardcover release on Friday, December 16th.

For my time travel thrillers, think Mission Impossible meets Assassin’s Creed. These are world-spanning adventures that travel back in time with shadowy groups fueled by soul-based powers, who battle for control over pivotal moments in history in order to command the power necessary to reshape the future. Sarah is the strong female lead, supported by a deep cast of unique characters. History is not what the books claim it is, and I love exploring history, then giving it a twist. Many fascinating historical characters are woven into the books. Spartacus is my favorite, and there’s a reason his body was never found.

4: Why did you choose the genre you write in over others to start your publishing career? Did others appeal to you more and you chose this? Was there a bit of choice weighing or was it rather simple?

A: Many genres fascinate me, and I have also begun an epic fantasy series, which I hope to begin releasing next year. I decided to go YA first and release Set in Stone, book one of The Petralist because it’s such an exciting and fun read. People love the humor and they are fascinated by the complex, unique magic system based on rocks. Pure fun.

5: So far, what would you say has been the hardest part of being an author?

A: It’s tough balancing all the different demands on my time, and like many new authors, I was shocked by how much work needs to be done, even after completing a solid first draft. Now that I’ve released six novels, I’m getting the hang of it, and the challenge is to manage my time, wear all the different hats I need to, without losing my focus on writing great stories and loving the process.

6: Now for the ever-so-shocking follow-up question. What’s the best/easiest part, if there is one?

A: I love holding my books in my hand. There’s a magic moment when the first book arrives in the mail and I open the box. Readers love books, but only authors understand how much that book really cost, or how much of a victory it is to see it in print. Besides that, I love talking with readers about my stories, learning about how they touched lives, and laughing over our favorite jokes or most powerful moments.

7: Tell us about what your experiences in the author life have been like. I don’t mean the writing aspects. I mean the daily human life. Tell us what it’s like to live the day life you do and be an author at the same time. What’s it like when people in your life and, the people you come across, find out you’re an author?

A: Many new writers get discouraged when they learn that writing is actually a job – as in, some days it’s hard to sit down and get to work. People love the concept of a mystical Muse hovering over their shoulder, whispering deeper truths that they as the Artist are privileged to write. Some author struggle with the fact that some days, the Muse doesn’t want to focus. Reality is, if the Muse isn’t working, she’s fired. I write every day, and writers must develop a ton of self-discipline or they’ll never get anything done.

With that said, I love being a writer! Balancing my writing with my day job is a challenge, but I’ve been writing for about a dozen years, so I’m getting pretty good at that balancing act. On days when I get discouraged, I remind myself that if I wasn’t writing, I’d have to be working at some other job, and why would I want to do that when I love what I do so much?

The other big challenge is learning to turn it off, to focus on family, church, or whatever else. It’s all too easy to become a workaholic or lose touch with the people around me that I love the most. Gotta find that balance.

8: Writing is a hard craft and a harder career. What are the things that keep you going, both in improving the craft and enduring the downs/lows of the career?

A: You’re right. It can be tough. It’s a journey, so I try to take the long-term view. Like any career, it takes years to become an acknowledged expert. When I get discouraged, I remind myself that if I was trying to become a lawyer or a doctor or an engineer, I’d be investing at least 8 years and hundreds of thousands of dollars in getting started. As a writer, I need to be willing to invest just as much – in thousands of hours of writing, in perhaps millions of words of practice and first drafts that may just get thrown away in order to rewrite yet again.

But a good story is worth it. Writing and sacrificing and bleeding our souls onto the page is worthless if we’re not willing to do the work to rewrite, edit, polish, and produce professional-quality products that readers can enjoy.

9: What do you love about the genre you write and what others appeal to you?

A: I write more fantasy than anything, and I love its flexibility, breadth, and scope. I can explore deep and meaningful topics with fantasy that might be difficult in other genres. Fantasy, and fiction in general, allow us to go where ‘reality’ might be too painful, to discuss topics that should be discussed, in ways that are fun and engaging. Some readers don’t get the deeper meanings of stories, and that’s fine – the story must first and foremost entertain. If we can do more than that, all the better.

For example, in my YA fantasy series, readers love the magic, the amazing adventures, the cool characters, and the ever-present humor. But I also get to explore questions of loyalty, among other things. I have characters who must face off across battlefields against people they respect or even love, who happen to live on the other side of a political boundary and are therefore classified as enemies. I have characters who must decide which loyalty trumps others. Is it loyalty to family, to community, to nation, or to the one you love? And what happens when those conflict? Or if someone you care about is driven by their loyalties to make choices that place them in opposition?

In my time travel thrillers – The Facetakers – the series is named after a group who have the ability to extract human souls by pulling their faces off. They can then place those souls in other bodies. So I get to explore all sorts of fascinating aspects of identity, body image, and questions of what makes a person who they are. It’s a lot of fun.

10: What can we expect from you next? Tell us about the plans for your series and body of work.

A: Now that No Stone Unturned is released, I’ll be focusing on releasing the final novel in my Facetakers series early in 2017. It’s going to be awesome – with the threat of a new world war, while also traveling back to ancient China and ancient Egypt.

Next year, I’ll be working on writing drafts of all three of the remaining Petralist novels. The story line is growing very complex, with lots of epic and humorous adventures still to come.  I plan to release at least one more of those novels next year, with the last two following as closely behind as possible. I’ll probably release some short stories and/or novellas set in that same world.

I hope to begin releasing novels in my epic fantasy series as well, and who knows what else? Should be a really good year!

11: The writing and publishing world has changed a lot. Self-publishing, small to medium presses popping up, and things like becoming a hybrid between indie pubbing and traditional. What are your thoughts on that? Any predictions on what the future might hold? What would you like to see, both as an author yourself, and, as a consumer/reader?

A: I think the only thing we can say for sure is that the publishing industry is undergoing fundamental changes. So I expect to see the market continue to evolve, and hope to be a part of whatever shape it ends up in.

The great thing about today’s world is that anyone can publish a book. The biggest challenge about today’s world is that anyone can publish a book. There’s a daunting percentage of self-published books out there that are honestly terrible. Or more accurately – not yet complete.

New writers sometimes begin releasing novels before they’re ready, without investing in editing, rewriting, and other aspects of producing a polished, professional product. I hope that tendency wanes and more new writers make the transition to professional quality, but how we’ll get there, I’m not sure.

I love being an indy author, although even as prepared as I was to jump into this world, I’ve been a little overwhelmed at times by how many hats we have to wear. I’d be happy to sign the right deal with a traditional publisher for some of my next books and become a hybrid author. I think there are pros and cons to every approach, but I think that route is perhaps the best option ultimately.

12: The always done and asked question. Who are your favorite authors? What are you favorite books? What are you reading now? Tell us. Tell us!

A: I love to read! I wish I had more time to read for pleasure. Current favorite authors include Brandon Sanderson, Larry Correia, and Jim butcher. I also know a ton of new writers, and am eager to pick up some of their books over the holidays. Near the top of the list is Grave Beginnings (Yup – shameless plug for your books – can’t wait to read them!)

13: I’ve got to know…what’s your favorite word to use. Every author has one. What’s the word you catch yourself using a lot? We’ve all got those as well. What’s your favorite word just to say? Something where you like the way it sounds. What’s your favorite curse worse, if you’ve got one and or use them?

A: I think I over-use the word Awesome, although I try to limit that in my writing. I’ve caught myself using quite a few words too much, but I think I’m getting better at catching those errors.

I tend to avoid cursing, as I see too many people use that as a crutch. I prefer laughing at myself and the craziness life tends to throw at us. I find it keeps me more positive than cursing or crying would.

14: Lastly, where can we find you? Facebook? Twitter? Website? Links to your material. Go on, don’t be shy. Share!

A: I’m pretty much everywhere (in a non-creepy way).

My website is www.frankmorin.org and it’s got a lot of cool materials including my newsletter sign-up page, my books, blog, and large gallery of cool photos I’ve gathered.

