Monday, April 21, 2014
Butler Banks Book Tours today's feature author is Carole McDonnell
CAROLE MCDONNELL INTERVIEW ON FANTASY DEBUT ABOUT WIND FOLLOWER
An Interview With Carole McDonnell
Carole was kind enough to answer some questions for Fantasy Debut. As you will surmise, Carole and I have been swapping lots of emails and it has been a lot of fun, at least for me and hopefully for her!
Please tell us what inspired you to write WIND FOLLOWER.
So many things. Books come from so many parts of a writer. The spiritual part, the social-racial part, the psycho-emotional part, the intellectual-creative part, etc. I can say that creatively I wanted to challenge myself to write a book which contained high fantasy, honored folklore, and primeval Christianity and that was a kind of emotionally-healing romance.
You call WIND FOLLOWER a Christian fantasy, yet the writer's guidelines at Juno Books specifies that they don't publish Christian fantasy. Was it difficult to find a home for WIND FOLLOWER?
The Christian publishing world is pretty rigid and I knew Wind Follower wouldn't fall easily into their world. I wanted to deal with sexuality, racial issues, interracial-intercultural romances, imperialism, and "pagan" cultures. And I knew they wouldn't want to touch any of those things because the CBA publishers didn't consider those issues "safe" for their audience. I got rejected by CBA gatekeepers with interesting lines like: "I like this book but I would be fired if I published it." Or "It was going along well but then you delved into certain areas..." Or "this is the best speculative christian book I have ever read but our readers would not like it."
On the other hand, I wanted the book to be Biblical in some places and I figured that would be a problem with secular publishers. It turned out not to be. Juno really doesn't publish Christian fantasy but my friend, Nick Woods, a white South African writer, says I "walk the borderlands." And that is true. I'm black and I can easily talk to white folks about race. I'm Christian and I have close friends who are non-religious or who belong to many different religions. I'm staunchly myself, yet I seem to have a kind of ambassadorial quality and ease with talking to folks who would not like any of my "labels." Black, Christian, whatever. In a conversation with a white gay writer friend the topic came up in which we wondered who our audiences would be. She figured her readers would probably be straight. Well, I tend to think my primary audience will be non-Christians. I'll have black readers and Christian fans, of course. So it wasn't hard for Juno to accept me. I'm not preachy, and the story's world is like any other fantasy world...except it comes from a Black American pentecostal worldview. But my readers will probably be pretty much anyone who likes speculative fiction.
During our correspondence, you specified that your novel should appear in the Fantasy section, not the African-American section. Recently, I featured David Anthony Durham's Acacia, and he had the same sort of battle. How difficult is it for a Black author to avoid being pigeonholed in the African-American sections of American bookstores?
I don't know much about the publishing world, really. I know that many Black folks have bookstore sections they tend to visit. But white folks also do that. My black online writing groups tend to question: "Do blacks read speculative fiction? How do we get more black folks to read black speculative fiction?" Honestly, I don't know the answer to those questions. Many of my black friends only go to the religious sections of bookstores. Many only go to the romance sections. Many read anything. One can't really judge what the black reading audience is going to do. The thing is to make the black and minority audience know that there are books out there that speak to their experience.
For instance, I really do not read much fantasy or science fiction. I don't read Christian novels. I don't read romances. Yet I love all these genres...and will waste a couple of hours watching genre movies. But films are different from books. A book is a large commitment of time and I groan whenever I have to deal with high fantasy, or Christian romance, or any kind of literature that doesn't connect to me. There's a high fantasy book I'm supposed to be reviewing. I still can't get past the first seven pages. As a black person who loves speculative literature, there are just so many high-born lords and ladies one can endure....no matter how magical the world. As a black Christian, one can endure just so many white pioneer or country types taming the frontier. For me, European-based high fantasy literature is often as offensive as Anglo-based Christian romance. I want to shout, "There are other ethnic groups in the world and why should I always have to be awashed with Euro-culture?" Christianity, for instance, is not a white religion. Most of the world's Christians are non-white. Yet, most of the world's Christian religious books are written by white people.
