Oh, No. It’s Almost October.

Wings of Air
Heir to the Firstborn, Book 4

88415 / 150000 (58.94%)
John Zebedee and the Monstrous Town
23714 / 30000 (79.05%)

October. Why did it have to be October?

Yes, I know. It comes every year at this time, right after September.

I am not a fan. The only thing October has going for it is Halloween, and you have to get all the way through October to get there! (And who know if it’s actually going to happen this year? Which sucks, because Saturday+full moon+extra hour = epicly epic Halloween).

Okay. Enough complaining.

Today I am just off my last virtual convention for the year. (At least, I think it’s my last. I may be wrong — there are still virtual conventions happening, and I may see about getting involved.) Necronomicon/NecroNOTacon was a lot of fun — it was held on Discord and Zoom, and it was very well attended. I’m liking the virtual conventions — it opens access to people who can’t travel for whatever reason. The only thing missing is the hugging.

I miss the hugging.

Now, I do have one more convention on my schedule, but it’s not virtual. KeiserSupercon is supposed to be in person. I have no idea what’s going to happen with that one.

Since I was virtually at a convention all weekend, there wasn’t a lot of writing done. Which is par for the course with me — I can do one writing related thing at a time. Two, maybe. But actively writing at the same time I’m being Public-Writer-Lady? Not happening.

I think I’m still on target to have both Wings of Air and John Zebedee and the Monstrous Town finished by December, though. And possibly be a good way in to John Zebedee Meets The Witch-Queen of Elfland. 

December is coming. Cookiepocalypse is coming!

But first we have to get through October.

Right. Stop that, Liz.

Here, have an excerpt from Monstrous Town:

“Then give me your right hand.” She held her hand out, and John put his hand into hers. He looked at his palm and frowned. “Mister Zebedee, how did you manage to misplace your lifeline?”

John coughed. “What?”

She tapped his palm with one finger. “It should be here,” she said. Then she held her right hand out, showing him a line on her palm. “It shows how long of a life you’ll have.”

John chuckled. “My hand isn’t big enough,” he answered. “I’m immortal. But you’ve noticed that.”

“How old are you?” she asked.

“Over eighteen hundred years old,” John answered. “Prudence, I was one of Joshua’s apostles.”

Her eyes widened. “No wonder there’s no lifeline,” she said with a laugh. “All right. Just stay there. I need to get something.” She stood up and walked away, going through an inner door. She came back a moment later with a small box. She took a seat again, and took a deck of cards out of the box, handing them to John. “Shuffle these.”

“Are we playing poker?” he asked, starting to shuffle the cards. “I’m terrible at it.”

“Cartomancy,” she answered. “Telling the future.”

“You can do that?”

She smiled and took the cards from him. She shuffled them again, then took the topmost card from the deck. She looked at it and smiled, laying it on the table. “The King of Clubs,” she said. “A man of dark complexion. He is upright and true to the bone. This is your card, John Zebedee.” She dealt more cards — a column of three to the left of John’s card, one above and below, and a column of three to the right. She set the rest of the cards aside. “The past,” she said, touching the left-most column. “The present, and the future.” She touched the center and the right column in turn. Then she turned over the card at the top of the left column. “The Nine of Diamonds. Traveling. You never did settle, did you?”

“When people notice you don’t age, things get complicated.”

She smiled and turned over the next card down. “The Ten of Spades. Imprisonment.” She looked up again.

John swallowed and nodded. “I was a prisoner of war. At Camp Sumter.”

She gasped, but said nothing more, turning over the last card in the column. “The Two of Diamonds. A secret engagement.”

John smiled. “It has to be secret. It’s illegal. But if I could openly propose marriage, I would. In a heartbeat.”

She nodded and turned over the topmost card of the middle column. “Eight of Spades. Danger from imprudence.”

John considered it, and nodded. “I wasn’t as careful as I should have been. I can agree with this. This is fascinating.”

“Thank you,” she said, and turned over the base card of the column. “Five of Clubs. Danger from a capricious temper.” She met his eyes, and they both spoke as one. “Wraith.” She nodded, and turned over the top card of the last column. “The Eight of Diamonds. A happy marriage.”

John smiled. “In his world, men can marry. I can wait.”

She turned over the last two cards, and her brow furrowed. She touched the middle card. “The Nine of Spades is a horrible card for your future. It means ruin and death. Which makes no sense with this last card.” She touched the final card. “The Ten of Hearts. Health and happiness, and children.” She looked up. “Death and ruin, and they all lived happily ever after?”


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