She
didn't care about her aches and stiffness.
Darcy let out a giggle as she finished warming up and started across the
mats to the sword rack. Things were fine
between her and Duncan again, Amanda wanted to take her shopping that afternoon
"to get some bait to solve your man troubles," and her arm was
healing nicely. She couldn't wait to see
how well she did today in her lessons.
"My
sword's missing!" Her wail cut
through the unusual silence of the long room and echoed back to her.
Confusion,
anger and a sense of having been robbed cut through her. Darcy stood still for two seconds, then
turned to run to Duncan's office. The
door opened before she reached it.
Detective McGee stepped out, followed by Duncan. The red-haired detective looked as rumpled
and frustrated as always. Duncan smiled
tightly at her.
"Your
sword, Darcy?" McGee asked in that
quiet tone of voice that usually meant deep trouble for someone -- usually not
her -- when her father used that tone of voice.
"Duncan
lets me use it for practice. I was
hoping to buy it someday. What's going
on?"
"That
explains the mystery fingerprints."
"What's
going on?"
"About
what time did you get here yesterday?"
"I
don't know. Maybe seven,
seven-thirty."
"Was
the sword in its rack when you were here?"
"Yeah." Darcy felt her face heat in a blush. "I checked on it. I mean, it's my sword, y'know?"
"We
know," Duncan said, nodding.
"You
were with MacLeod until when?" the detective continued.
"About
midnight." Darcy glanced back and
forth between the two men. "Duncan,
what's -- "
"Somebody
killed Andy last night, Darcy," Duncan explained. He held out a hand, as if he thought she
might lose her balance. "That sword
was found by the body."
Kicking off, she floated up over the McCreedy boys' heads and snatched three
shovels, two picks and a bag of blasting caps from outstretched hands. The
items turned invisible the moment she pulled them inside her Ghost field. Jane
snorted, muffling laughter as the McCreedys just stood there, hands grasping at
empty air, their mouths dropping open. She didn't pause to hover in mid-air and
enjoy the moment, but darted away to the crumbling face of the reservoir. A
little extra oomph to her Ghost field, and she parted the cement
molecules enough to shove the tools into the center of the reservoir's
retention wall. There they would stay until the Ghost came to retrieve them, or
the sub-standard construction finally eroded. Without the pressure of the
scummy lake behind it, Jane estimated the wall would last another four or five
years. More's the pity.
She flew back and found the McCreedy boys stumbling around, trying to find
their tools. Did they actually think they had dropped their stolen booty and
couldn't find anything in the open gravel yard, in the light of the nearly full
moon? What kind of idiots was she dealing with tonight?
"That's a rhetorical question if I ever heard one," she said, and
didn't bother to keep her voice down.
"Who's there?" Slick, the oldest McCreedy boy bellowed.
"Who do you think?" she shouted back.
Coming through the Ghost field, her voice dropped nearly two octaves. One of
these days, she considered doing something to the field so it would sound like
her own voice. Until then, the residents of Fendersburg would continue to
believe the Ghost was a man.
"Hey, Ghost, long time no see," Jeff, the third boy said with a
vacuous grin.
"Idiot," Clint, the fourth, snarled. He tried to elbow his older
brother, but misjudged the distance and nearly fell off his feet. "Nobody
can see the Ghost."
Jane didn't wait for the usual fight to break out among the McCreedy boys.
She swooped down among them and picked up the rest of their demolition tools.
Spray-paint cans, two hoes, charcoal lighter fluid and three boxes of matches.
Those joined the other tools in the center of the retaining wall.
When she came back to the truck, she found the boys had scattered, running
along the edges of the reservoir. Ten IQ points higher, and they might have had
the sense to jump back in their truck and get out of there. But no, the
McCreedy boys were intent on doing damage. It was hard to decide if they
considered it their right, or their duty. Jane flew over the stinking water of
the reservoir, trying to ignore the smell of pea soup algae gone out of
control, and listened to the boys shouting directions to each other. Some people seemed to think
that if they couldn't see the Ghost, then the Ghost couldn't hear them.
"Looks like another busy night for the Ghost," Jane muttered as
she swooped down through the crystal-clear, stifling hot night air, and came in
for a landing. "Goody gumdrops."
Bald tires, a road badly in need of patching, and overgrown bushes and trees
hanging over the edges of the crumbling blacktop meant the McCreedy boys had to
drive slowly up the steep hill and follow the hairpin turns instead of bouncing
up and over. Jane appreciated their caution. She was in a bad enough mood
without carrying the guilt and dismay of saving a McCreedy's life tonight. She
had just painted her nails and didn't want to risk chipping them, if she had to
lunge to catch a rusty bumper and keep the truck from going over the edge.
With her luck, she would get tetanus or hepatitis or any of a dozen diseases
hiding in the thick coating of filth that kept the McCreedy truck from falling
apart.