I’m also on Amazon at https://www.amazon.com/Frank-Morin/e/B00LYQCQH4 and you can find all my books there. Most of my novels are on sale as ebooks right now, so it’s a great time to try them out.

And my books are on Nook, Kobo, iTunes, and all the other retailer sites.

My Facebook page is: https://www.facebook.com/authorfrankmorin

On Twitter, I’m @MorinWrites

My newsletter sign-up page is: http://smarturl.it/f704r6

Thanks for having me on, Ronnie. It’s been a pleasure!

Frank

 

Author bio:
Frank Morin loves good stories in every form.  When not writing or trying to keep up with his active family, he’s often found hiking, camping, Scuba diving, or traveling to research new books.  Frank lives in Oregon with his lovely wife and four kids, who are all brutal critics, but die-hard fans. For updates on his sci-fi time travel thrillers, his popular YA fantasy novels, or other upcoming book releases, check his website:  www.frankmorin.org

 

Author Spotlight E.A. Copen

Author Spotlight
E.A. Copen

Author Interview Questions.

1: Hi, and thanks for joining today. In your own words tell us about yourself, not you the author, but just you!

A: Hi! I’m afraid I’m not that interesting. I’m a mom of three, a big movie buff, and an active member of the Society for Creative Anachronisms, which is a historical re-creationist group.

2: Why did you decide to become an author and what’s the best part? Yeah, it’s a double-whammy of a question. So unexpected!

A: I became an author after failing at a lot of other things first. I published some poetry when I was 7 and got selected to go to a young writer’s retreat. The guest author was Brian Selznick who wrote a book called The Houdini Box, which is about a kid who met Harry Houdini and became a magician himself. After trying to become a magician and failing, I thought maybe I just loved stories and pursued my next obsession, which became film. I flunked out of film school after figuring out I hated it and spent a long time working retail, trying to figure out where I went wrong. All that time, I never stopped writing. In college, I fell into a creative writing workshop to fill an empty slot. I literally added it last minute because nothing else was open. The class changed everything for me and the professor convinced me to change my major to creative writing. I proceeded to hate every minute of it but finished out, convinced I was going to go to grad school and become a professor. That didn’t happen and I almost gave up after receiving a number of rejections. I only decided to self-publish as a sort of dare to myself. I was seeing other people do it and thought, if they can do it, so can I. What’ve I got left to lose?

Publishing was the best decision of my life. And the best part of it has been the people you met. Other authors, fans…It’s like walking into a new world. Really changed my outlook on life.

3: So, tell us about your work. Sell us on it! Why should we read it (for those of us that haven’t,

Author Spotlight K.M. Vanderbilt

Author Spotlight

K.M. Vanderbilt

1: Hi, and thanks for joining today. In your own words tell us about yourself, not you the author, but just you!

A: Hello. Thank you for having me. I classify myself as Kay, meat suit wearing Lizard Queen. I like bad puns and good coffee.

2: Why did you decide to become an author and what’s the best part? Yeah, it’s a double-whammy of a question. So unexpected!

A: Uh…do people decide those things? I just kind of started telling stories as soon as I could speak, writing them when I could halfway spell. Somewhere along the way, I had a book for sale. I mean…is that a decision? I didn’t choose the writing life; it chose me. As for the best part, I think that’s really dependent upon the alignment of the planets. Some days, it’s…retrograde or whatever, and nothing is appealing about it, but the need drives me anyway. Other days, it’s all fun. Words. Words, everywhere. Characters that are more real than me. Wait…am I real? Adenoids. The meat suit is malfunctioning.

3: So, tell us about your work. Sell us on it! Why should we read it (for those of us that haven’t,

Dangerous Ways ARC Chapter Six

The following is copyrighted material. It is an ARC (uncorrected proof and not representative of the final—published version) if you like this chapter please support the release and thunderclap campaign. The links will be at the end of the chapter reveal. Thank you so very much for your support.

If you haven’t read the first five chapters, please read the blog posts prior to this one. Ty for taking the time to read my upcoming work. Let me know what you think so far.

Dangerous Ways

 

The Books of Winter: Book One

 

R.R. Virdi

 

Copyright R.R. Virdi 2016

 

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

 

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

***

Chapter Six

Dropping into the domain of one of the freestanding lords of the Neravene is never a good idea. In fact, it’s a dangerous one. It’s something that should not be done. But, if it cannot be helped, falling in uninvited during a meal is the worst timing imaginable.

We interrupted one, it seemed.

The hall of the Grand Marquis looked to be made from dark cobalt. It was a grim cathedral in which everything was a shade like late-night skies. A gradient ranging from near-black to navy. The color of space and blue moons.

The floor was a single piece of similarly colored stone. A few long cracks stood out. On either side of the courtroom were four statues that dwarfed the trolls from earlier. They stood sixteen feet in height with faces like bats, armored in intricate metalwork and hefting halberds. Their shields alone could flatten us, given the chance. Fortunately, unlike the last pieces of stonework we’d come across, they were completely immobile.

The room was lit solely by the efforts of three circular windows with metal bars running between them, giving each window the look of a Victorian clock face. Blue light tinged with white illuminated the small and utterly pointless set of stairs in the center, near the back of the room. Carpeted in shimmering white with gold dust sprinkled over the material, it went up the length of steps to the foot of the throne atop. Another set of stairs continued past the throne, devoid of carpeting, running up to a singular set of double doors.

I gave the doors little attention. That was held by the figure sitting on the throne, watching us in amusement.

“Well, well,” he said in a crisp, eloquent tone that was almost musical. His slender, almost fragile-looking hands, gripped the armrests at the side of his throne. He rose to his feet. At first glance, his height would have appeared a trick given his position atop the stairs. It was no trick.

He stood at seven feet, fair skinned, and dressed in a one-piece robe of black hemmed with gold. The Grand Marquis’ features were lean and angular. It would be fair to say he was more beautiful than handsome.

His eyes were sharp discs of green agate, gleaming with equal parts intelligence and cunning. Threads of pure silver fell to his waist unbound. His ears were long and tapered.

“It has been a long time since these halls have entertained one of the Timeless. Particularly you, Jonathan Hawthorne.” He made the slightest of bows while plucking a piece of papaya from a bowl near the throne.

“Holy Legolas,” breathed Cassie.

I gave her a quick look before mirroring the Grand Marquis’ bow. “Thank you, and a pleasure as always, my host.” I placed particular emphasis on the last word.

He arched an eyebrow, watching me out of the corners of his eyes as he turned to take a bite of the fruit. “Host? Curious. Am I your host? Interesting choice of words for one trespassing in my domain.”

Technically, he was right. But elves were tricky, masters of wordplay, and appreciated cleverness. “I believe your exact words were, ‘entertained one of the Timeless,’ Grand Marquis.”

He blinked, then repeated the action, even pausing from taking another bite of the fruit. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

I nodded, but didn’t say anything further. I had used a technicality in a slip up and capitalized on it. All of it was fine as far as a race like the elves were concerned, save for one point. I had implied the Marquis made a mistake. And he was aware of it. He wasn’t the kind to let something like that go.

His voice dropped from melodious to flat. “You also maimed several of my sentries.”

“They didn’t leave us much choice. They’re alive.”

His eyes flashed before returning to softer greens. “They protect my domain. I believe they were performing their duties, but I am grateful you managed to impose upon my meal without killing my gargoyles.”

He cradled his forehead in one hand in a gesture I suspected was more dramatic than necessary. With his other hand, he returned the half-eaten fruit to the bowl, and scooped up a goblet fashioned out of moonbeams. That was the only way to describe it—pure white, glistening and solid.

He took a long, draining sip. Whatever it the contents, it caused his eyelids to flutter. A pleased moan escaped his lips as he placed the goblet down. “Well, it seems I have guests to entertain.” In a blur of motion, he clapped once. It was a gentle tone that, nevertheless, managed to ring throughout the hall. “Will you join me for bite?”

