New Thea and Max Novel now available!!!!

It's out! It's finally out! "Dirty Deeds Done for Reasonable Prices" is finally up on all the usual formats (my site has Kindle, iBooks, and Smashwords, a DRM-free site that has a bunch of formats, but it should also be up on Kobo, etc.). I'm sorry it took SO long for me to finish this one, but I'm so glad it finally all came together. I hope you all like it! (Click on the "Books" link and scroll down to the "Novellas" heading, or just scroll down until you hit the novellas.)

https://jennifferwardell.wixsite.com/mybooks

Teaser for possible new novel

When wizards fought, it was as if the gods themselves walked the earth. They poured their power into towering projections, huge clawed beasts made of light that could tear through the landscape as easily as if they were made of flesh. Their roars were louder than any thunder, enough that mere mortals quaked at the sound of it.

But at the heart of all this terror-inducing magnificence was a fragile human made of nothing more than blood and bone. They could break so easily, these humans, especially when they poured so much of themselves into their creatures they forgot to keep any for themselves. They gave their own hearts in the service of a power far greater than they could ever realize.

And when they fell, crumpling like a broken toy, all that power disappeared as if it had never been.

The girl collapsed to the ground, the sudden absence of her dragon's golden glow leaving the world so much darker than it had been. She tried desperately to draw a full breath, to get anything past the blood in her mouth, but the knives of pain in her chest made it impossible. She ordered herself to get up, to do something, matter how fiercely she tried her body refused to do anything more than leave her fingers scrabbling uselessly in the dirt.

And the magic.... Tears leaked uselessly out of her eyes, mingling with the blood trickling its way down into the soil. They'd drilled the magic into her for months, told her to cling to it in the midst of even the greatest pain and suffering. She'd done just as they told her to, held onto the warm glow until it started to seem like it was almost alive. That glow had kept her going through the worst of her training, and the fact that she couldn't even feel a flicker of it now was almost worse than the knowledge that she was dying.

The sky somehow became even darker, the blackness her gran had always told her would come at the end of things. But then she heard the sound of footsteps, someone running, and she realized that the Dread Sorceress's creature had vanished as well. She was coming closer, wanting to be up close and personal to see her enemy's death.

But when the swirl of dark robes stopped in front of her, there was no mocking comment. The Dread Sorceress instead dropped to her knees, and the girl felt a hand smooth back her matted, bloody hair. "A child," the Sorceress whispered, her voice full of a trembling rage that would have made her afraid if there'd been anything left in her. "They sent a child to battle me?"

She tried lifting her hand again, tried to reach for even the smallest flicker of light inside her, but there was nothing. The Dread Sorceress made a noise that sounded like the girl felt, her hand still stroking the girl's hair. "Shhhh," the Sorceress whispered, softer even than her gran's had ever been. "You fought hard and well against an opponent you never could have hoped to beat. There are wizards twice your age who could not have done what you did, but the battle is done. It's time for you to rest now."

Even if the words were a lie, there was nothing else to cling to. Carried along by their softness, the girl finally let the dark embrace of death take her.

000

Her next memory was of silk against her cheek. Her first thought was surprise -- the village priest had never mentioned fine fabrics in the afterlife -- but then the smell of dust filled her nose as she realized this couldn't be the afterlife at all. Then the fine spider's web of ache all over her body demanded her attention, and a far more startling realization slowly settled in. She wasn't dead.

It took more effort than it should have to open her eyes. She was in a richly appointed bedroom, dusty enough that it clearly hadn't been used in some time. Sunlight filtered in through the closed curtains, not nearly enough to give her a clue as to where she might be.

She tried lifting her head, wanting to get a better look, but managed only a scant inch of space between herself and the pillow before her body informed her firmly that it was working with limited resources at the moment and crazy things like lifting her head was not on the approved activities list. She rolled instead, finding only more of the dimly lit bedroom.

The impossibility of it all did not lessen in the slightest. The closest castles to the Dread Sorceress's territory had all been abandoned, all carefully locked so the villagers couldn't make use of the resources inside. Even if someone had broken in, how could they have healed her? She was weaker than a baby, yes, but out on the battlefield she'd been a breath away from death. No herbs in the world could provide that kind of cure.

The memory of the Dread Sorceress's soft voice came back to her, but she dismissed it as a hallucination. People imagined all kinds of strange things when they were dying. There was no--

The thought cut off when a twisted, misshapen creature appeared in the doorway, one of the Dread Sorceress's army of monsters. The girl screamed, or at least meant to -- all she had the energy for was a pitiful-sounding meep -- but the creature jumped back as if she'd been much louder. It inched back inside after a moment, shaking, and the girl realized that the creature was just as frightened of her as she was of it.

