Voices from the Past

Greetings!

I’m getting back into the swing of things, and I’m going to start posting my writing exercise for your reading pleasure!

And I am revamping my mailing list – look out for a new novella that you’ll be able to download when you join my VAD (Very Awesome Dragon) Reader’s group (is that name too much?)!

Anyway, the title is “Patchwork Magyc”, and it will be available in the next month or so, to tide all you wonderful people over until the release of book 6 (which I promise is coming!). 🙂

Until then, enjoy this little bit I wrote with the following words:

ghost, fork, coma,

He walked into the great hall and was immediately accosted by childhood memories. The table was the same, but covered with dust instead of the lace cloth his mother always insisted they used, and the knives and forks of silver for a special occasions. The gilt-framed portraits of his ancestors hung on the opposite wall, so they were able to join in for dinner in what became a creepy ritual and a never-ending source of rude jokes for him and his brothers. He wandered past the chairs, his fingers tracing the carved wooden frames. Some of them were covered in white sheets, making them look like lumpy ghosts, the souls of those tortured in the underealm.

“Henry!” a voice called from the next room, and his head jerked in that direction, a frown on his face. He was sure he had been the only person in the house.

“Henry!” the voice called again, and he took a step towards it.

“Henry!” The voice was almost sing-song now, and like a man in a coma sleepwalking towards the shadow of a nightmare he couldn’t escape, Henry walked through the doorway, and peered into the corridor that led from the dining hall to the kitchens.

It was empty.

______________________________________________________

❤ DragonBeck

Advertisements

Happy July 4th

Happy July 4th everyone!

I hope the day is filled with all the things you want it to be filled with, and a few things you forgot about but need anyway.

For myself, I will be doing some re-writing on book 6, and eating good food.

And of course, watching Stranger Things, which I have recently discovered thanks to my brother and his girlfriend. And by recently, I mean I watched Season 1 and 2 for the first time last week.

Anyway, have a great day, enjoy the fireworks, and take a moment to appreciate the things you have.

❤ ❤ ❤ DragonBeck

 

The Link – A Stories My Friends Started

Here’s another one from the vaults of time – a Story I wrote for Stories My Friends Started – this one is kind of cool because I took several of the writing exercises I do every fortnight with the Ink Slingers Guild, and wove them into one tale 🙂

For my dad, with love ❤

The Link

His heart was pounding at the speed of light…there wasn’t much time left. No, scratch that; there was no time left. Harvy glanced at his watch as he yanked it off. Half past ten. He was going to be late. His clothes followed his watch. He didn’t want to call undue attention to himself, and wearing outlandish clothes was a great way to do that. Harvy thanked his stars that he had packed the night before.

The message had been brief and to the point. It was happening soon. They were needed. Harvy thought of Leva. It was a shame that he had to bring her into this, but she was the only one he could think of that would be resourceful enough to carry on if he was…well, he didn’t want to think about that.

A sound outside made Harvy freeze, ears straining. He didn’t hear anything more, but he knew it was time to go. He let himself out of the back as silently as he could. Crouching close to the ground, he ran along the thick shrubbery that passed for a back yard. Harvy had a moment to be pleased that he was never home to care for his garden; then three pairs of shining eyes glared at him from the other side of the fence.

* * *

He was late. That was not a good sign. He was never late. Not for the important stuff. Leva was hesitant to go on without him, despite his injunction of last night. She glanced down the path into the trees and decided she would wait a few moments more. The pack on her back hardly weighed anything thanks to Harvy’s spartan packing list. A blanket. Water. A knife. Nothing superfluous. Leva sighed and tapped her foot, thinking of all the useful items she wanted to bring but couldn’t.

“Things that were set in motion long ago are coming together, and we have to be there by yesterday,” Harvey’s voice echoed in her thoughts.

He hadn’t had time to give her more details, but his eyes had burned intensely and something in his manner had struck a chord deep in the place that knew the right thing to do, even if her mind couldn’t make it make sense.

“Hey!” Harvey’s voice came through in the real world. “What are you waiting for? I told you to go without me if I didn’t show up!”

“I know,” Leva said turning around, and her jaw dropped.

Behind Harvey’s six-foot frame was a pack of something that looked like rabid wolves, but Leva was fairly certain wolves didn’t have wings or glitter that flew from their paws as they ran.

“What the….” she started to say.