Unlike the other Gifted she had grown up with, Jane wasn't bullet-proof or
made of steel. She could fly, she could go invisible. She could walk through
solid objects and heal broken bones within a couple hours. That didn't mean she
was impervious to pain or disease, and she needed a decent night's sleep even
more desperately than most people. Or at least, most people in the backwards
town of Fendersburg.
"Told ya it was broke," a whining McCreedy voice crowed, just
before the truck crashed into the lopsided gate of the reservoir.
"Told you to get it fixed," Jane muttered, and stepped back as the
truck skidded to a stop in the gravel yard of the reservoir. How many times had
the Ghost made surveys of all public property, listed the necessary repairs,
the accidents waiting to happen, and gave those lists to the town council? She
had lost count. She had even sent the list three times to the Fendersburg
Trumpet, and the newspaper actually printed the lists and demanded action.
Nothing had happened.
As evidenced by the broken lock on the fence and the lack of a single spark
when Willy's truck hit it open. That fence was supposed to be electrified, to
stop mutants like the McCreedy boys from breaking in.
"Let's go have some fun!" Willy chortled, and slid out of the
driver's seat. He reached into the back of the truck and pulled out tools for
his brothers.
Most of the tools had price tags still attached. Jane sighed at that
evidence that Joe-Bob over at the hardware store still hadn't repaired his
burglar alarm from the last time someone broke in. She supposed she'd hear an
angry tirade in the morning, about how the Ghost hadn't stopped the burglars.
Honestly, how could anybody resist when the door wouldn't stay locked and
Joe-Bob left the lights on half the time, so anybody walking by could see what
was waiting to be stolen and no one was in the store?
I now have all my book trailers available for viewing on this blog.
Just go to the Pages listing in the right-hand column, below the links and archive listing.
You can view a video and get a taste for what's in some of the series I've written, and also view the book covers. For more information, you can go to my website, or the publishers' websites.
This
continues the feature on books set in my weird little town of NEIGHBORLEE,
OHIO.
Think
of a place that's part Mayberry, part Roswell, part Eureka, and part Buffy's
Sunnyvale -- but without the vampires or aliens.
Yeah
-- MAGIC!
A
little creepy at times, a lot of fun, and always something going on. For those
who live there, the odd events are kind of shrugged off with a, "Ho, hum,
so what ELSE is new?" attitude. And what's really odd is that newcomers
don't really notice. Of course, then there's the "we don't want you here,
go away" vibe that some people get, so they don't stick around long enough
to notice something strange is going on.
All of this is leading up to the release of the next
Neighborlee, Ohio book published by Uncial Press:DORM
RATS. Otherwise known as Growing Up Neighborlee, Book 2.
HERO BLUES
Superheroes have it rough -- especially when the towns they protect expect them to fix everything, from forgetting to fill their gas tanks to children running wild to the consequences of a lack of common sense. Jane is finally fed up with being the Ghost, notifies the citizens in her town of mental midgets that she’s quitting, and sets off to make a new life and solve some mysteries of her own.
First item on the list: return to Neighborlee, the town where she was found as an abandoned child. Jane knows there are others like her: abandoned children with unusual powers. Where did they come from, how did they get to Neighborlee and other towns like it, and why are the Gifted -- as they call themselves -- the way they are?
As Jane retraces her childhood, she is pleased to discover that some people remember her. She settles in, makes a new place for herself, and is welcomed by the people and the town itself. That’s important, because Neighborlee protects its own -- and those who don’t fit in are soon driven away. She makes contact with others like her and slowly earns their trust and confidence.
However, it’s a bumpy process. Living in the “weirdness capital of the United States, possibly the world,” means being extra cautious. Even when it comes to someone with superhero powers. Or maybe especially someone with superhero powers.
Then someone -- or something -- from outside her understanding makes contact. It or he or they promise Jane not only answers to the questions she’s had all her life, but a way to go home, wherever her real home might be. It’s everything she’s ever wanted … or is it?
"Got
a minute?" Duncan said, stepping up to the bar.
Joe's
Place wasn't open yet Tuesday morning, but the door was unlocked for the
employees to come in. For the moment,
Joe was alone at the counter, working on the same beer tap that had been giving
him trouble for the last month.
"A
few." Joe glanced up, smiling. His smile froze and then faded. Duncan realized how he had to look; stiff posture, the extra lines around his
mouth. "Problem?"
"I
don't know yet. It depends on what you
say."
"Uh
oh." He tried to smile again. "Something I did?"
"Joe,
I know you try not to interfere with my life.
It makes things awkward, being friends when you're my Watcher. I appreciate it."
"Big
problem."
"Did
you tell that kid to get close to Darcy Porter?"
"What
kid?" Joe put down the screwdriver
and rested both hands on the bar. Duncan
had his complete attention now.
"Andy
somebody."
"Andy
Blaine?" He flinched, visibly
realizing too late he had given away too much.
"I
assume since Martha is his grandmother, she's Josh's Watcher." Duncan tried to smile. "Don't worry -- I'm not asking and I
won't do anything about it either way."