Cassie leaned in, cupping a hand to her mouth and whispered, “Elves don’t eat people, right?”

I tried to move my mouth as little as possible. “No, they don’t.”

She exhaled in relief. “Whew. Heck, yeah. I’m down to eat.”

The Grand Marquis turned to regard Cassie seeming like he had just noticed her. He gazed at her for a moment, and I could tell he was taking in every detail, calculating and filing it away. I hoped his observations ended at the physical. If he came to realize what she was capable of, things could turn in an instant.

Elves seemed to step out of the shadows, coming to form a neat row on either side of us. It was baffling trying to discern one elf from another. Their appearances were so similar. The fact they wore the same red flowing cloaks did not help.

Both rows of elves converged in on us a step at a time, moving with more grace in each step than some dancers performed in an entire routine. It was eerie seeing that many elves move towards us at such a leisured pace.

“They will see to your needs—baths and clothing.”

Cassie’s eyes went wide with pleasure and hunger.

I raised an eyebrow. “With all due respect, Grand Marquis, baths? Clothing? We did so before coming here and are sufficiently clothed, as you can see.” I pulled the collar of my coat.

His lips spread into a thin smile. “Indeed. But what sort of host would I be if I didn’t tend to my guests to the best of my capacity?” The smile grew.

Tricky bastard. Yes, the bath and clothes sounded nice. It was also a chance for his retainers to strip search us and remove our weapons, as well as the other objects we carried.

“Thank you for the offer, kind host. If the members of your court would be so kind as to show us to where we can bathe, we will handle the rest.”

“Nonsense.” A maniacal light filled his eyes. “I would appear a poor host. Word would spread, and we can’t have that.”

No, we couldn’t. He was right. Shunning the offer of a freestanding lord, or worse, a larger and more powerful one, could have terrible repercussions. Least of which would be the offense of refusing a gracious offer. It’s a stain on their name.

Respect is important to the beings of the Neravene. To its lords and ladies, it’s the foundation upon which their domains are built. As well as power and fear. Being liked is optional.

The elves stood a step from me, taking my arms in their hands as they ushered me away. They led Cassie in another direction. I put my foot down. “No, wait.”

“Hey, I don’t know about you, but I could use another bath. I just got these threads”—she tugged the collar of her t-shirt—“and they’re already covered in sweat. Keeping the shoes though.” She kicked the floor. The sole of the shoe skidded with an audible squeak.

“I would appreciate it if our host did not separate us, even for bathing.”

The corner of the Marquis’ lip quirked. “Oh?”

Cassie voiced her thoughts a bit louder. “Wow, things are moving so fast. We met on a snowy night and fell through a Way together. You saved my life. I saved yours. Now we’re showering together.” She fanned herself with a hand, “Things are getting intense. I don’t know if I’m ready for them.”

I almost growled, but instead, my spine turned to brittle ice. I hoped her comment about our tumble through the Ways went unnoticed by the Grand Marquis. I had figured out why she was being hunted. I didn’t need others knowing, especially a lord of the Neravene, no matter how small he was.

He was intelligent, cunning, and could be treacherous. Not a good combination for us. But I needed him, or rather, his knowledge. He had many ears in many places. Elves were wonderful scouts and sleuths.

“She’s coming with me, at least somewhere close enough to keep an eye on, and definitely within earshot.”

“It almost sounds like you do not trust me, or my word, Hawthorne.” There was a dangerous undertone in that statement.

I had good reason not to trust him. But necessity outweighed my comfort and faith in his word. He had accepted his role as host. That limited any hostile action he could take against us. With elves, loopholes were everywhere, waiting to be taken advantage of.

I stared at him without blinking. He relented.

His features sank in disappointment, an act if I ever saw one. He didn’t care in the slightest. Separating us wasn’t his primary concern.

“Very well. Together then.” He waved a dismissive hand.

The elves escorting Cassie turned on their heels in an almost mechanical fashion. They marched her over to me, and together, both groups of elves led us down a rather bleak corridor. Our escorts took us past a set of curtains woven out of strands of starlight. We came into a room larger than most taverns. The floor was made of a low-cut purple grass. At either corner of the room was a recessed pit walled in stone. Steam billowed from it.

Cassie released a light, excited moan. “Elvish hot tubs? Nice.”

The groups split, leading me to the bath on the right, pulling Cassie to the left. Two elven women took hold of my clothes, wrestling to remove my jacket. Most men wouldn’t have resisted. Elven beauty was legendary, and these women lived up to it. But we had also dropped unceremoniously into the domain of a lord of the Neravene while armed.

That’s an action that can lead to swift execution in some domains. In others, notably the Marquis’, that’s death after lengthy torture.

So I resisted their efforts to strip me, shooing them away and opting to remove my own clothes. Before leaving, the women waved their hands horizontally in unison. A curtain of glistening, white thread appeared. An illusion, I wagered. A good one. At least I had some privacy.

Cassie had been afforded a similar treatment. A curtain was drawn around the area of her bath, leaving only shadows.

I shrugged out of my jacket, letting it fall to the floor with everything I carried inside. My shirt didn’t want to leave my body. It clung to my skin from the sweat. I slipped out of it, breaking two of the buttons in the process, and threw it towards my coat. My jeans and boots landed atop them, along with my saber. I used my foot to nudge them nearer to the piping hot water.

I wasn’t paranoid, but the closer my saber and coat remained to me—in arm’s reach preferably—the better. But, when dealing with elves, paranoia was a useful trait to have.

“Hey!” Cassie’s shadow flailed as several elves fought to restrain her.

My hand shot out to yank the curtain and rush to her aid.

She kicked out, trying to hit a shadow walking away with her folded clothes. “Not the shoes!”

I stopped, shaking my head and turning back. The bath was a welcoming thing. Two issues prevented me from being completely at ease: I was in a small, enclosed place, and stripped bare. Not ideal if I had to defend myself.

Maybe I am overly paranoid. I could use the bath.

Heat came off in waves, washing over me and easing my aches. A bath had never seemed so tempting. I fell into it, and the promise of relief was delivered. A low, long groan left my throat as every muscle loosened. The warmth felt like it was sloughing away my fatigue and problems.

A whisking sound drew my attention and I turned to its source. The curtain peeled back and an elven woman stood there in a robe that clung to her in all the right places. It left little to the imagination.

“I’m fine, thank you.” I turned my head, dipping my hands into the water and cupping them. I brought a handful of water to my face and scrubbed.

Petals fell into the pool, and my heart rate sped up. They hit the water, spreading across the surface. A sweet, fruit-like aroma hit my nose.

“Thank you.” I made my voice lower and harsher, hoping she would get the message.

“My lord expressed his desire to see you tended to.” Her voice was like listening to a symphony of wind instruments. It was a light and airy thing, soothing to hear. A voice that promised many things.

I knew why she had come. Red flashed, flying past my vision as her robe joined my clothes. I sucked in a breath. She was every bit as pleasant to look at as her robe had promised. I shut my eyes and held my breath.

I am a member of the Timeless. I’m better than this. I’m supposed to be better than this.

I rattled off numbers in my head, counting by odds only, focusing solely on that task. You’re only human, countered another voice inside my skull. I wanted to shut the voice down, but it was right. Long life aside, I was mortal, and the Grand Marquis knew it.

Something disturbed the water and I had a good idea what. The temperature increased. Maybe not in reality, but it might as well have. I felt a gentle touch along my chin and jaw.

When I opened my eyes, I found her thumb pressed against my jaw as her index finger stroked my chin. My heart beat like a fist-sized drum lodged in the side of my throat. Her lips turned up at the corners, giving me a smile that promised something far more wicked and satisfying than sharing a warm bath.

“Leave.” My voice came out lower and rougher than I intended.

It did nothing to deter her. She cradled my chin between her fingers.

I folded my hand over hers, intending to push her away, but something kept me from following through. “Leave.”

