Tag: Fantasy (Urban)

Flash: The Caxinourilor

Erin Penn

freedigitalphotos.net

Rating: Mature

Frenetic energy washed the gathering as two strangers entered the court. Dieter tasted it back in his throat; the flavor did not carry the crazed insanity of the newly turned, which worried him. As the Caxinourilor for Regele Leopold, he was introduced to every childer at his or her rising. These two were outsiders, young without a master, at a time he did not need any further complications.

Status-climbing Jeannette reached the couple first. The cold emotional energy of the older vampires carried curiosity, but none would risk the social stigma of naïve inquisitiveness. Only his rare gift of empathy let him realize they cared at all about the strangers at their door. Younger kin stared openly, but left the initial confrontation to Jeannette and Dieter.

Jeannette sniffed. Her First Gift after the change was hunting scent and had the added advantage in her mind of being condescending those beneath her.

The two young things were so wanna-bes, it hurt. The boy face was unlined, but more importantly to his new species, his eyes were young. Dusty baggy jeans hung low, but not the new modern low, more like the eighties. So just about thirty years, old enough to leave a master with permission, but young enough to be nothing but trouble. The girl was in a similar neo-Goth outfit, a look finalized and sharpened in the nineties. Modern gladiator spiked sandal-boots, with short-shorts and a black tube top. Lanky hair hung to the newcomer’s waist.

For a moment, Dieter imagined digging into it, holding the neck bare for nibbles and licks. He froze his face so his attraction to the girl would not show. Interesting, he had not felt sexual attraction since he past his century mark. Was her First Gift seduction?

 “And who might you be?” Jeannette welcomed the two without an ounce of Southern hospitality.

“Bert,” the lad extended his hand. “And this is my sister Hilly.”

Jeanette looked at his hand like Bert was offering a dead, bloodless fish. He paled slightly before swinging it towards Dieter.

Taking pity on the child, the enforcer shook it firmly. “May I ask if those are nicknames?”

“What? Oh, yeah, we heard the South is more formal.” The boy and girl shared a short glance. “I’m Hildebert and this is Hilda.”

“Oh, you are twins.” Jeannette relaxed a little, her underlying confusion fading. The scents must have been close to identical.

“Have you traveled far?” Dieter extended an arm to the buffet chained to the wall.

“Not really, just from Philadelphia.” Bert answered for the pair as they walked through the crowd. “Red-eyes are great.”

“You flew?” Jeannette asked.

“Sure.” The boy halted in the middle of everything. “Wait, we need to pay our respects to the honcho. Can’t eat his food without doing that.”

“The king.” His sister interjected. “Sorry we aren’t good with the language yet.”

Jeannette disappeared into the gathering. Leopold did not hide his annoyance with her preening.

Spying Leopold in his black, carved antique chair, Dieter led the couple over. They immediately sank before him, clumsily, but at least coached in proper protocol. “My liege, may I introduce Hildebert and Hilda, lately of Philadelphia?”

“We are pleased to welcome you to Our Courts. What draws you to Our Lands?” Short and thin by modern standards, Leopold’s voice still resonated with authority.

Bert responded. “We wish to stay for a time, Your Eminent-iness. A year and a day.”

A year and a day was a sanctuary request. What threats were these two bringing to his door? thought the enforcer.

“Such a request is within Our powers, so long as you abide by Our laws and rule. If not, Our Caxinourilor will see you do not need the sun to turn you into dust.” Leopold dismissed them with a wave of his hands.

Ancient court manners directed Dieter to offer an arm to help Hilda up. Her bare hand on his felt like a brand. Bullocks, he did not need this. Never expected it. And certainly never wanted it. His eyes narrowed when she showed no matching reaction. At her age, she should have jumped out of her skin.

Dieter dropped her hand as soon as manners dictated. He scanned the crowd deeply a second to make certain no one noticed. He did not need anyone to come after his dragoste in retaliation for a punishment he had enforced for the Regele. “If you do not have a place to stay, may I offer my abode as shelter?”

The woman looked at her brother. “Thanks man, we’d appreciate the offer.” Bert again spoke for the couple.

“Then let us be on our way so you can be settled comfortably and safely before dawn.”

***

The place was not his true safehouse. As enforcer, Dieter often guested newcomers until they could develop their own nest. The fortress resembled a simple house from the outside, but gave him plenty of protection via traps and electronic monitoring to secure Leopold’s host responsibilities.

By the time they arrived, the burning on Dieter’s hand had settled into his gut. The woman was on the edge as well, though strangely in more control than the enforcer.