“No time!” Harvey said, catching her around the waist and throwing her towards the path. “You should have left when I told you to!”

* * *

Ferma had been given several clues, but the slave with the raven hair was the key to all of them. He strode through the crowded market place, using his long legs and broad shoulders to clear a path. The auction was held on the plateau, in full view of the city. Ferma stopped behind a huge pillar and glanced around. He didn’t want to be noticed or worse, recognized.

The row of people in chains looped around the arena twice, and Ferma started to panic slightly. He didn’t have time to look over all of them! He looked up next to the auction block. A fat man was entering the slaves into the register one by one, the camera an old model that still flashed and clicked, and he had to lick the back with his fat, purple tongue to stick it next to the entry of the slave’s name. Ferma looked at the next slave in line, and his heart stopped.

A small girl with dark skin and the blackest hair he had ever seen stood in chains so large it seemed she should be able to slip out of them with ease. Across the distance of the arena, Ferma caught her eye, and his knees went weak. That was the one!

His eyes widened as a thin man in a dark cloak and a wide-brimmed hat took her arm and led her away, towards the white palace on the hill. Ferma started to follow, determined to keep her in sight, but his view was blocked by a familiar red uniform, and he looked into the cold eyes of the woman with the scar, already planning how not to die, again.

* * *

Harvey’s grip was too tight on Leva’s arm, but when she glanced behind her and the wolves and their weird eyes that smoldered with green fire, she didn’t mind so much.

“How much farther?” she panted, trying to keep up with him.

His eyes stared grimly ahead. “The portal should be here, should be close,” he said.

As he spoke, Leva felt like she had just ran into a brick wall. The world took on a glossy hue. It looked like a huge cartoon bubble, all shimmery and bouncy.

“What’s happening?” her voice stretched out, warped.

Harvey didn’t answer and suddenly they were falling. Leva opened her mouth in a scream, but no sound passed her lips. Then they were in the middle of a crowded market. Leva tried to keep her balance, feeling as though someone had just pushed her, and she stumbled into a woman in a red uniform.

“I’m so sorry,” Leva started to say as she pulled herself upright using the woman’s very muscular arm.

When she looked into the woman’s eyes, all words fled from Leva’s mind. The cold glare was enough to freeze blood, and the scar across her eye pulsed with rage.

“Get out of my way,” the woman snarled.

Leva was grabbed on both sides. To her left was Harvey. To the right was a man she had never seen, tall, handsome, in plain clothes with a gold chain around his neck.

“Run!” they both screamed, and Leva was swept off her feet into a crowded street.

* * *

Aniph walked with the man in the black hat. She wasn’t worried about the chains or the man with the picture machine. By tomorrow morning, her face would have faded from the book and the ink that marked her name would be gone. Her kind were impossible to remember or keep in mind for very long. Even the physical world couldn’t hold an impression of them.

The little fairy creature didn’t like coming here, but this was where she was to meet the man who would save their worlds. And just as promised, he had found her with no problem.

A rough tug on the chains pulled her onwards. Somehow Aniph knew that now was not the time to get free. The man would soon be in danger; he did not need to be distracted. The fairy kept turning though, trying to see. Now there was another man with the first, and a woman. They were running. A second woman, a giant in red, was fighting to come after them. That as not part of the plan. Aniph decided that contrary to her feeling, she should go to him now.

The chains let her go as gently as a mother puts down her baby. The man in the hat didn’t even notice she was gone until it was too late. The fairy made her way through the crowds towards the beacon that was the woman in red, because that was where the man was.

Aniph found the man fighting to get past two tough old men. She touched his elbow, but even when she concentrated, she couldn’t find his center. That wasn’t how it was supposed to be. The little fairy knew despair. Then someone grabbed her elbow. A dancing rain of sparkles and music exploded in her head. Aniph swung around to find a man who was desperately trying to blend in, but his style was definitely not from around here. Beside Aniph’s childlike stature, he seemed very tall.

“Corlax elehtrast nonstras tem pax ter lexum,” he said.

It took Aniph a moment to translate the horribly garbled version of the mostly dead fairy language the man was attempting to speak.

“Perhaps we could just try this,” Aniph said, switching to the common tongue he would undoubtedly be more able to express himself in.

“Good idea,” the man was relieved. “Now we just need to get out of here, and we can have a proper conversation.”

“I can help with that,” Aniph said.