"Thanks,"
Joe said with a wry grin. Then a moment
later his eyes widened and his grin faded.
"What do you mean, get close to Darcy? Like recruiting her?"
"I
hope he isn't. I haven't heard what he's
been saying to her. Hopefully it's just
a lot of romantic mush."
"Romantic." He rested both hands on the edge of the
bar. "Are you telling me that boy
is romancing the daughter of an Immortal?
He should know better than that."
"Something
wrong with that?" Duncan tried to
look innocent when he felt great relief.
His instincts had not been wrong.
"Darcy's a nice girl."
"Right, and yet not entirely." Angela took hold of my hand.
"My dear Athena... How I wish you weren't so perceptive, that you hadn't
inherited your grandfather's gifts and the responsibilities that come with
them. And yet I know, from long years of experience, we are born to duties and
burdens, and we destroy our souls if we refuse them." She took a deep
breath, exhaled slowly, all the while gazing into my eyes. "First, I sent
them away because there are things I don't want Bethany to hear. I'm afraid
Doni will have to hear what I tell you someday. When she starts having dreams
of her own.
"And that is the second thing. You are right. You are an appointed
guardian of Neighborlee, and so shall Doni be, when she is older."
"Why don't you want Bethany to know?"
"Her bloodline has done enough already for Neighborlee. Her mother was
another foundling, just like your grandfather, like Lanie Zephyr and her
friends, like several others in our town."
"Her mom?" I shivered, the cold coming from deep inside, as I
remembered when Bethany's mother died. We were only nine. Sometimes being young
helped to make the heavy sadness fade, but other times it just made the impact
worse, and last longer.
Then I knew. I understood. Fragments of those sad, confusing days bobbed up
to the surface of my memories. They connected like they were magnets, drawing
to each other, forming pictures without any effort on my part.
"Mrs. Miller... She didn't die of a heart attack, did she?" I
whispered.
Angela gripped my hand tighter and shook her head.
Six years ago, there were strange buzzing sensations in the ground and an
electrical storm that lasted nearly two whole days. Other people didn't seem to
notice the electrical tingles in the air, in the soil, but Granddad sympathized
with me and let me stay home from school, curled up on the couch with him,
where we both kept our feet off the ground. Mrs. Miller had left the diner on
an errand during a lull between lunch and dinner, and didn't come back. A freak
storm had struck, sending people diving for cover, driving rain horizontally.
When it cleared up, she was found collapsed in an alley between two stores on
the Mall, drenched and white like all the blood had been drained out of her,
cold and dead. Part of me wanted to yank
my hand free of Angela's and run away. If I tried, she probably wouldn't hold
onto me, keep me there. Not with her hand, anyway.
I finished my story, and the four of us sat, sipping in comfortable silence,
for a few more minutes. Actually, I felt a lot better, like some pressure had
been removed. Maybe it would be more accurate to say that having told Angela, I
had fulfilled a responsibility I didn't know I had.
That made sense, I realized. Angela and Divine's Emporium were there in
Neighborlee to protect it, or us, or maybe... Well, to be honest, sometimes I
was sure there were things in our town that had to be contained in our town. So
maybe Divine's protected the world from Neighborlee, instead of just the
special people, the oddness, being hidden from the world? By telling Angela
about my dream, I was helping her to guard us, or guard something else?
"Guardians," Angela murmured. Her little superior smile definitely
changed back to a smirk when I flinched at her word, coming so soon on the
heels of my thoughts.
Yeah, I could definitely believe Angela read minds.
"Bethany, would you and Doni go upstairs and get one of my moonlight
journals from the chest in my bedroom?" Angela reached inside the neck of
her dress and drew out a thin silver chain with a long, crystalline skeleton
key hanging from it, and handed chain and key to Bethany.
As the two of them held hands and hurried out of the room, heading for the
stairs, Angela's smile faded entirely. "It's real, isn't
it?" I whispered. "The things in my dreams." I swallowed hard.
"And you don't want Doni to hear what you're going to tell me about
fighting it."
This
continues the feature on books set in my weird little town of NEIGHBORLEE,
OHIO.
Think
of a place that's part Mayberry, part Roswell, part Eureka, and part Buffy's
Sunnyvale -- but without the vampires or aliens.
Yeah
-- MAGIC!
A
little creepy at times, a lot of fun, and always something going on. For those
who live there, the odd events are kind of shrugged off with a, "Ho, hum,
so what ELSE is new?" attitude. And what's really odd is that newcomers
don't really notice. Of course, then there's the "we don't want you here,
go away" vibe that some people get, so they don't stick around long enough
to notice something strange is going on.
All of this is leading up to the release of the next
Neighborlee, Ohio book published by Uncial Press:DORM
RATS. Otherwise known as Growing Up Neighborlee, Book 2.
LONDON HOLIDAY
It started with an overnight stay at Divine’s Emporium and a high school computer programming assignment. Athena found an unusual video camera, hooked it up to her computer, and videotaped her cousin, London, whom everyone called Doni. She thought nothing of it, after all the other odd events of that night.
