Sunday Snippet: Question Everything

So far, October is a pretty good month. My daughter is on the homecoming court for the first time and is excited to participate in the annual parade coming up in a week or two. She'll be hosting her annual gathering next weekend and we've got a laundry list of stuff to get finished up before then.

Not a bad week for television. I started out with a Passionflix original, Brother's Honor and thoroughly enjoyed the movie. I'm excited to see the other two movie's in this trilogy when they're available.

I also caught up on some Arrow, watching an episode from last season. I'll be a little behind when season eight premieres but I should be caught up soon.

Watched the first episode of Murdoch Mysteries's new season. This show is so much fun. I love the characters more each year.

For some reason, I missed the last two episodes of Frankie Drake Mysteries's second season. I got one episode watched and have the final one and the first three of this season to get caught up on.

I'm also catching up on Riverdale. I finished an episode and watched another full one. I haven't seen the premiere of season four yet, but I plan to have at least a full box of tissues handy when I do watch it.

I still haven't decided what I'll be picking up after Peter Gunn, but I'll be starting that this week.

That's pretty much it for television this week. Tonight's post is from Question Everything, a novella that got a start with a writing community prompt.

Here's the mini-blurb:

When Temple Sparrow discovers her family is part of an underground society of beings and creatures who secretly control the city, she eschews their traditions and finds her true vocation, seeking answers. Hunt Gambit doesn't trust anyone, least of all Temple, but playing by the rules isn't an option and he'll use her knowledge to get what he needs and teach her to question everything.

And a preview snippet…

Two days after her father's funeral, Temple Sparrow stormed into his study demanding answers. "Is it true?"

Her mother, Tressa, cool and haughty as always, answered. "It is." Her gaze barely met Temple's before she went back to reading the file in front of her.

Temple seethed and flung an arm out. "I can't believe this. How did I grow up in this mausoleum and not know anything about my family's involvement in the underground?" The city's black market traded on the supernatural beings they exploited for the normals.

Tressa closed the folder and tapped her blood-red nails on the surface before she responded. "Because I made sure it was kept from you." She got up and smoothed the skirt of her black dress.

Fucking widow's weeds for a cold fish. One who gave nary an actual shit about her husband's death. Or much of anything else except keeping up the appearances of being successful.

At the cost and on the backs of every average fae being.

Tressa lifted her gaze. "If I had my way, you wouldn't have been informed yet. You're entirely too volatile and not at all ready for a seat at the head table."

Temple snorted. "Keep your damn table, Mother. I won't sit anywhere near the stink of corruption you want to wallow in." If her mom knew anything about Temple, she'd already be aware of this sticking point.

Tressa gave a quick head shake. "I wouldn't be so certain. I'm not the only—"

Temple cut Tressa off. "Oh, but I am. If you're involved, I'm not. Call one of your craven family members and ask them to join the club." Anyone on the Wingate side should be more than happy to step up.

Except Uncle Marsh. He had little to do with his four siblings' power grabs.

Tressa gave Temple a hard look. "Walking away means you leave with nothing."

Temple huffed out a breath. "Did you forget about Grandmara's trust?" The one she now had access to since her dad died.

The stricken look on her mother's face said she had. Score one for Grandmara Vi. 

Temple rolled her eyes. "Of course you did. A mere half million is chump change for someone like you. But it's all mine and you can't touch or control any part of it… which means you can't touch or control me." She gathered up her scattered thoughts and turned on her heel. "Good-bye, Mother. I hope you wither in this monstrosity you call a house, but I'm sure that won't be the case."

Tressa followed after her. "You can't leave, Temple. Once you're aware of our ties to the underworld, there's no recourse. You either take up the reins or they take you out."

Temple paused at the door and looked over her shoulder. "Let 'em try." She sailed out of the study and strode directly to the front door.

The warning sent a fissure of fear down to her toes, but she'd never cower in front of her mom. But Temple would take some precautions and do her damnedest to expose the rot at the root of the city's founding family trees.

I love writing Temple and I can't wait for her to meet up with Hunt. They've got a wild and twisty road ahead of them.

That's it for this week.

Cheers!