She stayed silent this time, waiting, as the creature wrung its hands. "Does the girl need anything?" it asked, voice like a hand moving through gravel. When she nodded, mute, the creature nodded with what looked like relief. "I will tell the Mistress you are awake."

Then it fled, leaving the girl staring after him in shock.

NO MORE E-book problem on Amazon

Update: The problem has been resolved, and the titles should be popping back up throughout the day. Yay!

It seems as though the Amazon Kindle versions of my three full-length novels have currently vanished into thin air, but worry not - it's an issue between the publisher and the site that's caused the problem, and therefore most definitely not a permanent state of affairs. If you can't wait to buy the books, they're still available as print copies on all sites and as e-books on both the iBooks store and Kobo, which has an Android app.

My iBooks links

My Kobo links

Guest Post: Why zombies are the perfect modern monster

I featured F.J.R. Titchenell on the post when her "Confessions of the Very First Zombie Slayer (That I Know Of)" came out, and since it's being re-released on April 4 with a new publisher and a snazzy new cover I thought I'd have her drop by again to share her thoughts on why zombies are still so gosh darn popular.

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Why Zombies Are the Perfect Modern Monster
by F.J.R. Titchenell

I’m a huge fan of zombie fiction – as you can probably tell by the fact that I wrote a book called Confessions of the Very First Zombie Slayer (That I Know of) – but when asked questions like this one, about why exactly zombies are so popular, I find that my answers tend to get a bit misanthropic.

Why are we so enthralled by the concept of an apocalyptic plague of hungry, infectious walking corpses?

Since the idea has passed through the hands of so many different writers, it’s been spun a million different ways and used to express lots of different things, from anti-materialism to self-exploration to downright futility. In general though, zombie stories that come anywhere close to the standard format of brainless, unsaveable zombies, plucky survivors, and nonexistent infrastructure, all speak to one particular human fear.

The fear of being lost in the crowd.

I don’t just mean literally being lost in a packed space full of hostile strangers, but the fear of our own insignificance on a planet full of people crying out to be acknowledged.

Imagining ourselves against the backdrop of the zombie apocalypse allows us to feel instantly special and separate from an endless crowd of extras by virtue of simply being alive. We and our tiny cast of fellow survivor characters are thinking, feeling, real people who matter; the bodies packing the streets outside aren’t.

Pretty sick, right?

But we all do it. We all fantasize about not having to share, not having to wait our turn, about taking whatever strikes our fancy because there’s no one to tell us it’s not ours, about carving our way through the people in line ahead of us with a chainsaw, because they weren’t real anyway, not the way we are.

Is this a specifically modern desire? I’m sure it’s always existed, but it also makes sense that it could have been intensified by a rising world population, and by improved communication technology making it more obvious to each of us how far from alone we are – and by the same token, how dubious our sense of uniqueness. And while we’re still a very long way off from achieving true universal equality, it is thankfully far less socially acceptable to elevate oneself by openly dehumanizing a particular group of fellow humans than it was, say, a hundred years ago. Maybe fictional zombies have risen as a convenient psychological surrogate for that particular destructive human habit.

I don’t know if all this would make me call zombies the perfect modern monster, but it certainly makes them a great modern guilty pleasure.

So is that all typical zombies fiction is? A safe, controlled outlet for the worst of our remaining lizard-brain instincts?

That’s certainly a large part of it, but I like to think not.

Zombies can also set the stage to explore the best parts of how people respond to a crisis. A lot of zombie fiction tends to focus disproportionately on humanity at its worst, assuming that the majority of people who survive the apocalypse would immediately take the excuse to unveil themselves as the biggest psychos they could possibly be, but my favorite moments are when we get to see how desperate and exceptional circumstances can instead bring out people’s compassion, initiative, and ingenuity.

I like to believe that where there are still humans, there’s still humanity. There’s still love and laughter, even when it has to come in the form of a morbid crutch, and that’s what you’ll find in Confessions of the Very First Zombie Slayer (That I Know of). There might be a psycho or two for flavor, but mostly it’s about a group of teens who could have gone their separate ways in the everyday world, finding time to riff on each other and keep being teens as that world ends around them, even while they adapt to protect and support each other through it.

Oh, and also plenty of looting, skull smashing, traffic law breaking, and fireworks, because you can’t release the zombies and not feed the lizard brain a little.

Come on, now.