Elves had issues understanding English at times. It was evident when she pushed her body against me, entwining her leg around mine. She leaned closer and whispered into my ear, “But you don’t want me to.”

My body didn’t. My mind knew better. I pushed her hand from my chin. My voice took a sharpened edge. “No, but you’re going to anyway.”

“Why?”

“Because, I’m mortal. I’m tempted.”

Her eyes smoldered.

“But I’m not stupid.”

The fire in her eyes died, and the smile followed.

“Temptation is like a knife, and a knife cuts best when you don’t see it coming. When you’re looking into their eyes, watching them smile, holding you close, they’re looking for the soft spot in your back. That’s when they drive the blade home. I don’t want you slipping a knife into my back.” I gave her a thin smile.

She made no response, becoming a frozen statue. An attractive, nude, unblinking statue. The earlier heat in her eyes was replaced with a cold, electric look.

My imagined temperature spike plummeted.

“My lord gave you his word of safe conduct.”

“Actually, he didn’t. He acknowledged his role as host and the duties pertaining to it.” I made sure to point to Cassie’s shadow, now standing alone behind her curtain. “However, I don’t recall the Grand Marquis saying that he offered us safe conduct, did you? One does not equal the other, especially in the Neravene.”

Her eyes narrowed to slits, and I did my best to not visibly tense. She turned in one swift motion, leaving without bothering to grab her robe. Her hips swayed as she walked, giving me a great view of her backside. A gesture to make sure I knew what I was missing, no doubt.

Watching her go, I had to agree. My body was missing out. The muscles along my spine tightened for a moment, but my regrets vanished with the sensation.

Sex is never worth a knife in the back. Not even elven sex.

When she left the room, I faced Cassie’s shadow. “How much did you see? Hear?”

She said nothing for a half a minute. “All of it. Kind of hard not to.” Cassie made a choking sound like she had cut her self off from speaking. After another pause, she asked, “So why didn’t you?”

“Weren’t you listening?”

“Yeah, of course. Still, most guys in your position would have bow-chicka-wow-wowed all over that.”

I was certain she couldn’t see or feel my stare from behind two sets of curtains. I tried to make sure she could anyway. “I’m fairly certain bow-chicka-wow-wowed is not a set of words or a verb.”

“Pssh. Is now.”

I ignored the comment. “You heard my reasons. I don’t trust any of them.”

“You brought us here.”

“For information, yes, but that was borne out of necessity. We need information. We do not need that.”

“Everybody could use some of that every now and again. I know it’s been a while since I’ve—”

“I can do without knowing that.”

“You’re such a child for someone so old.”

My teeth ground against each other.

“But yeah, I’m not arguing, just giving you a hard time…like she did.”

The pressure in my jaw grew.

“Good choice, though. I’d high five ya if I were there. Ourselves before elves. Duty before booty.”

I wondered if the entirety of my long life was an extended form of punishment destined to culminate in these final, excruciating moments. “Please, stop.”

She feigned an irritated scoff, but stopped with the terrible humor. “Okay, serious time now. You really think they’re going to backstab us?”

“It’s possible. Next lesson in the supernatural: elves are famed for their deception, being too clever for their own good, as well as ours. They’re cunning. They’re not all the benevolent beings portrayed in novels. Some are; some aren’t. The Marquis and his kind are most certainly untrustworthy, but they’re knowledgeable and that’s useful. In this world, Cassidy, knowledge is power. The more you know, the more you can use and do to protect yourself and hurt the supernatural if necessary. Remember that.”

She gave no verbal reply, but her shadow nodded in understanding.

“I don’t want to taint your view of this world, but…”

“I’ve been chased by trolls, gargoyles, plants, and now I’m surrounded by sneaky elves. I’d say my view’s pretty tainted.”

“There are still many wonderful and amazing things to see and be a part of in this world, Cassie. If we figure all of this out, I promise to show you some of them.”

“That sounds nicer than what I’ve seen so far. But for the here and now, we’ve got to get out there and deal with this situation. We can’t sit in here forever.”

“A part of me would like to. It’s nice.”

“Yeah,” she said. “I just want to find out why this is happening to me. If this guy can tell me, then fine. I’ll play along.”

The temperature dipped in my tub. Cassie was ten feet from me, wanting answers, ones that I had. I didn’t have a chance to share them with her when the gargoyles came after us, but I did now. And there was no reason not to share them. Except for the fact that I had no idea how she would react. She was scared, and for good reason.

Just because people say they want to know things, it doesn’t mean deep down they want to hear the words and reasons. Just because they say they can handle it, doesn’t mean they can. Just because you know a terrible truth, doesn’t mean you should share it.

But she did deserve it. So I told her.

“I don’t know all of it, Cassie. I wish I did, but I’ve pieced some of it together. Do you want to hear it?”

Her figure went still behind the curtain. “Yes, and no. I mean, yeah, I’d love to know why I’ve got a bull’s-eye painted on my back. I just don’t know if I’m going to like the answer.” Her voice was soft and weak.

“You won’t.” I could almost hear her breathing deepen. “Think of the networks of roads connecting a country—America, for example. They intersect, weave together to form something greater. There are so many of them, all individual yet crossing each other’s paths, leading to new places. All of them have their own set of rules, different speed limits, lanes and more. The Neravene is like that in many regards, except you can’t break its rules and make it up later. There are no accidents or tickets. The laws are like the laws of the universe, of science—resolute—unbreakable. You don’t break the rules of the Neravene, Cassie. You can’t.”

“I’m sensing a but…”

“But you can. You shouldn’t be able to, but you can. You can. And I don’t know why or how, but I understand the importance behind it and the danger.”

“Danger?”

“Cassie, think about it. The Neravene is a network of paths leading to the domains of powerful creatures, kingdoms, empires, and who knows what else. Things forgotten by time, and some things I wish were forgotten. Cassie, there are gods out there, and I’m rather glad that I have not and cannot come across them.” I stopped and took a breath.

“But you can.” I stared in her direction.

“Those places have their own protection to stop people and other beings from plopping in at will. Those Ways have to be opened by someone who knows how, has access, or is invited. It’s a safety thing. In a world of worlds that is technically always at war—some part always is with another—imagine how dangerous your ability can be. There are small lords and ladies fighting for power and dominion over one another. Information being taken. Power being taken. Beings come and go. But to do all of that, any of that, you have to get into their domains in the first place. That’s far easier said than done. It’s close to impossible with armies, and takes decades upon decades, Cassie. You can do it in an instant.”

There was a sharp inhale of air and her breathing stopped.

“The only way I managed to get us here is because of my personal history with the Marquis and a natural occurrence in the Ways that I capitalized on. That was within the rules. In the short time I’ve known you, you’ve opened Ways with no regard for the limits, unhampered by them. Think what that means for the beings in the Neravene.”

She didn’t make a sound, but I could hear imaginary gears clicking into place. She was putting it together.

I dropped the final bomb and felt like my insides were being gnawed for doing so. “Cassie, you are a living gateway to and through the Ways. One with free will and choice. You’re not bound by the rules of the endless number of courts and domains that so many of the creatures have to abide by. You could turn the tide of a battle in favor of any being in the Neravene. You’re the most valuable asset for power that any of them could have. Imagine being able to open a Way into the heart of your enemy’s domain. To waltz in with your forces and take whatever you wanted. Better, with training, you could open a Way into the personal space of any creature. You could appear a millimeter behind them and be gone in an instant.”

Her shadow was still before, now it had become something else. I’d come across pieces of art that looked like they moved more than her silhouette did at that moment. “Cassie?”

“Yeah?” Her voice was distant, removed.

I felt stupid for asking this. “Are you okay?”

“No.” One single word, yet so much weight behind it.

“But you will be.” I made sure my tone was unwavering, doing the best I could to make her believe me.

“Yeah.” Her voice wavered. It was stronger than before, though. Good.

“Let’s get dressed and see what we can get out of the Marquis.”

“What if he’s one of the people after me?”