Skye

Sunday Snippet: Quest for the Kingfish

Boo! It's the month of Halloween and creeptastic treasures! I love October. That said, it's also the time I need to start thinking and doing my holiday shopping. I do not want a repeat of last year when I waited way too long to get stuff done.

Had a busy week driving all over the place with my daughter. We had a college visit on Monday. I picked her up from the district tournament for golf on Wednesday. And I picked her up from her band competition because she needs to be up and out early in the morning. I forgot how much windshield time driving gives me. LOL

Not a bad week for television. I haven't started any of the new seasons of my faves yet. But… I did finish up Peter Gunn. I have a few ideas of what to replace that slot with but haven't landed on a specific one yet.

I caught two episodes of Blue Heelers. I'm still at the beginning of season two but I love this show. It has a great cast.

I started season nineteen of Midsomer Murders. I can honestly say I took the death of Sykes really hard. Seriously. Which is actually kind of sad but, man, that was one cool dog. The new one, Paddy, is also fun, but I had years' worth of Sykes antics to enjoy. Anyway… I like the new DS guy but I miss Charlie. I'm watching an episode with Jones in it and it kind of makes me nostalgic.

I got to watch two more arcs of Classic Who. The Claws of Axios and Colony in Space. I'll be starting a new one this week.

I also plan to watch the new Passionflix movie that released this week. I'm looking forward to it.

That's pretty much it for television this week. Tonight's post is from Quest for the Kingfish, a novella that got a start with a writing community prompt.

Here's the mini-blurb:

Stevie Peel is a little bit backwards and standoffish, but she loves a good mystery. Griff Lannsiter takes an immediate liking to Stevie and when she finds an ancient scroll tucked into the dusty stacks of the research library, he offers his help on her quest to find the elusive Kingfish.

And a preview snippet…

Stevie Peel sneezed when her feather duster disturbed a pile of moldering dust. "Dammit. I can't believe they won't let me use magick to clean this nightmare of a library wing." Rubbing her nose brought on several more violent eruptions. "Argh! This sucks." She tossed the offending cleaning tool over her shoulder and raised her hands to cast a spell to make the shelf clear.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." The voice came from the doorway leading to the main library.

She didn't have to look to see who decided to interrupt her punishment. Griff Lannister. The only guy… hell, possibly the only person… on campus who would dare. She'd been sentenced and banished to this solitary pursuit for hexing half the pavilion during the winternight festival dance.

Stevie lowered her arms. "You're not me but, yeah, I can't cheat." She shot a gaze over her shoulder. "Besides, I'm not in the mood to kill you right now." Her lips kicked upward in a smile. "Even though I could definitely hide your body in here and no one would find you." Heaving a sigh, she went to grab the stupid feather duster again.

Griff moved into the cavernous room with a laugh. "You won't kill me. I'd come back to haunt you and you'd never know another moment of peace again." He propped his hip on a table stacked with books she'd removed from the shelf.

Stevie chuckled because he totally would haunt her and she had no trouble picturing him drifting around and making her life even crazier than usual.

Moving back to the shelves, she swept the surface again. "Why are you here anyway?" Not that she minded, but the precept made it clear her punishment should be carried out alone.

Griff flipped one of the tomes open, stirring up more dust. "Eh, you got a bum deal. Not fair you have to clean this whole annex and aren't supposed to have anyone down here with you just because you mixed up a few words of a spell." He glanced up from the book. "If they paid attention, they would've known you weren't ready for a public rite." Slamming the book shut, he coughed when a waft of dust rose up to his face.

Stevie shrugged, even though his support touched her deeply. "I could've said something." Except she couldn't. She didn't do well with admitting defeat.

And she didn't talk about her issues with her mind going blank in crowds with anyone but Griff. And only because he pulled it out of her in his very Griff way.

What did the guy see in her?

Griff shuffled through the pile of old papers on the table. "Did they give you a deadline for having this cleanup thing done?"

Stevie snorted. "Are you kidding? I'm pretty sure they're hoping it'll take me the rest of this semester and the next one so they don't have to worry about me ruining the end of year festivities or the Valentine's ball. I mean, how would it look if I ended up making more of the student population succumb to a sleeping spell?" An entire dance floor of people dropping like stones, all because she goofed up the word order.

