Aimee Easterling's Blog, page 18

Dragon Mage flash fiction: Biological Clock

Those of you on my email list may have already read this ultra-short introduction to the Change that spurred on the events of my Dragon Mage Chronicles. If not, I hope you’ll enjoy this peek through Sarah’s eyes…and will come back to visit with her and her dragonets in the subsequent novels.

I was selling clocks door to door when the vines appeared out of nowhere, rolling down the street like a crowd of kindergartners streaming out of school after the final bell tolls. I’ve lost my mind, I thought, squinching eyes shut and smoothing down my pencil skirt.

Perhaps it was hitting forty while lacking all potential reproductive outlets, but everything had started looking like babies lately. So when I opened my eyes, I wasn’t surprised to see that something else had materialized in front of the approaching tide of green.

Yep, that really was an egg approximately the size of my overweight tom cat.

I took a tentative step closer, ignoring the screams that emanated from the other end of the block. A vine crept up the closest telephone pole, ripped wires free to spark against the ground.

I jumped, but stood my ground, staring fixedly at the tiny hole in the side of the golden orb. A beak pushed flakes of metallic shell aside one by one until a line of darkness nearly encircled the blunt end of the egg.

Then a beady eye peered out at me, watery with effort and hope.

My gut cramped with the realization that this was my baby. Okay, sure, so there were scales covering that emerging snout. Claws on the tiny feet scrabbling against the opening. And wings tucked tight against the being’s sodden back.

But, species aside, I was cradling the infant in my arms before I fully realized what I was doing. I was cupping it against my breast, not caring in the least that birth goo was ruining the breast of my favorite blouse.

I expected the dragon to struggle. After all, it was a wild animal…or a wild something. But there was intelligence in the tilt of its head. And as its chilled limbs warmed against mine, I could have sworn an emotion passed between us.

Understanding. Fellowship. Love.

Then fire streaked past my neck, singing a vine that had crept upward while I was otherwise occupied. Ten more seconds and that plant would have strangled both me and my baby alive.

They were everywhere. Covering the pavement. Latching into my pantyhose. Standing up under their own volition and swaying like cobras as they attempted to reach the dragon in my arms.

I was no botanist, but I could clearly identify mean plants, ugly plants, and homicidal plants. Worse — every single one of those suckers wanted my baby dead.

“How about a little more flame?” I coaxed the dragonet. But safe in my embrace, it had already fallen sound asleep.

An overgrown rosebush took advantage of my distraction to reach for my wristwatch. I was almost out of time.

Time. Wait a minute. The floral invaders weren’t growing randomly. They were fixating on electricity.

Ignoring the grasping tendrils, I knelt and opened the case in which I kept my wares. Simple clocks, fancy clocks…ah, there we go.

Pulling out the device parents loved to hate, I powered it up. Flashing lights and whirling colors promised to teach infants about clockwork. As best I could tell, it mostly mesmerized the young and terrified the old.

Like babies, the vines were stupified. Taking advantage of their distraction, I cupped my baby closer to my chest.

Then, leaving the destruction behind us, I ran.

Who am I?

Ever since letting the cat out of the bag that Aimee Easterling is the fiction-writing pen name of non-fiction author and homesteader Anna Hess, I’ve been pondering adding an actual photo to my bio. As a recovering camera-phobe, though, coming up with a shot that captured my fantastical side took some serious work.

Add in some props plus friends with costumery skills I sorely lack, though, and we were back in business. The final products harkened back to my days hanging out in a college SF/F club and jaunting over to Renn Faires on the weekends. Just like reading fantasy, it’s fun to spend the afternoon pretending to be someone else!

Here’s my updated bio to go along with the glamour shots:

Homesteader by day and werewolf…ahem, *teller of werewolf tales*…by night, Aimee Easterling is a USA Today Bestselling author writing on the boundary between urban fantasy and paranormal romance.

She heats her house with hand-split firewood, writes on an ultra-geeky Linux box, and generally does her best to confuse all reasonable assumptions.

Studying biology and spending a year backpacking around the world have both informed Aimee’s writing, but she’s quite willing to let reality slide in favor of a good story. You can learn more at www.aimeeeasterling.com

What do you think?

Dragon Mage Chronicles: Airships

As you might expect, overland travel is difficult in a post-apocalyptic world in which plants like nothing more than eating pesky people alive. Dragons have no problem winging where they will. But the common Joe had to find another solution. Some turned to river travel while others built…airships!