If a black person wants to read any kind of book -- religious, romance, speculative fiction -- he/she has to accept the fact that the white culture is the one he/she will be immersed in. Some black readers are tired of that and they know that if they go to the African-American section of the bookstore, they won't have to deal with the stories of the larger culture. The same can be said of the Christian population. Christians don't want to deal with books in which their faith is slammed, or which there is something they consider offensive or "unsafe." (Unfortunately, in this country, the definition of unsafe has gotten a bit out of hand...as I mentioned before.) But, clearly, the white culture doesn't have to deal with the minority cultures' stories. They have a choice. The non-religious segment of the population doesn't have to deal with the literature of the religious segment. They have a choice. The result is that there is all this segmentation and segregation. Unfortunately, I've never really been able to be solidly one thing or primarily one aspect of myself. There is no solid Christian minority culture in this country. The Christian culture in the United States is primarily a white one. I hope to be a multicultural Christian writer...and I hope to be "found" by those who would be interested in reading my books.
Did you have any historical sources for WIND FOLLOWER or did you make up this fantastically detailed world on your own?
Totally made up. When I first thought of it, I wanted to create an alternate Africa that had been invaded by Native Americans or by folks from Asia. There would also be a sojourning peoples who would be a third tribe. But I knew zip about African history, nada about Asian history, zilch about Native American history. Not really zip, nada, or zilch, but you know what I mean. Not enough to actually create a full-fledged respectable alternate Africa. So I decided to just make it some unknown continent on some unspecifiec planet in some unnamed universe. Most reviewers have been assuming Wind Follower's setting is in Africa. It seems that my original thought -- and my lack of specific description regarding the setting-- worked its way into the zeitgeist of the novel anyway.
What is your favorite scene in WIND FOLLOWER?
As a writer, I'm pretty proud of the fall into Gebelda. I like descriptions of hell in novels. It's part of the oldest high fantasy tradition --Parzival, Gawain and the Green Knicht-- to have the hero get into a spiritual eye-opening experiences. Hell or some semblance of the dark place of the soul. And it's part of folklore to have some descent into hell. Plus hell is such an important part of Christian doctrine. Actually, most religions and folklore have some kind of hell, even Tibetan Buddhism...but Christianity focuses on it.
As a person of faith, I like the scene where Loic wakes from sleep and aims his shuwa into the sky....and later Satha's response to the shuwa. Faith is such an odd little thing. One does a thing because one feels it is the right thing to do, and one doesn't question an impression placed in one's soul by the Creator. The fact that Loic would wake from a dream and do something simply because in a dream he was told to do it! And to not question the Creator about the action he is called to do! That's an act of faith. And Satha's reaction to the shuwa is also an act of interpretation of that faith.
As a woman, I liked the scene when Loic first meets Satha. To have someone want me like that. I've been married for 23 years. My husband loves me dearly and I adore him. But we're laid-back folks. Even when we first met there wasn't that passionate overwhelming desire. We're not ultra-passionate folks. But hey, it's the stuff of romance...and I like romance.
I also like certain chapters where "scenes" per se don't happen but where Satha tells about her heart and the existential grief she endures. My soul is in those scenes. I wrote those sections from the depth of my heart.
What scene gave you the most trouble?
The rape scene. Technically it had to be done in such a way that Satha didn't seem stupid. It had to be foreshadowed to the cynical readers who know enough not to trust anyone. But it also had to come as a surprise to the innocent readers who believed in the goodness of people. So it had to be predictable to those who are thinkers and unpredictable to those readers who feel.
In addition, I had to figure out what kind of person the rapist was. This was one of the few times where Paula almost lost her patience with me. (Okay, she really did lose her patience!) She kept telling me: stop being in love with your villain. He's a villain for heaven's sake! So I had to really find evil in him...really really really stop excusing his behavior. That was hard 'cause I was kinda in love with him. I suspect that I will only see how evil he is in about twenty years when I re-read the book from a distance. Paula kept telling me that the character I thought I had written was not the one I had actually written. So I had to trust her on that.
