Diana Pharaoh Francis's Blog, page 4

Beck #3 Snippet aka Everyday Disasters Snippet

It’s actually Beck #2 and Putting the Chic in Psychic is #1.5, but it’s easier to say three. But anyhow, this made me giggle, so I decided to share this snippet. Actually, to be fair, it’s more of a cackle and the dogs find it worrisome. They are fine when they are up to no good, but when I am, they have concerns.

I understood about a quarter of what they talked about. There was a whole other language for witch symbols, kind of like kanji or hieroglyphs, and a whole other one for how to build spells and what each bit did. It reminded me of building a car. You’ve got to attach the piston to the cam shaft and that turns and moves the ankle bone and that connects to a set of pulleys, which integrate with a toilet brush, which ties into the motherboard and sends electrical pulses through the magnetic field causing a collision between the Romulans and a swarm of wasps, which in turn releases graham cracker particles that accelerate and cause a switch to flip and that drops the basket over the mouse. 

BTW, the featured image is one of my horses, which is up on ebay for sale. My store is Lucky Foot Studio. Isn’t he pretty? I am so pleased with him!

Long Time No Blog and A Snippet

Yes it has been way too long since I’ve blogged. There are several reasons. The most major one is that I have generalized anxiety and depression. I don’t feel like I should even say that because a) I don’t really think it’s that bad, but I am medicated and I run into sadness with some frequency; and b) I feel like a lot of other people have it a lot worse; and c) it’s just me being a big baby and I should suck it up and get over it. However, when things get away from me, I start to turtle. That means I pull inside my little shell (house/life) and I avoid a lot of stuff like emails and things that aren’t vitally necessary.  I can’t handle too many appointments in a week, or too many obligations. I find it difficult to get motivated a lot of the time to do chores.

I have been reading and writing and I have been taking the dogs out almost daily, and I have been doing things for my mom and trying to stay on top of her needs. I don’t feel like I ought to be overwhelmed, but I guess I must be because I’m turtling.

I get ocular migraines (this actually isn’t a change of subject, so hold on, I’ll connect up in a minute). I’ve had them for more than 20 years. What happens is I get halos, but more than that, I get dizzy, almost like I’m having a head rush. I also get the shakes a little sometimes, and every so often, I start to feel like I’m going to pass out. Back in Indiana I saw a neurologist who found nothing wrong, and then I went to the eye doctor who said this was classic ocular migraines. I was also tested and don’t seem to have orthostatic blood pressure issues.

I get these dizzy spells randomly. Sometimes shortly after getting up. Sometimes randomly walking through a store. Sometimes when I look up. There doesn’t see to be any rhyme or reason to when. It bothers me and in the last few years I’ve grown less satisfied with the ocular migraine diagnosis. Anyhow, for reasons I can’t remember, I looked up vertigo. It seemed to match up significantly with my symptoms. So I talked to my doctor about it (she’s also adjusting my medications) and she sent me to a physical therapist and turns out, I do have vertigo.

It’s not caused by the little crystals in ear getting out of place. I guess we have three things that help us balance: eyes, ears, and the bottoms of our feet. Turns out my ears are doing a half-assed job. The therapist gave me some exercises. Doing them seems to increase the dizziness and make me feel worse, at least in the short term (I only saw him for the first time yesterday). So I’m sure it will even out, but until then, I have to feel wonky and weird.

I had feared that this had something to do with my medications for depression, so it’s kind of a relief that it’s not. I’m also trying to find a therapist, preferable a telehealth one. It’s much easier to make myself go to a session at home. I found several through my insurance company who are supposed to be taking patients, and they aren’t. So I’m on a waiting list. Next week I’ll try to find another one.

I have been sitting in front of my SAD lamp. Didn’t help that I drove over something and put a giant hole in a tire. It will set us back nearly $300. What’s annoying is that it was unnecessary because if I’d been just a little bit more careful and patient, I wouldn’t have done it. I also cut myself tonight while cooking. Dammit.

I have been writing and am well into my next Everyday Disasters book. I’m not yet sure of the title. I’ll be posting some stuff from it on my Patreon shortly if you want to get an early shot at it. I also started doing some knitting again. Helps me avoid doomscrolling. I just finished a hat for my daughter. I’m going to make a matching pair of mitts and a two-color brioche scarf. The patterns don’t require a lot of focus, but make me feel like I’m managing and that’s good, right?