In the first novel in the series, Verdant Magic, one particular airship features prominently. The Intrepid is based loosely on the USS Los Angeles (ZR-3), but I’ve detached the gondola and added some fancy/fantasy technology so it looks a bit more like the Shenandoah pictured above.

The hydrogen balloon is 400 feet long and 60 feet in diameter, with Chlamydomonas reinhardtii algae topping up the gas as needed. (The image above is a modern architect’s rendition of how these algae could be used to power an aerial city.) The algae give the rigid skin of the Intrepid a greenish cast — far more fun than the flammable paint of the Hindenburg that (some scientists now theorize) collected electrical charges out of the stormy air and resulted in that spectacular meltdown.

Modern technology can be a bit hard to come by in the world of my Dragon Mage Chronicles, but my airship captain managed to dig up fuel cells and electric motors to power the ship efficiently. Top speeds are a bit higher than the 82 miles per hour the USS Los Angeles traveled, with 12 crew members necessary to keep the ship operational.

(A huge thank you to my homesteading blog readers who helped me build the Intrepid from scratch. Any mistakes that remain…aren’t mistakes! This is fantasy! It’s not a bug, it’s a feature!)

Bittersweet Lemons, the movie

A couple of months ago, I posted about my husband’s and my joint project to turn one of my short stories into a movie. Well, it took longer than we thought, so Lemons for Christmas turned into Bittersweet Lemons. But the extra time polishing was well worth it since I’ve already heard from a few viewers that Mark’s masterpiece made them cry.

I could go on and on about the awesomeness of everyone involved, but I’m sure you’d rather see the story for yourself:

What do you think? If you enjoyed the view and want to help jumpstart Mark’s film aspirations, please consider leaving a comment on the youtube page to let others know the story hit the spot. Give it a like or a share or fire up the laptop and show your mom. Mark and I will be eternally in your debt.

Thank you for all you do! You are why I write.

Dragon Mage Chronicles: The Aerie

My 2017 series is veering off into uncharted territory — dragon shifters, enchanted jewelry, elemental mages, airships, and much more. Which means my notebooks are full of maps, charts, and odds and ends that at least a few of you may enjoy. Let’s start with maps!

The Dragon Mage Chronicles revolve around a set of dragon foster brothers who rule over the Aerie — post-apocalyptic Knoxville, Tennessee. Sentient plants have consumed most of the earth, so the tops of skyscrapers are the safest spot for the average human (or dragon) to live.

Incendiary Magic (coming in the Fire Kissed anthology in August) stars Mason — the Lord Dragon who lives in the picturesque Sunsphere. In the real world, this structure was built for the 1982 World Fair and boasts a gold-windowed sphere with an observation deck that holds 86 people. In my world, the Sunsphere is the center of governance for the Aerie.

Wolf Landing Is Live!

I’m pleased to announce that Wolf Landing is live and free to borrow if you subscribe to Kindle Unlimited! If you’ve been reading along with Fen’s adventures, I have a feeling you’ll love this culmination of her journey (with a special guest appearance by crowd favorite Wolfie Young!).

So give yourself the gift of reading and check it out!

Making a movie

I’ll tell you up front that I’m the least video-oriented person you’ll probably ever meet. I literally have only cared about one television show in my adult life (Gilmore Girls! I adore them!) and I watch perhaps four carefully vetted movies a year. When folks send me links to youtube videos, I generally give up within the first fifteen seconds. Moving pictures just don’t hold a candle to the written word.

But my husband has always wanted to make a movie. The backstory — his dream — began decades ago, but more recently my writing was finally bringing in enough cash that we could afford to send Mark back to school to pursue his own creative passion. After three film classes, his growth as a filmmaker really started hitting its stride this winter. The time was ripe for a collaboration!

“If I write a short script, would you like to use it for your final project this semester?” I asked. He was thrilled to team up…with the caveat that we had neither the budget or the skills for fancy special effects. So no werewolves or lengthy dramas…but a short, sweet Christmas flick seemed right up both of our alleys.

I polished the script, prepared the props, and hunted down the right location while my husband hired actors and a director of photography. Then the big day came and I thoroughly enjoyed helping the actors with their lines and keeping us all moving forward while Mark worked his magic.