* * *

One moment, Ferma was fighting for his life to get away from the woman in red, wrestling with two stubborn men who seemed to think he wanted a better view of the slavers’ wares. Then he was in a cool, green paradise, the silence pressing on his ears.

“Where am I?” he asked no one in particular.

“This appears to be the emperor’s private garden,” a voice said beside him.

Ferma swung to see he was not alone. Another man, a woman, and a child stood behind him. The man and the woman were looking around, enraptured as he was with the beautiful garden. The child was equally enraptured with the people. Ferma focused on her and realized with a shock it was the slave.

“You!” he cried.

“Me,” the creature said, turning alien eyes on him. “You.”

“Me?” Ferma said uncertainly.

“Stop. What is going on?” the woman interjected.

“Perhaps we should do introductions,” the man said. “My name is Harvey. This is Leva.”

The woman gave a curt nod.

“I’m Ferma Du Tari Ver Sarathael.” Ferma didn’t know why he gave the last part of his name, but he felt it was important.

“My name is Aniph,” the creature said. “And you are mine.”

“Pardon?”

The fairy frowned. “You are for me?” she tried again. “From me?”

“Corthain,” the man called Harvey said.

Aniph looked pleased. “Yes. Corthain.”

“What…is…that?” Ferma said.

“Yes, what is that?” Leva demanded. “Does that have anything to do with the things…”

“Yes,” Harvey cut her off.

Aniph came forward, eyeing Harvey curiously. Ferma watched the pair; it slowly dawning on him that they knew more of what was going on than either he or the woman did. Then he wondered if they would bring more clues, or the answers to the ones he already had. They did both.

* * *

Harvey waited, holding very still as he allowed the fairy to approach. He didn’t want to spook her. There was no telling how long she had been in this plane, or how well adjusted she was. Leva had no such compunction.

“I still don’t understand what’s going on,” she said. “Where are we? Why is there a child here? Who is this man? Do you know these people?”

“Leva, please, you’re making my head hurt,” Harvey said. “We are…well, it’s difficult to explain, but we’re somewhere important and that’s what matters. The child is older than all of us put together. She is a creature of Fae. This man is her Corthain. Her other half, if you like. And while I know them, I don’t really know them. That is, I’ve never met them.”

“You realize how little sense you’re making?” Leva said, the first stages of panic making her eyes bigger than they already were. “Did you give me something? Is this some kind of trippy hallucination?”

“This is all very real, and if you calm down and breath for one moment, I’ll explain everything.”

Harvey saw that he was holding her arms so tightly his knuckles were white, but Leva was so freaked out that she didn’t feel it or didn’t think to protest. He released her, checking to make sure she was breathing like he had told her to. Then he turned on the man named Ferma and held out his hand.

“We haven’t been properly introduced, Mr. Du Tari.”

The Corthain reached out tentatively and gave Harvey’s hand a quick shake. The electric jolt he received when he touched Harvey’s skin made him squeak and convulsively grip the other man’s hand.

“What the…” Ferma said, yanking his hand back and giving it a shake. “Who are you?”

“My name is Harvey Seth Ver Gurrod,” Harvey said. “And I’m the Link.”*

* * *

Leva still wasn’t sure this wasn’t all a very bad dream. Harvey had gone beyond scaring her. She was now officially terrified to the point of not caring. The wolves could come back, and she’d probably be okay about letting them sniff her hand and then scratching their ears. Or maybe not. Using a lot of very strange words wasn’t helping her state of mind. But Ferma apparently didn’t know what that meant either, so that was comforting, if she didn’t think about it for too long.

“The link?” the man in the black hat was asking. “I don’t understand.”

The fairy was interested in a different part of what Harvey had said. “Ver Gurrod. Not Ver Huntentes?”

Harvey shook his head. “No. That’s a long story, and we’ve no time for it right now.”

“I can make time for it,” the fairy said, holding up her hands.

“No, no, no, that’s okay,” Harvey said quickly, grabbing her wrists and bringing them down. “We don’t want to do anything rash. We’ve all met up, and that’s a good occurrence. Almost a perfect occurrence, if I do say so myself. More than I could hope to expect, really…”

“Wait. Why do you sound like it’s a lucky happenstance that we ended up here?” Leva asked. “What might have happened instead?”

