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Landing Page (in Progress): Faerie Apocalypse

The gods left this world thousands of years ago, but they left many of their descendants here on Earth.

Those children mated with humanity and with each other, hid in plain sight, and learned to use their magic without being found out,

In 2011, many of their children come crashing through the gates onto Earth and all of the rules changed again.

This setting is urban fantasy, apocalypse, post-apocalypse, and then rebuilding, depending on the era of the story.

Work in progress: This is my biggest setting, hands-down, and I expect the landing page to take quite a while to work out.

The Stories

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Spoils of War 18 – The Talker

First: Spoils of War I: Surrender

In the front of the room, a man stood, taller than everyone else, taller than people ought to be and made mostly, it seemed, of leg, and he was speaking, but she couldn’t hear him.

He was still speaking, even though the floor was shaking. He looked straight at Nikol and glared.  Even though she had no idea what he was saying, his presence seemed to surge through her. 

She sat down.  She didn’t pay much attention to where, just in the nearest chair.  Clearly he was saying something very interesting.  If only Nikol could hear it.  Continue reading

Spoils of War 18 – Promise

First: Spoils of War I: Surrender

“Look…”  Nikol tried to twist to look at the cat on her shoulders without dislodging it. “Look, I’ve got to get Aran. I’m – I’m kind of fond of him, and, I mean, I have a responsibility to him. And — okay, look, if I promise?”

Why was she negotiating with a cat?  She twisted this way and that, scooped the beast up, and, mindful of its claws, held it so she could look it in the eye.  “I am going to go get my friend. But I promise you – I promise you – I will be back and I will pet you when I get back.” Continue reading

Spoils of War 17 – The Doors

First: Spoils of War I: Surrender

The door.  The door.  Nikol slipped out of bed – Aran wasn’t there anymore; of course he wasn’t there anymore, the door had just closed – and peered out the window.  There he was, walking down the street. Walking, which was odd. She’d imagined if he was going to run away, he’d take a horse. And one, no, both cats were following him, but he didn’t seem to notice them at all.

She ran down the stairs and slipped out the side door, hurrying to follow him. He was moving deliberately, not slowly, but not running. Where was he going?

The remnants of her nightmare stuck with her, making his movement seem sinister. If he was running away, she was going to feel rather stupid about following him. Hadn’t she more or less said that she’d let him get it out of his system? And then she was trailing him like she didn’t trust him.

But it wasn’t that she didn’t trust him, it was that her dream was still screaming in the back of her mind and something seemed off, wrong.   Continue reading

Spoils of War 16 – Quiet

First: Spoils of War I: Surrender

“You have to wonder what happened here.”

“I don’t have to.  I mean, unless you tell me I do.”

Nikol looked around the town.  As far as she could tell, it had been left completely intact, except for the ruined bridge on one end and the broken road on the other.  Someone had laid planks down over the hole in the road. 

But there were no collapsed buildings, no signs of fire, no skeletons – there were quite a few things left in the houses, as if people had packed up and left in a hurry, but they had, it seemed, all left. 

“You don’t have to,” she agreed evenly.  “How about this one? It’s pretty.” She gestured at a house with a Victorian feel, a matching garage, and three-tone paint with relatively intact gingerbreading.  Continue reading

Haunted House 58: Happy

First: A story featuring a male keeper and a female Kept.
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The chickens were excited when Mélanie went out to feed them, clucking away at something.  Mélanie tensed, worried she was going to find something strange in the pen again — but it was only one of the rescued former slaves, clucking back at them.  He jumped when Mélanie approached. 

“Oh, sorry!  I just– I used to be in charge of the animals–“

“If you want to feed them and get the eggs, I’d appreciate it.  I’ll go turn the horses out into their paddock then.” If they were going to have company long-term – and House seemed to think they would – they might want to think about getting a rooster around and hatching some more chickens. “The food’s kept right over here, in the barn.” Continue reading

Spoils of War 15 – Rest Stop

First: Spoils of War I: Surrender

Content warning for this chapter: Clumsy field medicine on rat-induced wounds. 

~*~

They were far enough from the Mountain that nobody looked too worried at soldiers riding into town, but close enough that people were cautious. 

“We need clean water, preferably some alcohol for our wounds, grain for the horses, and a sheltered place to sleep,” Nikol told the townsfolk (for a generous definition of “town”), when they were asked what their business was.  “We made a bad choice of resting places, and the rat-things in the factory back there—”

The bigger of the cats made a spitting noise and a very indignant face.  The four people — three women, one man, all armed — laughed. 

“That cat is right.  They’re not good eating, I can tell you that, for man nor beast, but they think you’re a pretty decent dinner.” The four of them shared a look.  “Toby’s barn on the edge of town is clear right now, there’s a little grain and a clear-water pump.  You have something to pay with?” Continue reading

Haunted House 57: Home Again

First: A story featuring a male keeper and a female Kept.
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The House was waiting for them. 

The wagon ride back had been – well, strange. The former slaves had spent a lot of time looking at Jasper — and then at Mélanie — as if they were some sort of strange creature.  Which, Mélanie supposed, was not all that unfair. 

“So…” one woman had asked, maybe twenty minutes before they reached the house, “what’s going to happen to us?”

They really had been slaves for a while.   Continue reading

Haunted House 56: Sparkle

First: A story featuring a male keeper and a female Kept.
🌳

The whole barn seemed to be holding their breath — even the slaver, who had stopped wiggling in his captors’ arms.  Do you understand what I am doing?

You’re turning things on their head, and it’s impressive.  Mélanie stayed quiet; she was holding her breath, too. 

The woman nodded, cleared her throat, and nodded again.  She tried one more time; Jasper handed her the water again.  Continue reading