Dowser 8.5: Mory: “So … there’s no way this is just, you know, a casual thing? Right?”

Misfits, Gemstones, and Other Scattered Magic (Dowser 8) released a week ago! Normally I’d share a some of the lovely early reviews, and I will soon, but I thought it might be more fun (for me) to share a (mostly) spoiler free excerpt of Graveyards, Visions, and Other Things That Byte (Dowser 8.5).

And yes, if you haven’t already noticed the sneak peak of the book cover in the back of Dowser 8, Dowser 8.5 is available for preorder. It is, in fact, almost completely finished. I’m spending my afternoons working through the line/content edit and will then do my final smoothing pass before the book goes off to the proofreader.

I’m adding new scenes to Dowser 9 daily as well. It is currently sitting at about 30K. And, because someone might ask, I haven’t set a release date yet (late-fall is most likely).

🙂

Thank you for joining me on the rollercoaster ride that is the Adept Universe!

– WARNING FOR POSSIBLE SPOILERS –

“Why me? There are two more powerful necromancers in town. Why did Pearl Godfrey send you to me?”

“She didn’t. I just see you here … in this graveyard.”

I shrugged. “I come here often.”

Rochelle hesitated.

I hated it when people hesitated before talking. It usually meant they were considering lying, or telling a half-truth. And then I was usually forced to go along with the lie like it was an actual conversation we were having.

“No. That’s not what I mean.” Rochelle shoved her left hand in her army-green satchel. Her tone was soft, as if she were afraid of frightening me.

Me. The necromancer fueled by death magic, who’d been freaking the oracle out only moments before.

“No. I see you.” She tugged a thick fold of paper from her bag.

I knew what she was handing me even before she held it out.

A sketch.

Of me. Of my future.

I had never seen one of Rochelle’s visions — the final version, rendered on paper — but people talked. All right, Jade Godfrey talked. Everyone else was pretty mum about anything having to do with power around me.

I took the proffered paper, feeling myself hesitating suddenly.

“It’s not bad.” Rochelle fiddled with a ring on her left hand. A gold wedding band crusted with tiny diamonds. Her husband Beau wore a matching one, though his was thicker. And according to the rumor mill, aka Benjamin Garrick, it adjusted in size whenever he transformed. Both rings had been crafted by Jade, the same as my necklace. “It just … is …” she said.

I unfolded the sketch. And there I was, rendered in black, smudged charcoal. I was perched on my favorite gravestone — the one I was presently seated on.

I had developed a habit when I was young, even before my necromancy had manifested. I had demanded to visit the graves and interment places of young children whenever I traveled with my mother while she was working — and would occasionally throw a tantrum if that demand wasn’t indulged. I used to swear that the children would whisper secrets to me, though my mother always insisted that their essence had moved on.

That had been my version of imaginary friends, I had assumed long ago. Though the gravestone I most identified with at Mountain View was different. The sweet soul interred beneath my feet occasionally made an appearance, and I … I was hoping that one day I’d have the ability to help her. To release her from whatever held her in this dimension.

“Your hair is different.” Rochelle stepped up beside me and leaned closer, peering down at the sketch in my hands.

“Yeah,” I mumbled, taking in every stroke and smudge on the paper. I looked … different. Different than I saw myself in the mirror. Fiercer, bolder. Just … more. I wondered if that was how Rochelle saw my magic, as if it added an extra layer to me as a person. “I change my hair a lot.”

“No,” Rochelle said. “It’s different in the sketch … in the vision. Blue and purple, not the purple and red you have now. Were you planning on dyeing it again soon?”

I shook my head, unable to tear my gaze away from the drawing. “I just changed it from blue.”

“Ah …” Rochelle nodded thoughtfully.

“You, um … you see in color but sketch in black and white?”

She hesitated for long enough that I realized I’d overstepped, asking such a personal question. It was one thing to explain in general terms how something like necromancy worked, or to ask for specifics about the sketch I was holding. It was completely another thing to interrogate an Adept about their process. How their magic functioned, or even how it felt for them specifically. Magic was like sex that way. Not that I had much experience with either.

“Yes,” the oracle finally said. “Things … I didn’t know, you know, when the visions started, what was happening.”

“You didn’t have anyone to ask.”

“No, I didn’t. And when I was trying to make sense of it all, black and white felt more … grounded but less … real …” She trailed off, embarrassed.

“I understand. My mother works as a necromancer for the Convocation. And usually that means summoning ghosts to question them. Or, conversely, laying a ghost to rest who’s getting all poltergeisty. But … three times now, she’s had to go … examine, assess other necromancers. Adepts, but outside of any known bloodline, whose magic had manifested and made them think they were …”

“Crazy.”

“Yeah.”

