A Plague of Wizards – Chapter 15 Excerpt

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Hsrandtuss nodded knowingly as he surveyed the forest for miles around from the top of the hill his people had named Dhu-oooastu.  He pointed first to the south and nodded toTusskiqu.  The great lizzie hissed in reply.  Then Hsrandtuss pointed to the southeast and nodded to Slechtiss.  Slechtiss placed his hand to his throat and then hurried off. A dozen brightly painted lizzies hurried after him.  Others went with Tusskiqu.  Still more were hurrying this way and that.

“I can’t tell what’s going on?” said the single tiny human amid the army of lizzies.

Hsrandtuss reached down and picked Terra Dechantagne up, setting her on his shoulder.  Then he pointed high up into the clouds.  The girl could make out little among the great fluffy masses at first.  Then she saw something sapphire blue zipping across the sky at amazing speed.

“Is that it?”

“Yes,” replied the King. “That is Xecheon’s new god.”

“My eyes must be playing tricks.  It doesn’t look any larger than me.”

“It is bigger than you, but not so big that I couldn’t still put it on my shoulder instead of a skinny soft-skin.”  Then he gurgled loudly.

“What?”

“We’re very nearly the same size,” he said.  “Wouldn’t it be glorious to engage in hand-to-hand combat with a god?”

“It wouldn’t be a very long combat,” she said.  “Dragon armor is essentially indestructible.  They have teeth that can bit through steel, frighteningly sharp claws, and a barbed tail.  They breathe fire and usually have some other breath weapon.  They are extremely intelligent and are capable of magic.”

“Why did I bring you along with me?” wondered Hsrandtuss.  “Was it just to depress me?”

“I will be quite honest, Great King.  I have no idea why I’m here.”

Women of Power – Chapter 5 Excerpt

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Turvey Trading Card Co.;

Windsor Street, New York City;

“All American Girl, right on time.”  The blond secretary in the grey blazer and gold-framed glasses smiled up at her. “I’ll tell Mrs. Dearborn that you are here.

The executive didn’t keep Stella waiting long.  She didn’t even have time enough to sit down in the chair provided before a smiling woman stepped out from behind her office door.   Dana Dearborn, although well into her forties, was a very attractive woman with long black hair cut across the front in bangs.  Her very businesslike attire extended only to the bottom of her miniskirt, cut well above the knee.  Her platform pumps were definitely on the slutty side.

“How nice to see you again, Stella.  Come with me and I’ll walk you down to the studio.  Andre has it all set up.  I was on the phone with Irving this morning finalizing everything.  As you know, we already have you as part of our Up and Coming Heroesseries and the Chicks Who Kick Assseries.  We thought we’d play a little more to our target demographic this time.  We’re going with Hero Pin-ups.  Irving said you would be okay with that.”

“Why not?  My costume is only a bit bigger than the typical swimsuit anyway.”

“We won’t be doing any nudity.  After all, we’re really aiming at teen boys.  A few swimsuit shots on a beach set and maybe some coquettish poses—you know the stuff, tugging on your lower lip; that kind of thing.”

They passed through double doors and into the photography studio.  A backdrop with a beach picture had been set up and sand toys and inflatable floaties were arranged around it.  A chocolate brown man with a faux-hawk was adjusting the lens of an expensive camera on a tripod.

“Stella!” he squealed when he saw her.  “I have been waiting for you, girl.  You know this just couldn’t be a real pin-up shoot without that luscious bod of yours.”

“Thanks Andre.  You’re always good for my ego.”

“I have two different outfits I’m dying to see you in.  I picked them out myself.  I just knew they would be perfect for you.”

One of the assistants brought out two swimsuits on hangers.  One was an American flag bikini.  While decidedly on the skimpy side, it wasn’t much smaller than Stella would choose to wear to the pool.  The other was a one-piece which, while relatively conservative on the top was cut down to a thong on the bottom.

“This one won’t work,” said Stella.  “I don’t do thongs.”

“I think it would look fantastic on you honey,” said Andre.

“I’ll give you the bikini. I’ll sexy it up by tugging down the side of my bottoms.  Hell, I’ll even do the topless, I’m holding my own boobs thing.  But I have a firm policy against wearing anything that rides up my ass.”

 

* * * * *

 

Stella relaxed at the sidewalk café just across the street from Turvy.  She was wearing jeans, a white top, and a Cubs cap and could have been any attractive young woman.  Her cell phone rang just as the waiter staggered out with a tray containing two chicken Caesar wraps, a steak quesadilla, two bacon double cheeseburgers, an Italian beef sandwich, a walnut-tuna salad sandwich, a cob salad, and a French dip.  As he began arraying the food around her, she pulled the phone from her pocket and slid it open.

“Hello Irving.”

“Stella baby!  Irving is so flattered that you’ve given him his own ring tone.”

“I didn’t give you your own ring-tone, Irving.  I just knew you were going to call me.  The Turvy people are pissed that I didn’t wear that suit, aren’t they?”

“Irving is not their people, baby.  Irving is your people.  Irving cares about what Stella cares about, and what Stella cares about is being on the New York Times list, and guess what?”

Stella waited a beat before asking “What?”

“All American Girl is on the list!”

“No fricking way!”

“Yes baby!  You are on the list my sassy mega-girl, and not at one hundred either.  No, you debuted at number-ninety eight!”

“You’re fricking kidding me! Wait, did somebody die?”

“Nobody died.  Well yes, some people did die, but that’s not why you made the list.  You made the list because you kicked the crap out of some power-suited baddies and saved America!”

“Did Skygirl make the list too?”

“Yes, Skygirl did make the list and that is what Irving really called about.”

