Great news. Cannot wait to read Book 3 and 4. Glad you are having fun with the writing!
I know that the previous post was Chapter 2 Part 1 but it actually should be Chapter 1 part 2.
Druidism was a strange religion, Hugh reflected.
He stood on the edge of the hollow, his arms crossed. Around him the woods were waking up. Golden sunshine spilled from the early morning sky, setting the fall leaves aglow. Squirrels dashed through the branches, chittering at each other. A small herd of deer peeked through the gaps between the tree trunks.
On the other side of the hollow, Aidan Zhào, Dugas’s chief apprentice, studied the twine wrapped around the oak. He rubbed the twine between his fingers, smelled it, and rubbed it again. In the hollow, Fiona, another of the senior apprentices, lay down flat in her white robe, looking at the bones from the side, her face in the dirt. A third apprentice, whose name he couldn’t remember, crouched by some bushes.
Lamar came striding through the trees, carrying a thermos. The tall, lean centurion took in the scene, shook his head, and passed the thermos to Hugh. Hugh screwed the cap open and took a gulp. Coffee. Good, real coffee. Just what the doctor ordered. He saluted Lamar with the thermos.
Lamar nodded at the druid by the bushes. “What is he doing?”
“A rabbit showed up about ten minutes ago,” Hugh said. “They’ve been staring at each other ever since.”
Lamar blinked and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Do you think he’s talking to the rabbit? Are they communing?”
Hugh just looked at him.
Aidan pulled the twine back from the tree trunk and released it like a rubber band. The twine sagged. Aidan tilted his head to the left, studying it.
Bale marched up. Five foot nine, with dark red hair and skin that burned from prolonged exposure to table lamps, Bale was built like a tank. Lamar, despite having four or five inches of height on Bale, was at least fifty pounds lighter. Standing side by side, they made an odd pair – one looked like he could scale a mountain without a rope and the other like he would punch his way through it.
The druids turned as one and waved at Bale.
He smiled and waved back. “I told you these guys were good.”
“Define ‘good’,” Lamar said.
Bale pointed to the druids. “Clearly they know their business.”
Aidan hugged the oak, thought for a moment, then turned around and splayed himself against the tree in a kind of backward hug.
“Yes, if that oak had arms, it would be hugging him back,” Lamar observed.
“These are my culture’s sacred traditions,” Bale growled. “Show some respect.”
Hugh raised his hand. The two centurions shut up.
Bale and Lamar never saw eye to eye. Lamar was a strategist who thought a lot and said little, while Bale blurted out whatever came into his head as soon as it occurred to him. Left unchecked, they would bicker, and Hugh didn’t have time for that.
He’d taken Elara and Savannah, their head witch, to the site in the middle of the night. Neither his wife, nor Savannah, had any idea what the bones were. After some discussion, the three of them agreed that at first light, they needed to get the Dugas’ druids on site. He had gotten zero sleep.
The druid by the bushes went down on all fours, lowered his head, and swiveled it side to side. A large rabbit popped out of the bush, rubbed its head on the druid’s head, and scampered off.
“Bale, I swear by all that is holy, if they start singing to the woodlands creatures, I’m out,” Lamar said.
“If you don’t want to be here, just go.” Bale shrugged his massive shoulders. “Otherwise, be quiet. You might learn something.”
The druids came together, spoke in hushed tones, and then approached, Aidan in the lead.
Hugh braced himself. “Yes?”
“It is druidic,” Aidan said. “It wasn’t done by any of us.”
“How do you know this?” Hugh asked.
“It is druidic because druidic implements were used in creating this site,” Aidan said. “It is not any of us, because they used stinging nettle twine. I am allergic to it.”
He held up his hand, showing reddish fingers and welts on his palms.
“We use dogbane twine,” Fiona said. “Stinging nettle is an invader, while dogbane is native to the continent.”
“So does this mean it’s a European druid?” Hugh asked.
“It could be,” Aidan said. “We tend to use what’s natural and familiar to us.”