Here’s a little snippet from the book for you: 

“A murder?” Her voice rose into a squawk. “That motherfucker has got you involved in a murder?” She shouted the last bit. “What the hell was he thinking dragging you into something that dangerous?”

“I was thinking she could help us find the kidnap victims,” Mike said evenly. 

“That’s your job and clearly you suck at it since you can’t seem to solve a crime without her help. She’s not a cop and you’ve no right to involve her. Are you trying to get her killed?”

I thought about pointing out how rude it was to talk about me while I was sitting right there, but as long as Jen was chewing out Mikey, I wasn’t her target. I had a feeling I would be when I told her I was going to pursue the killer on my own. Well, hopefully with a little help from Mason and my mother.

 

Are You A Writer Doubting Yourself? Read This

Being a writer means having imposter syndrome and doubting yourself. If you need to overcome self-doubt as a writer, this post is for you.

Trust your process. Trust your inherent knowledge of story.

Many of create an outline before writing a novel.  But often, those, like battle plans, don’t survive the first skirmish. Virginia Woolf called the creativity bubbling in our minds below where our conscious minds can reach it, the primordial ooze. Others call it the lizard brain. The important thing is that it’s where your brain stirs up story and eventually lobs it into your consciousness.

It doesn’t always lob the whole thing, or it will let you get to writing and then say, ‘but wait a minute. What if you did this instead?”

And then you make a change and you find out that now your outline needs to be revised. I have friends who, when that occurs, will revise the entire outline. I have other friends who will just shrug and start pantsing the rest of the story. I tend to revise the major points of the revision, but leave the rest to come together as I write.

I can do this for two reasons. 1: I trust my process. I know that my lizard brain is putting things together and that even if I write myself into an impossible corner, I will find a solution. I have frequently put my characters in corners where I have no idea how they will get out, and then I find a resolution that works within the story and is not deus ex machina. I can keep writing because I trust that this is my process and everything will turn out.

If you don’t feel like you’ve done your process enough to have one you can trust, then you jump to reason 2: Trust your inherent knowledge of story. From practically the moment we’re born, we learn how a story functions. What a beginning looks like, a middle, and an end. What makes a good character and what makes a bad one. What makes for a gripping story and what makes for a disappointing one. We absorb story like oxygen and it becomes part of us. Because of this, as you write, your lizard brain, as well as your conscious brain, is making sure that you are hitting the necessary elements of story. Sure, it’s going to need revision, but you know in every cell of your body what a story is and you can depend on that inherent knowledge to help you create a story arc and get to a satisfying ending. You just can.

When we tell stories, our first reader is ourselves. We are the ones we want to entertain first. Therefore, we tell ourselves a good story with all its proper parts and paced well and without plotholes. It’s the only way to satisfy our hunger for a good story. You will tell a good story because you want to hear a good story.

When in doubt about your capability or whether the story is any good or if you get to the point where your inner critic is telling you that everything is crap, tell your doubts to fuck off and go back to entertaining yourself. You’ve got this. You’re a writer and writing stories is what you do.

This is a very cool TikTok review of Scatter of Light. Squee!

@jennie2u2reads #booktok #dianapharaohfrancis #review #diamondcitymagicseries ♬ original sound – jennie

And yet MORE Snippets from Dirty Deeds 2! And a HUGE bonus!

From Liz and Eli Sitting:Eli didn’t talk a lot, no chitchat, no chain of consciousness patter, no gushy mushy stuff, so she seldom knew where she stood with him. Not that she needed that kind of emotional validation. Not her. Never. Or, she never had before she met Eli. It had never mattered what a man thought or felt about her until now. Maybe because she had never really been in love with a guy, not with that desperate, weak-in-the-knees, want to spend her life with him kind of love.

He’d be gone for weeks, a trip that also involved his political and security work for some kind of coronation involving Jane Yellowrock, the Dark Queen of the Mithrans, the Master of the City of New Orleans, the master of Clan Yellowrock, and more titles, on and on. Jane was a very important person in the world of paranormals, especially vampires, and she had done a lot of good for Liz’s kind too, bringing peace and providing protection for witches that they hadn’t enjoyed in hundreds of years. Jane was also Eli’s adopted sister and, so far as Liz could tell, his best friend.

