Tybalt Perdition out Thursday!

So after more than a year of edits and revisions, Tybalt Perdition arrives this Thursday!

It’s the first tale of Caldyr’s adventures as a fairy detective and it tells of her meeting Reynardine, the dread fox and trickster. (Also it’s book #0 of the Glass Fate series and an introduction to the world in general.)

In another world, a ship sinks above an ancient reef. In the icy waters, among scores of drowning sailors, she was born.

Caldyr Prayers is a mostly normal fairy, but a not-so-normal detective, especially for Stockton, California. She’s looking to make a name for herself and build a real life; a proper legacy as the World’s foremost fairy private eye. She’s just gotta get off the ground with her wings tied behind her back (to keep her fairyhood secret from the humans.) All she needs is a chance…

And in walks Reynardine Slybold—the Dread Fox. God, trickster, seducer, petty thief, and chaos in a lurid suit. But he just might have a legitimate case for Caldyr. He’s giving up his divinity and needs her to find a solution to his oldest feud. If she can solve the Fox’s problems, and keep them alive, the fairy could make a few much needed bucks… maybe even a name for herself.

You can pre-order the ebook on Amazon right now for a dollar.

And’s here’s the promised bit from the prologue. Enjoy!

**

Fryhel, Elledgya

Fairies aren’t created in a normal way. A surge of emotions infuses a spark into the nearest element and life itself springs from nothing save the barest flicker of consciousness. Some are born of fire, some plants, some air, and of course, some are born from water.
Near Uyntolt, in the arctic waters above the Cinder Reefs, three hundred and eighty-one souls were lost to the starving tides. In the depths among the dying sailors of the Grimalkin Prayers, she thought and she was.
The ocean shifted hard against itself, drawing into a bright orb; the luminous heart of a water fairy. All on its own, the glowing sphere began to spin.
Flesh curled from the center, stretching and twisting to form the fairy’s body. A neck wound into shape, expanding into a round head. Silver eyes, hard and cold as the ocean, formed above a short nose. From the core stretched two arms, followed close by two legs. Wings shot from her back, hardening into dark leather. Long feathery tendrils twisted around her ear holes, drawing air into the fairy’s single lung. Her white tongue ran over two rows of razor teeth. Black hair, short and choppy, floated and mixed with her long gills. Flexing her fingers, she drew them closed, her new eyes taking in the blue digits.
A giant hand broke water next to the fairy. Too close. She lunged, grabbed the fingers and dug her teeth into the palm’s soft meat.
Coppery warmth filled her mouth. The hand shook and she clung tight, drinking in the sweet fluid. Tingles shook one newly formed wing, but the food kick-started her head even further—thoughts and ideas, power and knowledge, all sparked with the nourishing blood.
After an extra hard shake, she lost her grip and tumbled backward through the inky waters. The fairy turned to look at what she fed upon. A human, bubbles escaping his open mouth, drifted into the cold blue. The air pockets covered his face, but she could imagine terror. Silver eyes wide, the fairy watched the body fall to the Deep.
All around her more of the giants sunk. Ocean life floated from below, dark shadows preying on the humans.
Young cetus, short-snouted crocodilians with pale skin, darted in and out of view. The monsters snatched prey, drug them into the dark and leaving trails of blood to mark their path.
Pink skin caught the fairy’s eyes, a mermaid feasting on a corpse in the safety of the reef. Crouched between two limbs of black coral, the mermaid ate fast, until enough blood filled the water to shield her from sight.
Other merpeople joined, rising from the dark to feed and fight over pieces of the dead and drowning. They celebrated the feast with haunting song, dark magic choruses swearing peace could be found in their arms. The spellsong passed through the fairy, but the humans floated easily into the deadly embraces.
Deep below, in the glowing depths that gave the Cinder Reefs their name, a shadow passed. Larger enough to be a kraken or sea dragon, the phantom blocked all light.
The fairy had seen more than enough.
Hard wings beats propelled her upward, she rose fast, aiming for the surface. Breaking through with a splash, she flew higher into the air and surveyed the carnage.
Broken wood, cloth, barrels, and bodies dotted the ocean. A few people clung to the debris, but they didn’t have a chance this close to the reef. The twin suns rose in the distance, blue and red gifted a soft purple morning sky.
The shipwreck was prime feeding grounds above the waves, too, birds and tiny saurians flitted through the air. One swooped low and snapped at the fairy. With a gesture, she pulled water upward and knocked the nasty creature into an early grave.
The fairy searched for land; the frenzy grew beneath her and she didn’t want to risk more time in the open. A green blur of trees and grass caught her eye, not far off from where she flapped. She pushed her new wings hard. Air whistled around her ear holes and drowned out the clamor.
A figure stood on the shore, white-blond hair and a blue dress. The fairy angled her flight toward the human. A lifeboat waited on the beach next to the woman.
Closer up the fairy could tell she was a woman, the other variety of giant. A man looked like the one she bit in the water.
The fairy knew the difference like she knew how to fly, or how to move water. There was nothing solid in her head, yet facts stood out. Ideas, names, senses, strange concepts she had no context for poured through her.
The world should feel new, but already time’s rusty hooks latched onto her soul.
As she approached, the old instincts kicked hard. A deep tingle in her left wing carried a buzz of alarm, although no name attached to the feeling. The fairy landed on the bow of the lifeboat, crouched to cover her naked body, and prepared to spring.
Humans could easily crush her at this size. Caution would keep her alive, until she learned enough to survive.
She looked back over the destruction and with a small cough, the tiny blue fairy spoke her first word, “Fuck.”
“Hello, little fairy. I’m Lucretia Caldyr.” The old woman’s soft voice carried an odd tinge. Hectic, but barely controlled. The fairy could feel it meant—nothing. A blank. But she knew something was off.

