July Update
I’ve had sudden a sprouting (today’s update theme is ‘forest’) of mostly unexpected writing commitments in the last few months, which means my private projects either get pruned or pushed back. Spun‘s very close to ready, but I will be moving pub date from summer to fall. Until then, have a teaser! And if you haven’t yet been introduced to Corbin, David, Nell and Littleton’s beastly fiend, pick up a copy of book one: Beastly Manor.
The black forest in spring smelled heavily of the rich loam that made Littleton’s fields so fertile. Gigantic ferns grew in verdant clumps between tree and thorny briar, clogging the forest path with fronds the size of a small man. Purple hyacinth and silver-white Mary’s Stars blossomed bravely in between the ferns. The trees – ancient specimens with high, gnarled branches and leaves so green they were nearly black – were festooned with yellow vines. The vines reminded David uncomfortably of serpents complete with hungry, gaping mouths in the form of pink trumpet flowers.
Fat bumble bees flitted from flower to flower, buzzing industriously. Gray forest squirrels chattered in the canopy above, scolding human intrusion, while brightly colored birds flitted from branch to branch, calling alarm. David watched them all from flat on his back in the wagon, his leg propped on a pile of blankets, his head pillowed on Nell’s lap. Either the brandy was working on him at last or Nell’s soft singing was more witchery at work because the ferns, and the trees, and the forest creatures, and even Nell’s hard thigh, seemed very distant. Although he knew his body was in distress, his brain felt muffled in layers of fog, indifferent.
“Opium and brandy is a dangerous mix,” he said, making the connection too late. He knew he should be furious, but all he felt was vague alarm. “You lied to me.”
“About emptying out your little vial and also about what was in your cup,” Nell agreed calmly. “I did intend to toss it, after I’d studied its effects for myself. Poppy juice is hard to come by, and I’m an inquisitive sort.” She paused before patting his brow. “Don’t fret. I watered the brandy down.”
David was not at all reassured. He started to scold Nell for being a thief – a dangerously uninformed one at that – when he was distracted by the abrupt appearance of Cat who dropped from the canopy above and landed in the wagon near David’s bandaged foot. Regarding David through narrow green-gold eyes, he began to purr.
“You know the Beast will pick his teeth with that animal’s bones if he catches him near the manor,” Corbin warned from where he walked alongside the mule at the head of the wagon.
Nell scoffed. “Cat goes where he likes. I’ve no say in the matter once he’s made up his mind. The Beast hasn’t taken him yet, and not for lack of trying.”
David, captured by Cat’s unblinking stare, was certain he saw the tom bare its fangs in a disturbingly human smirk.
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