“You,” Dieter growled at her brother, “go. Down a flight, second room on left. Blood’s in room. Don’t leave until nightfall. All the security measures are up, and I don’t need you killed. And you…” Dieter gripped Hilda hair, using it to direct her movement, pushing her back, breaking the plaster when they hit the wall.

Her fangs bit into his tongue while his nipped her lips. Blood raced through Dieter’s system, leaving every cell ignited with passion and life. He vaguely remembered ripping her shorts off, while her legs pushed his trousers down his hips. He speared her, uncaring if her brother had left the room or not. Within seconds, he pulsed in her, continuing the circle of blood and life. Deep within her, mind and body, he sighed, collapsing into unconsciousness.

(998 words – originally appearing at Breathless Press 12/1/2013 for the 10/7/2012 Sunday Fun; republished in new blog format 10/29/2018)

Other Cool Blogs: Epicstream 12/27/2015

Erin Penn

Image courtesy of Multipedia at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Jake Vyper asks What is the main difference between Urban Fantasy and Horror?

That is a good question, because a writer needs to deliver a product matching the expectations of the reader. On the surface, they seem very similar. Both are contemporary settings, have monsters, and have the protagonist dealing with the monsters. What is the hair that separates the two?

Mr. Vyper says it is the competency of the protagonist. In Urban Fantasy, the reader/watcher goes – Oh, yeah, that is exactly how to take on the monster. In Horror, the reader/watcher goes – What are you doing, you fool!

But there is more to the different genres than the competency of the protagonist. In a Horror, at the end, even if the monster is defeated, the final chapter hints at its eventual return. The monster is never wholly defeated. In an Urban Fantasy, the monster is either defeated or ends up in the bedroom. (We got a weird culture.)

In Urban Fantasy, even if initial denial of the monster concept happens, acceptance and fitting it into the main character world’s view is possible. In a Horror, the monster remains half-hidden until it comes in and rends what little sanity is left. There is no acceptance possible, no fitting it into the two-story house and white picket fence of real life. In fact, often, real life seems permanently destroyed.

Another trope difference, in Horror the person is isolated, no one is around to help, and, often, the person is a fish-out-of-water, unfamiliar with the environment. In addition, the monster is focused on the victim personally. In Urban Fantasy, with the Urban environment, the monster endangers the crowds. Not only that, but as the relationship between the hero and monster grows, the monster goes after … the hero’s family and friends (not the hero). Through it all, the main character remains in the familiar environment of where they live even if the magic veil has been pulled back. Isolation and unfamiliar verses danger to others.

Again, you can read the full article here:

WRITING EXERCISE: What other trope differences can you think of between Urban Fantasy and Horror? Are Horror, Disaster, and Apocalypse stories different genres – where do they overlap and where do they diverge? How about the trope differences between Fantasy and Science Fiction? How could you use some of these differences to play with reader expectations? Have you ever written a story where the genre lines have blurred, and what tropes were used?

***

My flash, One Soul Per, initially seems a standard Fantasy – maybe even an erotica fantasy, but it changes toward the end. The protagonist made some stupid mistakes for a solider, and his life takes a turn from hero to horror. 

Flash: Small Wings

Erin Penn

Photo by Tikkho Maciel on Unsplash (Cropped and Color Adjusted by Erin Penn)

Someone wanted him here. The geocache might as well have made for him, taking him from one end of the city to the other on his skateboard for the last four hours. A couple of clues…. well, he had fallen for it.

Raff looked around the empty parking garage, his stomach saying it wasn’t empty. He learned to trust his gut a long time ago. The sibilant hiss of pipes in the ceiling and tires echoing from the streets above seemed too loud. Spreading his legs to drop his center of gravity, he called his true self to the surface, giving his eyes the ability to see elsewhere. As soon as his wings appeared, black snakes rose out of the shadows and raced at him, sliding back and forth on the cement.

His Cupid bow released three arrows before they had closed half the distance, and he hoped for some gender differences between the snakes, or at least a beneficial, to him, sexual orientation, so the lust would distract them. No effect. Snapping down his skateboard where it leaned against his leg, he jumped on it, using his right foot to push it hard, and he beat his tiny wings for what little help they could give to move faster.

The ramps all led up. The final stage of the geocache was in the bottom of the old Sears catalog building, three floors below ground. One of the periodic bumps lifted the board off the ground enough he turned it on edge to use a column to bank, aiming up a ramp. Two lights behind him snapped off; no sparks or flares, just dark. Spinning on the board to look behind, he saw the snakes enter one end of the deep shadows and exit the other end the next instant.

Cheaters.

Well, two can play at that game. Rounding another column, he reached out and crushed a chunk out. Twisting the board around, he took aim and threw the mass of concrete at one.