“Do you know how many autonomous entities there are in the universe? And how many particles those entities influence? And how many universes, independent and otherwise, there are? If you take all of that, do you know how many different possible and actual occurrences occur in any give instant of any give time continuum? To many for a normal mind to fully comprehend.” Harvey turned back to Aniph. “Now, I don’t want you messing with an already messy set of circumstances, alright? We’re going to do this thing, and we’re going to get it done right, but that’s only going to be an actual occurrence if we do things logically and systematically.”

The creature of Fae (whatever that was) nodded dutifully, gazing at Harvey with her very unusual eyes. “Very well, Ver Gorrod. Now, what of the Corthain?”

“Yes, what of the Corthain?” Ferma tried to cover his nervousness with a laugh.

“You don’t know what that means, do you?” Harvey said.

Ferma shook his head.

“Do you know what is about to happen?”

Again, Ferma shook his head.

“Do you know anything about anything that is going on?”

“I know I needed to find her,” Ferma pointed at Aniph. “And…that’s about it.”

“That’s a start,” Harvey said, setting his arms akimbo. “I’ll do my best to explain.”

Leva smiled. Finally.

“You and Aniph are the Corthain for your worlds. Together, you are the…well, let’s just say you’re the ones who are going to fix things up when they go wonky.”

“When…?” Leva asked. “No if?”

“When,” Harvey said firmly. “And when is unfortunately now. I am the Link. I help you to communicate and work together, in a manner of speaking.”

“That is why I can’t hear him,” Aniph said.

Harvey nodded as if that made perfect sense.

“And what do we have to do?” Ferma asked. “All I know is that I get given the task of finding out why the water is going rotten, and one thing leads to the next, I’m being hunted by a demon in a red uniform…”

“Speak of the demon,” Harvey muttered.

In the entrance to the garden, partially hidden by a row of green hedges with big golden flowers, stood the woman in the red uniform. She glanced across the garden, searching. Even from here, with the cover of the plants, her eyes stung Leva.

Then a large canine animal appeared at the woman’s side, wings dragging on the ground, sparkles remaining where its paws touched. The woman petted the wolf and pointed into the garden. The wolf sat down and scratched its ear with a hind leg, making its wings jump and flop. The woman scowled, and from her fingers came a bolt of blue fire, which ignited the fur of the wolf. It set off with a howl.

“There is something very wrong with that woman,” Leva whispered.

“How does she always find me?” Ferma moaned, shrinking back.

“She’s her own type of Corthain,” Harvey said. “Not really someone we want to mess with.”

“So you’re a Link and they’re all Corthains, and that’s a creature of Faith…”

“It’s just Corthain, and she’s a creature of Fae.”

“Whatever. The point is, what the heck am I?” Leva said.

“Backup.”

“Backup for what?” Leva said heatedly. “I have no idea what’s going on!!”

“You’re the backup Link,” Harvey said. “You know, in case anything happens to me.”
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Hope you enjoyed that – if you would like to leave your own “Story Starter” for one of the Ink Slingers, just click the link: https://storiesmyfriendsstarted.wordpress.com/contact-us/

If you think I should continue the story, just comment below and let me know!

More soon!

❤ DragonBeck

Image by Stefan Keller from Pixabay

Guardians of the Path Update

Greetings good people of Earth!

I come in peace.

And I come with tidings of Demona and the Guardians of the Path.

The adventures are continuing (I promise). I have been trudging along, and a few bandit attacks, coffee shortages, and a few more Other World inconveniences has delayed this writer a bit. But fear not, the Guardians adventure has only been delayed, not thwarted!

I think that you’re really going to enjoy Book 6: the Sorcerer, if how much I’ve enjoyed writing it is any indication. The story lines of the assassin, the Witch, and the princess are great fun to explore, and the Guardians are doing the best they can in the Wasteland. Death’s adherence to His Mandate gets tested further, and there will be a surprise appearance from a historical figure of note…I’ll let you guess who it is.

And I have another exciting update:

In addition to book 6, which should be available at the end of the summer, you can look forward to a short story and a novella set in this wonderful world of the Path, which will be published later this year. If the gods are truly beaming on us, you might even see two novellas! However, as gods are not prone to beaming, I cannot be held accountable if the second doesn’t materialize – so no beheadings or public riots.

As the final piece of news – right now, the first 5 books in the series are available for free in the KindleUnlimited program, so if you have a subscription, check it out!