Griff glanced around the huge expanse of space. "I'll bet you're done within the month. Don't forget we have most of January off for semester break."

Stevie rolled a shoulder. "Except for the mounds of dust, I like it down here. It's quiet and very non-peopley." Her gaze slid sideways in his direction. "Present company excluded." But she didn't mind having his presence.

Griff gave her smirk. "Meaning I'm not people?"

She shot back. "Meaning you're one of the few I actually like." Something that continued to surprise her.

Griff puffed out his chest. "I like being at the top of your list."

She blinked and sputtered. "Totally not what I said." But probably true.

He turned and started toward the doorway, waving his hand in the air. "Doesn't matter, I heard your inferred meaning." He sailed through the exit and left her standing alone.

Shaking her head, Stevie laughed. "Inferred meaning, my ass. You heard what you wanted to hear."

But he didn't happen to be wrong. He did top her list.

I love writing Stevie. I wanted a character that had something of a learning disability but didn't let it stop her from achieving what she wants. And I wanted Griff to not try and fix her or solve her problems but to support her because he sees the potential she has. This story is so much fun.

That's it for this week.

Cheers!

Skye

Sunday Snippet: Quelling Hunger

Had a crazy busy week with multiple projects coming due and, thankfully, I made the deadlines. I'll freely admit there might have been some wine to help along the way. More as a reward at the end of the week than during the actual crunch time.

I made a lot of progress on the three shows I'm currently watching. This means I haven't seen any of the premieres of the new seasons yet. I'm weirdly out of sync with everyone else and I'm not eager to dive into the new stuff yet.

I continued with season three of Peter Gunn and have a handful of episodes left to watch. Season three marks the end of the run and I'm not sure what I'll replace this show with, but I think I'd like to go with another classic television series. We'll see what I can find.

I'm through season seven of Classic Who and have a start on season eight. I'm in the Mind of Evil arc. The Master is now a nemesis and it's fun to watch how the long-standing rivalry started between the Doctor and the Master.

I've also finished up series eighteen of Midsomer Murders and should start nineteen soon. That leaves about twelve or so episodes left before I finish up the entire run. Not sure what I'll replace this one with either. I might finish The Coroner if it's still available.

That's pretty much it for television this week. Tonight's post is from Quelling Hunger, a novella that got a start with a writing community prompt.

Here's the mini-blurb:

When a storm destroys the food warehouses in the city, Rita Steed and Fletch Lancaster are tasked with keeping the peace while half-rations are necessary until the rooftop gardens can produce more crops. Heading up the sector patrol, neither is certain they can maintain the status quo when quelling hunger seems to be impossible.

And a preview snippet…

The hazy warmth of several glasses of wine on a less than full stomach spread comfortably through Rita.

She kicked back on the small futon Fletch had dragged inside their makeshift quarters. "Nothing like a little vino to wash away a crappy day." She swirled the last swallow in her glass.

Fletch picked her feet up and started a massage. "We might end up counting alcohol as a food group soon." His hand slid up her calf, squeezing and kneading her muscles.

Rita's head dropped back and she moaned. "I can't believe they opened another holding facility." She straightened. "Damn. They're gonna cut rations again." No way would that go over well.

Fletch's fingers paused. "Uh… where did you come up with that?" He turned to face her, dislodging her feet.

Rita shrugged. "Projection? Why open a new center when we're a few weeks away from the first replacement harvest?" Her gut churned and not from the wine.

Fletch's eyes slid shut. "Unless there's a delay or something else wrong with the new growth." He blew out a harsh breath. "Shit. I'll find out in the morning briefing."

Rita maneuvered around to straddle Fletch's thighs. "I'm a total mood-killer. Can we forget I said anything and go back to you accepting the challenge of proving you're the best thing on the planet?" She wiggled her butt for good measure.

Fletch narrowed his eyes. "Gonna be a tough job. Maybe you should help me out."

Rita grinned. "Thought you'd never ask." She worked her fingers under the hemline of his shirt and dragged it up and over his head.