“However,” Fiona said. “Some people are traditionalists. They import their supplies.”
“If someone bought stinging nettle twine, we would know,” Aidan said. “All of our supplies are locally harvested and communal. Unless someone is hiding covertly purchased twine under their bed, it wasn’t one of us.”
“So the culprit could or could not be a European druid and they are probably but not certainly not one of you?”
“Yes,” Fiona confirmed.
Wonderful.
“It’s bad,” the rabbit druid said.
Hugh looked at him.
“It goes against Dugas’ teachings,” the rabbit druid elaborated. “We’re meant to be one with nature, not to tame or conquer it. This magic is imposing human will onto nature. Changing it, twisting it. The rabbits do not approve.”
Bale nodded sagely.
“Did the rabbit see who might have done it?” Lamar asked.
The rabbit druid looked like him as if Lamar was a toddler asking to drive a car. “We all look the same to them. They are only rabbits, after all.”
Hugh rubbed his face.
“Could you come with me?” Aidan asked.
Hugh followed him to the oak.
Aidan pointed to a shallow scratch on the bark. “We know that the twine was wrapped around the tree right here, about thirty-two inches off the ground.”
The senior apprentice nodded, and the two other druids wrapped the twine around the trunk matching the scratches on the bark and held the edges of the twine together. Aidan hooked the twine with his fingers and pulled it from the tree.
“As you can see, it is wrapped exactly twice around the trunk. But we have all this slack.”
And there it was, the worst-case scenario.
“Is the twine lubed with fat?” Hugh asked.
“It is. I’m so sorry,” Aidan confirmed.
Figured.
“Fuck,” Bale said.
“Exactly,” Aidan said.
“Was something bound to the trunk?” Lamar asked.
“Show him,” Hugh told them.
Fionna sat by the roots of the tree, her back against the trunk. Aidan wrapped the twine around her neck and wound it back around the tree. The cut ends matched perfectly.
“Human sacrifice.” Lamar hissed the words.
“We must confer with our master,” Fionna said. “This is not permitted in our domain.”
Sacrificing a human was done primarily for two reasons: as a tribute or a trade. The first was done as an offering to the gods; the second, to acquire a massive boost in power, usually for a specific purpose. And they had no idea what that purpose was.
An Iron Dog came running through the woods.
“Yes?” Hugh asked.
“A messenger from Aberdine, Preceptor. They are waiting for you.”
When it rained, it poured.
Hugh looked at the druids. “Tag it, bag it, and undo as much of this as you can. Bring it all to Bailey and quarantine it.”
The druids nodded in unison. He turned around and headed back toward the castle to put out whatever new fire was waiting for him there.
It was going to be a long day.
The post Happy Hughday! first appeared on ILONA ANDREWS.
In reply to Benedict.
Ah okay I just assumed he used a Motion sigl in the raid since he went really fast against the raiders and I thought it was a Motion sigl like Lucella was using to escape.
Would it be safe to say the Motion sigl they used are better for long distances and the reflex enhancer is better for short bursts/close encounters with enemies?
In reply to Kevin.
Calhoun’s specialities are Light and Motion, but he’s a highly skilled drucrafter and, just like Stephen, he’s fully capable of using sigls from his ‘weak’ branches, too. He has a reflex-enhancing Life sigl that he carries when expecting trouble (and at other times as well).
Fascinating as always Steven hasn’t used any real Motion sigls yet and it’s nice to see some basic ones. Mark other sigls are probably a Shield and the Hurl sigl be interesting to see them in the future.
Would Calhoun using a Life reaction sigl versus a Motion speed sigl in the raid even though he specializes in Motion be because it was continuous and not triggered or is there another reason?
From Lividian Publications:
Mystery Walk by Robert McCammon
New Limited Edition Just Announced!
Lividian Publications is pleased to announce our signed, numbered, and slipcased Limited Edition hardcover of Mystery Walk by Robert McCammon, which will be shipping in May.