Liz was just… his girlfriend? Lover? Friend with benefits?

Her mind circled back to the importance of that wedding Eli hadn’t invited her to. She knew that he would be working throughout the planning stages and during the wedding. She hoped the reason she hadn’t been invited was because he’d be working, and not because she and Jane had an uneasy relationship.

Uneasy. Hah. Jane had killed her sister. The fact that Evangelina had summoned a demon and tried to kill her own sisters, and therefore had been targeted with a “take-down” order didn’t help a lot. Evie was dead. Jane was still alive.

Those upcoming weeks when Eli would be gone were looming empty, like a black hole of boredom and loneliness. Calling him for something that might be nothing was just an excuse to talk to him, maybe see him.

Liz looked down at the tracks that had her hesitating.

She shouldn’t need an excuse.

She shouldn’t need to see him either. This was a weakness she hadn’t dealt with before. Ever.

 

From Putting the Chic in Psychic:

I couldn’t deny I was having a damned good start to the day. My fake mother—aka Aunty Mommy—remained dead and had thus far been unable to rise from the grave and haunt me; my savagely vandalized business was under reconstruction; nobody had tried to kill me recently; my dog loved me unconditionally, as did my three best friends; and I was enjoying the nectar of the gods—aka an extra large 9-1-1 espresso—with a gorgeous man.

Yeah, maybe I had a few problems, but at the moment, I could ignore all of them and enjoy the lovely weather and the very fine specimen of masculinity sitting across from me.

I sipped my ultra-caffeinated brew, eyeing Damon over the rim of my cup. He was flat out hot. Like HAWT.  I’d seen him mostly naked and could attest to six pack abs, broad shoulders, and thighs that could crack walnuts. And his ass. It could make a nun wet her panties. With that body, his dark blond hair, stormy blue eyes, and chiseled jaw, he could have been a model. The fact that he was eyeing me with the same orgasmic appreciation I’d just given the first sip of my coffee made me want to lick him like a lollipop.

Just at the moment, my life was closer to perfect than it had ever been, which of course meant that everything would shortly be going straight to hell. Murphy’s Law and Mercury in Retrograde are the ruling forces of my life. Trouble was always lying in wait just around the corner. At least it meant life was exciting. Often hideously painful, but still exciting. It also meant I knew enough to enjoy the good while it lasted.

I am an almost twenty-eight year old business woman and witch. I run Effortless Estates, a high-end estate liquidation business. I hold wealthy estate sales and have a showroom of the more valuable pieces. Or I did, before a former colleague destroyed it out of frustration, all because I refused to die when he was trying to murder me. Luckily he did succeed in offing Aunty Mommy, which made me almost willing to forgive him for my attempted murder, except he’d also tried to kill my three BFFs—Stacey, Jen, and Lorraine—not to mention Damon and my recently discovered uncle.

Nobody fucks with the people I love and gets away with it. Nobody.

And now for this most AMAZING bonus!Devon Monk reads all the snippets! This so totally rocks.

And yet MORE Dirty Deeds 2 snippets!!!!

From 101 Ways to Die:

Captain Hugh Frankson of the NYPD stormed to my desk and slapped a file down on the ever-growing stack of misdemeanors I needed to register in our database before I could leave. Any other day, I would have indulged in an anxiety attack over the man’s unexpected appearance.

Whenever the captain showed up at my desk, hell came chasing on the heels of high water, as he went out of his way in his idiotic attempt to prove women had no business being on the force.

Today, however, the hell and the high water had already come calling in the form of the Chief Quinns, who haunted the station somewhere, doing whatever it was chiefs did when checking in on precincts they were responsible for. In addition to dodging jabs over my gender, I’d likely escape from being ribbed over my mixed heritage thanks to their presence. Aware the captain would lose his shit if he believed I wasn’t taking him seriously, I set aside the case I’d been working on and picked up the folder.

Before I had a chance to flip it open and behold the terrors within, the captain announced, “You’re being transferred.” His declaration carried through the open room, loud enough everyone could hear—even the cops busy on the phone. A still quiet fell over the cubicle farm, except for the cops forced to continue their conversations. “I’ll take your cruiser keys now. You’ll have a ride to your new place of employment.”