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More about Confessions of the Very First Zombie Slayer (That I Know of)

The world is Cassie Fremont’s playground. Her face is on the cover of every newspaper. She has no homework, no curfew, and no credit limit, and she spends her days traveling the country with her friends, including a boy who would do the chicken dance with death to make her smile. Life is just about perfect—except that those newspaper headlines are about her bludgeoning her crush to death with a paintball gun, she has to fight ravenous walking corpses every time she steps outside, and one of her friends is still missing, trapped somewhere in the distant, practically impassable wreckage of Manhattan.


Still, Cassie’s an optimist, more prone to hysterical laughter than hysterical tears, and she’d rather fight a corpse than be one. She’ll never leave a friend stranded when she can simply take her road trip to impossible new places, even if getting there means admitting to that boy that she might love him as more than her personal jester. Skillfully blending effective horror with unexpected humor, this diary-style novel is a fast-paced and heartwarming read.

Pre-order it here:

Amazon
Smashwords
iTunes
Barnes and Noble

More about F.J.R. Titchenell

F.J.R. Titchenell is an author of young adult, sci-fi, and horror fiction. She graduated with a B.A in English from California State University, Los Angeles, in 2009 at the age of twenty, is represented by Fran Black of Literary Counsel, and currently lives in San Gabriel, California with her husband and fellow author, Matt Carter, and their pet king snake, Mica.

The "F" is for Fiona, and on the rare occasions when she can be pried away from her keyboard, her kindle, and the pages of her latest favorite book, Fi can usually be found over-analyzing the inner workings of various TV Sci-Fi universes or testing out some intriguing new recipe, usually chocolate-related. You can find more about her at her official homepage, fjrtitchenell.weebly.com.

How to Win Over Your Arch-Nemesis (in Three Easy Steps) question/future plans (a.k.a. my little spy fic)

I wasn't really prepared to trip and fall into spy fiction. I'd never written it, never really even thought about writing it, and then one little plot bunny happened and suddenly I have a whole new universe. Weirder still, it's one I really, really like. Like many people who have commented on the two chapters I have posted (thank you all, they're all so lovely), I've realized over the last few weeks that I really, really want to know what happens next.

So my current plan is to double the current amount of text (I say double, but never in all my life has a piece of fiction kept to the word count I thought it would, so it'll probably go over) get a cover together, and publish it on several different platforms (including Smashwords) as a 99 cent e-book. I will, of course, keep everyone updated here and on my various social media profiles.

And if you guys end up liking that, who knows? Spies (and computer programmers, I suspect) always seem to have more than one adventure under their belt.

Update: It's up now. I've collected all the links it's currently available at here, and will be adding links to new platforms as they go online. 

Local Authors and You event

I'll be signing books at this, as well as teaching a workshop on how to get started on all those fantastic novel ideas many of you have burning inside your heads. If you're in town, I'd love to see you there!

Jolly Fish may be dead, but I'm not

So, as you guys may have heard, there’s no more Jolly Fish Press. Which means that, as of Oct. 31, there will be no more copies of the Jolly Fish Press version of any of my three novels.

The good thing about this is that, when that happens, the rights to everything revert back to me. The bad thing is that it’ll take a little scrambling to get the books available again once Jolly Fish finishes imploding, since I’ll have to find new covers for everything. E-books will come up fastest, but physical copies are going to take a little more time.

If there are any graphic artists out there who want to talk to me about new covers, I’d LOVE to hear from you. Otherwise, feel free to e-mail me at jennifferwardell@gmail.com with any questions you might have. 

Talk to me, people

What do I have to do to get you folks to start posting reviews of my books? I don't need them to be fancy - just star ratings, either on Goodreads, Amazon or Barnes & Noble. On Amazon you can post a review if you're signed in to your account,and with Goodreads you can even sign in with your Facebook account. It doesn't have to be anything fancy - just a star rating and a few words on what you thought about the book. Even a sentence would do it.

I'm serious - these reviews can mean life or death for an indie author. I am begging you all on my hands and knees. I will bribe you if you want - just tell me what kind of treats you want me to give you. "Two Left Feet" has ZERO reviews at the moment. ZERO! Please. Just take a minute or two out of your day. Anything would be welcome.

EDIT: The search links for both "Dreamless" and "Two Left Feet" have been fixed on their Goodreads description pages. If anyone runs into any more troubles, please let me know.

Two Left Feet:
Amazon
Goodreads
Barnes and Noble

Dreamless
Amazon
Goodreads
Barnes and Noble

Book Corner: "Once Upon Two Kingdoms"

“Once Upon Two Kingdoms” by Ana del C. Dye

Synopsis: 
An arrangement made when Elizabeth was just a babe ties her to someone she has never met, never spoken to, never loved. Now she desires freedom—a way to choose her own path—her own husband. The moment Elizabeth meets Patrick she knows he is her soul mate. But when you are bound to a crown how is any choice your own?