Featuring a breathtaking full-color dust jacket by Ben Baldwin and twelve striking black-and-white interior illustrations, this beautifully designed volume will be a must-have for any serious horror collector.
Not ten minutes after that announcement came this:
Bad Moon Books
Buchheim Verlag (Germany)
Camelot Books
Cracked and Spineless Books (Australia)
Kathmandu Books
Midworld Press
Overlook Connection
SST Publications (UK)
Subterranean Press (link is directly to their order page)
Veryfinebooks
Ziesings
More news soon! Thank you for your continuing support and enthusiasm!
Best,
Brian
Interesting that Calhoun apparently uses a kinetic barrier rather than a kinetic shield. I guess doing so allows him to focus on offense as well as just defense? You’d think he’d want a sphere rather than the “curved barrier” we see in Chancery Lane though. The lack of a sphere almost got him shot in the back. And I can’t imagine he chose that shape due to financial issues? Unless Charles wants to keep him on his toes.
News from Variety about the upcoming TV adaptation of Swan Song!
The series adaptation of the Robert McCammon novel “Swan Song” has found its writer, Variety has learned exclusively.
Russell Rothberg has boarded the project, which was first announced in January, to serve as writer, executive producer, and showrunner. The show is now being taken out to market.
Please note: This originally went live on my Patreon page on Sunday night, January 26, 2025. Since then, even more crap has happened in the world and people are freaking out. (Freaking out, btw, does not help. Calm, deliberate, and calculated action helps, along with…well, read the post.) If you want to see most of my business posts these days, you’ll find them on Patreon. I’m only going to post a handful here.
How Entertainment Fits Into Our LivesI spent the day of 9/11 with the television pegged on CNN, while I talked on the phone and handled e-mail. At the time, Dean and I were traditionally published and a good 80% of our income came from New York City.
We had friends there, friend-family there, and so much business there. I spoke to people, searching for them, figuring out if they were okay or not (and, physically, they were). I informed my agent’s assistant that she was in an evacuation zone, and she needed to leave now, something her boss (who was in Connecticut) apparently hadn’t been willing to do. No one knew what the toxic smoke emanating from the buildings was going to do, so they were evacuating the entire area. I reminded her that she could work from home, because she was afraid she would lose her job if she left.
She got out and she got safe.
Dean, always the most level head in any emergency, grabbed every single extra book we had, along with the books and advanced reading copies that we had stacked up to trade in at Powell’s Bookstore in Portland, Oregon. At the time, we lived in Lincoln City, on the coast.
Dean packed the car and took off for Portland, over two hours away. Neither of us liked that he was going, but we felt he had to. At that moment, we had no idea if the attack was localized to the East Coast or if other major cities were going to get hit. We had no idea what would happen to the economy, especially if the attacks continued, and we had no idea if Dean would be safe as he headed to downtown Portland.
What he knew, and what I quickly realized, was that our entire income stream was about to dry up. We had some money in the bank, but not enough to get us through six months to a year (worst case).
Those ARCs and first editions that he brought to Powell’s were catnip for collectors and he got thousands of dollars for them.
The next morning, Powell’s shut down all book buying. Dean’s Hail Mary journey was prescient and would have been impossible if he had waited even 24 hours.
That money got us to January, which was when the first payments started trickling back out of New York City. He was smart, but he did have to spend the day listening to the chaos coming out of New York and D.C. We had cell phones, but most of us used landlines. Still, I kept him updated on what I knew, and after I reached everyone I could, I spent the day locked in horror, alone with the TV and all of those awful images—some of which no major network has replayed.
By the time he got home, we had to shut it all off. We couldn’t handle the stress anymore. We knew that the future was uncertain—bleak, difficult and frightening. For those of you who were children then or those of you who weren’t even born, this is what it felt like: We had no idea if those planes were the first volley in a war. We were catapulted from a familiar world with familiar patterns into one filled with chaos, uncertainty, death, and violence.