After all, Neighborlee, Ohio was the weirdness capital of the United States, and Divine’s Emporium was the caretaker, the way to control all that weirdness and keep the magic tamed. At least, that was what everyone who saw the strange things and people and events chose to believe.
Three years later, in an experimental computer class in college, Athena and her teammates chose to create a social media site as their project. The site, called FlopDrop, needed a hostess. Doni agreed to be the foundation for all the images of the hostess, whom they named London Holiday.
To the surprise of the team and the class--and the disgust of their rivals and enemies--FlopDrop took off. London Holiday and her CGI friends became overnight Internet sensations. London seemed to take on a life of her own.
By the time Athena and Doni realized that their artificial person had become a self-aware Artificial Intelligence, they weren’t quite sure what that harmless experimentation three years ago had created. Were they midwives at the birth of a new lifeform…or repeating Dr. Frankenstein’s mistakes on an even bigger scale?
Today is your chance to talk with featured author LINDA WOOD RONDEAU about her book, The Fifteenth Article, or about other books she's working on, questions her writing has brought up, related topics. The floor is Hers, and Yours!
About the Author:
Award winning author, LINDA WOOD
RONDEAU writes to
demonstrate our worst past, surrendered to God becomes our best future. A
veteran social worker, Linda now resides in Hagerstown, Maryland. Readers may
visit her web site at www.lindarondeau.com. Contact the author on
Facebook,Twitter, Pinterest,
Google Plus and Goodreads.
Just a recap:
The Fifteenth Article is a futuristic, political thriller set in the late 21st
century. The world slumped into a second dark age due to war, famine, and
disease. Eventually, people tired of warfare, put down their arms and formed a
global democracy called The Accord. However, corruption soon followed, The
Accord fell and was replaced by a phony democracy called The Constitutional
Government of United Earth, so named for the Fourteen Articles of Constitution.
The world is divided into nineteen provinces, each province containing a
primary city, the polluted areas outside the cities referred to as the
outworld, inhabited by defectors, nomads, and marauders. When the book begins,
Charles Devereaux, governor of Western America walks into the euthanasia
chamber. His successor, Edwin Rowlands, is also slated to replace the ailing
President. His climb to power will give him the votes to pass his proposed
Preservation Act, or The Fifteenth Article. This legislation would make
defection to the outworlds, once a right under The Accord, an act of treason,
both past and present, punishable by death without trial. Outworld factions in
opposition to the current world government are now threatened, including the
thriving Network of Western America, a system of six communities, former
states, led by Jacob Goodayle, a Christ follower, who proposes secession from
the Constitutional Government. General Kinnear’s Revolutionary Army proposes a
military takeover. Ahmed Fared, Jacob Goodayle’s adoptive brother and Second
Governor of Western America, believes reform can be managed within the existing
government that would prevent civil war and a third dark age. Who will be the
voice of reason within the ensuing chaos?
An essay relating to Linda Wood Rondeau's featured title, The Fifteenth Article:
WHAT WAS AND WHAT
MIGHT BE
When we look back and then forward, we discover that the
adage is true:
The more things change
The more things stay the same.
My recent release futuristic
political thriller, The Fifteenth Article,
takes place in the last part of the 21st century, circa 2073, only
fifty-six years from now. I thought we might take a drive down memory lane
fifty-six years or so beginning with 1961.
The first year of the 1960’s proved
to be a transition year—one that would propel society toward major political,
social, financial, and scientific change.
Political Climate:
Political upheaval has existed since Cain was ousted from
the known establishment of his time because he’d murdered his brother. A new
hierarchy developed from Cain’s replacement, Seth. And so, the beat goes on, as
the song of 1967 echoed.
In 1961, America’s involvement in
Southeast Asia ramped up. So, began the divide between hawks and doves, a
division that would define American politics for the next several decades. On
the world stage, construction of the Berlin Wall became a symbol of the sharp
divide between east and west, communism and capitalism, a free society and a
controlled society.
The
Fifteenth Article, portrays mankind as still in flux. The world survived
tsunamis, pandemic, and global war to form a short-lived democratic global
government called The Accord. However, the system was too weak, and a new
government took its place called The Constitutional Government ordered by
Fourteen Articles of Constitution.
Like all governments, factions
arise that are dissatisfied and threaten world stability, including a would-be
Caesar who has manipulated the constitution to set himself up as a new world
dictator.
Where governments exist,
there will always be those
who will rise up in protest.
Social Climate
The 1960’s was a decade of enormous social change,
especially civil rights.
Much of what transpired in the
later part of the decade stemmed from the early clashes of unrest and civil
disobedience.
Perhaps the most famous civil
unrest came from the Freedom Riders,
who tested the Supreme Court decisionBoynton v. Virginiaby riding racially integrated
interstate buses into the South.
