This post was first published at Romancing the Genres in 2015.
I love reading and writing stories set in worlds that are enough like our own to be recognizable, but have, to quote the Bard, undergone “a sea change into something rich and strange.” Think of fairytales, The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis or Alice Hoffman’s Practical Magic, the Pirates of the Caribbean films or television shows like Grimm and or Marvel’s Agents of Shield.
I love reading and writing stories set in worlds that are enough like our own to be recognizable, but have, to quote the Bard, undergone “a sea change into something rich and strange.” Think of fairytales, The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis or Alice Hoffman’s Practical Magic, the Pirates of the Caribbean films or television shows like Grimm and or Marvel’s Agents of Shield.
One of my stories from the anthology Love and Magick is set on
the Oregon Coast during Victorian times. I did a ton of research to make the
setting for Curse of the Neahkahnnie Treasure realistic. But the plot is
about the search for a cursed pirate treasure guarded by a cursed ghost.
Something rich and strange 9both literally and figuratively speaking!)
My paranormal romantic suspense novel, BLINDSIGHT, is the first in the FBI Psychic Agent Series. The series is set in our contemporary world, with a twist. People with psychic abilities exist, unknown to the general public.
The other of my stories in Love and Magick, Enchanted
Protector, is set in a medieval-like world, but one where evil
needle-toothed gnomes, dark witches and other Fae creatures complicate life for
humans (and each other.) Enchantments happen and a pretty little girl can read
thoughts. This world is even richer and stranger than my Victorian world.
Enchanted Protector excerpt
Ruby pushed
into the wind with her head down. She had seen no one in the alley, but a
moment later her feet tangled with some small creature that screeched in
outrage. She windmilled her arms and then fell on her bum. The unforgiving stones
jolted her spine to the top of her head. For a moment, her eyes would not
focus.
After a few
seconds, a wizened little face with a white beard and bushy white brows floated
into view. A frown of apparent concern scrunched the small man’s countenance.
“So sorry, miss,” he said. “My fault entirely. Let me help you up.”
Hands the size
of a small child’s tugged on her arm with surprising strength. Ruby wobbled to
her feet and blinked down at the small Fae man. He straightened her apron and
brushed dirt off her skirt. Her head began to throb and her heart began to
pound.
He finished and
peered up at her. “That’s better, wot? Right as rain you are, I trust.”
Ruby drew her
brows together. The word trust did not belong in the mouth of a gnome.
Or was he an elf? Both were small in stature, with pointy ears and an odd way
of speaking. Ruby had trouble telling the two Fae races apart. It was said that
elves were merely mischievous, whereas gnomes would steal the shirt off a man’s
back while he drowned.
The little man
smiled, and it became obvious what was what and who was who. Whilst an elf’s
teeth were small to match the size of his mouth, in shape and number they
appeared human. This gnome had what looked like a hundred narrow, pointed
teeth.
Ruby lost her
voice. The enduring memory of Mam sewing up her mangled left hand when she was
small caused her to sway in the face of all those needle-like teeth.
The gnome
lifted his face skyward as if he were a dog scenting the air. His smoke-colored
eyes widened and then he twirled in place, scanning the square. He backed away
from Ruby. “We must be off, with snow coming, wot? Carry on, miss. Carry on.”
He scurried
down the alley, mumbling to himself as he disappeared into the shadows.
Lightning cracked overhead and snowflakes poured like eerie white rain from the
storm-tossed clouds.
#
Prince Rolf of
Helmsgaard, heir to the Dragon Horn Throne, lowered his muzzle to gnome height
and followed Thumble-no-skin’s sour scent into the village. The strong odors of
unwashed humans, wood smoke and cooking meat layered with the Fae creature’s
scent trail. Not to mention the smell of sewage, which he luckily minded less
than he had when he had been fully human. Since the devious little gnome had
cast the enchantment that had transformed him into a wolf, Rolf had learned to
use his heightened senses to his advantage.
The gnome’s
scent trail was fresh, the sour odor of his evil magic strong. Rolf’s heart
lifted. Thumble-no-skin could only have arrived recently or Rolf would have
caught his scent sooner. Perhaps he could finally catch the Fae man without a
bolt-hole nearby.
He trotted down
the cobblestone street the villagers had deserted in favor of the market. The
bustle of the crowd reached his ears. He caught the sweet feminine perfume of a
maiden, as if the girl had passed this way only minutes before him. One of his
frequent waves of melancholy threatened. Lying with women was one more thing
denied him since the treacherous gnome and his gang of thieves had played him
for a fool.
He picked up a
trace of tangy gold attached to the maiden’s scent and awakened from his
reverie. The hackles on the back of the prince’s furred neck lifted. Few of the
villagers possessed so much a farthing. The girl’s small treasure would be as
irresistible to the gnome as a shiny buckle to a crow.