I do not remember what we had for dinner that night. Nor do I remember what we talked about if anything. I do remember that every single cable channel—even the ones that should have been showing classic movies—would break in with updates. Not that the movies were any comfort. Every one that had been scheduled was set in the before times, and some even had images of the World Trade Center—the still-standing World Trade Center, before the big disaster.
So there was no television option. But we had a streaming satellite radio subscription. I turned on one of the stations that just played music—no talk at all—and I think I left it on for days.
I had a book due in two weeks, which was almost laughable. That was the project I was working on. But I couldn’t focus on it. I did not return to my writing desk for ten days. By then, I knew that the book deadline was going to be extended (my editor was not in New York at that time; she had been in France), and I had time.
I wrote a short story called “June Sixteenth at Anna’s,” which was about 9/11 in a sideways way, but more than that, it was about worlds lost, moments that are forever gone, and are mostly impossible to recover. When it was published in Asimov’s in 2003, 9/11 was still close. The story finished third in the Reader’s Choice Awards and was chosen for a year’s best volume.
But I didn’t write the story for readers.
I wrote it for me. I had to clear my palate of the horrors I’d seen. I also had to work through that jolt of fear that happens to all of us when our life’s path suddenly takes a terrible turn.
After I wrote the story, I was able to return to the novel. I guess I had officially gone back to work.
But quieting my mind was harder. When there are blanket emergencies—things that happen on a national or worldwide scale—it’s hard to escape them. And sometimes, you shouldn’t escape them.
This past year, we had to deal with a lot of crap in a business we built lovingly for our own work. The betrayal and breach of trust that we suffered also had economic and practical ramifications, and we had to handle those quickly and with great attention.
I didn’t sleep much during that period (or after Dean shattered his shoulder or much with another emergency the year before that), and I didn’t have a lot of leisure. An hour of television at night, the occasional Aces basketball game, and then (stunningly to me) football in the fall provided a bit of distraction.
Mostly, though, I couldn’t afford to be completely distracted. I was in the middle of an emergency and I had to concentrate. When I was able to find a distractable moment, I needed to choose my reading wisely. I had to avoid the new or the challenging. I read a lot of mediocre romance and some rather terribly done mysteries, while waiting for my favorite authors to release new books. And even then, I would balk at some of the topics they had chosen and set the books aside for later.
I’m just getting to later now.
But this was an emergency that I was literally in the middle of. If I didn’t act correctly, make the right choices, and handle the problems in the right way, my business might crumble. Dean was right beside me as were Chris York and Stephanie Writt. I have no idea how we got through June, July, and August, but we did, and the business is better for it.
Friends of mine are going through something similar right now. I am writing this on Sunday night, as the City of Los Angeles and the surrounding areas are finally, finally getting rain after months of drought.
The fires that sprang up during the Santa Anna winds of January made many of my friends flee their homes. I followed on Facebook with some, because I’m not on Twitter. Others I communicated with by phone, and still others I couldn’t locate at all because they had a limited social media presence…and I didn’t feel comfortable calling them in the middle of an emergency. Let me rephrase: a fleeing for your life emergency. I contact friends during emergencies all the time, but if I know they’re in the middle of the crazy shit, I wait a day or so to see if they need something.
Most of my friends who are going through this aren’t hurting for money. They fled to hotels, and one friend noted on Facebook that he had paid for two weeks, just in case.
Not hurting for money makes one aspect of the crisis easier. It means that you have the ability to pay for two weeks in a hotel—any hotel. Sleeping in your car isn’t necessary. Trying to get to family or friends who can put you up (if they’re willing) isn’t necessary either. You can buy clothes and toothpaste, buy a carrier for your dog, and get food.
But it doesn’t help the emotional part. And that second weekend in January, when everything was burning, reminded me of the other disasters I’ve seen or been through: the TV coverage was relentless and it was almost everywhere.
People who had evacuated couldn’t find anything to rest their brains, if they wanted to, although it’s easier now with streaming. If they escaped with their laptops or their iPads or their phones, they could watch something.