In 2017 the world population is
estimated at 7.5 billion compared to 4 billion just 56 years ago. In my
fictional world of 2073, the population is only 2 billion. Because of labor
shortages, genetic engineering produced a classification of sub-humans called
“memes.”
Since the days of The Exodus,
the human spirit has yearned to be free.
We who
believe know such true freedom
is only found in Christ.
As do
those in 2073, called Christ Followers.
Economic Climate
1961 saw the end of a ten-month recession that began in
April 1960. Though the recession ended, unemployment remained high.
In the fictional world of 2073,
cities comprise the largest economic centers of the world’s nineteen
providences. Outworlds are inhabited by non-citizens. Some are defectors who
gave up their citizenship for more personal freedom. The largest and most
organized of these outworlds is The Network, a series of six communities
formerly known as states. They have become illegally self-governing. However,
the Network is the largest provider of food for the cities. They have been
allowed to exist in return for a tithe of goods. However, their growth
threatens the concept of a global government.
Since early history, the economy has determined who controls what.
Cultural Climate
Culture has always been reflected in a society’s
entertainment fads and every-day life. In a pluralistic society, conflict
arises when one group forces their preferences or religious ideations upon
another. In 1961, America considered itself a Christian nation. Most attended a
house of worship or held association with a religious denomination.
In the fictional world of 2073,
organized religion was blamed for a great war between Christians and Muslims
called The Schism. As a result, society outlawed religious expression of any
kind.
History has
shown that the quest for domination has always been disguised in the form of
outward religiosity. Those who follow the Lord know that true religion begins
in a heart that has been surrendered to a sovereign God.
In a future
world, with the demise of outward manipulation of what is deemed right
Christianity, Christ Followers have set aside denominational differences and
have banned together in common knowledge that God is still on the throne and
remains involved in Mankind’s walk on this Earth. That as long as the earth
endures, summer, winter, and harvest will remain.
Science and
Technological Climate
Since the discovery of fire,
Mankind has adored the newest gadgets.
In 1961, touch-tone technology
had been developed but did not come into wider use until 1963. In a future
world, communications will be managed through a micro device, illegal for
outworlds but still in use. The micro is a computer-like device that can be
held in the palm of one’s hand and connects through the Mainframe.
In fact, in the domed cities, every aspect of life is
monitored and controlled through the Mainframe. While crime is virtually
non-existent, personal freedom has all but vanished.
Since the dawn of history, men have sought for life, liberty and the
pursuit of happiness. Will 2073 bring society closer or farther from this goal?
Tomorrow: Come back to chat with Linda via the comments section.
Today starts a NEW feature here on the blog. On Sunday, the featured author will speak to you about a current work-in-progress or an upcoming book. On Monday, YOU the readers get to speak to the author. She'll answer your questions about what is posted here on Sunday and Monday, or other books you've read by her, and maybe if you're good have a giveaway of some kind. Easy, right? In the words of Khan ... let us begin ...
Today's featured author. The first brave soul to participate in Whatcha Doin'?
LINDA WOOD RONDEAU
Featured title: The Fifteenth Article
The Fifteenth Article is a futuristic, political thriller set in the late 21st
century. The world slumped into a second dark age due to war, famine, and
disease. Eventually, people tired of warfare, put down their arms and formed a
global democracy called The Accord. However, corruption soon followed, The
Accord fell and was replaced by a phony democracy called The Constitutional
Government of United Earth, so named for the Fourteen Articles of Constitution.
The world is divided into nineteen provinces, each province containing a
primary city, the polluted areas outside the cities referred to as the
outworld, inhabited by defectors, nomads, and marauders. When the book begins,
Charles Devereaux, governor of Western America walks into the euthanasia
chamber. His successor, Edwin Rowlands, is also slated to replace the ailing
President. His climb to power will give him the votes to pass his proposed
Preservation Act, or The
Fifteenth Article. This legislation would make
defection to the outworlds, once a right under The Accord, an act of treason,
both past and present, punishable by death without trial. Outworld factions in
opposition to the current world government are now threatened, including the
thriving Network of Western America, a system of six communities, former
states, led by Jacob Goodayle, a Christ follower, who proposes secession from
the Constitutional Government. General Kinnear’s Revolutionary Army proposes a
military takeover. Ahmed Fared, Jacob Goodayle’s adoptive brother and Second
Governor of Western America, believes reform can be managed within the existing
government that would prevent civil war and a third dark age. Who will be the
voice of reason within the ensuing chaos?
LATER THIS AFTERNOON, an article by Linda, discussing the background of the book. Fascinating stuff, folks!
About the Author
Award winning author, LINDA WOOD RONDEAU writes to
demonstrate our worst past, surrendered to God becomes our best future. A
veteran social worker, Linda now resides in Hagerstown, Maryland. Readers may
visit her web site at www.lindarondeau.com. Contact the author on
Facebook,Twitter, Pinterest,
Google Plus and Goodreads.
