Conduit Series: Illustration and an excerpt: Rought

‘Rought’ Guerra. Shifter. Illustration by Nicole Deal.

The engine hasn’t even died before the driver’s-side door is opening, and a male steps out — dark-blond hair, naturally tanned skin, and shoulders so broad I’m surprised that he slips out of the car so agilely. Though he is clearly a shifter.

The moment his booted feet hit the ground and the energy underpinning the property rises to ghost his footsteps, I know that he is a … presence, a power. He’s in black jeans and a light-gray henley. He lays his hand on top of the Camaro, pivoting toward me — not bothering to look at the barn or the property or anything else as he reaches to shut the car door with his other hand.

He meets my gaze. His eyes are light colored, either blue or green, but I can’t tell which at this distance.

He’s still moving, hand running across the top of the car, then down the back window, then fingers only along the trunk.

He fucking caresses the fucking car as he crosses alongside it, then continues steadily toward me. And for a moment of utter insanity, I want it to be my curves under those fingertips.

The passenger-side door thunks closed. I feel Presh’s presence as well. But I can’t tear my gaze away from the golden god in worn black jeans taking long, steady strides toward me. I’m locked in his gaze.

The nearer he gets, the more I see … in his expression, in his body language, in the way his essence entwines with that of the property. 

I’m not lightheaded.

I’m not beguiled or enchanted.

The nearer he gets, the more anchored I feel. 

Not frozen. Not overwhelmed.

I’m in this moment. Breathing it. Savoring it. As if … as if … my very soul has been starved? And he is … he is …

– Awry (Conduit 1), Chapter 10 (slightly edited for spoilers)

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Archivist 2: fated … enemies?

A little snippet of Archivist 2 (title TBA) to get all of us through the weekend.

“There is comfort in believing that there is one person who is perfect for you,” Prince murmured in that oddly intimate tone. “… a fated mate.”

“Is there? What if you never find them?”

“But fate is destined to bring you together. As the tales go …”

“What about fated enemies?” I asked blithely, forcing myself to look back at the historian instead of watching Kellan as he watched me. “Is that a thing?”

“Well …” Prince snorted, amused. “Logically, magic demands a balance, doesn’t it? Energy can be harnessed but only transformed, not destroyed.”

I met his violet gaze, raising an eyebrow. “So that’s a yes.”

– Archivist 1, first draft, chapter one

Archivist Series: Kellan

The second of the illustrations I’ve commissioned from Nicole Deal for the Archivist series is a bit of a spoiler, so I thought I might as well include an excerpt from the first time Dusk lays eyes on Kellan as well (see below). Working with Nicole has been amazing. I love, love her take on characters that currently only live in my head. You can find Dusk and Sisu’s illustration here.

Kellan Conall from the Archivist Series by Meghan Ciana Doidge. Illustration by Nicole Deal.

You will find Nicole’s ridiculously gorgeous rendering of Kellan (and the twin wolves) tucked between two scenes in chapter 2 of Invoking Infinity (Archivist 1). It will be in full colour in the eBook version (unless your eReader doesn’t do colour) and grayscale in the paperback. The book releases on May 25, 2021 (SO SOON NOW!!)

*** MILD SPOILER ALERT ***

Though he was some sort of shapeshifter, the stranger looming over a temporary workbench in the middle of what was going to be the main kitchen was definitely not Bethany. He was working with some sort of tool — sanding, maybe?

He looked up as I entered, instantly and steadily meeting my gaze. The plastic sealing the doorway fell back into place behind me.

The air was slightly dusty. Bright pockets of light from work lamps set around the large space gave the room a bright white glow. The sounds of Sisu, Neve, and Lile chattering away in the dining room filtered through more thick layers of plastic encasing a doorway on the wall to my left.

I recognized the stranger, though I’d never met him. In his late twenties, he was the spitting image of his sister, Gitta — and yet somehow looked nothing like her at all. 

Kellan Conall.

Tall, broad-shouldered, and so well muscled that his T-shirt had to be cutting off his circulation at the upper biceps, he was one of the largest men I’d ever seen. And I knew plenty of warrior dragons, as well as the treasure keeper of the guardian dragons — Pulou. Though not as tall, Pulou had a body like a grizzly bear’s from the neck down — and looked the part as well, thanks to the enormous mink fur coat he always wore.

Kellan’s hair was dark brown, his skin a lighter brown. And his eyes were the same strange golden-green as the twins. Magic flared in those eyes as he took me in, staring at me as forthrightly as I was staring at him. His nostrils flared as he turned off and set down the tool he’d been wielding.

The sound in the room faded, including the chatter from the dining room. The moment seemed to physically stretch before us, as if some sort of spell had been triggered. Yet the warm but completely disconnected sensation I was feeling wasn’t magic. At least nothing remotely conventional.

“Dusk Godfrey,” I finally said. Was it possible to feel heavy, as if I was rooted to the plywood-covered floor, and yet lightheaded at the same time?

Apparently, yes.

He grinned, revealing white teeth. But the expression did nothing to soften all the hard planes of his face. He looked as though he could run through a brick wall, through multiple brick walls, without getting a scratch, let alone faltering.

That probably wasn’t a particularly attractive quality to anyone except for myself … my hormones? My magic?

And yes, I was still staring at him. And he at me.

“My employer,” he said. His accent was lilting yet still deep, as if his voice or the words themselves were pulled from the depths of his being.

There was something seriously wrong with me.

“Kellan Conall,” he said, pulling off his gloves.

Invoking Infinity (Archivist 1), Chapter Two

***

Are you new to the Adept Universe? Click here for the reading order. Or click here for the Welcome! sequence.