It sailed through the insubstantial creature.

The way the snakes were acting, they weren’t going to be insubstantial when they closed.

His arrows had hit them.

He likely could hit them too, thanks to his frisky pop’s sperm donation to his mom. Eros, like every Greek god in existence, couldn’t keep it under the toga, and Mom was never what you would call discerning in her choice of male companionship. But Eros was no Zeus, and Raff was no Hercules. Snakes would win if he wrestled. Coils trump arrows.

Making for a bank of bright lights, hoping to slow them down, Raff switched his push leg. Did Psyche send the snakes after him in revenge for Cupid’s wandering ways, like Hera did on Hercules? She hadn’t seemed upset, just tired, when Eros brought him by at age thirteen to get his bow. The one and only time he met his dad.

Maybe one of the other living mortal Cupids were ticked off at the new guy. But he wasn’t the new guy anymore, Shewon over in Tibet had that dubious honor, hitting thirteen last week. At nineteen, Raff was now one of the old guys and no longer the most powerful Cupid and well glad to be rid of it. Were any of the other twelve pissed off at him and had been waiting for his powers to drop?

The lights slowed them down. Though a few of florescent winked out so shadows became available for the snakes to slither through, the deep dark allowing the teleportation they had used before did not result. Raff had vaguely missed that aspect of being the head Cupid once he had his life back; having a life way outweighed the benefits of the extra magic, even if that life mostly focused on earning his GED after six year helping strangers hook up. Now he really wanted to blink up to the afternoon sunlight to keep his life, sad though it was, intact.

The ramp between level B and A was completely in the dark. He jumped off the board, flipped it into his hands and ran up the pavement.

The fastest snake exited the dark at the same time he did, snapping at his feet with its triangular head. Triangle means poison, right? Missing out on all of high school killed everything science. Popping around the world let him see its wonders, but he didn’t understand any of it. Fortunately his high ankle sneakers kept the fangs from breaking skin. Calling his bow back to his hands, he dropped his board, swung the bow to crack the creature on its jaw, then ran once he was free to jump on the board and start moving again. The first shadow snake’s brethren joined it after it reoriented on him.

Too close. He wasn’t going to make it.

(words 807; first published 8/26/2018)

Book Review: Sanctuary

Erin Penn

Book Cover from Amazon

Sanctuary (Shifter Chronicles #1) by Melle Amade

BOOK BLURB ON AMAZON

Shae is sure the icy rage that claws at her is driving away her friends and pulling her closer to the wrong boy. After all, it’s Aiden she has always secretly wanted, not Callum, who has barely spoken to her in the last year.

But, as her protected life unravels, she discovers the violent supernatural world that lurks in her quiet hometown and the ancient feuds that threaten to destroy both her friends and her family. 

To save those she loves, Shae must succumb to her own fury and take on the Ravensgaard, the renegade warriors of the Order, but as the battle approaches her deepest fears are coming true, she’s becoming just like them. Shae’s not sure she can afford the price she’ll have to pay—her own humanity.

 

MY REVIEW

“That Moment When” was an anthology of sample chapters, available for free to encourage people to try new authors, and included the first three chapters of Sanctuary. I was intrigued enough to look at the Amazon sample which went all the way to a portion of chapter 5. And the next thing I knew I had bought the book at around midnight and completed it at 5:30 am. Good thing we just had a wicked snowfall and no work was happening.

An excellent Young Adult (YA) Urban Fantasy (UF) shifter story, with layers of worldbuilding and unique characters leading to a unique story even with the comfortable tropes of YAUF like two love interests for the main female character (MC), who are also loyal to each other as well as interested in the same girl.

If the story wasn’t a shifter story, the heart of it would be about dealing with genetic mental illness. The MC’s mom has rage issue and Shae and the rest of her family (dad and little brother) have spent their lives tip-toeing around the mother – dealing with things thrown at them and mild physical abuse. The mother does try to control her issues and isolates herself from those she loves most. Now Shae (the MC) is starting to have the same problems, destroying her room in her rages. She doesn’t want to be like her mother.

Another part of what made this book amazing is actually obeying the typical Urban Fantasy trope of information about the magical world (in this case shifters) is not shared with those outside the community on pain of death. In most urban fantasies, YA and adult, the new person is told everything flat out within a couple of chapters – a great way for an author to explain the Urban Fantasy world and rules. Some stories I just shake my head level of sharing of information between the teenagers wondering how the world-at-large could possible still be out of the loop. 