"Mac?" Josh stepped out into the hall, a hammer in
one hand, a box of nails in the other, his carpenter's apron bulging with
supplies. He grinned as Duncan waved and
continued his leisurely stroll down the hall.
"Thanks for coming. We could
really use six hands for this job today.
My other helpers couldn't come. I
thought it'd just be Andy and me today."
Andy. The name caught Duncan's interest. There couldn't be two Andy's working on
renovating the factory building, could there?
Duncan could almost hear Amanda chuckling. He told himself to be honest -- it wasn't
just his role as Darcy's guardian that made him want to check out the young
man.
"Hey,
Andy?" Josh called, as Duncan stepped through the doorway into the
half-walled room. "This is Duncan
MacLeod. An old friend. He's going to be helping us for a
while."
"Hi." Andy was the red-head who had been working
with Josh when Duncan first came in on Friday.
He wore faded jeans and his blue flannel shirt hung open, revealing
decent abs -- he didn't get that condition from just carpentry work, Duncan decided.
Then
Duncan saw the tattoo on the young man's wrist and his assessment ground to a
halt. Dark blue, clear and unblurred
from recent application, a narrow ring with the familiar triangular insignia
inside.
Watcher. Not Josh's Watcher. What had Darcy said about Andy being Martha's
grandson? Martha came with Josh's team
to open up new missions. Watching seemed
to run in families. Where else could
they get recruits without exposing themselves to people who might think they
were crazy?
"Nice
to meet you," Duncan said, shaking the young man's hand. His own hand felt slightly clammy as he
released him. It was an effort not to
keep watching Andy. He turned to Josh
and held out his sweatshirt-clad arms.
"What do you want me to do?"
As
he and Josh and Andy finished assembling a long section of wall studs and
hoisted it into place, then fastened it down and started hanging the drywall,
Duncan thought about what he had seen, the implications. He stole glances at Andy whenever he could
without it seeming obvious. The young
Watcher seemed not be paying any attention to him at all. Duncan found that almost amusing. He remembered the few times he had walked
into a room full of Watchers. Everyone
had stared, either openly or so furtively it had been ludicrously obvious. Maybe this young man didn't know who Duncan
MacLeod was.
Now
that's a blow to your ego, isn't it? Duncan chided silently. He had to grin at that.
Angela's thoughts and her heart skittered away from that knowledge. She
threw herself into laughing and teasing with her friends among the students,
pointed out new treasures she had brought into the shop, and listened to her
regular customers talk about plans for the rest of their break, or term papers
they were working on.
She almost forgot about her dreams by the time she closed up the shop and
went upstairs to make dinner. The warmth of the spring day had collected in her
apartment. After opening the windows and turning on the ceiling fans, she
decided the heat wouldn't dissipate fast enough to suit her. She made a salad
and a fresh batch of iced tea and went out into her garden to enjoy the soft
breezes coming up the slope from the Metroparks.
"Where are you?" she whispered, startling herself.
Where had that thought come from? Who had she been talking to?
The aching feeling inside her hinted at memories she had either put away for
the sake of self-preservation...or she had lost altogether. But how could that
be? Taking a deep breath to brace herself, Angela moved backwards in her
memories, investigating that disturbing dream from the night before. Perhaps
the answer was there? She tried to see the knight's features inside the shadows
of his helmet, tried to make out the colors of the garden, anything that would
give her a stronger clue to where and when, if this was nothing but a dream, or
a valid memory. And if a memory, why had she put it so far away in her mind
that she had forgotten it?
More important: Why was it coming back to her now? What magic was at work,
sifting through the images filling her memories from her very long, full life,
attempting communication in those pictures? Friendly magic, warning her? Or
inimical magic, attempting to paralyze her with fear, or distract her from
something she needed to sense so she could protect against it?
A queasy ripple in the net protecting the shop yanked Angela out of her
thoughts. Her heart leaped as she looked around. The shadows had grown long all
around her, like cold, dark hands reaching from the night to enfold her. Her
hands and knees shook faintly as she hurried to gather up her dishes and go
back into the shop. That shiver of fear bothered her more than the sudden
certainty that something was out there in the darkness, watching her.
Worse was the realization that she had lost all sense of time and location,
just long enough to be terrified. Which was ridiculous. She had done it to
herself. Hadn't she?
The students from Willis-Brooks College who didn't go home for spring break
descended en mass in the afternoon, in search of candy and old movies and used
books. Angela let the bustle and laughing voices divert her. She watched them,
reading their spirits, seeing who had grown a little more sensitive to the
magic pervading the entire town, and who had let their ideas of success and
their goals for the future make them a little less aware than the last time
they had visited her.
Despite being so late into the school calendar, there were always a handful
of students who hadn't come out to visit Divine's yet, and their amazed,
confused, fascinated reactions amused her. The ones who shriveled up a little
inside themselves as they walked through the shop and sensed the magic waiting
to burst out, the thin spots where otherness tried to come through--those
particular students made her want to cry a little more than usual, when she saw
someone resist the call of magic. If they would listen and open their eyes and
other senses to the wonder around them, the potential for magic in their lives,
they could embark on amazing, fulfilling lives.