The smooth planes of his chest drew her palms forward to glide over his skin.

Fletch caught her leg in his grip and toppled her sideways to stretch out on the futon. With practiced ease, he lowered the back, giving him space to recline next to her. His mouth met hers and he scrunched up the material of her tank top. When the fabric cleared her breasts, his head dropped down to capture a nipple between his lips.

Rita pulled the shirt off and started on her pants. Fletch took over, tugging the stretchy garment past her hips and down her legs. She kicked them out of the way and slid her hands under the warm-ups he wore. He helped her get them removed and hauled her close.

His palms kneaded her ass. "Forget everything else. Tonight is about you and me." He brought her hips flush with his.

His erection jutted against her stomach and Rita wrapped her fingers around the length. "I'm down with that. And you're definitely up for it." She hooked her leg over his hip and guided his cock to her core. "Show me how much."

I like the dynamic between Fletch and Rita. They're kind of beat down but still able to find golden moments to cherish.

That's it for this week.

Cheers!

Skye

Sunday Snippet: Quell the Boom

My second senior night is in the books. We got to participate in pre-game moments for the football game, meet with our daughter on the field, and basically bask in her glory for band. We are so, so lucky with her particular group of friends. They've been together for a long time, most of them since elementary school, and it's terrific to watch how they hold each other up and make themselves accountable.

I also got to finally attend one of her band competitions. She's got a duet with another senior and they sounded terrific. I'm hoping I can make more of her shows this year.

My week was jammed with work and running around but I did get to watch some of my usual standbys, starting with Peter Gunn. I finished up the second season and got a start on the third and final one. I should have that one finished up by the end of the month.

I also caught two more arcs of Classic Who and have started on the third doctor's series. This week's episodes were, Spearhead from Space and Doctor Who and the Silurians. I rather like the third doctor so far.

Watched three more Midsomer Murders episodes. I thoroughly enjoyed each one. I'm into series eighteen, so I only have two more to go.

I finished up another episode of Blue Heelers and started a new one. The new one features an almost washed-up footie player, which is fun for me because the US, at least in my part of it, doesn't really follow soccer, unless it's during the championships. Then everyone and their brother has a team. Seriously, it's bonkers.

That's pretty much it for television this week. Tonight's post is from Quell the Boom, a novella that got a start with a writing community prompt.

Here's the mini-blurb:

Quinna Joltz and Efran Pendragon, experts in diffusing magical bombs, tend to let their rivalry take center stage, but when an unbalanced wizard plants devices that can bring down their entire city, they agree to work together. The adrenaline filled race finally gives them some perspective and a little bit of common ground to share.

And a preview snippet…

Quinna Joltz made a slow circle around the incendiary device tucked inside a spellbound container. "Tricky bastard." She'd have to reverse the spell before the bomb went off.

The person responsible upped the ante each time he—or she—planted the destructive objects. The first two were easily dealt with. This one… not so much.

She stopped and planted her hands on her hips. "I hate spellcasting." One slip-up on word order could accelerate the countdown.

Unless… maybe a general counteractive incantation would void the spell and she could disarm the explosive or render it useless in one go. Yeah… that could work.

Quinna closed her eyes and centered her mind. "Undo what's been done by the hand of another. Then subdue the bomb, squash and smother." Her fingers made a series of motions giving life to the spell.

A loud pop jolted her eyes open. A trail of smoke drifted up from the mangled heap of parts inside the container. Hot damn. She'd pulled it off.

Using a little magick, she scooped up the pieces and teleported them back to the Briarcliff estate house. Her bosses would want to go over the remnants with a fine-tooth comb. Three bombs in three weeks didn't bode well for the future.

She exited the old warehouse on the waterfront. "If the rumors are true, I'm not the only one dealing with this crap." The gossip mavens worked overtime to add any and all tidbits to the gristmill about the bombs.

They had it on good authority the Hampstead district got the same type of devices. Which meant her pseudo-rival, Efran Pendragon, probably had his hands full, too. No doubt, she'd end up in some information exchange meeting with him by the end of the week.

A smile spread across her face. "That'll be fun." He'd have his nose out of joint and she'd have to go out of her way to make nice with his cranky self.