As a longtime fan of Hallmark Channel original programming, there’s a part of me that’s an absolute sucker for all of the classical romantic tropes. The accidental meeting, an arranged marriage that leads to a love match, a healthy amount of swooning and pining … it’s like the best kind of literary comfort food.

Reading “Once Upon Two Kingdoms,” the latest book by award-winning author Ana del C. Dye, is like enjoying a heaping plate of some of my oldest favorites. If you like your good guys great, your bad guys satisfyingly evil, and a happily-ever-after as sweet as honey, this is the book for you.

Elizabeth, the story’s heroine, falls more into the traditional “princess” gender role but still shows off plenty of spunk. Patrick is courtly in all the ways we want princes to be, and the duo’s romance hits all the right notes. I particularly like when the two first lay eyes on each other – I’m a sucker for meet-cutes that involve weaponry, however briefly – and a nicely dramatic moment near the end. (I’d tell you more, but the last thing I want to do is spoil the book for you.)

Though the setting is general medieval – princesses, etc. – Dye never lets herself get bogged down in period details. She has a good, simple style, where everything that’s going on is easy to understand and the emotions of the characters are clear at all times. The story offers a smooth, easy read from beginning to end, just the right kind of book to devour in a single afternoon.

“Once Upon Two Kingdoms” is available through Dye’s website, www.anadelc.com. 

Deleted Scenes: Beast Charming, part 2

These are two excerpts from a scene that would have served as an opening for the final version of "Beast Charming." The whole thing got cut before it got very far, but it's 100 percent canon compliant with the novel.

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Excerpt 1:

As secret ballrooms went, it wasn’t very impressive. This one had clearly been built decades ago, the excessive use of candlelight making up for the fact that the paint was peeling and some of the decorative moldings were chipped. Her father had sworn that elves had used the ballroom at one point, but right now it was being split between two noble families with too many children and lives so boring that dancing seemed like a night of ultimate rebellion.

Beauty sneezed at the cloud of dust haunting one corner, wondering at how pathetic her life had become that she could actually compare the amenities in different secret ballrooms. Maybe she should write a travel guide.

The lordling she was dancing with, a square-jawed, deathly boring young man who waltzed like someone was holding a saber to his head, furrowed his brow slightly. “I didn’t want to say anything,” he said hesitantly, as if the thought had taken the last several hours to make it to the front of his brain. “But you don’t really look like any of the other princesses here.” He paused again. “Are you cousins?”

 “Of course,” she agreed automatically, the experience of crashing too many dances just like this one having made lying seem almost second nature by this point. She swallowed a spurt of annoyance that it had taken him this long to notice – her third night – or the fact that he apparently hadn’t picked up on the fact that there were two women here who looked nothing like the blond, blue-eyed daughters of the Baron of Whatever It Was. Given the fact that two of those daughters were currently stretched out in one of the coat rooms, unconscious due to the sleeping potion her father bought in bulk, left her far enough away from the moral high ground here that annoyance was probably not an option. “My sister and I are related on our mother’s side.”

The lordling’s brow stayed furrowed a minute longer, then eased into mildly troubled acceptance. “Ah,” he said finally, sending them both around into yet another turn of yet another waltz.

Beauty kept her eyes just over the man’s shoulder, hoping to catch sight of her sister and whatever idiot she’d been shackled to for the evening. There were only twelve couples, more than enough to keep within sight, but there was so much space and so few candles that it was hard to keep sight of everyone. It was a distinct step down from the handful of royal secret ballrooms she’d been into, which were normally kept better lit so that the princes and princesses could show off just how gorgeous and beautifully dressed they were.

Which, in the end, was probably why their father had stopped trying to crash the royal fairytales. He felt he’d have better luck with his daughters if they had a little less competition.

000

Excerpt 2:

She immediately let go of the prince’s hand and stepped back, though it took him a few more steps to realize that there had apparently been a new development in the nightly routine. Without waiting to see what his reaction would be, she turned around and headed for the exit.

Unfortunately, it was located on the other side of the ballroom. The other couples slowed to a stop as she strode past, staring at her as if she’d suddenly grown a unicorn horn, while the background sound of running feet suggested that Grace had just noticed what had happened. She had no idea where Patience had disappeared to, though if they found her dance partner unconscious and stuffed under a crystal hedge somewhere she wouldn’t be at all surprised.

When Beauty passed by the eldest princess, she poked her in the shoulder and waited until the other woman had turned around. She was being bitter, she knew, but there was something so wonderfully freeing about it that she wasn’t about to stop now. “You know that soldier your father hired to figure out where you and your sisters are sneaking off to at night?”