I kept moving, making it look like the question didn’t give me pause. It did. The possibility never crossed my mind, but it should have. I may as well have been bathing in a pool of ice water. I stepped out, scooping up a folded towel the elves left behind.

Whatever material it was made from, it felt like warm currents of air being pressed against my skin. The water dried within seconds of contact with the towel. I dressed myself, fastening my saber to my jacket, and peeled back the curtain.

Cassie’s shadow gave me hints to her movements. She picked up a folded bundle. Even though I couldn’t see her, I averted my gaze. It felt wrong. After what I told her, she could use as much privacy as she could get.

It’s not an easy thing being told you are essentially a tool for conquest, nothing more. The paranormal world does strange things to you. It’s a terrifying immersion. Being a part of this world is like being submerged under water and held there—a new and distorted world.

In a world of myths and magic, with Cassie slipping between worlds, she needed a reminder that she was human. She needed a lifeline. I hoped I could be it.

“Cassie?”

Her curtain eased back, and she stepped out.

I sucked in a breath.

She wore a kimono that looked like the night sky had been folded and shaped to fit her form perfectly. It was a rich—almost liquid black—shimmering with what looked like sequined motes of light. I narrowed my eyes and realized they weren’t sequins, but small weavings of magic that caught and reflected the incoming light. Under a full moon, I imagined it would give off a beautiful pale glow. Now clean, and wearing that outfit, it was difficult not to admit how attractive she was.

“So, whaddya think?”

“You look great, Cassie.”

She smiled when I said it. She spun in place, and I saw a flash of bright turquoise.

“Are you…still wearing the sneakers?”

“Heck, yeah. You think I’m letting someone take my kicks?” Cassie slid her foot back, brushing the heel against the stone floor, eliciting a rubbery squeak. “Plus, they took my old clothes. I’m not letting them take these.”

There was something in the way she said it that tugged at my chest. She had lost a lot over such a short time—her place in the world, her home. At this point—even clothes meant a lot to her.

“We’ll get you new ones that are just as flashy, over the top, and ostentatious.” I grinned, and she returned it.

“I figured another reason to hang on to them would be in case we need to bolt. I’m not a fan of running in these.” She held up a pair of traditional Geta, Japanese sandals.

“Good idea.” I held out my hand. “So, Cassidy Winters, are you ready to be formally introduced to the Grand Marquis?”

She took my hand, intertwining her fingers with mine.

I pulled her a step closer, and we locked arms at the elbow.

“Yeah, I am, and hopefully we’ll get some more answers.”

“Then let’s go to dinner.”

“So long as we’re not on the menu,” she muttered.

Like that and want more? Here are some things you can do to ensure I keep writing and publishing things like this.

If you like what you read, here’s a link to the pre-order < that to be taken to the page.

And, here’s the link to the ongoing thunderclap page < Please support this, it’s free and will help launch the book. If you like my site and what I have to share, please consider subscribing. There’s an option in the top right of the website as well as under the Become A Minion tab. Thank you so very much.

Author Spotlight J.D. Cunegan

Author Spotlight.

J.D. Cunegan

Alrighty folks, today I’m starting a new thing on my blog. Author spotlights where I interview and share with you all authors coming across my way that I feel you should know about. Today, author J.D. Cunegan of the Jill Anderson Series.

1: Hi, and thanks for joining today. In your own words tell us about yourself, not you the author, but just you!



A: I’m an avid reader, first and foremost. I wasn’t always, but as I’ve gotten older and I’ve learned to take better care of my free time, I find myself turning more and more to books. It used to be that if it wasn’t a comic book, I wasn’t interested… but now I’m reading fiction, non-fiction, biographies, comic books… you name it. When I’m not burying my face in a book or staring at a manuscript, I’m an avid sports fan – specifically baseball, hockey, and auto racing. I attend four to five NASCAR races every year, and next to writing, that’s my big passion in life. I’m not currently employed full-time, but I have a background in journalism and media relations. Also, on top of being a self-published author, I am a freelance manuscript editor.



2: Why did you decide to become an author and what’s the best part? Yeah, it’s a double-whammy of a question. So unexpected!



A: Well, when I was in middle school, I discovered comic books… and it wasn’t just a case of discovering a new hobby. Once I started reading them, I began entertaining the idea of creating my own. Writing them, drawing them… I was at one point intent on being a comic book creator. But I wound up being a much better writer than artist, so eventually, my comic book scripts slowly morphed into prose stories – to the point where I’m now far more comfortable writing a short story or a novel than I am trying to knock out a comic book or graphic novel script.

The best part of it is the control and the escapism: the fact that I can let myself get lost in this fictional universe (which I can also do when reading), only when I’m writing, that escapism is met with the control that comes with having created a fictional world and its inhabitants. That control isn’t all-consuming – my characters do occasionally wander off on their own – but it’s not unlike when I would dump out a bin full of Lego blocks as a kid, knowing that I could build practically anything.



3: So, tell us about your work. Sell us on it! Why should we read it (for those of us that haven’t,

Dangerous Ways Paperback

Dreams Come True!

Dangerous Ways ARC Chapter Five

The following is copyrighted material. It is an ARC (uncorrected proof and not representative of the final—published version) if you like this chapter please support the release and thunderclap campaign. The links will be at the end of the chapter reveal. Thank you so very much for your support.

If you haven’t read Chapter one, two, three, and four, please read the blog posts prior to this one. Ty for taking the time to read my upcoming work. Let me know what you think so far.

Dangerous Ways

 

The Books of Winter: Book One

 

R.R. Virdi

 

Copyright R.R. Virdi 2016

 

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

 

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

***

Chapter Five

There is no one single experience or sensation that can define going through one of the Ways. Each is different, and leads to equally different places.

My body tightened in response to the sensation of freefalling. Hairs stood on end, and air buffeted me. A light tingle coursed over the entirety of my skin. And then the currents of air were gone. A soft jolt rolled up my legs, stopping at the knees. I blinked. We were on the ground. “Cassie, are you okay?”

She panted, doubled over, hands resting on her thighs. “You…douche biscuit!” Straightening up with startling speed, she lunged at me, flailing her arms.

I clapped my hands toward her face, causing her to blink and stumble in surprise. My body shifted as she staggered by. One of her hands clipped my arm.

“Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not okay!” She was still breathing heavy. “You pushed me through a…” She trailed off when she saw what I had.

We stood in a field of purple grass, blades high enough to brush our knees. Even in the dark, their color was visible and vibrant, catching the pale moonlight from above.

“Where are we?”

“The outermost domain of The Grand Marquis.” I nodded ahead to a massive stonework.

“How do we get back?”

I looked at her.

“Me? Why can’t you, you know?” She pointed at a spot behind us, waving her arms. “Open another one? Open that one back up?”

“It’s one Way. That’s how it works. It leads out, not back. It’s how I’ve traveled the world on occasion. Normally I resort to mortal methods to travel back. Other times, when I’m on Timeless business or invited to a realm or holding, the hosts open a Way back to the mortal world. If I could open Ways at will, I would have saved us back in the Long Gardens.”

“Well, that sucks.”

“It does. Come on. I don’t know how much time will pass while we’re here. Remember, I have other engagements.”

“Oh, right.” Cassie mimed tying a noose around her neck before raising her hand into the air and jerking it in a single sharp motion. “Krrksht!” She accentuated the sound of my neck cracking.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Let’s hope it stays an act and nothing more. Let’s go. Time’s wasting.” I walked off.

“Oh, irony!” she called, throwing a hand into the air with theatrical effect. “How cruel art thou? Time slips by for the Timeless man!”

I sighed.

There is something gravely wrong with the youth of today. It must be the food they eat. Or the music. Television could play a role as well.

I felt it safest to blame all three.

Cassie marched beside me and nudged me with her elbow. I turned to look. “So, we’ve got a bit of a walk.”

“Yes.”

“Mind if I ask you some questions?”

I shrugged.