She laughed. Or not. She could pour on the snark instead.

Heading down the darkened street, she shook her head. "Either way, he won't be happy."

For such an incredibly attractive man, he sure went out of his way to be a pain.

I'm having fun trying to combine the magickal angle with the realism of a mad bomber. Quinna and Efran are going to have their hands full.

That's it for this week.

Cheers!

Skye

Sunday Snippet: Protect the Target

This past week I got to experience my daughter's first "senior night", this one for golf. She's my youngest and the last one we need to get through high school. Which is actually funny because she's also the most organized of my three kiddos and we haven't had to do much to get her through anything. Okay, except to maybe open the checkbook or whip out the debit card.

Anyway, the golf team had a scramble with another county team and the girls had a great time. This is a little poignant for three of the four seniors because they're all four-year letterman and they literally launched the girls' golf team for the high school. My daughter and one of her friends were the true masterminds, getting another freshman and two sophomores interested so they could form a team. There had to be at least four girls and they had five so they were good to go. In the four years they've had a team, the roster grew to eight, dropped to seven, then went back up to eight again this year. It's been exciting to watch the group grow and change and support each other.

Next up, is senior night for band and that's next weekend. I'm hoping for a non-rainy football game. This past week, the game got delayed due to lightning. Fun times.

Had a busy week overall with work but did get some television viewing in. I kept up with more episodes of Peter Gunn. I'm almost through the second season.

Also got some Classic Who in with The Mind Robber, The Invasion, and The Kroton multi-part episodes. I think I'm through the mixed episodes that are part animation and part regularly shot scenes.

I also watched three more Midsomer Murders episodes. I'm in series seventeen so I have about three more series to finish up.

That's pretty much it for television this week. Tonight's post is from Protect the Target, a novella that got a start with a writing community prompt.

Here's the mini-blurb:

Noya Vix is a walking target with a lot of magical factions coming after her, the most persistent being Lenj Gottman, who wants to exploit her precognitive ability. Booth Wanderlux is her number one protector, but he's got issues with keeping Noya out of harm's way because she refuses to lay low until Lenj is caught.

And a preview snippet…

Noya checked her reflection in the mirror. "Not bad if I do say so." And she did.

Lorna gave a low whistle. "Damn, girl. I'm impressed with our brilliance." She made a slow circle around Noya.

Brilliance might be an understatement. With Lorna's magickal help, a full-on transformation of Noya's hair, skin tone, facial features, the works, had taken place. Instead of dark brown locks, Noya sported a shimmering shade of red. Her eyes were a leafy green, which looked so different from her usual color of burnt umber. The olive of her skin now appeared as flawless and creamy. She kind of missed the shadows and planes of her darker skin tone. Lorna also made her cheekbones fuller and less angular.

Now, Noya needed to work on altering her speech pattern and her gait.

Lorna made a tsking sound. "Mm-mm-mm. Booth is gonna lose his mind when he sees you." She tilted her head to one side. "Darlin', that man isn't going to recognize you."

Noya banked on that fact. If Booth didn't immediately know her, she stood a chance of pulling off the biggest sleight of hand to nail Lenj's ass to the wall. And, dammit, she would have a hand in taking that fucker down.

Noya tried a new voice, lowering the pitch of her tone. "Do you really think so?" The sound flowed out of her mouth, smoky and sultry.

Lorna's eyes went wide. "Holy shit. You make me think of cigarettes and whiskey in a back room somewhere." She chuckled. "I take full credit for the magickal enhancement of your looks, but, Noya honey, everything else is all you." She swished her hand back and forth. "Lemme see you walk around a bit."

Noya complied, concentrating on shortening her stride to a loose shuffle instead of the usual strut she normally did. She slouched forward instead of squaring her shoulders and made a short circuit of the bathroom. The weird jockeying would take some getting used to and she couldn't hold the illusion for long, tripping up on her way back to Lorna's side.

Laughing, Noya shrugged. "Yeah, that's gonna take some work." And probably some painkillers to ease the kinks her muscles would get.

Lorna nodded. "You'll get the hang of it." She leaned in. "How are you gonna let Booth in on the new look?"

