Sunday Snippet: Rapier's Edge

Whew! Welcome to December. I had a crazy week of trying to find a working stove… okay, a stove with a working oven. It's funny. We get a new furnace and literally two days later, our oven takes a flying leap. The good news is, I didn't have to cook for the US Thanksgiving and we found a new stove.

Television took a back seat to both work and shopping for kitchen appliances. I did get the Murdoch Mysteries episode finished up and enjoyed it a lot.

I also caught a binge-watch of the Green Hornet. I love the vibe of that show. The movie vibe? Not so much.

Then… I fell down the Gilmore Girls rabbit hole and got sucked into a marathon that's still going on. I'd forgotten how much I really liked this show… even when the characters sometimes drove me bonkers.

I will say it's a great show to watch when insomnia strikes. And, man, the insomnia has been a right pain in my ass this past week. Actually, it's been longer than the week, but it really kicked in on Monday and hasn't backed off yet.

That's pretty much it for the mundane real-life stuff this week. Tonight's post is from Rapier's Edge, a novella that got a start with a writing community prompt.

Here's the mini-blurb:

Wen Buxton, an undercover fae agent, finds Jacob Franklin standing over a dead body. He resists her siren call and refuses to answer questions during her interrogation. Wren has a sneaking suspicion all isn't what it seems with the covert mercenary.

And a preview snippet…

Wen rolled to a stop outside the warehouse, cut the engine, and rolled her window down. Whistling the entry code for the warehouse, she got out, went around back, and opened the hatch. She grabbed her quarry by the shoulders and rolled him out of the truck.

He landed in a heap.

She resisted the urge to kick him in the ribs. "Havish taught me better." But she hoped the guy would have some nasty bruises when he regained consciousness.

Struggling with the dead weight—probably two hundred pounds, easy—her adrenaline kicked in when she pictured Havish's corpse. The surge of angry energy helped her get him inside and strapped into a chair. After testing the restraints, she retrieved a bucket of water and doused him with it.

He sputtered and snapped his head upward, glaring with rage and fire in his eyes.

Wen smiled. "Hello again." She tossed the bucket aside. "It's time for you to answer a few questions." And she only cared about the answer to one.

His gaze moved away from her and stared straight ahead. "I don't think so." He dropped his chin to his shoulder to sop of some of the dripping water.

Wen quirked a brow. He'd soon learn he didn't have a choice. Starting slowly, she walked around him, sinking into the ambiance of the location to find the tonal match.

Sending a whisper out first, she voiced a question. "Who are you?" The tone would compel him to answer.

He continued staring at the wall in front of him.

Wen dug a little deeper and altered her pitch a little. "Why did you kill Havish?" She barely kept from ending on a wobble.

He didn't respond but his gaze darkened and pain flickered across his face.

Or maybe guilt.

She needed to know. His resistance to her siren call frustrated and confounded her. Very few humans or fae had the ability to ignore her. Every minute she wasted on interrogation delayed getting justice for Havish's death.

She tried a new approach. "Look, it only gets worse from here. When I amplify my tone and pitch, the pressure in your head will increase to the more you resist." She walked in front of him and put her face close to his. "Just tell me what I need to know so I can bury my friend." She didn't manage to keep the grief from her voice this time.

His gaze finally snapped to hers and she poised to strike but his rage-filled eyes—narrowed to slits—stopped her. Damn. She didn't have a good handle on the situation… yet she couldn't figure out why.

Something definitely didn't feel right with this guy.

I love this story! Wen and Jacob are complicated but fun to write.

That's it for this week.

Cheers!

Skye