“How exactly does someone become a Timeless? How did you?”

I faltered for a step. I shouldn’t have; the question was to be expected.

How do you answer that?

Honestly , I told myself.

The sky was gorgeous, a gem-infused blanket of black slowly passing over us. We kept an even, comfortable pace as we plowed through the grass. Several minutes went by before I spoke. “I don’t know, not all of it.”

Cassie was silent, but I could feel her watching.

“As far as I know, Timeless are made—chosen from people who do get involved and make a bad habit out of it. It’s sort of a way to bring balance I guess. To get us to serve another purpose, to watch, learn, and preserve important information. And share it on occasion.”

“Share it with who?”

The muscles along my back knotted as I thought about the answer. “Trouble. Dangerous men and women.”

“How so?”

“Leave it alone.” Something in my tone must’ve got to her because she didn’t push it any further. A hint of guilt racked me, so I addressed her previous questions. “Most of the Timeless are plucked from wars. I was.”

“That one?” She jabbed a finger towards my saber.

I nodded.

“What happened?”

“I died. Well, almost. I remember the air rushing out of me. My chest felt like it was broken and I was thrown to the ground. It felt like all the warmth was leaving my body to be on the outside, spreading over my skin. I was vaguely aware that I had been shot. The blood and pain made it obvious. I thought I was going to die. If the wound didn’t kill me, someone else would finish the job.”

“Then what?”

“I don’t remember most of it. Someone dragged me from the battle, tended to my injuries, made sure I survived. When I woke up, we were hundreds of miles away from where I fell. There was a small fire going, and we were in the middle of the woods. It was serene. Part of me wanted to lay there forever. After being in a battle, seeing the things you do, there’s something tempting and peaceful about being in nature.”

“And, what? You woke up and no longer had to worry about buying Oil of Olay?”

I blinked. “No. I woke up feeling like I had been shot. Lost in the woods with a stranger who offered me a choice.”

She tilted her head to the side.

“To drop me back off home. Or to tell me about a world—worlds—I had never imagined. A perspective that would profoundly change my life and, if I did my job, change the lives of a great many others. Told me about fantasies, tales of magic and creatures I couldn’t believe in and, the chance to see them. All I had to do was make a deal. Swear a pact.”

“Hope you got it in writing.”

I chuckled. “Not exactly. I agreed. I was young, eager to travel and see the world, even if I didn’t believe his mysteries and magic speech. That’s when he took to me to see the Ageless court.”

“Sounds like a collection of plastic surgery bimbos,” she muttered.

I resolved to keep a straight face. It was beneath a wizened member of the Timeless to laugh at something like that. A light huff of breath escaped my lips. It wasn’t a laugh and I would maintain that.

I’m not as wizened as I should be.

“What did they do?”

“Apart from terrifying me to utter speechlessness? Shattering my conceptions about the world, life, God and more?”

“Uh, yeah. Crap, didn’t think about that. Um, apart from that.”

“They gave me the opportunity to become one of them, to bless me with the ability to remain my current age. To walk through countless ages so long as I don’t suffer severe mortal harm.”

“So you can die?”

“Yes, just not from old age.”

“That’s a deal I’d kill for.”

I gave her a knowing look. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

“How so?” She arched a brow.

“Imagine living forever, watching the people you grew up with, cared for, loved—and will love—pass. Watching the world fall into several dark moments, knowing you have the knowledge and skills to make a difference—”

“But you can’t? Or aren’t allowed?”

I nodded.

“Well, not for nothin’. Thanks for getting involved this time.” Cassie’s arms wrapped tight around me in a hug. It felt good. We were walking through a dangerous part of the Neravene into a potentially more dangerous part, and I felt fine.

Hugs are a force of their own in the universe. They’re ingrained in us humans. From the moment we are born, we’re inundated with and in hugs. Wrapped in the arms of parents, cradled, and sung to. When we wake from a nightmare and cry out in terror. When we go through heartbreak or experience immense joy. Seeing someone for the first time, or after a long time. It’s one of the simplest mortal actions that carries one of the most magical forces in the world.

Compassion. The reason I had gotten involved in so many mortal affairs.

Compassion was an emotion that many paranormal creatures thought a weakness. Some said it would be the cause of my death. Looking around at where we were, the mess I was stuck in, they were probably right. I looked to Cassie and realized those people had no idea what they were talking about.

I threw an arm around her and hugged her back. “I’m glad I got involved. No regrets.”

“You might change your mind when they glurck you,” she said, placing her hands on her neck in a mock gesture of wringing it.

I stopped. My breath stilled. “Maybe sooner.” I nodded to the immaculate courtyard of stone ahead.

The tiles were near-black in the absence of sunlight. Gargantuan pillars reached into the sky, casting lengthy shadows that looked to sway. No ceiling was mounted atop them. It created quite the view.

“Well, that’s not spooky.”

“You can always go back.”

Cassie glared, making it clear that wasn’t an option.

“You could, though. You can open a Way at any moment. You could go back to my place. You’d be safe. You’re welcome as long as you like. You don’t have to do this.”

“But if I don’t, I’ll never really be safe, will I?”

I shook my head. “No, I don’t believe so. Mind if I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Why are you sticking with me? Trusting me? I haven’t been as forthcoming as I could be; we both know it. You could travel to any point in the world. Be in another country in a blink.”

“I trust you.”

Three words. There’s magic in the number three, and that magic infects words as well. Not to say that words aren’t magic. They most assuredly are. But some of the most powerful words come in threes. I love you. I miss you. I trust you. And many more. Those three have an effect.

“Thank you.”

“I mean, at first I didn’t. Maybe part of me still doesn’t, but I want to. You saved me. You didn’t have to. You’re trying to help me and you don’t need to. You’re right here with me in”—she stopped, looking to the violet blades of grass—“where singing and dancing dinosaurs go to die. Off to the purple pastures they go.”

I didn’t know what she was saying, but I understood the message.

“Plus, you’re teaching me a lot, and I know you’ve got loads more to show me.”

I grinned. “I do. Stick around, kid, and I’ll show you the ropes.” Another nudge to my ribs, and I winced.

“And I’ve got something to teach you, old timer. Stop callin’ me kid. You’ll live longer.” She gave me a feral smile.

“I can do that.” We crossed the remaining bit of the field, a literal footstep away from the stone tiling. I placed my shoe onto the first tile. Nothing happened. My heart raced nonetheless. We were on the grounds of the Marquis’ personal residence. He wasn’t the sort who took kindly to intruders.

“So where exactly is this in the Marquis’ domain?”

“His home,” I said. “And not the front entrance.”

Her opalescent eyes glimmered with an inner light. “We’re trespassing?”

“Only if we’re caught.”

She snorted. “Good point, but couldn’t you have done what you did back in the Long Gardens? Walk me through imagining his home? I could’ve dropped us into his living room. No worries, no travel, no issues.”

I froze. Cassie had said it with such ease, like with a snap of her fingers she could take us into the private domain of a powerful lord of the Neravene. And the terrifying part was she could. And that’s why she’s being hunted, you idiot!

Cassidy Winters was a doorway to anywhere, regardless of the rules and protection governing a place. She was a weapon or the next best thing to one. A living, breathing skeleton key. Cassie needed to know.

I couldn’t have picked a worse spot to stop. We had cleared a good deal of the courtyard and stood in an area packed with more columns. The space gave the illusion of being open, but it was a tight enclosure. A semi-circle of pillars sat on either side, leaving only one path—forward. Walking back was an option. One I was afraid would trigger the guards. Hunched figures carved out of stone sat at the foot of every column.

Their faces looked long and reptilian with broad snouts that doubtless held rows of sharpened teeth. Serpent-like eyes gave the impression they were watching us. They had the bodies of men, large and muscular, with hands ending in elongated and sharpened digits. Muscular legs that would shame professional bodybuilders joined the creatures at the waist, ending in raptor-like feet with formidable claws. A powerful tail as thick as an alligator’s sprouted from behind.