Emotionally, it was a tough scene also because when I was in college about twenty seven years ago, a white guy -- a friend who was very troubled-- attacked me and beat me up because he wanted to sleep with me and I didn't want to sleep with him. He was very handsome, very troubled, and had issues up the wazoo. So it was hard to hate him although he had left me beaten up on the floor with a face and ribs that ached for a whole month. I tend to be one of those people who belittles her own pain because she understands those who are wounding her. Not a sane way to be in life. So it was hard to fully hate the villain.
Did you finish any other novels before you wrote WIND FOLLOWER, or is this your first novel? If so, can we expect to see them in print?
I finished Daughters of Men. That was the one I sent to Paula at fist, cause it was finished. She said, very kindly, "It needs a lot of work." It does. I'm revising it now. And I really mean revising. Not just rewriting. It was originally third person narration, now it's first person. I've also changed the main character. And, best thing of all, I've finally learned how to write a novel. So I am busily cutting off tentacles from this 20-legged octopi and cutting off episodic suction cups that threaten to suck me into some stupid sub-plot that doesn't matter to the greater, larger story.
Can you give us a teaser about your next novel?
I have yet to know if it'll be a religious novel. My faith is in everything I write but some stories aren't so blatantly about religion. It's been said (I forgot by who) that a novel is a conversation between the soul and the spirit. The question in Wind Follower was: Which would you choose faith or family? Faith-committment versus Race-commitment. The question in Daughters of Men is What would you do to become a queen? Friendship versus Personal Expedience.
The main character is the Chimeran Queen. Her name is Medusa. She is a mutant...biologically created like all the human chimeras....worms coming from all her orifices and through her skin. She is a telepath and a mind-reader. She is being raised by an Overseer Prince. The Overseers are also biological creations but they are the height of perfection and beauty. They are also telepaths and mindreaders. She hasn't told them that she is a telepath, however. Instinctively, she knows not to do this. When the story begins she is living in a house on the prince's compound and she gets news of the outside world through conversations with the Overseers. She also sees what they aren't telling her. While they don't lie to her, they do avoid telling her a few important things...like the fact that the other Chimeric people who have been exiled to the terraformed asteroid Otaura, don't want her to reign over them. She also sees their love troubles....specifically the triangle between the prince, a scarred woman whom the prince loves, and the prince's best friend a rebel who helps the standard-issue humans (although he, like all the other Overseers, doesn't really like human men.) She's in love with the prince but she has a special bond with the prince's best friend and so she helps to "cover his mind" and protect the guilty lovers in their love affair.... Well, until....
Right now it begins like this:
I don't quite remember when I fully understood that I could hide my mind from the probing of the Young Men. Nor do I remember when I first understood the extent of my loneliness. But these –memory, comprehension, the passing from youth to adulthood– are small matters and should not make you doubt my narrative. I am the Chimeran Queen, after all, your queen, one of the daughters of men...and I would not lie to you.
Many of my readers are writers. Do you have any advice for them?
Be honest. You never know who might accept your honesty. And what is the use of writing -- of getting published and expecting folks to spend their hard-earned $12.95 on your book-- if you aren't going to tell them about the world as you see it? Editors can be brave and accept some odd stuff. At least, in my case, I found an editor who didn't mind the religious stuff in Wind Follower. Write from your pain and write from your joy. Join critique circles. Learn to take criticism. Even if it's from someone who doesn't seem too bright or too kind. Don't be arrogant, but don't be too hard on yourself either. Try to write everyday. Keep healthy.
And finally, is there anything else you'd like to share?
Just how grateful and happy I am that you chose to read Wind Follower. And that I'm happy to be a published author. Just how happy I am to be loved by God and Jesus, my Lord and Savior. Hey, I had to put that in. I owe God more than I can ever say or describe.
Further email conversations led to another question: I understand that your husband is an artist. What's it like having an artist and writer together in the same house?