Well, screw me sideways with a baton while lighting me on fire. With a little luck, the poor bastard saddled with my cruiser would survive the experience; it had needed to retire years ago, but I kept the damned thing running through investing a few hours every week at home convincing the engine to keep trucking along. I opened my drawer, grabbed my keys, unclipped the dying vehicle’s keys, and handed them over. “Effective immediately, sir?”

Captain Frankson snatched the keys out of my hand. “Yes.”

Before I could say another word, he blew through the cubicle farm in the direction of his office and turned the corner. A moment later, a door slammed.

“Damn, McMarin. What did you do?”

 

From Heart Stings:

“We’re getting married—again!”

Mallory Parker, my grandmother, made that pronouncement in a loud, proud voice and followed it up with a wide, beaming smile. Me? I held back a groan and downed some water from my crystal goblet to hide the grimace twisting my face.

Stuart Mosley, Mallory’s husband, must have noticed my lack of enthusiasm, because he leaned forward and looked at me. “Don’t worry, Lorelei. We’re not actually getting married again. We’ve already been through that whole shebang once, which was plenty for me.”

Mallory’s blue eyes narrowed, and every single part of her body bristled, including the wrinkles that lined her face. She sat up to her full height and somehow managed to peer down her nose at Mosley, despite the fact that they were both dwarves and only around five feet tall. “I wasn’t aware that one of the happiest days of my life was a shebang.”

Mosley reached over and squeezed her hand, his hazel eyes gleaming in his tan, wrinkled face. “You know what I mean. All the fuss around planning the wedding. Picking out suits and dresses and flowers and ten different desserts for the reception. Now, that was most definitely a shebang. And for the record, it was one of the happiest days of my life too. And every day since then has only made me happier.”

A pleased, pink blush swept across Mallory’s pale cheeks. She curled her hand into his, and the massive diamond ring on her finger sparkled like a star. The two elderly dwarves stared into each other’s eyes, completely focused on the love they saw reflected in each other’s soft, adoring gaze.

They were a striking, distinguished couple. With her teased, cloudlike coif of snow-white hair, powder-blue cocktail dress, and perfect posture, Mallory looked as regal as a queen. Mosley’s wavy silver hair was expertly cut and styled, and his navy suit was impeccable, although his hooked, slightly crooked nose made him look more like a retired boxer than the president of First Trust bank and one of the most powerful businessmen in Ashland.

I cleared my throat, interrupting their lovey-dovey staring contest. “So, if you’re not going through the whole shebang again, then what are you doing?”

Mallory pulled her gaze away from Mosley and focused on me again. “We’re simply hosting a second reception, because…” Her voice trailed off. “Well, you know what happened at our first wedding reception.”

Everyone in Ashland knew what had happened at Mallory and Mosley’s reception, which had been the grand finale to their Valentine’s Day wedding last month. For the most part, things had gone off without a hitch. The actual wedding ceremony had been a beautiful affair, held in a ballroom at the Five Oaks Country Club and attended by friends and family from both near and far. The following reception had featured scrumptious food, lovely decorations, and upbeat music, and everyone had been talking, laughing, dancing, and having a terrific time.

Until Emery Slater had crashed the party.

The female giant had stormed into the ballroom and taken everyone hostage. Emery and her fellow giants had threatened to start shooting people unless Gin Blanco, the assassin known as the Spider, had agreed to leave with them. And in true Gin-being-Gin fashion, she had sacrificed herself and gone with the giants to protect the innocent guests, who had included her own friends and family.

“I told you that asking Gin to be a bridesmaid was risky,” I said. “Especially since she was hot on the trail of Mason Mitchell at the time.”

 

From Oak and Ink:

The Crossroads wasn’t exactly a sentient building, but all the magic stored in it had somehow merged together to create a joined spirit.

The old house was my friend, and I was its guardian and the keeper of its magic.

Even if that magic was dangerous.

Especially when it was dangerous.

In return, the Crossroads did its best to help me. Lately, I’d been having the same dream on repeat, which I knew the Crossroads had something to do with.

I was floating in tropical water, the taste of sugar on my lips. A handsome man, a familiar man, with green, green eyes placed a flower in my hair, his fingers drawing down the curve of my cheek. “I’ve missed you, Ricks.”

That’s where the dream always ended, because that’s always when I’d recognized the man.

Cardamom Oak. That dryad-wizard fink.

I’d dismissed the dream every day for a week, but the Crossroads just kept putting it in my brain.