The princess stared at her for a minute. “Do I know you?” she asked cautiously, just now processing that there was a complete stranger in the magical ballroom that was supposedly known only to her, her sisters, and a whole bunch of elves who apparently had nothing better to do with their time.

Beauty’s eyes narrowed, suddenly exasperated by the fact that they’d been here a week and the woman had just now noticed. “Of course. I’m the sister the rest of the family doesn’t like to talk about.” When the princess’s expression only got more confused, Beauty sighed. “Who I am doesn’t matter, but I feel it’s my obligation as a woman to inform you that the guy has turned into a pest problem.”

The princess’s brow furrowed. “What in the world are you talking about? We left him sleeping unconscious back in our rooms.”

 “He’s over there,” Beauty snapped, pointing to a marble column where the rainbow shifting flowers without the aid of any wind. She normally was more than happy to cheer for a non-royal in situations like this, but this guy wasn’t even trying. The fact that he wasn’t quite as stupid as the woman he was trying to get paired off with didn’t mean he should be allowed to get away with it. “He got a hold of an invisible cloak somewhere and has been following us down here. Every. Single. Night.” As the princess made an affronted noise and stalked off in the direction of the column, Beauty turned and addressed the rest of the crowd. “And seriously, people, none of you people think that this is at least a little creepy?”

Grace had caught up to her by the time she got to the main doors, and after Beauty shoved the left one open her older sister was the one to gently shut it behind them both. “Not that I’m pressuring you or anything,” she asked with deliberate lightness, hurrying to catch up to Beauty. “But where exactly are we going?”

 “Away from here.” Beauty stopped, wishing for a moment that she could strip out of this enormous pillow of a dress and walk back home in her slip. Instead, she consoled herself with dropping to the ground and yanking off her shoes and stockings. After this, she would make a vow to only wear comfortable shoes, and if they were wildly unattractive than so much the better. “And seriously, you don’t have to follow me. I know how much you hate shouting, and I can’t see any other way this is going to end.” A thought hit her suddenly, and she looked up. “Unless you know another way out of here.”

 “You mean one that Father’s not waiting in front of?” The faint sarcasm in her sister’s voice marked them as related far more clearly than any physical resemblance. “Sadly, no – I left the blueprints for the building in my other pocket.” A moment later, though, she sighed. “And you know I’m not going to leave you. If nothing else, I’m sick of mashing a complete stranger’s toes with every other step I take.”

Sneak Peek at new novel

This is the first chapter of a potential new novel I've gotten a bit stalled on. What do you guys think - is it worth continuing? 

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Chapter 1: Inauspicious Stars

            The one problem with being the mysterious answer to everyone’s prayers is that you had to dress the part.

            Jess nodded at the assembled townspeople, annoyed at every chilled breeze that snuck in and around the weak protection of her cloak. A coat would have been far more effective, but those were much harder to sweep aside dramatically at key moments.

            Like right now.

            Flinging the fabric back in a bold, theatrical gesture she’d spent a week practicing, she opened the instrument case strapped to her chest and pulled out a slender, wooden pipe polished to a high, attention-grabbing sheen. Then she straightened her spine, lifted her chin, and swept her gaze over the small group of civic leaders who had been kept from their beds to make sure she did the job properly. “Ready?”

            Her audience sized her up, much as they had done in the council meeting earlier where she'd made her initial offer. She was undoubtedly younger than they'd like – though she was certain they were estimating at least a few years older than her real age of 17 – but her cap of dark hair was well-ordered and her features just exotic enough to give her an air of mystery.

            To top it off, she was wearing a purple velvet top and leggings edged in silver piping. It was a ridiculous outfit – she kept it solely for jobs like this – but it looked far more expensive than anything they were wearing.

            People paid far more attention to that than they did her face. 
            One of the council members, a portly woman with her collar buttoned all the way to her chin, raised a hand. “We’ll be able to see if this is actually working, right?”

            Jess resisted the urge to sigh. This was why she did it this way in the first place, rather than the much more sensible route of simply standing on the opposite side of the trench currently waiting on the other end of town. The people needed the show. “Oh, you’ll definitely be able to see it.” She began walking, hoping to forestall any more stupid questions. “Follow me, ladies and gentlemen. Remember, I will not be able to stop or speak until all the rats are dead.”

            Then she put the pipe to her lips and blew the first clean, clear note.

            Despite the impression she liked to give people, this wasn’t the moment when the magic started to happen. She still played pubs and street corners during the lean months and calling rats in the middle of every song would put a damper on tips.

            Jess transitioned the note into a simple pub tune that she could play in her sleep by this point, then let her gaze go glassy as she shifted her focus to deep inside herself. She’d gotten good at pretending this was easy, but it took far more concentration than even the most complicated, demanding song she’d ever played.