Noya made a grimace. "I'm going to do it where he'll least expect it…" She met Lorna's gaze. "Tonight… in bed."

Wouldn't that be a rare treat?

Okay, maybe not.

Noya is so much fun to write and her partner in crime for this scene is very much an enabler, which won't make Booth very happy.

That's it for this week.

Cheers!

Skye

Sunday Snippet: Price Paid

Whew. What a week. My middle kiddo—who's not really a kiddo anymore at twenty—ended up in an accident when a car turned in front of him across traffic. His car is pretty crunched up but he's thankfully okay. It's been a lot of phone calls this week to get a loaner car lined up and an insurance claim filed. I can say one thing with absolute certainty. I'm so glad we don't have many accidents or fender benders that need insurance company involvement. Yeesh.

I've been on a bit of a comfort viewing watch this past week. I stuck with more Peter Gunn episodes after watching the weekend marathon. I'm in the beginning of season two and about ten or so episodes in.

Also caught three groups of episodes with Classic Who. The six-part Web of Fear, which had some editing issues but it's better than not being available. I followed that with The Wheel in Space, another six-part arc. And then finished up with The Dominators, which is a five-part storyline. It looks like I'm in the last season of Two's run. I'm a little disappointed with how few episodes are available from his tenure.

I watched the last two episodes of series sixteen of Midsomer Murders and started the first episode of series seventeen. It's kind of odd how there was "The Flying Club" in sixteen and now "The Dagger Club" in seventeen.

I need to try to binge watch the final episodes of Riverdale to prepare for the new season starting soon. My heart is so heavy when I watch because they're the last episodes with Fred. I'm really looking forward to the premiere episode, which will be his memorial show.

And that's it for television this week. Tonight's post is from Price Paid, a novella that started with a writing community prompt.

Here's the mini-blurb:

Reva Bane's actions lead Mitch Vanderman to a lot of harm, but seeking atonement shouldn't cause so much pain. Then again, betrayal sometimes demands a price paid in blood, and Reva is willing to shed some if he'll finally forgive her.

And a preview snippet…

Mitch waited outside Reva's townhouse. "What the hell is taking her so long?" She had a thing about him being seen at her place.

He knocked again and his preternatural senses kicked in, the tingling, prickling sensation of his hair standing on end his only warning. Seven grotesque creatures converged on him, their snarling maws gaping open and snapping shut.

Mitch flicked his gaze upward, toward Reva's bedroom window. The curtain fluttered but he couldn't see her. She sure as hell stood and watched though. He'd bet his life on the fact.

He backed away, turning in a slow circle. "Vengeance demons? Seriously." The bitter taste of betrayal coated his tongue.

Why? Why would Reva set this demon show up now? Because she played you, you moron.

He didn't want to believe she'd break the hunter code by putting him in peril. He also didn't want to acknowledge how much he'd come to give a damn about her. Even though she worked for the rival group.

Shaking his head, he readied for a battle. "Stupid idiot. Way to think with your dick instead of your head." No way would he admit his heart got involved.

And no way did he stand a chance against seven of these fuckers. Instead of wasting the effort, he whirled around and faced the townhouse, his gaze going straight for the upper window. Reva whipped the curtain aside, shouting something that looked like "fight".

He snorted. "Not gonna give you the satisfaction, babes." Talons clawed at his jacket, cutting through the thick leather.

Mitch made no move to resist. Why bother? For however long it took him to escape, his fate would be at the demons' mercy. And they thrived on aggression and hostility.

He be damned if he made their work easier.

And he would escape.

When the seven hell-spawns worked together to lift him off his feet, Mitch never looked away from the window. Reva didn't break away either. The defeat marring her features gave him a kick of satisfaction.

The ground opened up and began swallowing the demons along with Mitch.

He made one final gesture, flipping up his middle finger. "Get ready, Reva. You'll pay for this."

Mitch is not going to enjoy his time with the vengeance demons but the way he escapes will pay off when he's back on solid ground and close to Reva.

That's it for this week.

Cheers!

Skye

Sunday Snippet: The Prank Police

I'm welcoming September with open arms. August ended up being a truly weird month. We'll see if September flows any smoother.