I knew it was an omen.

Trouble was coming.

And that trouble was somehow connected to my jerk ex-lover.

 

More Dirty Deeds 2 snippets!!!

We’re getting great feedback on these stories. Devon and I talked today and we are so excited because we both want to write books that are fun and escapist and take readers into another fun headspace for awhile where they can escape and be carefree for a little while. And now some more snippets!

Also, don’t forget Scatter of Dreams will be published on June 24th. Read a chapter on it’s bookpage now! 

 

From Oak and Ink:Fate was coming. The roar of her motorcycle rumbled at the edge of my hearing and rattled through the magic in the ground beneath me, shaking that damn pecan tree I was scowling at.

I set my hammer and bucket of nails on the sawhorse and wiped my arm over my forehead, mopping sweat even though it was barely dawn.

“You hear that?” I asked the ghost. Valentine was lounging on the pile of wood I wanted to turn into a shop, even though the damn tree was in the way of the roofline.

“Did I hear some woman cussing about not having any help, and for reasons unknown to me, angry at a pecan tree? No, Ricky. I haven’t heard a thing you’ve said.”

Val had been a werewolf in life and was a smart-ass in death.

Built lean and rangy with a bit of hungry-wolf to him, he was too skinny to be my type. But with his scruff and wicked dark eyes, he pulled off the good-looking bad-boy vibe.

Me? I was a mountain. Over six-feet tall, with broad shoulders, wide hips, and thick everywhere else, I knew my size could intimidate. Counted on it, really.

Val claimed he had a tattoo on his body somewhere, which I wasn’t about to ask him to show me. I, however, couldn’t hide my ink and was absolutely painted from collarbone to fingertips, back, butt, legs and feet.

Every one of my tattoos carried magic that allowed me to access and look after the magic in the Crossroads.

“The engines,” I said. “Can you hear them?”

He tipped his head. The ghost wolf, who was always with him, lifted its head, too, ears pricked up.

“No?” he said.

“Well, I can. It’s Fate.”

“The god? How concerned should I be?”

“Depends. Did you do something to piss off the gods?”

“Not lately.” He grinned. “Have you, Ricky?”

 

From Heart Stings:

Remembering how Gin had saved me all those years ago made another thought pop into my mind. “Wait a second. When exactly is this not-big-and-fancy party of yours?”

Mallory winced, as though she’d just been caught with her hand in the proverbial cookie jar. “This coming weekend.”

“This weekend? As in when Gin will still be out of town with Owen, Finn, and Bria?”

Gin was taking a much-needed vacation, along with Owen Grayson, her significant other; Finnegan Lane, her foster brother; and Detective Bria Coolidge, her biological sister. I applauded Gin for scheduling some time off. If anyone could use a break from all the crime and corruption in the city, it was the Spider.

Not only was she an assassin with a list of enemies a mile long, but now that Mason Mitchell was dead, Gin was also the official queen of the Ashland underworld, and thus responsible for settling disputes between the various crime bosses, most of whom were about as mature as two-year-old toddlers throwing temper tantrums.

“Well, the four of them were at the original reception,” Mallory replied in a defensive tone. “I didn’t think they would mind if we had a little party while they were gone.”

I snorted again. “You mean you didn’t want to risk another one of Gin’s enemies crashing this new party and ruining it like Emery Slater did the first one.”

Mallory winced again. “Okay, fine, pumpkin. You caught me. Yes, I decided to hold the party this weekend while Gin is gone. I thought her not being there might lessen the risk of something bad happening.”

It was a fair point. Trouble followed Gin Blanco around like a wolf stalking a deer through the forest.

From 101 Ways to Die:

“First things first; unless reporters are nearby, I’m Sam or Quinn. She’s Bailey.”

Chief Bailey Quinn glared at her husband and the box he held. “If you want to put him in his place, call me Gardener. It drives him crazy.” Placing her hands on her hips, she continued to glare at her husband. “I could have carried that.”

“You could have, but you won’t.” Chief Samuel Quinn grinned. “As I’m busy carrying this box, I won’t be able to defend your saddle, which I happened to bring with me today.”

The woman bolted down the hall, hit the stairwell door at full throttle, and bounced off it before yanking it open and plunging down the steps.

My mouth dropped open, and I struggled to come up with a single thing to say.