Yes, the beloved is an artist. Luke McDonnell www.lukemcdonnell.com He's a graphic artist, cartoonist, illustrator, and comic book artist. His paintings and drawings hang all over the house. He works for Yoe studios www.yoe.comHe also used to work for DC and Marvel. He did Iron Man, Spiderman, Suicide Squad, a whole bunch of stuff. If you do a google search for him, you'll see he's pretty respected. And it's quite good being married to an artist. Artists understand each other. He doesn't expect me to be a perfect housewife for instance. If I totally forget to cook dinner for a week or so because I'm in the throes of creativity, the world won't end. And if we starve for a couple of years, that's okay by me also. As I said, we understand each other. If I had married a regular person who expected a typical wife, I'd have been in super-trouble, i think. We've been pretty happy together. However, when we first married he was an atheist, a son of Irish Roman-Catholic atheists. It was tough being married to an "unbeliever" for fifteen years. But he finally came on over to the side of light.
Blog: www.carolemcdonnell.blogspot.com
Author page at Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/Carole-McDonnell/e/B0034Q3BWG/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1
Page at Barnes and Noble online:
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/c/carole-mcdonnell
Examiner Bible studies:
http://www.examiner.com/bible-verse-of-the-day-in-new-york/carole-mcdonnell
Wattpad:
http://www.wattpad.com/user/CaroleMcDonnell
Sunday, April 20, 2014
I'M
LATE IN POSTING THIS INFORMATION. THE TOUR HAS BEEN GOING ON FOR
SEVERAL DAYS NOW SO HERE'S A INTRODUCTION TO EXACTLY WHAT THE
BUTLER-BANKS BLOG TOUR
IS:
*******************************************************
IN
HONOR OF OCTAVIA BUTLER AND L.A. BANKS, TWO GIANTS IN THE WORLD OF
SCIENCE FICTION, FANTASY AND HORROR AND, INDEED, THE ENTIRE WORLD OF
LITERATURE, WE ARE LAUNCHING THE BUTLER / BANKS BOOK TOUR.
WHAT
IS IT, EXACTLY, YOU ASK?
THE TOUR IS 30 (OR MORE) DAYS OF
SPECULATIVE FICTION (SCIENCE FICTION, FANTASY AND HORROR /
PARANORMAL) WRITTEN BY AND ABOUT BLACK PEOPLE.
EACH DAY, A
DIFFERENT AUTHOR WILL TAKE THE STAGE AND BRING US INTO THEIR WORLD –
OR WORLDS – THROUGH EXCITING BOOK EXCERPTS, REVIEWS OF THEIR BOOKS,
COOL BOOK TRAILERS, AUDIO RECORDINGS OF A CHAPTER OR TWO AND ANYTHING
ELSE FUN AND EXCITING Y’ALL WOULD LIKE TO SHARE.
HERE'S
THE LINE UP:
APRIL 2014
14 COLBY R. RICE
15
ALAN JONES
16 BALOGUN OJETADE
17 MILTON DAVIS
18 VALJEANNEJEFFERS
19 JEFF CARROLL
20 D K GASTON
21 CAROLE MCDONNELL
22
KAI LEAKES
23 MILTON DAVIS
24 K. CERES WRIGHT
25 MILTON
DAVIS
26 VALJEANNE JEFFERS
27 DAVAUN SANDERS
28
CLARENCE (“ZIG ZAG”) YOUNG
29 CRYSTAL CONNOR
30
BALOGUN OJETADE
HOLD ON TO YOUR SEATS BOYS AND GIRLS AND ENJOY
THE EVENT.
Saturday, April 19, 2014
Who
is D K Gaston?
Darin
is the author of more than a dozen books ranging from Speculative
Fiction to Crime novels. His first book was published in 2007. After
serving five years in the military, he began college, earning a
degree in Computer Science. Since earning his degree he's gone on to
earn two Masters degree in Technology Management and Business
Administration. His experience in the military and computer sciences
has shaped many of his stories and characters over the years. He also
writes under the name Keith Gaston.
Taurus
Moon
My most
reason speculative fiction novel is Taurus Moon: Magic & Mayhem,
which is the follow-up to Taurus Moon: Relic Hunter. Taurus makes his
living by searching for supernatural artifacts for anyone willing to
pay his price. These two novels are among my favorite because it
allows me to express my humor as much as the fast-paced actions
throughout the books.