            Almost … almost….

            There.

            She could practically feel the click as her power kicked in, felt the notes spilling out of her little pipe vibrate with a frequency that refused to sit still so it could be properly heard. As far as she could tell, no one without this particular talent could tell there’d been any change at all, though she’d had a musician or two give her narrow-eyed looks as if they knew something was escaping them.

            Behind her, a few of the less patient souls were getting restless. “What if this is all just a trick?” one man muttered, apparently assuming that she’d gone deaf the moment she’d put the pipe to her lips. "She told us we could see it work, but so far the only thing that's happened...."

            The man's voice trailed off as he finally noticed the faint scrabbling sound behind them.

            Then came the gasps, the sound blending in with the notes she was playing. She'd segued into a more complicated song by this point, the grand entrance music used by a theater troupe she'd worked with as a child, and she turned around and risked walking backwards for a few steps so she could properly appreciate the effect.

            Rats. Only 20 or so at this point – the night was young – with more hurrying to join the parade with every step they took. They'd climbed out of kitchens and larders and holes in the wall, lips silent and eyes glassy with the need to follow Jess wherever she went. By the time they'd made it through the city, there might be a hundred or more.

            "Magic," the mayor breathed, awe and just a little bit of fear in his voice. For the rest of the walk, there wasn't another peep from the town leaders.

            It didn't feel like a very long walk before they'd made it to the other end of town, an empty field with a trench on the other side. As soon as they got into view, a farmer ignited the trench and set the dry brush inside it ablaze.

            Here, the mayor and his council were no longer so interested in following her, hanging back while she and her rats headed for the trench. There was a thin bridge across it, always made of something suitably non-flammable, and after she crossed it she'd kick it into the trench and keep playing. The rats always followed.

            Jess was halfway across when she heard the crack, somehow a thousand times louder than the notes she was playing. Her stomach dropped as she felt the bridge give way, the fire blazing under her feet, but all she had to do was take a few more steps and she'd be—

            A huge, shadowy figure loomed in front of her, cutting off her exit. The music faltered for the first time as she stared at it, a patch of darkness with a few faint hints that might have been a bony face. She took a step away from it without realizing she'd done it, back toward the fire and the crumbling bridge some idiot had made out of wood, she hadn't checked because she'd just assumed no one was that stupid, and her last thought was horror that her subconscious had picked such a clichéd image to come to terms with the fact that she was about to d—

            Someone grabbed her, and she fell forward onto the dirt on the opposite side of the trench.

            But no, it wasn't dirt, because as they hit the empty space she'd been about to land on transformed into a teenage boy, the thick glasses he was wearing making his eyes look huge. They stared at each other for a few breathless seconds, both of them clearly clueless about what to do next, then there was the sound of running feet in the distance and what definitely sounded like a curse word coming from the empty space above her head.

            There was a swishing sound, then they were gone.

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            They reappeared in a grove of trees, and Jess and the boy immediately scrambled away from each other. A third person appeared a moment later, a middle-aged man with a nametag pinned to his shirt and the pained expression of someone who can’t understand the incompetence going on around him. He turned a fierce glare on the teenager. “What did you think you were doing?”

            The boy hurriedly got to his feet, pushing his sandy-colored hair out of his eyes as he shoved his glasses back up his nose. Jess noticed that he, too, was wearing a nametag, though she couldn't quite make out the words on it from here. “She was right there." Frustration flashed in his eyes. “She probably would have just walked off the bridge if you hadn’t been standing where you were.”

Jess winced internally as she saw the older man’s face go red. Even though the kid had been absolutely right, no one in charge liked to be told something was their fault. Unless you were offering a way to make the problem go away, it was always best to lay the blame on a third party somewhere conveniently far away.          "If she hadn't been about to die, she wouldn't have shown up on my monitor!" the older man snapped. "Your only duty, Mr.—" a quick glance at the younger man's nametag "—Abernathy, is to focus on your job. You are there for one reason and one reason only, to reap the souls of the dead so they can properly move onto the afterlife."

            Jess listened, hand still tight on her pipe as she filed the information away for future reference. Apparently, her foster mother had been right – there really were employment opportunities everywhere you looked. Though she wasn't really thrilled with the fact that these guys were apparently sneaking around invisible unless you were about to die....

            "But she didn't have to—"

            "That doesn't matter. Besides, I'm quite certain you weren't there for the girl at all. There is no way the main office would authorize someone as young as you to be a human reaper."

            For the first time, something that might have been guilt flashed across young Mr. Abernathy's face. "The rats."