At that point in a crisis, you need something mindless.
Eventually, though, you have to dig out. You have to repair the damage. You have to see the lay of the land.
For many, the presidential election has also precipitated a crisis. A lot of people unplugged and disappeared after the election, unable to face what was ahead. The rest of us soldiered on, although we’re handling the firehose of change differently than we did in 2017.
I know some of you are happy with the election. Please don’t tell me, because what’s bothering me the most right now is the blatant bigotry against anyone who isn’t cis, white, and male. If you can tolerate that, you’re free to leave without comment, because if you do comment about this particular point, I will block you.
I’m on social media and yes, in a bit of a left-wing bubble. And I’m seeing a lot of people call anything that is entertainment “bread and circuses.”
They’re wrong.
Entertainment is how we survive.
Yes, we all need to pay attention. We need to fight for our little corner of the universe, whatever that means. (You can see which corner of the universe I’m focusing on from my note about bigotry above.)
But we can’t be on alert twenty-four hours per day for the next few years. Or even for the next few months.
That way lies complete disaster. People can and do collapse from exhaustion in crisis situations (however they define that), and then they’re of no help at all. (Sometimes, as I mentioned above, you have no choice; you must run full speed ahead. But at a certain point, you have to stop running and start building.)
A surprising part of that exhaustion isn’t from lack of sleep; it’s from lack of rest.
The brain is an amazing thing. It can marshal defenses, activate the sympathetic nervous system, and get us through whatever we’re facing. But it’s taxing on the body, and not something we can sustain for years.
I wanted to dig a little into the science for you, but I’m not an expert. Instead, I found something from the Association of Critical Care Nurses. This blog post by Sarah Lorenzini explains the science of crisis response. She’s writing for critical care nurses, but the article applies to all of us.
She writes:
Maintaining your well-being is essential for mastering the SNS response. Practice self-care to mitigate stress and enhance resilience. Engage in activities that promote physical and mental well-being, such as exercise, mindfulness, hobbies and spending time with loved ones. Being tired or hypoglycemic exacerbates negative symptoms associated with the stress response. By nurturing yourself and prioritizing adequate rest, hydration and nutrition, you can maintain composure and sustain your ability to provide compassionate care in demanding situations.
Let me reiterate something buried in the middle of this post, for the “bread and circuses” crowd. She writes, Engage in activities that promote physical and mental well-being, such as exercise, mindfulness, hobbies and spending time with loved ones.
Hobbies. Reading, watching movies and TV, going to sporting events…are hobbies. And hobbies are essential for survival in tough times.
Understanding the science is important—at least to me—and I learned long ago about the importance of shutting off the mind and going “somewhere else” for a little while. Sometimes movies and TV do that, sometimes sports does, but nothing is better than a book or a short story.
(During the worst of our crises last summer, I could only focus on short stories. But they were a lovely distraction.)
I learned this during 9/11. I couldn’t read mystery novels or even romances because at that moment, I was so shaken I wasn’t sure if I believed in happily ever after.
I ended up reading made-up world fantasy novels. They are the actual definition of “somewhere else.” Not somewhere familiar either. Somewhere I’d never thought of.
Science fiction is the same, but at the time I couldn’t find anything long and immersive. I ended up reading a fantasy series that I had on my TBR pile.
It was that series that reminded me of the importance of escape.
Fiction is survival for people in difficult situations. Fiction is necessary.
And we can’t dictate what kind of fiction other people need.
When I was a child living in an abusive household, I consumed as much fiction as possible. Sometimes I needed the escape of a made-up world, but I also read a lot of scary books—many of the Gothic novels because I knew they had a happy ending. And those books reinforced that no matter how dark the world got, people could survive.
Interestingly enough, to me the reader at least, the people who survived were always the ones who took action. Yes, that’s a tenet of fiction. After all, who wants to read about a whining protagonist who does nothing and needs to be rescued at the end?