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Guardians of the Home (Domovoi)

 

Domovoi, domovoy, domachi, domovoj, domovik, dedek(grandfather)—All names for a particular type of house spirit.

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The domovoi, looking like he might be trippin’ balls.

Think brownies.  Very hirsute, macho brownies, ones that beat the hell out of anything looking for trouble on your property.  And I mean the Scots brownies, not the delicious type. Continue reading

Unfinished… (Gjenganger)

Death isn’t always the End

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We’ve all heard of ghosts.  They scare the bejeezus out of us, haunt our houses, watch us in the bathroom at night, and judge our internet histories.  Some ghosts are special though, some are more than your bog standard moaning spirits.  Like poltergeists, gjenganger (glad I don’t gotta say that) do more than just the above creepiness.  They are corporeal, not just shades but truly able to interact with the world.

Scandinavian revenants, gjenganger were walking ghosts.  The name comes from the words ‘against’, ‘toward’, and ‘walking’; basically combining into ‘walking after death’.  The risen dead roamed the Earth, pinching their victims into serious illness or even death.  Dødningeknip is a rather adorable word that translates to ‘Dead man’s pinch’, the gjenganger’s typical method of execution.  Usually done while the victim slept, the skin would rot around the area of contact.  Becoming diseased, discolored (blue), and shrunken, the pinch would often lead to illness and death.

In the oldest tales the gjenganger was a malevolent entity, coming back the dead to torture family and friends.  Some came back simply because of unfinished business, often business they need help with from a kind friend, one who doesn’t want the pinch of death.  And victims of violent death or murder.  Suicide too, which is a bit unfair if you think about it.

Despite it’s horror origins in later years the gjenganger has separated from it’s more scary attributes, those going to the gast, and the gjenganger becoming a rather harmless spirit.

Mostly Normal (Description)

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Pretty girl in the snow?  Gotta be a monster, 99% of things in snow are ghosts and monsters.

No overt features, so I guess just watch the obit pages and if anyone looks familiar…

They’re more like a vampire than a traditional ghost.  One sign of the deceased being soon to rise is supposed to be the position of the body when found.  If sitting up, they might soon rise.

Toss a stick on it (Defense)

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Or with sticks.  Probably don’t use the stick one for kindling, that’s not mentioned in the stories but I thought I’d bring it up.  I know how you are with fire…

So, a varp is a memorial pile of twigs or stones.  Add to the pile to curry favor, draugr’s your uncle, the gjenganger doesn’t pinch you to death.  Another defense is the ubiquitous cross over the door, preferably in tar.  Also a slew of odd burial rituals, crossed shovels, rotting sleds, and ring around the church all included.  Also certain runes, or the most effective method of dispatch—a sharp, sharp sword.  Yep, being corporeal you can just hack one up.

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Finally all the training I skipped pays off.

 

Good luck and try not to get pinched!

(Also if you like ghosts of any type, please check out my short Dead Habits here. Thanks for reading.)