To cut a long story short, my husband is busy editing the final project now. The semester ends soon, so Lemons for Christmas will be available on Youtube within the next few weeks. I hope you enjoy it…and that you don’t stop watching after the first fifteen seconds.

Wolf Landing: Sneak Peek

Want a glimpse inside the final book in the Alpha Underground series? Here’s chapter one to tantalize those taste buds (but please excuse any typos — the final draft is still in the hands of the copy editor):

Ten days until All-Pack. Ten days until a counsel of my peers would claim the right to decide whether my found family was fit to exist and whether I was fit to lead said pack. Ten days until I’d either win big, or everything I’d worked so hard to create would be ripped out of my grasp forever.

Ten days until All-Pack…and my wolf was still acting like a spoiled child. Fur form now, she demanded.

I stretched my neck from side to side until it popped then inhaled a deep breath through my nose in an attempt to refrain from strangling my weaker half. Too bad my wolf was only virtually present within my skin at the present moment and not available for manual asphyxiation. Time for a little bout of channeling my previous alpha.

What would Wolfie do? I pondered. Well, that was an easy one—Wolfie would be patient. So I strove to keep my temper in check as I reined in my inner beast. No, I informed her. We can’t shift now. Don’t you see the humans standing all around us?

“Sense something, Fen?” my investigative partner asked, drawing me out of my silent conversation. For a human, Robert was awfully adept at picking up on the subtleties of body language. So I wasn’t entirely surprised that he’d noticed signs of my inner battle…despite both his feet and his face currently pointing in the opposite direction.

When I didn’t reply immediately, Robert once again proved his mettle. Rather than prodding me verbally, he simply continued scanning the crowd that had gathered beyond the expanse of yellow caution tape, hunting for the first hint of odd behavior signaling a perp returning to the scene of the crime.

Well, if my partner was going to do his job, then I might as well do mine too. Want to help me out here? I asked silently, expecting my inner animal to dive right in and increase my sensory capabilities the way she so often had in the past. Together, we’d never before had a problem determining whether murders were werewolf-related or just a grisly example of what humans did to each other without the benefit of fangs and claws.

But instead of obeying, my unruly wolf only lengthened the hairs on the backs of my arms, scrabbling at the inside of my spine as she attempted to force her way free. It was a good thing she was such a puny beast or we might have given those paranormal-activity websites something more fact-based to report on.

“Just a sec,” I said aloud, not wanting Robert to think I was ignoring him even though my wolf was refusing to pull her own weight this afternoon. I struggled for another moment, then shrugged off my inner animal’s perversity and opened my human-only senses to the air.

Luckily, I was able to smell, see, and hear better than the average one-body even without my wolf’s assistance. In fact, as soon as I focused on the blanket-covered corpse fifteen feet away, the charnel-house aroma became so intense it nearly overwhelmed me. I might as well have been standing directly on top of the body for all the barrier there was between the death scent and my churning stomach.

My immediate impulse was to cringe away from the aroma of fresh blood and meat, but my wolf bade me to lean forward instead. Savory, she suggested, licking her chops.

Lupine interest coursed through my body, straightening my spine and setting my feet into motion without conscious human consent. The pavement surrounding the corpse was bloody, a sign that another predator had been there before us. Together, my wolf and I growled our complaint at the territorial invasion as we arrowed toward our goal.

“Hey!” a policewoman exclaimed as I brushed past, my shoulder knocking into hers in my haste. With my wolf in the lead, I hadn’t even noticed another two-legger in my path until she grabbed my forearm to prevent me from continuing along my present trajectory. “Who are you?” the woman demanded.

Abruptly, my wolf subsided, slipping back down along the inside of my throat until she could rest nose to paw at the bottom of my tummy. I wanted to roll my eyes at the sudden desertion, but the woman in front of me already appeared royally pissed off. No need to annoy her further by donning facial expressions I couldn’t easily explain away.

“I’m…” I started, but the officer was uninterested in further explanations. Instead of waiting to hear an answer, she began dragging me away from the body I’d come to examine. My subtle attempts to wrest myself from her grip didn’t hinder her one bit.

Glancing back over one shoulder in search of assistance, I noticed that Robert had wandered off in the opposite direction and had already been pulled into conversation with a crime-scene tech. Great. Just what I needed—for my inner wolf to start riling up bystanders’ danger sensors with her uncharacteristically rampant behavior right when my get-out-of-jail-free card was busy elsewhere.