Book
Description
Taurus
Moon: Magic & Mayhem is a fast-paced action and fantasy novel,
sprinkled with humor. After saving the lives of a family about to be
slaughtered by Lycans, Taurus and Gully are pulled into a realm where
magic is supreme and technology is nonexistent. They must travel
through harsh lands to find their way home.
The uneasy
alliance between an evil sorceress queen, Morgana le Fay, and Grimes,
a Lycan king, is threatened because of the relic hunter's and mage's
presence. Taurus and Gully will have to use every trick they've every
learned to survive the looming battle, but will it be enough?
Excerpt
Chapter
One
Gully’s
lungs burned, and cold sweat dripped down his face, but he couldn’t
stop running, because stopping meant death.
Shadowing
them on all fours, their stalkers were urged on with an inhuman need
to slaughter. The heavy pounding of their massive paws against the
frozen landscape grew ever closer. He pictured his pursuers’
tongues lolling from their mouths, salivating with anticipation.
Wails filled the night; their terrifying howls alerting others of
their pack that the chase was nearly over.
Gully
had hoped the thick trees would offer him and the people he’d
rescued, places to conceal themselves, but it wasn’t to be. The
predators’ night vision could penetrate the dark with ease and
their sense of smell could detect the four of them wherever they may
hide.
Desperation
begged that he plunge deeper into the woods. More than once, he’d
seen what the claws and teeth of the predators could do to human
flesh—saw the terror frozen in the eyes of their dead victims.
Gully saw that same fear in the eyes of the family he was trying to
protect. A hard knot had gotten trapped in his throat when the small
girl glanced in his direction. Her gaze became saucers and she
mouthed a silent scream.
Gully
forced himself to twist his neck around to glance over his shoulder
toward whatever she saw. He spotted the blood red glow of their
ominous eyes first, then saw three of the beasts leap out from the
darkness, their maws snapping open and close with enthusiasm as they
anticipated flesh being trapped between their razor-sharp teeth.
The
girl finally gave voice to her scream. It was time to stop running.
Gully turned on his heels and faced the rampaging creatures.
Exhausted and out of breath, he struggled to control his panic. Every
fiber of his being shouted for him to continue running, but deep
inside he knew that running would only get them killed. Gully shoved
his fear aside, not for himself, but for the small girl and her
parents.
The
werewolves hastened their charge.
***
I
sliced a jagged line across Darla’s neck with the silver blade from
my wrist-mount to let her father know, I was serious about killing
her. A thin line of warm blood trickled down her throat to her naked
body. Grimes snarled, but stopped his advance toward me. His long
abnormal fingernails and fangs retracted. Red menacing eyes reverted
back to lifeless gray ones. As the dark brown fur slowly withdrew
back into his skin, he grew smaller by several feet as he returned to
his natural six-four height.
Grimes,
naked and fully human, did not bother to hide his manhood, and he
stared at me as if I was the one wrongly dressed for the occasion.
“You are bluffing, Moon. You would not kill my daughter in cold
blood,” he said not sounding entirely convinced of his words.
Under
my grasp, Darla snarled like a wild animal and said, “He’s weak,
father! Kill him now!”
“Take
it easy, princess. No one has to be hurt here tonight,” I
whispered. I spoke to her father in a louder voice with as much
confidence as I could. “Make one move, Grimes, and I’ll take off
her head. Trust me, I don’t bluff.”
“That’s
not exactly true, sir. Since my association with you, you have,
indeed, deceived your way out of five precarious situations,”
Mosley said deadpan while in his holographic Idris Elba form.
Grimes,
Darla and I slowly turned our gaze to the hologram. “You’re not
supposed to let the bad guys know you might be bluffing, Mosley. Sort
of defeats the purpose, don’t you think?” I scolded.
The
hologram winced in apology then his image disappeared. Sometimes, I
wondered if Mosley was with me or against me.
Grimes
smiled, his teeth elongating once again. “My daughter and I shall
have white wine as we dine on your flesh tonight, Moon.”