            "The rats! Who, as you well know, are now scuttling around that field as tiny, confused rodent ghosts because someone didn't...."

            The man kept talking, but Jess was no longer paying attention. She had disappeared in the middle of a job – one she was definitely going to make sure she got paid extra for, given the bit where they'd nearly killed her – and she needed to get back there before they decided she was pulling a con. She'd already have to sweet-talk them into not caring that she'd have to go through a second round to re-gather the rest of the rats, and the longer she took to come back the more work it was going to be. People panicked more easily than the rats did, sometimes.

            Jess hurriedly scrambled to her own feet, breathing a sigh of relief when she caught sight of flames through the trees. That was probably the trench, which meant the older man had simply transported them to the patch of forest near the field so he could have privacy to chew out his subordinate. It would be easy to slip away before the other two even noticed....

            She'd slipped into the nearest patch of shadow when her traitorous ears chose to tune back into the older man's litany of complaints. "...rest assured, Mr. Abernathy, I'll have to file a report with your supervisor. It won't be pretty..."

            Jess stopped moving. He saved your life, you know, her mind whispered.

            She tried to force her feet to move forward, cursing the strange tugging sensation inside her chest that kept trying to make her turn around. I seriously don't have time for this.

            You'd have even less time for it if you were dead. Which you're not, thanks to the poor kid who's about to get in trouble for making sure you're still breathing.

            "...I know you think you were a hero, but behavior like that undermines the sacred responsibility of every reaper..."

            Reluctantly, Jess turned around. The teen's shoulders were still square, clearly not caved by anything the older man said, but there was a resigned look in his eyes that meant he'd given up fighting. Like he wasn't surprised that this was his only reward for being a hero.

            If you were over there, you could sweet talk his way out of this in five minutes or less. You wouldn't even break a sweat.

            He might not even want me to. Before she'd even finished the thought, Jess knew it wasn't true. Jess knew the look of someone who was completely alone in the world all too well.

            "...You'll be lucky if you keep your job, which you won’t if I have any say in the matter...."

            "Wait!"

            Both the older man and the young Mr. Abernathy whipped around at the sudden sound of Jess's voice. Before either of them had the chance to speak, she strode back into the clearing as if given a mission vital to the security of a kingdom. "This young man is being a gentleman, but I'm afraid I can't let this misunderstanding continue on any longer." She used the same tone she did for her sales pitches, the one that rang with certainty no matter what nonsense was coming out of her mouth. "He's not the one at fault here."

            Their brows furrowed at the same moment, the usual first reaction of the average mind when told something that so obviously contradicted established reality. The key was to keep talking.

            Jess put on her best "I'm so sorry for the trouble, officer" expression. "A person's instinct for self-preservation is remarkable when they're near death, as I'm sure you both know better than anyone." She nodded as she spoke, a gesture the older man couldn't help but echo. An agreement, even if he didn't consciously realize it. "I don't know where I found the energy, but in that desperate moment as the bridge was collapsing under me I found myself leaping towards the sure safety of the other side. This young man here just happened to be in the way of that leap, which is why I fell on him. I saved my own life, using him as an accidental assistant. He certainly didn't intend to betray the sacred duty of the reapers, sir."

            There was a moment of perfect silence as she let that particular string of nonsense sink in for a few seconds. The teen looked stunned, staring at Jess as if he couldn't quite believe what she was doing. Either he was appalled at the ridiculousness of the lie, or he was completely unprepared to have someone step in and help him for once.

            Either way, she knew exactly how he felt.

            The older man was having more trouble processing. "But I saw—"

            Interrupting him was a calculated risk. "It was a confusing moment, sir. Everything was a blur, fire and limbs everywhere.” She slid into the calm, sure tone of a teacher explaining something to a student who didn’t yet understand. “But when you're the one near death, your mind is clear as a bell."

            He narrowed his eyes at her, a hint of doubt flickering in his eyes. "Do you know Mr. Abernathy, by any chance?"

            "No, sir," she said immediately, completely honest for the first time since she'd opened her mouth. "I've never seen him before in my life."

            The older man swung his gaze to the teenager, wearing the furrowed brow of a man whose certainties were slipping away from him. "If that's what really happened, why didn't you say something?"

            The teen blinked, clearly not having expected to be included in the conversation, but rallied better than Jess expected. "I was confused," he said quickly. "Like she said, everything was a blur."

            The older man sighed, then scrubbed a hand across his face. "Fine. But I'd better never hear your name connected to anything like this again, you understand me?"

            The teen nodded. "Understood."

            The older man gestured back toward the trench. "And I'd better see every single one of those rats properly reaped, you understand me?"