Because, as much as it currently cramped my style, I wasn’t entirely surprised by the policewoman’s reaction. After all, my uber-alpha mate often received the evil eye from unsuspecting humans who had no clue he was a shifter but who still sensed the extra-strong wolf simmering beneath his skin. In contrast, the inner animal of a half werewolf was generally so quiescent that she didn’t tweak anyone’s risk radar.

Not so today. As I attempted to catch Robert’s attention without antagonizing my captor further, I realized that everyone else had gravitated toward the coffee station at the far end of the roped-off area. They probably thought they’d all fallen prey to a simultaneous need to warm up frozen toes. But as the woman before me paused long enough to search my face with narrowed eyes, I had a feeling her co-workers were instead obeying their lizard brains’ impulses to flee both far and fast from a predator like myself.

Meanwhile, the bold policewoman in front of me was likely making a mental note to write me down in her files under “person of interest.” Not exactly the method of flying-beneath-the-radar I strove for when operating in one-body territory.

I opened my mouth to try reasoning with the officer, but quick bootsteps stilled me before I’d really begun. At last, rescue was on its way.

Robert stepped between us smoothly, his wallet already flipping open to reveal his ever-present ID. “We’re with the FBI, ma’am,” he said calmly, offering that same aw-shucks grin that had snookered me into thinking him harmless when we first met. My partner was entirely human…but he was far from harmless. “We won’t get in your way,” he continued. “But since we were passing through, I figured we should drop by and check on the scene.”

“There’s no reason for this case to fall under the federal jurisdiction,” our companion replied, vertical lines appearing between narrowed eyes as she released me in order to pluck the wallet out of Robert’s extended hand. “But we’re always willing to receive feedback from experienced operatives. You won’t mind me calling in to check on you, of course.”

It wasn’t a question. She was already dialing her cell phone when Robert agreed with an easy, “Of course.”

Despite his laid-back tone and manner, though, my partner took advantage of the woman’s lapse of attention to jerk his chin in the direction of the corpse. His credentials would stand up under any kind of scrutiny, but my own consultant status was only kinda-sorta on the books.

Luckily, I usually required mere moments to complete my analysis. I reached the site of the murder in a few quick strides then knelt on the ground just beyond the puddle of congealed blood. Killed on this spot, I thought absently as I brought my nose down closer to the corpse and sniffed.

And, finally, my wolf relinquished her snit and deigned to offer a helping hand. Or, rather, a helping nose. Together, we inhaled the nearly overwhelming tang of iron-rich blood mingling with the subtler aroma of the human who had covered the victim to protect the dead from the prying eyes.

Same soap, my wolf offered, noticing before I did that the policewoman currently conversing with my partner had been the one to shake out the sheet.

Relaxing into our partnership at long last, I allowed the wolf to point out a secondary minty aroma that likely matched up with the teary-eyed woman currently huddled at the far corner of the enclosed area. Robert had clued me in to the details during the two-hour car ride, so I knew the female candy-shop owner had come to open her store that morning…and stumbled across a horrifying crime scene by mistake. No wonder I could still smell the civilian’s terror-stricken emotion hovering in the air above my head even hours later.

My wolf’s nose definitely made the evidence easier to sort out, but we still hadn’t managed to answer Robert’s question. Was the murderer man or beast? So, ignoring the nightmares I’d likely summon as a result of my actions, I gingerly plucked at a corner of the sheet in an attempt to look underneath.

Immediately, my gorge rose up in my throat and I covered my mouth with one hand to keep lunch in my stomach where it belonged. The victim was unidentifiable, post-death knife wounds tearing his face up into a sea of exposed flesh. Only the thoroughly masculine clothing clued me in to his gender.

I wanted to not only look away but also to walk in the opposite direction as far and as fast as I was able. But my wolf took advantage of my lapse to seize control of our shared body, extending our arm until we were nearly touching the mass of bloody meat. Hungry, she offered.

Shit! Yanking my hand back and clutching it underneath the opposite elbow by way of restraint, I slapped my disappointment like a rolled-up newspaper against the wolf’s nose. Arguing with me was one thing. Trying to eat a human corpse was something else entirely.