“The kids are at their grandparents’ place today, and she is enjoying her freedom. As she’s no longer nursing, she had her first cup of coffee today since month five of her first pregnancy. This time, she gets to have coffee until month eight. This will delight her until she realizes that she’s already working on her timer before she’s cut off again. She has not had coffee in months. She’s once again forgotten cindercorns don’t appreciate the cold, which should have been her first clue she’ll be losing her coffee rights again by the end of the year. Have you ridden a horse before?”

I grimaced at the memory of being stuck with one of the force’s worst assholes of a horse during my training period. “I have basic mounted patrol training, but I was passed over for duty,” I reported.

“That’ll do. You’ll ride Bailey to the station. Maybe that’ll calm her down. I’ve a pair of goggles for you to wear, and I had a vest made for her so she’s not cop bait. She is excitable today, and cindercorns have a habit of disregarding speed limits when excited. Hell, who am I kidding? Cindercorns hate speed limits.”

Dirty Deeds 2 Little Snippets

The following are two little bits from the different stories in the book. Just to whet your appetite for more. These are from mine and Faith’s. More coming soon!

From Putting the Chic in Psychic:“What are your plans for the day?” He asked, interrupting my rambling train of thought.

“I’m going to check on the construction progress, and I have a couple potential clients to meet with about sales this weekend. Later, I’m having dinner with the girls. What about you?”

“More of the same. Sorting out your aunt’s financial estate. It’s like picking apart a gordian knot.”

“Sounds horrifying.”

The corners of his mouth kicked up. “I enjoy puzzles. There’s no satisfaction like solving a difficult one.”

“I like puzzles just fine, but that mess is sheer torture.”

“Which is why you have me to sort it out for you.”

“Lighting it on fire would be more satisfying.”

 

From Magic School for Geezers:

Dani was perched in one of the visitors’ chairs in the office as the COO perused her computer screen. Margorie Devoe, the Chief Operating Officer of “The Seven’s,” was behind her desk, making her wait. Hoping to make her squirm. Make her worry.

Power games pissed Dani off; always had. But she knew how this game was played. She relaxed into the stiff-backed chair and sipped the coffee. It was still hot, so she hadn’t been here as long as it felt like. She lifted a hand and stroked her pearls, an affectation that went along with her undercover ID and fake personal and professional history.

She had spent the early morning in the lab, while the techs, the psychologist, and the counselor tested her magical abilities, and then the later morning filling out paperwork: medical records, financial records, personal and professional history. Part of the paperwork was true, the rest was total fiction and was currently being run through “The Seven’s” IT department for verification. If her cover didn’t hold, if someone picked holes in her false identification, she’d be tossed out on her butt, and their client would have no way to find their missing family member.

The laboratory testing had taken place in a void room and Dani had failed. Utterly. On purpose. Instead of igniting the candle, or heating the cup of water with her power, she had blown up a computer and the desk it had been sitting on, and then set a wooden doorway on fire, the blaze so hot she had set off the fire alarm and the fire department had shown up, lights, sirens, and hunky first responders, most young enough to be her grandsons.

Blowing things up and setting things on fire had been fun, and not something she’d done on purpose in years.

Final Read Along Post The Stranger Things

This is the final post for me on The Stranger Things. Spoilers abound, of course, so do stop reading now if you don’t want to know. I would definitely go grab the book and read it, though. Definitely worth them money. Fun read and I’m already on to the second one.

I should probably have broken this one up a little bit more, but I didn’t have time to report in. I’ve had a lot going on. I start teaching tomorrow, and the day after Dirty Deeds 2 releases, and my daughter graduates high school Thursday, and my future daughter in-law graduates college on Saturday, and my mom has several appointments this week, and my stomach’s been killing me. I don’t know why. Dinner tonight was yogurt and toast. If I don’t improve soon, going to have to go to the doctor.

Anyhow, when last we left our intrepid heroes, Simon had died and Hanna and Banecroft had gone out the window. I’d forgotten to mention Dr. Carter’s appearance. I imagine her as Kristin Chenowith. She was an awfully convenient lawyer, but obviously from the phone call in the car, she was something more than she seemed. What confused me though is that Banecroft continues to call her the paper’s lawyer, even though Mrs. Harnforth never seems to have heard of her. And that was weird, too, because both women seem to be deeply knowledgeable about the Founders and the Folk and the governmental workings of the Accord and all involved.