Rochelle nodded, then looked back down at the sketch I was holding. “I get that.”

I spent another moment contemplating the version of me depicted in the drawing. Then I asked the question I had to ask but really didn’t want to. “So … there’s no way this is just, you know, a casual thing? Right?”

“Me having a vision of you? Rather than any of the other epically powerful beings that come and go from Vancouver?”

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.” And that in a nutshell was why hanging out with people way more powerful than me was a bad idea. Except that everyone in Vancouver was more powerful than me, it seemed.

– Mory, Graveyards, Visions, and Other Things That Byte (Dowser 8.5)

Dowser 8: chapter one, part one

An elf stood at the door to my bakery. Well, actually, it was Bryn’s and my bakery, but still … an elf.

In Whistler.

I mean, I expected this sort of thing in Vancouver. But if you weren’t into outdoor sports involving snow, then Whistler was a pricey destination in the winter months. Plus, the village and the municipality around it were both seriously lacking in the magical department.

Or at least they had been.

In less than an hour, I was hosting a grand opening for Cake in a Cup Too. And I was pretty damn magical. Also, still not much of a wordsmith when it came to naming things. Plus Bryn, not being magically inclined herself, had unwittingly staffed the bakery with at least one skinwalker — Maia Thomas, an Adept who could cloak herself in the form of a chosen animal. In her case, a raven. And just for good measure, I’d dragged a telepath along to help pass out free mini-cupcakes to potential customers.

The elf caught my eye and smiled.

Smiled.

And despite the rows of sharp, shark-like teeth she displayed, I briefly believed she was genuinely pleased to see me. A dense crowd of shoppers and skiers crossed back and forth through the retail square behind her — all of whom were nonmagicals. I could tell that with utter certainty because the new bakery wasn’t warded. Unfortunately, despite the lack of shielding magic between us, I also couldn’t taste any power from the elf. That was unnerving.

Her long hair, pale to the point of being practically white, flowed gracefully over her shoulders and halfway down her back. Simple braids twisted back from her temples, exposing ears that were indeed slightly pointed. As with vampires and werewolves, the fantastical depictions of elves in nonmagical culture were obviously rooted to some degree in the truth, perhaps from the earliest encounters between Adepts and humans.

This particular elf had a pale, iridescent complexion with a subtle green undertone. If I’d been closer, I knew that iridescence would have revealed itself as finely scaled skin that was currently picking up light reflected from the bakery’s floor-to-ceiling front windows. The elf was easily six feet tall, wearing the cutest baby-blue puffy winter jacket and skinny-legged jeans tucked into calf-hugging polished black boots. She had the same sharp features as the warrior I’d faced in a park in Vancouver three months before. But with her significantly smaller frame — that first elf had been even taller than Warner — she came off as delicate. More feminine, somehow.

Based on my limited experience and the few ancient tomes detailing historic clashes with elves that I’d read since the previous September, I had the distinct feeling that regardless of how graceful, even elegant, she appeared, the elf likely packed a punch. Thankfully, the same went for me. Though standing five foot nine inches and endowed with ample assets, ‘delicate’ or ‘elegant’ weren’t adjectives that had ever been applied to me.

The elf also had a massive gemstone embedded in her forehead. The gem was a slightly darker tint of her skin tone and appeared to be surrounded by a simple raised design that followed the edges of the stone.

It bothered me that with nothing but twenty feet and some triple-paned glass between us, I couldn’t taste her magic. Because that was my thing, my advantage. The thing I was supposed to do better than anyone else. The thing that made me special, made me THE DOWSER in all caps.

Elves, it seemed, were very skilled at masking their power. Either that or I wasn’t particularly attuned to their magic because they came from another dimension. But since the elf standing just beyond the bakery door was only the second one I’d ever encountered, I didn’t have enough experience to draw a conclusion either way. Still, it was better all around for the very vulnerable humans meandering through the center of Whistler Village that she wasn’t doing anything that would have allowed me to taste her power.

Speaking of magic, Peggy Talbot paused a few steps beyond the door that led back into the kitchen, just on the edge of my peripheral vision. The willowy blond was dressed similarly to me in jeans, a brown Cake in a Cup T-shirt, and a white ruffled apron. She was also carrying a large tray of mini Chill in a Cup — mint-chocolate cake with mint-chocolate buttercream. The telepath had frozen at the sight of the elf. Her blackberry-jam-infused power swirled around her.

Well, it was always good to know I wasn’t seeing things.

The elf’s green-eyed gaze flicked to Peggy, then returned to me. Her smile became challenging. Then she beckoned. Her slim fingers were tipped with thick nails that were only slightly too short to be called claws. The gesture was meant to be enticing, but I wasn’t that easily fooled. Too many big bad monsters with sharp teeth had a habit of seeing me as a little snack that would tide them over on their way to taking over the universe.