“Gargoyles.” I let out a breath and swallowed. “Don’t make eye contact.”

Gargoyles are magical watchdogs the size of grizzly bears. Stone sentries that are shaped to the creator’s desires and imbued with a spark of will. They hit like trucks and have the disposition of an angry pit bull. They can be animated and used to carry out simple orders. Orders like kill.

“Whoops.”

My heart lurched and I eyed Cassie. “What do you mean whoops?”

“Like, whoops I think I looked at one of them.”

Something sounded like chips of pottery cracking. My body turned like rusted gears to look at the source of the noise. I regretted doing so.

I looked four gargoyles in the eyes before finding where the noise came from. A gargoyle far off to the side of where we had entered had lines crisscrossing its body. I prayed they were defects in its craftsmanship. That theory went out as more lines formed, spreading like ever-growing veins. I figured the construction and shape of our surroundings were behind the echoing cracks. I was wrong.

“Uh…” Cassie shuffled towards me, placing her body against mine. Her fingers fumbled against the loop on her belt. “This seems like a whip it moment?” She undid the clasp and held the rolled weapon in both hands, uncertainty showing on her face.

The stone veneer of every gargoyle was cracking. I counted twelve in total. Twelve monstrous, strong, fast, and furious killing machines.

“I’ve heard of cracking yourself up before, but this is ridiculous,” muttered Cassie.

I groaned. “Please don’t, not now.”

“Can’t help it. I deflect terrible and deadly scenarios with misplaced humor. It’s part of my irresistible charm.” She let out a weak laugh.

The cracking came to a horrible crescendo. It was an earth-splitting sound as tons of stone shattered. Shards burst forth like shrapnel, hurtling towards us.

“Cassie!” I pulled her close, sinking my weight as I brought her to a crouch with me, folding my coat around us. The leather was thick, doubly so since I had it altered. A good coat can be like a second skin. I pulled the mantle over my head, hoping the turtle-like action would spare my face.

The chips of stone struck home. It sounded like pelting rain, each strike ringing with a unique tone. It felt like taking on a pitching machine with my body. And the machine was winning.

A stone struck the back of my hand with a sharp, fleshy crack that sent ripples of agony into my fingers. I would be riddled with bruises. George was not going to be happy. I grimaced.

“Ow!” Cassie’s voice wasn’t a pained yelp but a low guttural growl. “That one hurt.”

The barrage stopped.

Groaning, I took a moment to shrug and loosen my body, which had stiffened in response to the rocky hailstorm. I peeled the coat back and had a moment of wishing I could forever remain inside it.

Twelve beasts, now made of skin—not stone—stood in a semi-circle before us. They blocked the path out. The only way was ahead, into the court of the Grand Marquis. All of the creatures flicked their—for lack of a better term—ears. Large, fan-like things. A series of splayed fingers with thin membranes spread between them. There was a wet slurping sound and I remembered something else about gargoyles.

Their wings. They spurted out of their backs in a single swift motion. Bat-like in shape, covered in a milky mucus. They looked too fragile to carry their weight. But where monsters were involved, the rules of conventional physics were often tossed aside.

One of them decided to prove that point to me. It beat its wings, sending fluid spraying off the limbs. Cassie ducked behind me as I was covered in the ichor.

“Hell no, I just showered!” she shouted from behind me.

I blinked and wiped a hand against both my eyes, flicking the mucus to the ground. The creature leapt into the air, spiraling as it rose several dozen feet above us.

“Move!” I shoved Cassie towards the path ahead. I dove out of the way as the tiling ruptured from the creature’s weight. The impact rattled half the bones in my body. I looked back to the small crater formed by the gargoyle’s dive-bomb. “There.” I pointed to the narrow way ahead, lined with pillars on both sides. “Cassie, go. Use the columns for cover!”

She bobbed her head in understanding and bolted.

That move galvanized the rest of the gargoyles into action. A dozen monsters rushed me. Over a century of living and combat experience led to one outcome.

Running.

My feet scrabbled against the ground. The bare point of my saber scratched stone as I scampered forward. I saw Cassie enter the pathway and duck behind one of the stone structures. The flat of my blade slapped against my legs as I pumped my muscles harder. An ache developed deep within my chest. I could hear the gargoyles behind me.

Some took to the air. The rest pursued me on all fours, their claws gouging and crushing bits of the tiles. Not a trait I liked in my monsters.

My fingers fumbled with my belt, working to free my sword. “Come on, come on.” I managed to draw the saber. Running with it was awkward, however. There was a series of crashes, louder than the rest, from close behind me. I turned without looking and sent the blade into a wide arc.

The gargoyle reeled, losing its momentum as it pawed at the gash in its snout. Its eyes adjusted from the shock and narrowed. Not a good moment for me. I spat a curse and took off again, barreling towards the columns ahead.

The creatures were gaining on me. I came into the passage with a leap, landing hard and tucking into a roll. On instinct, I sunk to my knees. A loud crash from above caused me to flinch as bits of powdered stone rained on me.

I looked up as I scuttled around the pillar. The gargoyle had torn a chunk of rock out of the column that was the size of my head. I swallowed the imaginary obstruction in my throat. The monster rounded on me, watching as I edged around the stone post.

A snap-crack filled my ears and I took a double step back. The gargoyle howled, stopping in its tracks as it clutched its arm. A finger-length wound hissed spitefully as smoke poured from it.

I leaned to the side. Cassie stood next to the opposite pillar, eyes wide in surprise as she held the whip. The iron barb had clipped the creature’s bicep and clearly had an effect.

“Holy crap, I didn’t think I’d hit it.” She wound the whip between her hands, coiling it for another strike.

The gargoyle didn’t care much for that. Its attention left me completely, as if I no longer existed. It hunched, muscles coiling. The adopted posture spelled danger to all. Except Cassidy Winters.

She bristled, thrusting her chest forwards and arms back in defiance. Her lips peeled back. “Come at me!” She swung the whip in a circular motion, the barb glanced off the nearby rock and faltered.

The creature swooped towards her, arms out wide to grab her and God only knew what next. I wasn’t going to give it the chance. A primal scream left my lungs as I flipped my grip on the saber, chasing after it. I sent the point sinking into its flesh.

The blade drove through the creature’s thick back. I wrenched, twisting the weapon side to side. The monster’s wings flapped and beat against me with near-concussive force. I held on. I let out another scream and pulled the sword free, holding it up for the killing blow.

A truck collided with my waist, taking me to the ground. The world shook and blurred around the edges. I blinked several times to make sure I was seeing what I thought I was.

The rest of the gargoyles piled into the tight area. The one atop me clasped its hands above its head. I squirmed every way I could to avoid those hands. I wasn’t looking to have my skull pulped.

Another tight, elastic crack! Black cord snared the monster’s throat, tightening to the point where the gargoyle’s eyes bulged. The iron tip bit into the flesh of its chest. It served as a hook as Cassie pulled, causing the creature enough pain that it had to lean back to alleviate the pressure.

I wormed an arm free of its pin-hold and swung the sword. A section of its throat parted and violet blood sprayed. I freed myself and rushed to Cassie’s side. The other gargoyles took positions around us, nearly leaving us trapped. Nearly.

“Use the columns.” I jerked a thumb over my back.

Cassie nodded and reeled her whip back before taking off.

I used my lengthier gait to pull up beside her. “Nice cast back there. Getting it to wind around something’s neck is difficult.”

“Lucky—oh, crap!” She stumbled and weaved behind and out another pillar as one the gargoyles broke from the pack to single her out. The monster bounded after her on all fours, leaping on occasion to close the distance.

I veered towards Cassie, hoping to cross paths with her as she skirted around and through the columns. The rest of gargoyles took issue with my plan. Two moved in perfect unison, landing before me.