In the near future, the Cover Reveal for book 6 will be coming soon, as well as some sneak peaks and giveaways!

More soon!

❤ DragonBeck

 

An Epidemic of Epic Proportions

A calamity has befallen this world, an epidemic of epic proportions that more people should be aware of…

…it starts slow, no big deal, but before you know it, it grabs you in a tight grip and drags you into an unreal place that gets more and more difficult to get out of with every hit. You lose touch with reality as it consumes your mind, miss your whole life going by without you. All the good sense of everyone who loves you falls on deaf ears and all you can think is “Just one more…just one more and then I’ll quit.”

But you never do and another day comes and goes and another night passes by without your notice and you suddenly look around and wonder where you are, where did the time go, what happened to you?

Everything that mattered to you before you got hooked – your friends, your family, your future, being a rock star, doing something decent with your life, all those things like “One day I’ll go to Paris and kiss someone at the top of the Eiffel Tower” or “Camp under the stars watching the Northern Lights” or “Race a Lamborghini along the Great Wall of China” – these all fade as your life is taken over, sucked into the black-hole of insatiable craving, leaving no room for anything or anyone else…

…and that’s why you should never start reading books, kids.

Also, stay away from Libraries.

And don’t befriend any Writers 

❤ DragonBeck

P.S. Did you know?

P.P.S. If you aren’t already hooked, get out now and save yourself. However, if it’s too late for you and you’re looking for another hit of epic fantasy, you can check out the Guardians of the Path series:

This tale starts with Ria, but it will be up to all those who keep the Path – Witches, assassins, Makers of Marks, and even Death Himself – to defeat the Sorcerer and save magyc.

Happy Easter!

Hello there everyone!

This is my first Easter as an adult – meaning that instead of spending time and effort searching for delicious treats that someone hid, I just bought myself some Easter chocolate and ate it.

Last year, I hadn’t caught onto this brilliant plan, and I didn’t buy chocolate and I didn’t have someone buy and hide any for me, so it was a chocolate-less day.

Anyway, I hope everyone takes this opportunity to practice peace, love, tolerance and brotherhood for continued application through the other 364 days of the year!

XO ❤

DragonBeck

 

 

Flash Lit Challenge #9: The Young Lovers

Very intriguing little flash fiction!

Soundchecking The Void

Vox Ossa

“Hand me that tibia, boy.”

Egan held up a long, slim bone from the pile. “This one, Vox?”

The old man frowned. “No, the thicker one.” Egan quickly found
it and brought it over.

He watched as his master mumbled over the shinbone until it
began to emit a soft glow; one wrinkled hand caressed its contours as the other
picked up a stylus and began to write. This part of the process still awed him,
a full year into his apprenticeship.

Egan turned back to his sorting, but the Vox had other ideas.

“Boy, tell me about this one,” he said in a tone that Egan
knew well: an impromptu test.

He started to approach the workbench, but the old man
stopped him. “From there, if you please. You must learn to listen from a
distance.”

Egan swallowed hard. The tibia was old; its shade’s voice would

View original post 354 more words

The Opus Imperfectum

Looking through the many files on my computer in my “Stories” folder, I imagine a future…

…a future following the sudden obliteration of civilization on Earth in the year 2019 by a meteor or a zombie Apocalypse. In the future, the decimated human race slowly pulls itself together and builds itself back and one day, a thousand years after the Apocalypse, an archaeologist sifting through the dusty ruins and remains of Earth comes upon…my computer.

With his high tech and sophisticated gadgets, he will recover the archaic bits and bytes, piece them together and begin to read the same files that I read today. In subsequent digs, he will uncover hundreds, thousands more stories of this kind, scattered all over the broken world.

Some time later, he will write a thesis on his findings. He will be invited to speak about his work at an intergalactic archaeology conference, a very prestigious one, probably held on Mars. I can hear him address the great minds there…

“…the predominant genre of literature on Earth at the beginning of the twenty-first century appears to be a curious form of prose wherein the author simply… doesn’t finish the story!…”

He will call it (using Latin, one of Earth’s older and more impressive languages) the Opus Imperfectum (unfinished work) or perhaps Semiperfectus (half finished) or Scriptum est Medium (half written).