I
gritted my teeth and narrowed my eyes at him. “Despite what my
blabbermouth friend said, I will cut her throat!” Something in my
expression or body language told him I spoke the truth, because his
teeth became human-like again.
“You
dare call my daughter and me bad guys, when it was you and your
conjurer friend that broke into my castle in a pitiful attempt to rob
me!”
Can
you believe this guy? “You’re just going to skate over the fact
that, in the midst of our pitiful attempt at robbery, Gully and I
saved the lives of a family you and your darling princess here, were
about to make a meal of. Here’s a tidbit of information for you.
Eating innocent folks definitely places you and Darla on the wrong
side of righteousness.”
Darla
squirmed in my grip perhaps to break my hold, but I wasn’t having
that. I pressed the silver blade tighter against her neck, drawing
more blood from her. “Play nice,” I whispered into her ear.
“We
have to eat,” she said defensively, as if that justified
everything. “How else do you expect us to live?”
I
shook my head, bowled over by the question. “That’s why the world
has frozen meat sections in supermarkets, princess. You and I both
know it’s not a prerequisite for werewolves to feed on human flesh.
Raw meat is all you need to survive.”
“We
are predators. We hunt for our food,” Grimes huffed. “You have no
right to be here--no right to take our prey!”
“You’re
only half right, buddy,” I retorted. “I don’t have any legal
right to invade your home, but I do have a noble one. I need
something from you. Not to keep… only to borrow,” I said, trying
to gain some sort of control over the situation. I needed to nullify
them before things got worse.
Grimes
stood ramrod straight and folded his arms together. “You are
joking, correct? My daughter is your prisoner, and you expect me to
let you borrow something from my castle?”
“Kill
him, father,” Darla yelled, as she shifted slightly, readying
herself to make a move.
I
lifted the flat of the blade, scratched off a thin layer of skin from
her neck, and then gave her a solid tap underneath the chin. “Will
you shut the hell up? Grown folks are talking here.”
She
didn’t like that at all.
Too
late, I realized, I’d gone too far with my belittling of her.
In
an instant, Darla went into full animal state, growing two feet in
height with hair covering her entire body. Two inch fangs and long
fingernails as sharp and strong as the finest steel knives were only
seconds away from ripping into me. I stood at a crossroads in a split
second of indecision—if I cut off her head, Grimes would be on top
of me with a father’s fury like no other—if I did nothing, Darla
would eventually get the upper hand in her stronger animal state. I
hesitated a moment too long with my conundrum.
In
a flash, she batted my arm away from her neck and heaved her head
rearward, slamming the back of her skull hard against my forehead. In
pain, I reeled backwards several steps, my vision an explosion of
colors. I swung my blade wide and wild to make sure they couldn’t
get close while I tried to regain focus. I could have used Gully
right then and there, but he was busy getting that family Grimes and
Darla had planned to eat to safety.
By
the time my vision cleared, I saw that they had moved away to a safe
distance. Both father and daughter were now full werewolves, and they
both drooled at me with hunger in their eyes. Standing side-by-side,
they looked at each other, then spoke in a series of grunts and
growls, apparently debating who would get the first chunk of my
flesh.
Grimes
took a step back, letting Darla take the lead, an indication that
they’d made their choice. I glanced over my shoulder, weighing what
my chances would be if I sprinted down the corridor. There were no
doors or turns, at least not until I’d ran down the long stretch
for about thirty yards.
I
would never make it. If I turned away to run, Darla would be on top
of me before I took three steps, biting and clawing into my back. My
pistols were already emptied from an earlier encounter. Though I had
spare magazines, I’d never have time to reload. Left with the
choice to fight, I planted my feet into a defensive posture and
readied myself. One thing was in my favor—they’d decided to come
at me one at a time.
Darla
let out what I guessed was a laugh as she advanced toward me. She
leapt to her left. Her paws pounded heavily against the left wall, as
she launched herself to the wall on the opposite side. She bounded
back and forth across the walls in a zigzag fashion so fast that she
was almost a blur, in what I assumed was an attempt to disorientate
me. I didn’t focus on her movements; it would have been impossible
to track her that way. Instead, I listened to the timing of her paws
as they made contact on the hard surface.