But there were always a few who sensed the silent song of magic, and
resisted, closing their ears and souls to it. They wouldn't come back to
Divine's again this school year, and they likely would transfer to another
college next year. Saying no in their spirits to Divine's Emporium changed them
in some way, so that living within the boundaries of Neighborlee became like
itching powder constantly sifting through their clothes, or a mosquito hum by
their ear. They would flee the irritation. As always, witnessing this pivotal
moment in those strangers' lives and knowing how they would choose broke
Angela's heart. Yet today, for some reason, it hurt more than ever.
As if she had witnessed someone precious to her make the same choice,
repeatedly. Destiny broke the rules to offer the chance and choice, again and
again through the centuries, and yet he--she was sure the person was a he--kept
saying no, growing colder and more calloused and deaf as the years ground on.
This
continues the feature on books set in my weird little town of NEIGHBORLEE,
OHIO.
Think
of a place that's part Mayberry, part Roswell, part Eureka, and part Buffy's
Sunnyvale -- but without the vampires or aliens.
Yeah
-- MAGIC!
A
little creepy at times, a lot of fun, and always something going on. For those
who live there, the odd events are kind of shrugged off with a, "Ho, hum,
so what ELSE is new?" attitude. And what's really odd is that newcomers
don't really notice. Of course, then there's the "we don't want you here,
go away" vibe that some people get, so they don't stick around long enough
to notice something strange is going on.
All of this is leading up to the release of the next
Neighborlee, Ohio book published by Uncial Press:DORM
RATS. Otherwise known as Growing Up Neighborlee, Book 2.
DIVINE KNIGHT
Equinox: Maurice has a day of full-size freedom to spend with his true love, Holly. Their day of fun ends in panic, when Angela is attacked and the defenses of Divine's Emporium are breached. In the search to find out who hired thieves to steal books full of inimical magic from the shop and provided them with magic charms to do it, Angela's memories are stirred. Strange dreams disturb her sleep and she asks questions she hasn't thought of in decades.
Ethan Jarrod, a particularly gifted P.I. with some mysteries of his own, joins forces with local P.I. John Stanzer to identify Angela's enemies. Is Jarrod the knight from her dreams, or the final weapon of her enemies, to destroy all the magic of Divine's Emporium and Angela herself?
This short story takes less than an hour to read, although maybe you should try to read it slowly and savor each line. Like the hero, Sipp, the author has proven her master craftsmanship.
Denmark takes a faerie tale trope that appears in many cultures -- a child of ice or snow, a child with suspicious or unknown parentage, a child who all fear because of so many unanswered questions -- and puts her own spin on it. Sipp is considered evil because he looks different, because the fearful and superstitious and self-righteous believe that what makes him different makes him dangerous. Only two people in his short life have given him love and encouragement. The loss of one destroys his dreams ... and when he finds himself, he fears he must give up the other. (Can't tell you any more than that, because then you might not read the story! And you really gotta ...)
Of course, faerie tales do have happy endings, but like many things in the faerie realms, it isn't quite what we suspect or expect.
Sipp hides from the cold, fears snow, tries not to hear the voices in the frozen wind, but like so many of us, he is hiding from his true nature and letting the fears and prejudices of others blind and imprison him. When he breaks free ... watch out.
Beautiful short story. Parable. Lesson. Promise. Like C.S. Lewis talked about in his autobiography, Surprised by Joy, this is one of those moments of near-painful longing and satisfaction, and the hint of otherworldly music. Okay, put another author on my must-read-everything-she's-done list.
Saturday
afternoon, Detective McGee showed up at the old factory building and interrupted
Duncan and Josh in a discussion over whether to put a half-wall in the front
room of the clinic, or whether to put a service window in the wall. Neither one knew the man was there until he
asked them where he could find Darcy.
"Hello,
Jack," Josh said. "Darcy? I think she's in the office, if she's
finished with the dishes. What's
up?"
In
answer, McGee dug in his pocket and brought out a clear plastic bag. Inside was a silver, heart-shaped
locket. Engraved on it were the words:
"Darcy, Sweet Sixteen. June 30, 1991."
"Where
did you find this?" Duncan asked, when Josh seemed to go pale, and his
fist clenched around the bag.
"On
the body of one of those street punks who beat up on her yesterday," the
detective answered.
Duncan
went with Josh and Geneva, accompanying Darcy downtown to identify her
assailants in the morgue. Because it was
Darcy's locket, McGee needed her testimony, not just Josh and Duncan's. Their word was needed too, since they had
fought with the gang members.
The
morgue attendant only tugged down the sheets far enough to show the faces of
the three dead youths. Shock was still
visible. They looked very young in
death, under the grime and smears of blood.
Angeloria had a highly inconvenient allergy to mistletoe and holly.
Usually, that wouldn't be much of a problem. How many months of the year did
mistletoe flourish, after all?