But it’s also consistent with our biology.
The critical care nurse writes this:
I understand the surge of hormones in response to an emergency and how paralyzing it can feel. However, I have learned to channel my SNS (sympathetic nervous system) to help optimize my performance as a nurse. Instead of perceiving the physical manifestations of stress as hindrances, I reframe them as signs that my body is preparing me for peak performance. I embrace the increased heart rate, rapid breathing and heightened senses as indicators that I am ready to act and make a difference.
Our job, as writers, is to give the people responding to a crisis—any crisis—that escape which will give them the right kind of rest. It might enable them to get an extra hour of sleep at night. It might help them relax just enough to calm down and then move forward.
What we do is extremely valuable.
We should not dismiss it as “bread and circuses,” something to be avoided in a crisis.
We should embrace it as the necessity that it is.
That’ll enable us to continue to write and it’ll allow us to make time for our own rest through whatever crises we experience in our lives.
Storytellers are essential.
So tell your stories, no matter what is going on in the world.
And read the kinds of stories you love, without guilt or judgement.
It’s a great way to take care of yourself and the world around you. Because we all need that little moment of rest.
“How Entertainment Fits Into Our Lives ,” copyright © 2025 by Kristine Kathryn Rusch.
Addendum added on February 1:
I’m currently reading the issue of The Hollywood Reporter that came out during the fires. It had this tidbit: Apparently LA Residents (even those who had been evacuated) flocked to the movies in the non-fire zones. People needed an escape.
https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/movies/movie-news/wildfires-movie-theaters-1236111782/
As one woman said, “What else are we going to do? I wanted to get away from it all.”
Just more evidence that entertainment is important, even in the tough times.
A Tide of Black Steel – Book One of The Age of Wrath trilogy- is published today in the US, UK, Canada, Ireland, Australia, New Zealand, and South Africa. Thanks to everyone at Orbit for making it happen.
The winners of the signed books and bookplates giveaway have now been chosen and notified – check you spam folders to make sure you haven’t missed out on a prize. Many thanks to everyone who entered and for all the kind comments – sorry I couldn’t reply to everyone individually.
Reviews:
‘These wonderful characters and story arc complexity matched with Ryan’s ability to build you up to–and deliver–epic moments (including an ending twist that is just chef’s kiss), wonderfully showcases the author’s skills as a fantasy storyteller.’ – Grimdark Magazine.
‘Rich world building, well-developed characters, and shocking betrayals are precisely what readers expect from Anthony Ryan as he kicks off the Age of Wrath trilogy.’ – Booklist.
‘A gripping epic… Ryan distinguishes himself with deep dives into his characters’ psyches and motivations. This is an exciting start.’ – Publishers Weekly
‘A grim, gritty, glorious Norse epic that begs to be devoured by fans of John Gwynne and Michael Hirst’s ‘Vikings’. You will come away with a taste of the salt sea and the smell of blood in the air, and characters you can’t wait to read more about. Grimdark at its finest.’ – FanFiAddict
Book description:
A NEW AGE HAS DAWNED. AN AGE OF BLOOD AND STEEL.
AN AGE OF WRATH.
The land of Ascarlia, a fabled realm of bloodied steel and epic sagas, has been ruled by the Sister Queens for centuries. No one has dared question their rule.
Until now.
Whispers speak of longships of mysterious tattooed warriors, sailing under the banners of a murderous cult of oath-breakers long thought extinct. A tide of black steel that threatens to vanquish all in its path.
Thera of the Blackspear, favoured servant of the Sister Queens, is ordered to uncover the truth. As Thera sails north, her reviled brother, Felnir, sets out on his own adventure. He hopes to find the Vault of the Altvar – the treasure room of the gods – and win the Sister Queens’ favour at his sister’s expense.
Both siblings – along with a brilliant young scribe and a prisoner with a terrifying, primal power – will play a part in the coming storm.
The Age of Wrath has begun.