It’s getting worse, I admitted to myself. I hadn’t told anyone how my attempts at nurturing a little independence in my previously weak wolf appeared to be backfiring. Instead, I’d hugged the worries close to my chest and kept my own counsel.

But now, as my gut roiled even worse than it had at the initial sign of the mangled body, I had to admit that I’d dug myself into a hole so deep I didn’t even know which direction to turn in my attempt to claw free.

Because, sure, I could chain up the wolf deep inside myself the way I used to, leaving my human brain in sole command of our shared body. But my new life required the beast’s frequent assistance, not just here on this crime scene but also within our four-month-old pack. I was trying to act as co-alpha of a cobbled-together band of traumatized bloodlings and young-adult werewolves, a process that required leading with my wolf in addition to my human brain.

I’ll deal with all that later, I promised myself. For now, I needed a lupine nose if I hoped to finish assessing the crime scene before Lady Cop asked for my driver’s license then tossed me out on my ear. So, ignoring the incipient headache forming at my temples, I instead firmly bade the wolf to: Focus. Meekly, she obeyed.

Together, we inhaled, letting fragrant air stream across the sensitive skin that formed our mouth’s upper palate. The bloody aroma was much worse now that we were located mere inches away from the corpse and I could almost taste the salty reek of urine mixed up in the last vestiges of quickly dissipating terror. Not exactly what I’d hoped to put in my mouth.

But there was no sign of wolf beyond my own. No undertone of fur and wildness that all shifters carried around even in our two-legged form.

So I stood and shook my head silently at Robert. No, I signaled, the smart policewoman was seeking a monster…but not the kind of monster I denned with on a daily basis.

And my partner understood instantly. Making his excuses, Robert veered away from the still suspicious law-enforcement officer and strode over to join me just inside the closest barrier. Then, wordlessly, we slipped beneath the caution tape and headed back to his waiting SUV.

Ready to keep reading? The full book is up for preorder and will be live shortly. Thanks for reading!

Wolf Landing preview

Pretty soon, I’ll be posting the first chapter of Wolf Landing to get those digestive juices flowing. But, for now, I thought you might enjoy seeing shots of a few of the settings from the upcoming book.

There are no spoilers for Wolf Landing in this post, but I’m assuming you’ve read the previous books in the series. If not, what are you waiting for? Read them now! The final installment is coming your way very soon.

I based Wolf Landing’s community building on the A-frame gathering space of an intentional community near me. I probably expanded the interior a bit, though, to make room for all those wolves.

Dark and scary things happen here. No, I’m not going to tell you what — that would be a spoiler! In real life, this is a train tunnel through the side of Sugar Hill, Virginia.

The grand finale of Wolf Landing takes place in the Outer Banks of North Carolina. No — there are no crabs involved. Is that a spoiler?

My family went on a summer camping trip on Ocracoke every year when I was kid, so I’ve spent about four months of my life on the sand. I thought Fen deserved a similar vacation…although I have to admit she didn’t really get one.

Teased enough? Stay tuned for the first chapter, coming your way soon!

A summer of sweet romance (book reviews)

Ready for one last book-recommendation post? This selection is intended for the romance lovers who don’t necessarily need any magic in their books beyond the sparkle of a perfect love story. Without further ado, here are my top picks from a summer of romance.

All of Linnea Sinclair’s books are top-notch science-fiction romance, in my opinion, but my favorite so far has been the series-starter Gabriel’s Ghost. If you enjoy space opera but wish the mainstream offerings had a bit more of a love story, then these books will be a great fit for you.

Continuing along the geeky route, Kelly Hunter’s The Courage of Eli Jackson is a tight love story between a heroine who adores cosplay and a boatbuilder hero. The novella is well written and left me wanting more…in a very good way.

You can’t go wrong with any book in Courtney Milan’s Brothers Sinister series, but The Suffragette Scandal is the best of a good lot. The characters were perfect. The history was fascinating. The feelings were spot on. How soon will I forget it so I can read it again?

Finally, Amanda Quick’s Ravished reminded me of many of the delightful parts of the Amelia Peabody series, with a historical setting and a heroine interested in paleontology (instead of Egyptology — close enough!). Definitely a suck-you-in, feel-good read.

I hope that’s enough to keep you busy for a week or two. And I hope I don’t forget to report on my favorite reads for five months next time! Happy reading.