The sequel to Birds of Prey - self-plug

[Svenskaflicka]

As you can see in my signature (unless you've turned images off, you bores!), I've planned a whole series of novels about my little town Walk's End. The first one, Birds of Prey, is already published as an e-book over at Aspen Mountain Press. I've finished books two and three so far, and the rest are still only planned out and not written yet. I'm clean-writing number two right now, and will send it to be published once I'm finished.

To show off a little, and hopefully create some interest for the book(s), here's an excerpt of book two, Fangs. It's the first chapter.

The moment the knocking on the door woke him up, sheriff Greyvan of Walk’s End City Watch knew that there was something he had to remember, something important – but he couldn’t remember what it was. This could, to some extent, be blamed on the massive headache he was having.

“Sir? Are you awake?”

“Yes, sergeant. Just give me a minute.”

He heard a shrill voice outside say something about “covering up evidence”, but most of the sentence passed him by due to the high, piercing tone of the speaker’s voice. It seemed to cut into his pounding head like a long needle.

“At least give the sheriff time to get dressed!”

Greyvan sat up abruptly, swaying from the dizziness this gave him. What was going on out there?

“Sir, there are people here to see you.”

“One minute, sergeant.”

Forcing back the nausea, he got up and took down the box that was tucked away on the shelf right under the ceiling. He took out his clothes and felt a quick surge of pride as he saw the gold medallion that the Queen had given him the day before. It seemed like months ago. The voices outside the door grew impatient, and he quickly put the box away and put on his shirt and pants.

“OK, sergeant, you can open the door now.”

He put his shoes on while sergeant Veda unlocked the heavy iron padlock on his door that effectively locked him in. The door opened and Veda stepped into the small dark room, looking worried. A group of people waited outside, bur a fat, middle-aged man in a saffron-colored robe pushed himself past Veda, walked up to Greyvan’s window, and jerked at the bars over it with all his might.

“What’s going on?” Greyvan’s voice was coarse, but he managed to get the words out.

“Sir, there’s been…”

“Is this the only way out?”

Veda was interrupted by the fat man whom Greyvan now recognized as the High Priest of the Sun Temple.

“No, the door is the only way out. Now why are you marching in here, attacking my window?”

“Who has they keys to your door?” The High Priest didn’t so much talk as he barked out his questions. Greyvan’s senses were still elevated after the night’s transformation, and he could smell fear in the yellow figure. Was the man trying to hide his fear behind a mask of high air?

“Like I told you, there’s only one key to the door.” Veda sounded impatient. “And that key hasn’t left my care the entire night!”

“Well, how much weight does such a statement carry? He’s your boss and your good friend!”

“Are you insinuating that I’m lying?” Veda’s voice cut into Greyvan’s head.

“All I’m saying is that we should inspect his teeth for blood…”

Greyvan roared out loud in frustration. The High Priest pressed himself flat against the wall, and even Veda jumped. Everyone stared at Greyvan in silence. He glared at the pale man by the wall.

“Sergeant, please explain why our High Priest wants to tear down the bars on my window and inspect my teeth?”

“There’s been a murder, sir. Heshore, son of Jarmon the Farmer. His body was found in a ditch just outside the village of Hillsdown this morning.”

“And what is the connection between this murder and my teeth?” Greyvan frowned.

“The victim’s throat had been torn open, sir. By a creature with long teeth, by the look of it.”

The unspoken words sunk in.

“You think I had something to do with this???”

“That’s why these people insisted on coming with me.” Veda sounded bitter. “To see for themselves that you had been locked in last night.”

The group of people outside had the decency to look embarrassed, and hastily disappeared, as if they had suddenly remembered that they had left something boiling in the kitchen.

“Are you satisfied with your findings, High Priest?” Greyvan met the older man’s sour glare with an icy look. “Or do you still want to inspect my teeth?”

The High Priest nervously cast a glance out the door to find support, but the crowd had already left. He slid out of the room, all the time keeping his back against the wall.