Decent week of television. I stuck with classic and mysteries. I finished up a 77 Sunset Strip binge watch last week and launched into Peter Gunn, logging about seven more episodes via Prime and now a marathon on regular cable.

I caught the Classic Who episodes of The Enemy of the World. Interesting segue… an episode of The Saint featured the actor who plays Two. It's just a weird little connection that made me smile.

I also watched another Midsomer Murders episode. Oddly, they're back to Causton CID again instead of Midsomer Constabulary. Obviously, it's not a huge deal, just one of those random things that popped out at me.

Yes, I'm strange.

Tonight's post is from The Prank Police, a novella that started with a writing community prompt.

Here's the mini-blurb:

The mage academy is rife with pranksters and Zenna Doyle and Kyrk Rydercroft must corral the new recruits when they all test their newfound powers. And to top it off, the couple pulls duty at the worst time—the night of the blue moon when magic is at its strongest.

And a preview snippet…

Zenna Doyle placed her hands on the desk in front of her. "You have got to be kidding. What did we do to piss you off?" She stared the director of the mage academy down.

A slow, wide smile spread across Max Bentis's face. "Remember the saying about payback?" He quirked an eyebrow.

Kyrk Rydercroft, Zenna's partner in teaching and everything else, stopped pacing for a moment. "That it's a right bitch?"

Zenna snorted. Too damned true.

Max nodded. "That's the one." He pulled a thick folder from his bottom drawer. "Do you also remember, oh… seven or eight years ago when I was in the position you two are in now?" He made a show of casually opening the file and flipping through the pages.

Zenna shot Kyrk a sideways glance. He shook his head. No way were they going to admit remembering anything they did back in their adept minor days.

Zenna didn't like the direction this conversation headed in.

Max smirked. "And do you remember the week before finals and who the ringleaders were for the most hated time of the year?" He tapped the pages in front of him.

Kyrk muttered an oath. "Seriously? I barely remember what I had for breakfast this morning."

Of course, Max had no problem reminding them of their former shortcomings. He spun the folder around, showing the proof in vividly colored notes. Then he turned to the final page where Zenna and Kyrk, in their less than infinite wisdom, signed a promissory pledge to handle finals week whenever the presiding precept chose.

Max settled back in his seat. "Ring any bells now?" He gaze dared either of them to try his patience.

Zenna's shoulders slumped. "Fuck."

Max clapped and rubbed his palms together. "Exactly." He slapped the folder shut and stuffed in back inside the drawer.

Kyrk started pacing again. "You do realize we're due for a blue moon." He stopped. "They're going to be insane with power."

Zenna shuddered. Great Mage. The entire week would suck huge, hairy balls.

Max's lips split in a wide smile. "I absolutely know all of the above. Why do you think I saved that little trump card in the back of the file?" He pushed away from the desk and stood up. "I've been waiting for this moment for two years."

Zenna gave him props. "That's brilliantly evil. Kudos for being able to hold out this long." Honestly, she admired the hell out of the sneak attack.

Max preened for a moment.

Kyrk snorted. "Geez, Zen, don't stroke his ego. He'll be lucky if we're still standing next Monday."

A fair point.

Max shook his head. "Hey, there are two of you. The same cannot be said when you two coordinated hell week during your last year." He pinned Kyrk with his gaze. "I had to find something worthy to challenge your skill-set."

Zenna shrugged. "Fine, fine. We'll manage. At least you'll be around if anything goes totally hinky."

Max held up a hand. "Oh, no. I'm going to be as far away from this place as possible starting in"—he glanced at his watch—"about ten seconds." Jerking his head toward the door, he waved them in that direction. "Have fun."

Zenna opened her mouth to argue, but Kyrk grabbed her wrist. "Don't. As much as it pains me to say it, we had this coming." He tugged her out of Max's office. "And we don't have much time to prepare… so let's get going."

Zenna exhaled on a heavy sigh. "Let the games begin."

This story is so much fun. It took a direction I completely didn't anticipate but I'm happy with where it's headed.

That's it for this week.

Cheers!

Skye