Burgundy 0.5 – a snippet

I’m dusting off a short story idea for Burgundy in the hopes of having it ready to read by the last Thursday in April aka when I send out my newsletter. No promises – Archivist 2 should be my priority – but I’ll try.

What I adore about tackling a Burgundy POV tale is that she is the ultimate sidekick. A quarter witch who is specializing in healing? What the hell is she doing hanging out with a necromancer and a vampire?

How about a snippet to help celebrate a sunny Friday afternoon?

A newly inked page from my Moments of the Adept Universe notebook

Now here I was, necromancer unaccounted for, and trapped in a sealed circle with a wounded vampire — magic that I was only powerful enough to hold because I’d used a premade spell to trigger it. 

Two things were about to happen.

The ghoul would break through the shoddy circle, killing me to get to the vampire.

Or the vampire would wake, possibly tearing out my throat and slaking his thirst as injured, fledgling vampires were reportedly known to do.

So …

Dilemma.

– Burgundy POV, Moments of the Adept Universe 0.4, first draft

Archivist 0: the damn egg

The book cover is only a couple of tweaks away from being ready and I’m putting the finishing touches on the edit for Archivist 0 this week. But, before I spend the rest of the afternoon writing a ‘missing’ scene, I decided I was totally overdue to release an excerpt.

I mean, you know I’ll use any excuse to share.

I touched Sisu’s shoulder, worried about how long he’d been in the nexus without me, and possibly not knowing where I was, but his attention turned back to the golden egg as if it was somehow compelling him. And maybe it was. I couldn’t feel anything specific from the egg, but the press of the library’s energy was intense.

Jiaotu reached over his son’s head, plucking up the object of my brother’s obsession. He narrowed his bright blue eyes at the artifact, which was only slightly larger than a regular chicken egg, then he shrugged and handed it to Sisu.

An entire world of hurt and terror could be hidden in that shrug.

Sisu cupped the egg in both hands, grinning. Then he whispered, “Hello, there.”

And … that was way worse than a casual shrug.

Jiaotu was watching me with one eyebrow slightly raised as if he expected me to protest.

I could handle anything that came out of the damn egg. I held the guardian’s gaze, silently letting him know that.

– Awakening Infinity (Archivist 0), fourth draft.

To be released chapter by chapter in January 2021.

Archivist 0: I just recorded it all.

Dragons didn’t tremble. Dragons didn’t beg for forgiveness or break under pressure. Dragons walked through magical maelstroms, quashing demon uprisings and thwarting world invasions before stopping off for dim sum for breakfast. In Shanghai.

Well, guardian dragons did that sort of thing.

I just recorded it all.

– [title redacted] (Archivist 0), third draft

A space opera teaser …

“Okay.  Just so I’ve got this straight …” Ryanne lifted up on her tiptoes, leaning into Trand’s personal space. “Some crazy mercenary —”

“Thief.”

Ryanne bared her teeth in anticipation. “Some thief recognizes her Royal Highness Astrea’ea Torval, second in line to the throne of Tor’valla, daughter of the Priestess Zara, born in the waters of the fount itself. But …” She held up one tattooed finger. “They don’t know that she can shred their minds or skin them alive from kilometres away?”

“Technically I can’t flay skin with my mind,” I said, trying to not laugh as my friend schooled the new recruit.

“You just bought two knives,” Ryanne growled. “And you can wield both at the same time with your obscenely powerful magic. Consequently, the flaying of skin.”

I looked at Trand. “She has me there. If the blades are sharp enough I suppose.”

“They’re sharp enough.” Ryanne sniffed. “Because your freaky ass magic sharpens them, doesn’t it?”

I made a face, looking at Trand apologetically as if I’d been trying to be on his side of the argument. “Technically … possible.”

– untitled space opera, chapter one, first draft

Amplifier 3. 4th Draft. Done.

I just dropped Amplifier 3 into the editor’s (aka SFG) inbox. He will take the next month to line and content edit the manuscript (aka wrestling it into submission), then send it back to me for final touches (and proofread, etc). I’m still shooting for an end of November release date.

So I get to work on Mory (aka Misfits of the Adept Universe 1) for the rest of September and into October – YAY! I’m halfway through the first draft (around 41k so far).

To celebrate, I thought I’d share a sneak peek.

“I’m dying anyway.” She swallowed, whispering, “I’d rather it be you, Socks. If anyone is going to put me out of my misery, I always thought it would be you.”

“That’s a terrible thing to say to me,” I snapped, pissed. “How many times have I put myself between you and death?”

She laughed darkly. “I’ve lost count. How about one more time?”

– Amplifier 3, Chapter 11, Fourth draft

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

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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: teaser and preorder links

I’m heading into Vancouver tomorrow to see an allergy specialist. Yes, it only took me a year to admit I needed to get tested and another three months to get an appointment. The often-daily headaches are the worse part, and I seriously hope the doctor has some insight on curbing those.

Anyway, since it will be quiet around here, but likely a storm of chocolate and food photos over on my Instagram account, I thought I’d drop a teaser on the blog along with some preorder links before I took off.

After I get back from Vancouver, it will be all about Dowser 8 all of the time. I’ll post the preorder ‘big box’ giveaway, and excerpts, etc. All leading up to June 28!!

BTW, it was the editor who insisted this (below) should be the next teaser I shared. So blame him. 😉

“Warner!” I slapped him on the shoulder. “Stop being drunk for a moment, and listen to me. The fire breather is not going to be cool with you and Kett getting drunk with Drake, then me feeding him penis cupcakes.” – Misfits, Gemstones, and Other Shattered Magic (Dowser 8)

PREORDER NOW

AMAZONiBOOKSKOBOBARNES & NOBLESMASHWORDS

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.