“…had to make sure… responsibility to my followers… better safe than sorry…”

“Sorry about that, sir.” Veda handed Greyvan his sword as soon as the High Priest had disappeared. “I thought it would be best to kill all rumors by letting him see for himself…”

“It’s all right, sergeant.”

Greyvan tied the sword hilt to his waist and grabbed his fur vest. The sunlight was too bright; it blinded him as they stepped out of the small house. He shielded his eyes and merely followed Veda back to the headquarters. What a way to start the day – he hadn’t even had any fenwort yet!

“It might be a wild animal, sir.” Veda spoke quietly, to keep their conversation from the ears of all the people in the streets, who watched them with unashamed curiosity as they passed.

Greyvan pondered her words. There were no wolves in Walk’s End, as they were clever animals who didn’t want to share their territory with a superior enemy. There were bears in the woods, though.

“Well, it wasn’t me. I was locked up.” He grinned stiffly. A sheriff suspected of a murder? No wonder the people in the streets stared at him.

There it was again! A vague memory of… a conversation? No, there hadn’t been any words, not in that state, the vocal cords didn’t work. It couldn’t have been a dream either, because he never slept during a full moon.

“I know it wasn’t you, sir. But whoever killed poor Heshore, he or she did a good job of making it look like the boy was attacked by some wild beast!”

They walked briskly through the streets, pretending not to see all the accusing eyes and worried faces. It was a relief to get inside the cool, shady headquarters, where the only people staring was the constables Marancal, Maranmir, and Maranya. The family had never had much of an imagination when it came to naming their offspring, but they made up for it in eagerness in and a capacity of producing said offspring.

“Morning, sir.”

“Good morning. Maranya, put the kettle on, will you? I need fenwort!”

“So, eh… had an uneventful night, did ya, sir?”

“I didn’t kill that boy! I was locked up all night!”

“Sorry, sir.”

Maranya placed a mug of fenwort tea in front of his boss.

“That was quick?”

“Well, ehm, I’d already made it, sir.” Maranya blushed. “Figured you might need it, after… it being full moon last night an’ all, sir.”

“Good thinking. Thank you.”

Greyvan took a sip of the hot tea, feeling reluctantly impressed. The boy was actually developing and learning to use that brain of his for other things than books.

“Where’s the body?”

“The men who found it – lumberjacks – carried it back to his family before they told us about it.” Veda made a face.

“Great… I’ll ride out there and take a look at it anyway. There might be some clues left.”

“I’ll go with you.” Veda crossed her arms over her chest. “The family is very upset… it’s a sensitive situation, sir.”

Greyvan could easily fill in the blanks. The family probably suspected him, as well as the rest of the town did, and they might be upset when he showed up. Part of him screamed like a furious toddler that he didn’t have to hide behind a woman’s skirts to do his job; another, more tactical part pointed out that it would be easier to ask the family questions if they weren’t trying to kill him. Besides, Veda never wore skirts.

“Alright then.” He finished the last of his tea. ”Let’s get it over with at once!”

* * *

 

[rgraham666]

Very cool, Svenska. Congratulations.

 

[Svenskaflicka]

Thank you. I'm looking forward to the day when I can post an excerpt from book 4, which begins with the teenage psychic Unnara having a dream about a group of pigs sitting at a table, drinking tea and gossiping.

Especially considering the high interest for my novels...

 

[rgraham666]

I know what you mean about 'high interest'.

 

[Svenskaflicka]

Too little sex, that's the problem. I bet ya if I had started the first sentence like this:

The moment the knocking on the door woke him up, sheriff Greyvan of Walk’s End City Watch knew that there was something he had to remember, something important – like the name of the 5 naked babes lying next to him in his bed - but he couldn’t remember what it was. This could, to some extent, be blamed on the massive hardon he was having.

...then I'd have customers lined up all the way out to the User CP!