“Cassie—oomph.” A tail met my chest, drawing the breath from my lungs. I tumbled back, rolling over the ground, struggling to keep my grip on the sword. “Argh,” I grunted as I pushed myself halfway up and to the side to avoid another lash of a tail. The second gargoyle advanced with its taloned digits. I was finished having my back against the wall.

Some creatures in the supernatural world have specific ways to kill them. They require certain materials, techniques, and even timing to be destroyed. Many creatures can’t tolerate salt or iron. Gargoyles, on the other hand, are wonderfully susceptible to a great many things. Iron hurts them more than other weapons, but they are essentially like any creature in the mortal world.

I moved towards the blow in a crescent-like arc, feinted, and countered. A thrust of my palm pushed the gargoyle’s arm aside. I kept moving around the creature as I followed with another strike.

The aged blade parted hand from wrist with ease. The gargoyle’s serpentine tongue peeked from its mouth, flailing as it let out a high-pitched cry. More purplish-blue blood spouted from the limb.

His pack mate took umbrage with the maiming of his friend. He released an odd, off-key songlike sound. It was like chimes amidst a xylophone.

And my bravado was gone. I waved the sword at its face to keep it at bay. When it didn’t advance, I spun and sprinted off. “Cassie?”

“Yo!” She appeared in the corner of my vision, still being chased by the single fiend that had set off after her. “Jeez,” Cassie called over her shoulder to her pursuer. “No means no! Take a hint!” She zigzagged and pulled ahead, dipping behind another pillar. Cassie popped back out and around the other end snapping the whip again. “Back, back, hiyah! Crap.” She didn’t bother bringing the weapon back, leaving it to trail behind her as she ran. “Crapcrapcrapcrap! John—I hate you!”

At that moment, I shared her sentiment. My body arched and quivered as the air behind me pushed against my skull. Something parted bits of straggling hair from my head. That was too close for my liking. This was going to end badly.

Chases never end in the favor of the chased. Not in situations like this. That was something reserved for television shows and movies. There’s a reason predators hunt in packs. It’s more effective. They can cover more ground, maneuver more freely, and control how and where the prey is herded.

That was exactly what was happening.

The columns ahead grew tighter, limiting our space. We were being corralled. Our odds weren’t looking good.

“Hey.” Cassie came next to me, breathing hard and fast. She was losing steam. “You suck.”

“No argument here. Keep going.”

She grunted.

“They’re pushing us somewhere.”

“What?”

“They’re herding us, like dogs do for hunters.”

“Where?”

“I’ve got a good idea.”

“So far, man, I’ve hated your ideas.”

She had good reason to. I didn’t think my legs and body would be able to handle what lay ahead of us. It was a staircase built for a Tibetan monastery secluded atop a Himalayan mountaintop. Wide, solid stairs, an uncountable number of steps to climb.

Normally, high ground offers an advantage. Not so much when you have to expend energy climbing, and your adversaries can fly.

I leapt up to the first step, bouncing up to the second as soon as I made contact with the stairs. “Come on, Cassie, faster.”

She didn’t respond, not with words at least.

I felt a heated glower that could have melted stone.

There was a weighted crunch as one of the steps in front of me shattered. A plume of dust and crushed stone obscured my sight. I set my jaw and shoulder, plowing forward, and connected with one of the gargoyles.

I drove up a step, making it fight for balance. It snapped at me with its jaws. I sank, grabbing one of its arms in one hand, and one of its wings in the other. I fell back.

The sudden shift in momentum and loss of balance caused the creature to tumble with me. I tucked my knees and kicked out. The monster sailed over me as the edge of one of the steps ground against my spine. It landed with a soft thud before rolling down several steps.

“That hurt,” I muttered as I picked myself up and covered the ground I had lost.

Cassie was a good way ahead of me, twenty or more steps. More of the gargoyles took to the air.

I’m in good shape; decades of travel, walking, running and climbing do that to you. However, I’m still mortal. I don’t have supernatural stamina, and I was near the end of mine.

Denial is a great or terrible thing. It all depends on how you use it. You deny horrible facts and situations, like ours, up until the moment they kill you. Or, you can trick your mind and body into believing whatever you want. It works.

I am not tired. I run up mountainous staircases all the time. And I’m being chased by gargoyles. I can run harder and faster than this. And I did.

Each footstep was light and quick. The second I touched down on a step, I was back in the air, hopping to the next. My lungs burned, feeling dry and stretched. My legs ached. Molten liquid coursed through the muscles, searing them. I didn’t care. I was driven by a cold fear that numbed me to bodily discomfort.

More and more of the creatures were focusing on Cassie. All of them took to the sky. I pumped my legs harder, closing the distance between Cassie and me.

“This isn’t looking good.”

She was right.

“They’re trying to force us into a corner.”

“And what’s in that corner?”

I had an idea. It wasn’t as bad as it seemed, unless the gargoyles decided to kill once they cornered us. It was always an option. I hoped they were on a tighter leash than it looked like they were.

“How do we stop these things?” Cassie panted.

“Two ways—” I broke off as I stopped and ran sideways, avoiding a swooping gargoyle. I lashed out with the sword. My strike didn’t do much aside from leaving a small notch in the monster’s wing. Superficial damage. “Sunlight reverts them back to stone.”

“Not an option.”

“Or we kill them.”

She furrowed her brows and scowled. “Not an option, it looks like then!” Cassie’s pace slowed. Sweat beaded her face, plastering lengths of hair to her skin.

Things were growing worse by the second. This was a numbers game, and we were losing. We had managed to injure some and had taken one out of commission, but the odds were still in the gargoyles’ favor. We were running low on energy, and the creatures seemed to have no end to theirs.

“Cassie, look at the top of the stairs. Can you do it?”

She glanced up, squinting as she kept climbing. “Think so, but I’m tired.”

“Tired beats dead, kid.”

She stared daggers at me.

I had promised not to call her kid anymore, but it worked wonders in riling her up, which was exactly what we needed.

Somehow, she managed to keep her balance and progress up the stairs as she shut her eyes tight. She stuck her tongue out and bit down in concentration.

I slowed down, running over to her. The air shimmered as if a thin dusting of powdered glass hung suspended through it, catching the moon and starlight from above.

Cassie moved both hands upwards in an almost graceful manner. The space in front of us parted. Her momentum carried her into and through it.

I dove too, hurtling through the Way and appearing hundreds of stairs up. I blinked, realizing I was in the air. I fell. My chest hit the unforgiving stone.

Cassie landed on all fours in a cat-like crouch.

I groaned and rolled over, sitting up to glower at her. “Why did you open it that far above ground?”

“Deal with it…kid.” A smug smile spread across her face. Shrill shrieks pierced the night, pulling her smile away. The gargoyles came together in a tight-knit aerial grouping. “Well, it’s been not so nice knowing ya.”

I gave a slight nod of my head over my shoulder.

Cassie followed it, her eyes widened in response.

To be honest, so did mine.

Imagine the cleanest, most polished mirror you can think of. Now imagine it being made by finer hands than any found in the mortal world. Made of liquid diamonds, shining and reflecting in perfect clarity. Its height could have matched a small skyscraper, as could its width. Two figures regarded us from within the shining surface.

I hadn’t seen my eyes in a while. They looked weary. The usual amber-brown appeared dull. Little branches of red crept over the whites. I looked like shit.

Cassie’s reflection didn’t look any better, a point I decided not to vocalize. Her eyes of tonal reds, oranges, and yellows burned bright in the mirror.

“It’s a shiny dead end. What are we supposed to do?”

“Go through it.”

“You’re joking.”

I waved a hand to the group of gargoyles about to reenact a kamikaze.

“Good point.” She took a step back and leapt towards her reflection.

I followed her through the diamond wall.

***

End of ARC chapter five

If you like what you read, here’s a link to the pre-order < that to be taken to the page.

And, here’s the link to the ongoing thunderclap page < Please support this, it’s free and will help launch the book. If you like my site and what I have to share, please consider subscribing. There’s an option in the top right of the website as well as under the Become A Minion tab. Thank you so very much.