I was a little surprised that Stella was revealed as Folk. I expected it to be Ox and/or Reggie and of course, Manny. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect of Manny, but it wasn’t a sort of symbiotic relationship of two beings. That’s cool, though. And is the printing press its own being? Looking forward to learning more.

I think the investigation made pretty good sense, though Banecroft seemed to not know that much about magic before talking to Mrs. Hanforth, yet he called Moretti on trying to use it on him. That seemed to be inconsistent story-wise. I happened to be bothered by that because Banecroft knowing about magic made him really interesting at that point, so now I’m not sure how to think about him. He’s smart, for certain, but I’m not sure how much he knows or doesn’t know about the magical world. How much he knows what he publishes is real, how much he knew about Stella, how much he knew about Manny or anybody else, and so on.

I was frustrated with the police, though I think that was the point. They were infiltrated by the Founders and potentially the Folk, which means policework isn’t the priority, protecting the Founders and Folk is. You simply can’t count on or trust them. And then you find out you can’t count on DI Sturgess, which is really sad and awful and I’m wondering how he will be saved, if they can. That said, how horrifyingly cool was it that the eyeball came out of the top of his head? And no doubt is causing his headaches?

I can’t tell you how happy I was that Vera released the were to kill Moretti in the end. The idea that there would be no repercussions bugged the crap out of me. I’m also not a big fan of the Accord and using the Folk to keep the others alive. I’m left with some questions that I’m trying to decide if I really need to know. Who is Xander exactly and who is his employer? Does it only matter that the employer is a founder? And now that the boy can’t be saved, will he try again? I’m not sure that really matters in terms of the story. We’re left knowing that while Moretti is dead, others that could do as he did still exist, the guy who wanted it done still exists, and there’s no reason they have to stop at all.

It also made me wonder how easy it to make weres? And is the threat of being hunted by the folk really enough to hold the Founders in check? Is this event enough to motivate the Folk to hunt the Founders to extinction in order to protect themselves? Or are they organized/powerful enough to do that enough?

I’m really looking forward to learning more about the world situation and how things work.

In the end, I just loved the characters. Even Banecroft. And how fun was it that Simon returned??? I’m looking forward to seeing what happens next!

 

Second Read Along Post–Spoilers if you’ve not been reading

How much are you loving this book? I am reading a little slower than I want, mostly because I went camping with my husband and mom and there’s a bit of a story there, and we bought a new truck (also a story there), and we got some other stuff done. So anyhow, I’m reading, and as much as I want to chew through this story, I haven’t.

I’m at the chapter where Hannah and Banescroft have climbed out the window following the news of Simon’s death. Was anybody else kind of surprised he died? I mean, he feels like he was supposed to be around awhile, and even though he was clearly doing the thing in the horror movie where you go outside alone where someone is killing everybody because …. stupid horror trope. I mean, I get Simon’s motivation, and I’m sure it didn’t occur to him he was in danger, but that was on the too-stupid-to-live spectrum.

When Tina came in on Loon day (I loved that day), did anybody else wonder if she was the old Tina? And speaking of Loon day, the guy wanting to charge for his stories killed me. He was AMAZING. And I really want to know how that toilet in Scotland is haunted. And I absolutely adore the little inserted bizarro stories.

Even though I see Moretti being incredibly awful, I still can’t decide if he’s evil or more chaotic or that sort of character who is doing bad things but mostly to people who deserve it. So sort of a vigilante. At the same time, the way he deliberately burns Gary is creepy. He’s beginning to remind me a little of my character, Percy, from my Diamond City books, and Percy is a shit.

How do you suppose Gary’s transformation and work for Moretti is supposed to help his daughter? Will Moretti be able to cure her? Or some other thing? And is the similarity between Moriarty and Moretti deliberate?

What’s Manny hiding under his dreds around his neck? Or maybe I should say, who? Because certainly there’s someone or something under there. Also, how many of the people working at Stranger Times are not human?

I’m loving Hannah’s self evolution and becoming more assertive with Banecroft. That’s scene was GREAT. And with Stella–convincing her to call her Hannah instead of new Tina. I love the magic of donuts.

How are you feeling about the story’s evolution so far? I can’t wait to keep reading, and I already bought the next book.