In Sanctuary, Shae’s group of friends are all shifters and despite being close friends with her for their teenage years, they have told her nothing. The secret is only revealed during a life and death situation and then her friends try to convince her what she saw isn’t real. They very reluctantly and slowly reveal their world to her, knowing each reveal makes her and their deaths at the hands of the shifter authorities that more likely. In this story I truly believe the secret of shifters is secret. I gave the book an extra star based on this alone, since it is so rare in the genre.

The final worldbuilding bonus beyond no vampires or werewolf shifters (which is explained and really cool and unique – the bat and wolf shifters were part of the good guys – and I love the back story for the (typical trope) shifter war), is the biggest bad shifter no one wants to deal with is a  frog. A FROG! A fight is going down – feather and fur flying. The hundreds-of-year-old wizard shifter, the shifter teenagers have come to, has wiped the floor with them and is about to kill their human friend when the Frog, in human form, just calmly steps between the claw-and-teeth dervish and the human. The dervish immediately stops. That is just bad-a@@. You will have to read to find out why a frog is so dangerous no one will dare touch him in combat. .. And Ms. Amade, I want to to see the frog end up with a love interest or maybe a story centered around him and not just because of “diversity”; the character is a total sweetheart.

I also loved the fact the characters were typical teenagers. They made good choices, they made bad choices. They made choices based off of emotion, what they were taught, and intellect. They obeyed the rules as much as they broke them. They loved their families and hated them. None of them knew where the others stood all the time, because even they didn’t know. They gossiped, lied, exaggerated, told the truth, and were amazingly loyal while also ruled by hormones. Throughout the story, a reader loves the characters and sometimes dislikes them. All the teenagers are strong, unique people.

In conclusion, amazing characters, a cool backstory about the shifter war, and the comfortable tropes and tropes turned on end, make Sanctuary a must-read if you love YA Urban Fantasy of the shifter variety.

Flash: Climate Clashes

Erin Penn

Image provided by the internet hive mind through fakeposters.com

Thunder snow woke her. “Do you have to be so noisy?” Lynnsie muttered.

“Usually.”

The deep male voice startled the older woman, making her shift the blanket snow had tucked around her before the children continued on their way. She blinked against the dark afternoon, making out large form at the bottom of her steps. “Ah, it’s you.”

“Expecting anyone else today?” The man brushed the light snow coating the handrails with one gloved hand. Behind him, the winter storm clouds boiled high, driving sleet and wet snow into the man’s back and making her one-lane road impassible.

“Not hardly.” Lynnsie moved the cover from around her shoulders to her lap. Seeing the other about to take her steps, she attempted to stand, “You might want to stay there.”

“You should know by now, I never stay where you want, old woman.” He took the steps, and the glaze left behind by ice promptly removed his feet from the painted wood. He fell heavily on the crust the winter storm built on her lawn.

“I was going to get salt.”

The black-hair man growled as he got his hands and feet beneath him, the wet damaging his expensive leather gloves and boots.

Lynnsie sat back down. “But, since you haven’t learned manners yet, I think I will let things go.”

“It’s not your world anymore,” the man said pushing himself vertical. “Things are changing. Manners don’t matter anymore than controlling the worst weather can bring. Everyone safe inside their sealed homes.” This time he took the stairs with caution.

“Sealed homes won’t help against the worst weather can bring.” Lynnsie smiled sadly, watching the man approach, feet sliding, pushing little mounds of white fluff left when snow had tucked her in. The sleet joined him on the porch, crusting the fluff and creating icicles on the eaves of the house. “Our mother’s nature is as big as life and death, and four walls and a roof won’t hold her back when she starts tossing fits because you and those like you lack manners.”

“Manners.” he sneered snapping the longest icicle off, a good eight-inch point, thick enough for him to hold firmly.

“Yes, manners,” she responded firmly. “Helping out in the house. Taking care of your neighbors. Asking before using things. Putting things back. Keeping things clean. Don’t waste food and resources, like leaving the water running so there is no heat for showers. Saying please and thank you.”

“Okay, let me try it out.” The man pierce Lynnsie with the dagger of frozen water. “Thank you for not running.”

“Good boy. There might be hooo…” The light left the old woman’s eyes.

“Hmm. That wasn’t so bad.” The man wiped the lingering frost from his gloves before pulling out the list. “Who’s left to remove?”

The wind tried to tear the list from his fingers for a look, until he batted the gossip back. He didn’t need the others to be warned. If climate change was going to take, the other keepers of the old ways needed to be removed. He sucked in the frozen air and sleet, feeling the coal smog lacing the wet, giving him strength. Only four more to go before the see-saw of extreme weather would become permanent. He stepped off the porch into the driving thunder and sleet storm, disappearing from view.

(Words 558; First published 6/24/2018)