A Tide of Black Steel begins a new blockbuster epic fantasy series from international bestseller Anthony Ryan, whose books have sold more than a million copies worldwide.
Buy here:
Ebook: Amazon.com – Amazon.co.uk – Nook – Kobo – Google Play
UK Hardcover: Amazon.co.uk – Waterstones – Blackwells
Special Edition Signed Hardcover: Goldsboro Books. – The Broken Binding
US Paperback: Amazon.com – Barnes and Noble
Audiobook: Audible.com – Audible.co.uk – Barnes and Noble – Google Play
Did a little bit of signing yesterday at The Broken Binding. If you’ve ordered from them, I’m told the books should ship this week. I’m off to Goldsboro Books next week to sign their stock.
Some people have been asking when or if this book will be published in their language / country. So far, the series has been sold to publishers in France, Germany, Czechia, and Poland. I don’t yet know the publication date for each country but will update as and when I’m told.
HELL OF A WITCH
In a few short days, Prince of Thorns becomes a teenager and will be the same age as Jorg himself for the first few pages of the novel!
I never expected to be an author. I certainly never expected this guy to pay off my mortgage. And I absolutely didn't expect to still be signing copies of the book in my local Waterstones 13 years after it was published.
This is the city of Las Fables. I work here. I’m Detective Peter Peter. I put ‘em in the pumpkin shell.
Las Fables is a land of fairy tales and rhymes. Sure, it used to be made of sugar and spice, but Mother Goose flew the coop and hasn’t been seen in years. Darkness has settled over the town, whiffling and galumphing down the yellow brick lanes.
When the Seven Dwarves are gunned down in the Old Woman’s Shoe Bar, Detective Peter Peter and his partner Jack Horner are on the case. No matter how over the hill and far away the clues take them, they’ll see that justice is served–not too hot, not too cold, but just right.
Of course it isn’t just crime on Peter Peter’s mind. There’s a dame named Muffet who’s got him in a tizzy. And it’s gonna take all of his willpower to keep his heart from tumbling down after her.
Amazon Apple Barnes and Noble KoboYes! Nursery Crimes is a short, fun standalone book set in the storybook land of Las Fables. I am so excited to finally get to share it with you! Just like the description says, it’s a smashup: hard-boiled mystery, fairy tales, nursery rhymes, and lots and lots of ridiculous jokes.
I hope you enjoy! (print will be available soon!)
Introducing...HELL FOR HIRE coming out June 4!
No Victor lasts forever.
Victor thought he won when he became the Hero. He thought he won when he took over the DFZ. He thought he’d made himself untouchable.
He’s wrong.
Lola isn’t the sad little monster she used to be. She has a plan, she has allies, she has more magic than she ever dreamed possible. Killing one blood mage should be easy with an entire fairy kingdom at her fingertips, but Victor didn't make himself a god by playing fair, and his bag of tricks is far from empty. Taking him down will require everything Lola and her friends can bring, but if there’s one thing Lola’s always been, it’s determined. No matter the cost, no matter what it takes, she will see this through.
To the bloody end.
Get your copy now in ebook, KU, print, or audio!This was an extremely satisfying book to write. I don't think I've ever enjoyed wrapping a series so much. It's epic, it's awesome, and I cannot wait for you to read it in ebook, print, or KU or listen on audio, cause they're all out today!No Victor lasts forever.
Victor thought he won when he became the Hero. He thought he won when he took over the DFZ. He thought he’d made himself untouchable.
He’s wrong.
Lola isn’t the sad little monster she used to be. She has a plan, she has allies, she has more magic than she ever dreamed possible. Killing one blood mage should be easy with a fairy kingdom at her fingertips, but Victor didn't make himself a god by playing fair, and his bag of tricks is far from empty. Taking him down will take everything Lola and her friends can bring, but if there’s one thing Lola’s always been, it’s determined. No matter the cost, no matter what it takes, she will see this through.
To the bloody end.
Preorder Now!Happy 2024 everyone!
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