            Telling herself that he could take it from here, Jess hurried through the trees toward the trench and the waiting civic leaders. "I'm back!" she called out as soon as she cleared the tree line, not waiting until they could see her before grabbing their attention. "I've re-channeled my energies after that unfortunate little brush with death, and I'm ready to wrap things up for a very reasonable additional fee of thirty credit slips to compensate me for the fact that you accidentally tried to kill me."

            The assembled group, who had been busy whispering loudly at one another, immediately snapped to attention at the sound of her voice. “We didn’t try to kill you!” one of them called out, sounding genuinely offended by the thought.

            “You put a wood bridge up over a trench full of fire, when I specifically said something non-flammable.” She flashed a bright, humorless smile when she got close enough that they could see her expression. Every one of them winced or looked away. “Though remember, I did say accident. Mistakes happen to the best of us.”

            The buttoned-up woman took a step forward. “How did you survive it?” she asked, notes of something that might have been fear dancing under the surface of her voice.

            Now, this was the tricky bit. The mostly independent villages and towns that were a piper’s bread and butter tended to spook easily. When they were truly afraid of you, being run out of town with pitchforks and torches was the best-case scenario. At the same time, it didn’t do to let the serious, responsible citizenry think they could push you around or deny you your hard-earned payment for services rendered. 

            Jess waved a hand, as if discussing something of no consequence. “Magic.”

            They all stared at her for a few beats of silence as both the word and the gesture soaked in, their minds undoubtedly already spinning details to fill in the gaps. Rumors were wonderfully useful in her line of work.

            Finally, the mayor sighed. “Fine. I’ll pay your ‘accident’ fee out of pocket as soon as you finish dealing with the rest of the rats.”

            Jess relaxed the small muscles in her face that let the smile seem much more warm and natural. “Excellent. Let’s get started.”

000

            She stayed on the other side of the trench this time, pouring a little more effort into the playing and letting the rats come to her. When no more appeared Jess played a few more minutes, just to be sure, then followed the mayor to his house and collected her additional fee. When he grumbled, she smiled at him again.

            Once that was done, the next step was to find a stable to bunk down in for the rest of the night. She’d already picked one out on her way into town, small but clean and occupied by a couple of older horses that looked too tired to get uppity about a human sharing their space. She should be there right now, in fact.

            Instead, she was back in the empty field, standing close to the still-smoldering trench and looking for a shadowy figure she already knew she wouldn’t see. She'd already guessed that she'd only seen the teenage boy and his supervisor like that at first because she'd been about to die, exactly the kind of neat little trick that would keep the majority of people from figuring out that the Grim Reaper was probably a guy just trying to make his child support payments.

            For that matter, the younger reaper might not even be here. Jess had no idea how long reaping took, which meant he could have very well finished the job before she'd even left the mayor's house. He was probably home in bed right now, hoping that his next assignment kept him far away from troublemaking pipers.

            I don't have time for this, either, she told herself. He's not even here.

            Hey, I'm not the one who dragged you back out into this field. This was all your idea.

            Jess sighed, remembering the surprise on the teen's face when she'd stepped in to help him. "Thank you for saving my life," she called out to what was undoubtedly empty air. "I'm not used to having someone looking out for me like that."

            The only response was silence. Embarrassed, Jess shrugged her pack higher onto her shoulder and began walking back to the stable. She had to have burned through her allotment of guilt for the year, and if she didn't sleep like a baby she was going to have stern words with—

            "Me, either."

            Jess whirled around at the sound of the younger reaper's voice. He was standing only a few feet away from where she'd been, caution in his eyes and hands half lifted as if he didn't know what to do with them.

            When she didn't say anything, he cleared his throat and clarified. "I mean the way you talked Mr. Garrett around. I'm not that good at lying – there's no way I could have sold a story like that."

            For a second, all she could do was stare at him, caught off guard nearly as badly as she'd been with the bridge.

             Seeing her expression, he looked embarrassed. "Listen, I didn't mean ... It was a good lie, really."

            That surprised a laugh out of Jess. "It was a ludicrous lie. The only reason it worked at all is because I'm an excellent liar."

            His expression relaxed, a smile slowly easing its way into existence. "I noticed."

            Shaking herself back into her usual composure, she held out a hand. "I'm Jess. Please tell me there's something I can call you other than Mr. Abernathy."

            His smile widened. "Thomas." He shook her hand. "Thank you for saving my job."

            "Least I could do." She shifted, not sure what was going to happen next. It was an unusual feeling for her. "I'm glad you were still here. Most people would be home in bed by now."

            "I don't really have a bed." He shrugged. "I usually just find a stable somewhere when I'm on shift."

            Jess smiled back at him without even entirely realizing she was doing it. "I know the perfect place."