A craze will sweep through the stars. People will hold the stories up as philosophic and spiritually enlightening, puzzle over the deeper meaning of the stories, speculate whether the author was writing about the great mystery of life or death or the vagaries of time. Was the premature end meant to teach people to think for themselves or did it allude to Fate? School children will be made to write papers interpreting them and the great writers of the twenty-fourth century will emulate them…

…so if the zombie virus wipes us out, I figure I’m still going to be a famous author.

 

❤ DragonBeck

The Forest Prince (cont.)

Here’s the second writing exercise from the last meeting, as per a special request, it’s a continuation of an earlier continuation exercise, The Visitor and The Forest Prince.

Drown, snort, suitcase

The water rushed over her head, and the clutching hands around her ankles dragged her deeper into the forest pool. She fought, but it didn’t do any good – the creatures were at home in the water, and much more powerful than she was. When her vision began to blur and her lungs began to override her determination to hold her breath for as long as possible, she was sure she was going to drown.

Then someone grabbed her hair, pulling her up while speaking words of power. The creatures below her shrieked, but let their prey go, and retreated into the depths. She was hauled out, first by hair and then her arms, and she lay on the bank, snorting and gasping. When the burn in her lungs subsided, and she saw who her rescuer was, she though perhaps it might have been better to let the little water demons take her.

“Oh, it’s you.” she said.

“What, no words of gratitude?” the man who was not a man said, an impish smile playing over his lips.

“As you’re the reason I’m out here on the run, no, I will not be thanking you for anything,” she replied, wringing water out of her hair, and getting to her knees, fully prepared to march into the forest. Her hand was on her suitcase but his voice stopped her.

“I heard you met my brother.”

She turned to face him, shock and anger vying for supremacy on her face. “And?” she demanded.

“I hoped you’d tell me how that went,” he said.

“Well, you hoped wrong,” she said.

“Did he find it?” the forest prince pressed, going so far as to grab her arm.

She pulled out of his grip. He whispered the words of power, compelling her to stay, and she stopped, just out of force of habit. She had spent so long trying to hide that his words had no effect on her that she still went through the pretense without thinking.

“I want you to tell me what happened,” he said sternly.

She turned to face him once again, and raised a brow. “How do you know he didn’t tell me not to say anything?”

“Because you would be in excruciating pain right now,” he said. She shrugged.

“He didn’t ask me to say anything,” she said.

“So what what happened?”

“Nothing happened,” she said. “He came, and asked where you were, and I told him I didn’t know, and that was that.”

He gazed at her, doubt in his eyes as to whether he though she was lying or telling the truth. “Where are you going?”

“Far away from here,” she hefted the case and held it close to her chest. “Far away from you, and your family, and this forest, and this whole mess.”

“And what do you think that will get you with what you’re carrying?” he asked, smiling slyly.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

So, should I continue? 😀

❤ DragonBeck

The Fairies’ Creation

Here’s the flash fiction writing exercise that we did at the last Ink Slingers Guild Meeting – it was just Lisa, Desi and I (Desi bough ceviche and it was delicious – first time I’ve ever tried it).

nose (my word), chrysanthemum, floral,

Henri’s nose told him the problem before he even stepped foot in the room. The thick, putrid odor of decay and death poured from behind the door. He swallowed, turned the handle and stepped inside. The window was open, allowing a fresh breeze to come in from outside, but even the pleasant floral tones of the chrysanthemums from outside couldn’t mask the cloying stench that clung to the room.

“Is that it?” he pointed at the mass in the middle of the room.

The constable who had accompanied him nodded, and looked like he was trying to stop from puking. Henri couldn’t blame him, though in truth he had smelled worse in several of his many cases. Henri made his way to the rotting pile of black tendrils spilling out of the clay pot. He looked around the room for something that would allow him to examine the thing in more detail, and his eyes fell on the poker beside the fireplace. He motioned to the constable to bring it, and hefting the iron rod, he prodded the slimy ropes piled over the sides of the pot like noodles. They hissed and shrank back, and Henri also took a step back, just for good measure.

“Doesn’t like iron,” he muttered. “Not a good sign.”

“What was that sir?” the constable said through the handkerchief he held over his own nose and mouth.

“Fairies,” Henri spoke louder. “One of their creations.”

“Ah,” the constable didn’t look afraid enough of this pronouncement. “Can you get rid of it, sir?”

Henri considered the question. “I might be able to.” He also might just aggravate it and cause it to take over more of the flats, but he didn’t think the constable needed to know that.

 

❤ DragonBeck