Yeah, I wasn’t feeling at all dramatic.

COMING JUNE 28, 2018

PREORDER NOW

AMAZON – iBOOKS – KOBO – BARNES & NOBLE – SMASHWORDS

Are you new to the Adept Universe? Book one is Cupcakes, Trinkets, and Other Deadly Magic (Dowser 1).

Click here for the reading order of the Adept Universe.

Dowser 8: Want to go hunting?

*SNEAK PEEK OF DOWSER 8*

*WARNING FOR POSSIBLE SPOILERS*

Misfits, Gemstones, and Other Shattered Magic (Dowser 8)

RELEASING JUNE 28, 2018

“Let’s see if we can turn the tables on the elf. Assuming she’s stupid enough to leave us a drop of her blood.”

Kandy laughed snarkily.

“How?” Jasmine asked, following us out into the alley while tugging on her hastily repaired jacket. Somehow, she’d completely hidden the safety pins from sight. Skilled in tech and tailoring. Nice.

“Dowsing, baby girl,” Kandy said. “That’s what Jade does, after all. Want to go hunting with us?”

Red rolled across Jasmine’s eyes, and she grinned wickedly. “I sure do.”

Lovely. “Though let’s keep the biting to a minimum, eh?”

Kandy laughed quietly, then whispered to Jasmine behind my back. “She always says that.”

Well, this was sure to go delightfully.

PREORDER NOW

AMAZON – iBOOKS – KOBO – BARNES & NOBLE – SMASHWORDS

Are you new to the Adept Universe? Book one is Cupcakes, Trinkets, and Other Deadly Magic (Dowser 1).

Click here for the reading order of the Adept Universe.

Dowser 8: the trick was …

Even beyond elves running amok, the tenor of Vancouver was changing. And it always got worse before it got better, didn’t it? The trick was getting through the worst of it without losing anyone in the process.

Or murdering anyone, I supposed.

And I had yet to pull off that feat.

– Dowser 8, Chapter 3, fourth draft

And, because you might ask, I haven’t set a release date yet. 🙂 Late-spring/early-summer, best guess.

***

Are you new to the Adept Universe? Book one is Cupcakes, Trinkets, and Other Deadly Magic (Dowser 1).

Click here for the reading order of the Adept Universe.

Story editing and an excerpt

I finally got Dowser 8 off to the editor (aka SFG aka Scott Fitzgerald Gray) for story editing this morning. Though I nearly lost my mind trying to output the manuscript from Scrivener (the software I use to write) into a WORD document because the compile function had been updated/upgraded. Anyway, an hour and half later, I dropped the book in Scott’s inbox. YAY!

And, because some of you might ask, I haven’t set a release date yet. There are three stages of editing – story, line/content, then proofread. And those tasks depend on other people’s schedules as well as at least two, if not three, more drafts of the novel, plus a polish, that depend on me. Late spring/early summer is my best guess right now.

To celebrate I thought I’d share an excerpt with you.

“Treasure Keeper.” I struggled to keep my tone smooth. “Thank you for coming. I do have some questions. Would you like to step inside the bakery?”

He tilted his head, making a show of thinking about it. “Are there cupcakes?”

“Probably not. Nothing fresh, at least. But I believe we were just about to order sushi.”

Pulou grimaced. “Raw fish.”

“We could order some tempura.” Yes, I was cajoling one of the nine most powerful beings in the world with deep fried prawns and veggies. I had a feeling it was that, or give into the need to beat him around the head until he apologized — for locking me up and not telling me about the elves. “And there might be some leftover petit fours.”

“That will have to do then. Not created by your hand, alchemist, but I shall have to endure, I suppose.” He offered me a smile.

I returned the smile, with less teeth. I wasn’t fooled by his attempt to charm me. Seriously. A girl knew when her former mentor would like nothing better than to kick her ass and retrieve the instruments of assassination.

– Dowser 8, Chapter 8, third draft [selectively edited for extreme spoilers][unproofed]

Dowser 8: the bachelor party, part two

Below is the excerpt I promised yesterday. I just added another 2100 words to Mory’s story (which opens Dowser 8.5) bringing it to 12k with at least six more scenes left. So it will definitely be a novella once it’s finished, not even including the addition of Rochelle and Jasmine’s stories. Fun!

Now I’m going to make Michael his birthday lunch (grilled cheese – medium cheddar cheese from a local dairy on garlic cheddar bread from a local baker), then settle in with my knitting for a Thor movie marathon with the birthday boy. Later there will be cheesecake and individual pizzas.

Warner leaned forward. “And if I’m about to leave the country, I’d like a moment alone with you. Upstairs, perhaps?”

