In Shambles is set to release through Harren Press (and at all your fine eBook and print book
retailers) in the next month or so (stay tuned, of course). In the meantime, enjoy the following passage
from And Into A Watery Grave along
with the cover art:
|Ah yes, Mr. Anderson!|
“The fae aren’t like the stories,” Aubrey said. “Or rather only half like the stories. They’re practically immortal, with experience both broader and deeper than any mortal can possibly have, even an empress. We’re mere children to them. They play games with us and tease us—they like to see us embarrassed and foolish. They have a darker side as well. You don’t want to make one of them angry. It rarely ends well.”
“Like being spanked by your da?” Sergeant Hamnar laughed.
“Yes, except with teeth and claws and blood.”
“How do you keep from that?”
“Avoidance, mostly,” Aubrey said with a shrug. “Fae don’t usually seek us out, we tend to trespass without knowing. Keep out of their way. Endure them when you can’t.”
They were within a few dozen yards of the naiad, and Aubrey held out her hand, opening it to expose the bright silver to the sunlight. She rocked her hand lightly, back and forth.
“Ooooo,” the naiad responded. It was an ethereal note that rose and fell and rose again. It sounded like Brunhilde’s operatic ending.
Aubrey continued to move her hand back and forth, and moved forward toward the naiad, whose full attention was on the two women. Aubrey moved closer to pond’s edge, holding her hand out over the water. The coin slipped from one side to the other, and finally dropped into the water with a soft plop.
“Oooo,” the naiad said again.
The fae skated over the water, leaving two V-like trails in her wake. She stopped a few feet from where Aubrey and Hamnar stood on the shore, knelt down on the water, and reached in to retrieve the silver coin.
“Ahh, so pretty, so pure, so shiny,” she mused. She turned the silver over and over with her long, delicate fingers.
Aubrey felt her heart quicken and warmth spread across her chest, down her stomach and over her thighs. The sensation was uncomfortably welcome. A natural response to being so close to a fae in her element, and apparently quite pleased with the offering of silver.
“Herla Naiad,” Aubrey said, and gave a clumsy bow.
The naiad turned her full attention on Aubrey, as if seeing her for the first time. She laughed, a trilling sound like the tinkle of a small water fall over a mossy stones. Her limpid, green and blue eyes gazed at Aubrey, and increased the warmth Aubrey felt.
“Why so formal, child? Yes, why? Have you come to dance for me? To shed your clothes and feel the cool, clearness of my touch? Yes, yes. Please do!”