In
my head, I counted down, three-two-one. Quickly dropping to one knee,
I sliced my blade across the air above me. A dark shadow passed
overhead at the same time. A gush of warm air and the smell of foul
breath brushed against my face. An incredible weight fell on top of
me. Darla and I went barrel rolling down the corridor. Her body
stopped its momentum before mine. I continued rolling another few
feet and landed on my back. Dizzy and aching, I lifted my head and
tried to gain my bearings.
Darla
was sprawled on the floor, and blood and spit overflowed from the
severed jaw she worked desperately to put back together. My strike
wasn’t a killing blow, but I’d nearly sliced her head in two.
Darla’s supernatural restoration ability would eventually heal the
wound. For the meantime, she would be out of the fight. Scrambling to
my feet, I noticed my tumble with the princess had shortened the
distance to the end of the corridor.
An
anguished howl came from her father, who charged down the hallway.
Leaping over Darla, Grimes made a beeline for me.
Already
in mid-turn, I ran. Unlike Darla, her father wouldn’t be nearly as
easy to subdue. He had a thousand years of fighting in armies
throughout history under his belt. He also wasn’t as headstrong as
her and had a habit of never underestimating his enemies. Lucky for
me, Grimes wasn’t as agile or fast as his daughter. Immortal or
not, he still suffered from the slow downs of aging.
I
made it to the end of the hall and took a sharp left. Antique tables,
vases and artwork adorned the walls. I retracted my blade, and pushed
over anything I could get my hands on to slow him down. It didn’t
work out as I’d hoped. Rather than duck and weave through the
mayhem, he barreled through it as if there were no obstructions.
I
groped in my pocket for a magazine and inserted the clip into my
pistol. All the rounds were laced with silver. Stopping my run, I
whirled around and raised my weapon to shoot. There was nothing
behind me but smashed furniture and artwork. Grimes had disappeared.
Cursing under my breath, I muttered, “This is not good.” I knew
he could attack from any direction. Grimes’ castle probably had a
network of secret passages running from every room and corridor. No
matter which way I proceeded, I was likely to run into an ambush.
The
best maneuver would be to stay where I was and try to find a way out
of his little mousetrap. “Mosley, I need you,” I whispered,
though I might as well have spoke with a bullhorn, knowing Grimes’
enhanced hearing in his wolf state could detect a pin drop a mile
away.
“Is
that absolutely necessary, sir? I mean, can’t you do this alone?”
Mosley answered.
“Do
we really need to have this conversation, you crazy computer? Of
course it’s necessary, otherwise I wouldn’t be calling out to you
for help,” I said frantically as I watched for an attack.
He
let out a synthesized exhaustive breath. “Very well, sir.” Mosley
appeared beside me clutching a chimney poker like a baseball bat.
“How may I be of service?”
“Give
me an overlay of the castle’s interior and then point out any heat
signatures other than my own.”
Mosley’s
form changed from Idris Elba to a three dimensional map. Red blips
indicated Grimes and his daughter. Darla remained where I had left
her, but her father was quickly circling around to get ahead of me if
I continued down the hallway. I was about to turn in the opposite
direction, heading back toward Darla when more red blips appeared on
the first level of the castle.
I
pointed to the new blips. “Are there any cameras on that level you
can tap into for a visual?” I asked, knowing he’d already
bypassed Grimes’ security systems. Before Gully and I entered the
castle, I had Mosley program in a loop into all the cameras to mask
our illegal entry.
“Wait
one moment, sir.” The overlay faded for several seconds and then
was replaced with a visual of the first floor.
My
heart pounded like a drum in my chest. Things had just gone from bad
to a hell of a lot worse. Entering the castle like they’d been
invited to an-all-you-can-eat dinner were a dozen or so large
werewolves. They headed up the front and rear stairways, and used all
the elevators. That howl from Grimes earlier hadn’t been anguish
over his injured daughter as I had thought. It had been a clever call
for backup.
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