Placing a hand on his chest, I pushed him slightly away. He allowed it with a grin that told me he was content to be compliant. For the moment, at least. “Leaving the country? With Kett?”

He shrugged. “We’re bringing Drake. And your father and Qiuniu are joining us at some point. So what could possibly happen?”

My mind momentarily boggled at all the craziness that could possibly occur under those exact circumstances.

– Dowser 8, chapter two, second draft

Click here for the reading order of the Adept Universe.

Dowser 8: hunting with misfits

Okay, this tiny snippet made me laugh out loud yesterday. I thought you might find it fun as well.

Feeling the teenagers behind me becoming restless, I wrapped my hand around the hilt of my knife. Someone was going to have to teach Peggy and Maia to be patient hunters.

Unfortunately, I was concerned that person was supposed to me and I was honestly getting bored myself.

– Dowser 8, chapter one, second draft

Click here for the reading order of the Adept Universe.

Dowser 8: Valentine’s Day mini excerpt

I couldn’t let Valentine’s Day pass without sharing a glimpse of my (current) favourite couple, Jade and Warner.

Dowser 8: the ‘girls’ go hunting

Jasmine glanced between us. “You two are a little crazy, you know.”

Kandy shrugged. “You’ll get it, baby girl. When you’re all grown up and never meet your match.”

Jasmine twisted her lips wryly, tugging her phone of out her jacket pocket. “I’ve already met him.”

Kandy laughed huskily, shaking her head. “The nearly immortal are more vulnerable than us three, darling. They’ve forgotten they can die. And it’s the possibility of death than keeps us sharp.” Kandy tapped on her temple.

Jasmine raised one eyebrow at the green-haired werewolf, texting without looking at her screen. “Thanks for the life lesson, wolf.”

Kandy snapped her teeth. “You can owe it to me, vampire.”

I laughed. “Shall we continue?”

– Dowser 8, first draft [unedited and unproofed]

Click here for the reading order of the Adept Universe.

Dowser 8 to be released late-spring 2018.

Dowser 7: chapter one, part two

Click here to read chapter one, part one first.

Continued …

“Nine minutes,” Kandy said.

I jutted my chin out. “This isn’t the right spot.”

The werewolf bared her teeth. “It’s exactly the right spot, dowser.”

Belligerently, I took two wide steps to my left. I might have been only half-witch, but I could still feel the slumbering current of magic that I was about to try to tap into underneath my feet.

Kandy narrowed her eyes at my position adjustment, but she didn’t comment.

“We could have at least set up distraction spells.” I gestured around the empty park. “People jog at night around here. Chalking runes on the seawall is going to look weird, even in Vancouver.”

“You know that any other spells might interfere with the casting of the grid.” Kandy’s tone was unusually cajoling. She was babying me in response to the baby I was being.

I exhaled harshly. No matter my previous bravado and declaration of might, in truth, I was worried that I was going to ruin the intricate spell that my grandmother and Kandy had spent six months planning and constructing. Twelve witches — most of whom had flown into the city for the occasion — were currently set up all around the borders of Vancouver, waiting for the stroke of midnight. Because together, we were going to attempt to raise a magically triggered boundary around the city.

In its primary phase, the grid would help the witches track magic users within a wide area — from the north edge of the Lions Gate Bridge to the property that Rochelle, the oracle, owned in Southlands; from the western edge of the University of BC to three eastern points along Boundary Road, the border between Vancouver and Burnaby. And if that initial grid held and functioned properly, the witches had plans to expand the coverage to include all of Greater Vancouver — aka all of the territory held and regulated by the Godfrey coven.

“Eight minutes.”

“Screw you, werewolf.”

“Any time, any place, dowser.”

I laughed. Kandy flashed her teeth at me.

“Fine. I’ll give it a go.” I glanced down at the runes carefully printed on the paper Kandy had given me, wishing I had more light and that the paper wasn’t so crumpled. “Why is it all wrinkled? It looks like someone balled it up and threw it away.”

Kandy shrugged.

All right, then.

I hunched down to chalk the first rune, copying it as precisely as I could from the paper onto the concrete. It looked a little like a —

Kandy cleared her throat expectantly.

I cursed under my breath. “What? Do you have a freaking checklist?”

“Hand them over, Jade.”

“You know it doesn’t matter if I’m wearing them, right? They are me.”

“Illuminating.”

“You know what I mean. What if I told you that you were going to have to take off the cuffs?”

“I refer you to the T-shirt,” Kandy said, her tone deceptively mild. She was pointing at her chest, where the words I do bite were emblazoned in thick black lettering on orange cotton. The aforementioned cuffs — gold, rune carved, and three inches across — adorned her wrists, creating a perpetual aesthetic conflict with her sporty outfits.