Unfortunately, Lori's need to run away from the Fae Enclaves coincided with
Christmas. The last thing she wanted was to retreat back into the shelter of
the Enclave where she had grown up, because that would leave her prey to her
matchmaking great-aunts and their odious choices of the perfect husband for
her. Lori didn't want to get married to an Enclave wimp--someone who would keep
her anchored in the Enclaves for the rest of her life. She wanted an adventurer
who explored the Human world on a regular basis. Someone who thought satellite
feed and a DVD collection to rival all the major studios were basic necessities
of life.
If she went back to the Fae Enclaves any time in the next two months, her
great-aunts would force her into dreary formal wear. Then they would drag her
through a long chain of visits and teas and social functions that made
Socrates' public execution sound like a jolly good time by comparison.
Besides, regular contact with the Human world provided her with a fresh,
ongoing supply of dark chocolate and diet cherry cola.
If she could get out of the hotel where she had retreated to hide from the
mad proliferation of holiday decorations before she sneezed herself to death,
while changing colors and creating rainbow-streaked light shows for a two-yard
radius.
"It's not even something a doctor could help me with," Lori
explained, when her two best friends snapped their fingers and conjured up
boxes of allergy medicine and calamine lotion, and settled down in her favorite
suite at the Waldorf-Astoria. "It's psychosomatic. I was traumatized as a
child, when Dickens had Scrooge talk about a stake of holly through the heart.
I mean, I was there when he wrote it down and read it aloud and laughed at what
a clever line it was." She shuddered. "You can't imagine the mental
image."
The communications sphere shimmered into being while Harry relaxed in the
hot tub--another wonderful invention of Humans. Fortunately for him, and
whoever might be calling at this time of the morning, the sphere remained opaque.
"I gave at the office," Harry said, before his caller could
identify himself.
Alexi's rich, rolling laughter made him grin. Nothing like a call from his
favorite rebellious cousin to take a morning from interesting and frustrating
to fun.
"How's that non-magical betting system working out for you?" Harry
asked, as he snapped his fingers to bring a towel over and got out of the hot
tub. He tapped the communications sphere, activating it so it shimmered into
transparency. Alexi and Megan's faces appeared before him. He was glad he had
opted for the towel.
Harry wasn't a skinny geek by any means, but Alexi had inherited the family
build and good looks, along with the family curse. Harry was white-blond and
buff, but Alexi had it squared. No, make that cubed. Harry wouldn't have minded
if Megan, who he really liked, saw him in the altogether--if he just didn't
have the awful suspicion she would have been comparing him to Alexi and feeling
sorry for him.
Still, despite all the advantages Alexi had in looks and freedom and a real
job in the Human world, along with a knock-out wife who hadn't needed to trap
him by going into Need, Harry preferred his smaller troubles. Alexi had nearly
been doomed to spending eternity without magic. Sure, Megan had rescued him from
that, and Harry wouldn't have minded being rescued by someone as smart and
gorgeous and fun as Megan, but he was aware enough to know it would have
rankled. He had a ridiculous, immature longing to be the White Knight, rescuing
damsels in distress.
"What's up, Cuz?" He gave an extra yank to his towel, just in
case.
"Sweetheart, you know that our magic is little more than
illusions," Megan began. She squeaked and turned red when Alexi nudged her
hard enough she nearly fell out of the booth in the dark corner of the casino
where they were currently working.
"I don't know any such thing." Bethany pulled out her ace card.
She had held it to herself, a secret treasure, for the past five years. "I
know you can do real magic. I saw you."
"Real magic?" Alexi gave her a convincing frown of confusion.
"Just as real as your pointed ears." Bethany smirked when he
reached up to yank his tangled mane of silky blond hair down around his ears,
only catching himself at the last minute. "I saw you two working real
magic, that first time we worked together. I've caught you doing magic since.
Of course, I've been looking for it." She played all her cards. "So,
are you like witches or wizards? Is there a real Hogwarts?"
"Actually--" Alexi jerked, having received a hard nudge from Megan
now. He grinned at his wife. "Whether there is or isn't, that doesn't
matter. What makes you want an invisibility spell, in particular?"
"Besides the way you two seem to have some kind of force field or
invisibility spell, so nobody ever mobs you?" Bethany sat back in her
booth and crossed her arms. "I've seen the groupies come after you, when
you finish a show. It's like a switch is flipped or something. One minute they
see you and home in on you like vultures. The next, they just don't see you,
and they go wandering off. And when we're out like this?" She gestured
around the room. "When I'm with you, nobody sees me, either. Why do you
think I asked you to come up to my suite, instead of meeting somewhere? If
someone sees me out on the street before I meet you, it's a lost cause."
"She's good," Megan murmured.
"We're magicians. Illusion is what we do," Alexi said with another
grin.
"You're more than magicians. So, what are you?" Bethany sat
forward, elbows planted on the table, projecting belligerence and determination
as hard as she could.