“Where did she debut?”

“Skygirl is not important. At least she should not be important, but you are making her important by letting her in on your turf.  Chicago is All American Girl’s territory.  Why are you letting her steal your thunder, my girl?”

Stella was silent for a moment.

“Did you hear me, baby? Are you still there?  Is Irving talking to a dead line?”

“Yes, I’m still here. Where is she?”

“She’s number ninety-seven.”

“Damn it!”

“Irving feels your pain, baby.  So why are you letting this chick hang out with you?”

“It’s just… well, it just kind of happened, Irving.  She sort of saved my life and then she was all nice and stuff, and the next thing I know I’m living with her.”

“Irving understands baby. That’s how it was with his second wife. But you cannot let her steal your thunder.  The thunder is yours.  It’s All American Girl brand thunder, with all the legal rights and privileges there-of.”

“Yeah, I get it.”

“You’ve got to get rid of…”

Stella closed her phone and then accidently crushed it in her hand.  Tossing the pieces down on the table, she looked at the vast array of food.  She really didn’t feel all that hungry now—maybe just the two cheeseburgers.

A Plague of Wizards – Chapter 14 Excerpt

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“Kafira Kristos,” hissed Saba Colbshallow.  “You could have knocked me over with a feather when they told me that building belonged to you.”

“Who else would it belong to?” asked Governor Iolanthe Dechantagne Staff.  “Why do you care anyway?”

Unlike other recent meetings, which had taken place in her bedroom, the two of them stared at each other over the vast oak expanse of Iolanthe’s desk, in the office of the Colonial Governor.  It was a room designed to impress and intimidate.  The ceiling was more than twenty feet high and the entire south wall was made up of large windows that looked out over the now expansive city. The opposite wall was filled with two large world maps.  One featured Brechalon, the rest of Sumir, and the western hemisphere, while the other featured Birmisia, the entirety of Mallon, and the east.  She leaned back in the leather-clad chair and pressed her fingertips together.  His chair was within arms reach of the globe, so large that it took two people to turn it on its axis.

“I’m not talking about the building,” he said with a sigh.  “I don’t give a crap about the building.”

“What is it that you think you give a crap about then?”

“It’s that Kafira-damned machine!”  He looked at her as if she were suddenly stupid or insane.  “That thing is dangerous!  You know that it is!  Senta’s brother died seeing the original was disposed of.”

“That’s the story, anyway.” She pursed her lips.  “All we really know is that Senta destroyed a good portion of Mallontah.”

“Even if you don’t believe it, that thing has been trouble going all the way back to the beginning—to Suvir Kesi.”

“It may be, and I’m not saying that it’s true, but maybe, that particular machine became tainted with evil magic.  If that’s the case, it doesn’t matter now.  It’s gone.  These machines are new.  They have not been infected in that way.  They are ready to be used as the designer originally intended.”

“For what?”

“For civic planning, for engineering, for education.”

“I guess I mean for whom?”

“For me.”  She stood up and leaned over the desk.  “They’re mine.  They’re my machines.  They’re nobody else’s.  They are of no concern to you.”

“Anything that concerns you is of concern to me,” he said.

She stared at him, uncomprehending.

“Whatever concerns you concerns me.  Whatever this relationship is that we have…”

She laughed.  “Is that what this is about?  You’re jealous?  My husband invented the Result Mechanism and that’s somehow a threat to your manhood?”

“I don’t think you know what you’re saying,” said Saba.  “Perhaps we should discuss this later.”

“Upset that another man got to the holy land before you?  Other men have.  Better men.”

Saba took a deep breath and slowly let it out.  He stood slowly up.

“So this is how it ends.”

“Nothing ends until I say it does,” said Iolanthe.

“You just did.”  He turned and started the long walk to the door. The trip across the deep red carpet seemed like a journey of a fortnight, like a journey that would never end. He expected at any moment to be stopped with a word or to be called back, but he wasn’t.  He put his hand on the knob, turned it, and a second later was in the outer office, next to Mrs. Wardlaw’s desk.

And he knew at that moment that he would never be with Iolanthe again—never be in her bed again.  He had loved her as long as he could remember. In fact, his earliest memory was of loving her.  But he would never have her again.  He would never touch her and feel her purr into his neck.  He would never taste her lips again.

“This is what it feels like,” he said.  “This is what it feels like to be cast out of heaven.”

“What’s that, Chief?” asked Mrs. Wardlaw from behind a file folder.

“Good day, Mrs. Wardlaw.”

Women of Power – Chapter 4 Excerpt

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Azure Hotel;

Downtown Chicago;

The hotel room door opened revealing Linda Ford wrapped up in a fluffy complementary hotel robe. She had obviously just gotten out of the shower.  Her blond hair hung limply down to her shoulders.  Her face was very pale.

“I’m glad to see you’re alive,” said Stella, pushing her way inside.  “I brought your clothes and I picked up our pizzas.  We can eat them for dinner.”

“I don’t think I’m hungry.” Linda closed the door and then walked to the bed and plopped down on it.

“Why didn’t you let me know you were leaving the hospital?  I was sitting in the waiting room, looking like an idiot.”

“Sorry,” said Linda, curling up into a ball and closing her eyes.  “I didn’t realize you were still there.  I just had to get out.  I hate hospitals.”

“Well, who doesn’t? Can you warm up this pizza with your heat vision or something?”

“I don’t really feel like it.  There’s a microwave in the kitchenette.”

Stella found the microwave and stuck three pieces of thick deep dish in it, turning the dial to four minutes.  Just below the microwave was a tiny refrigerator, and she squeezed Skygirl’s pizza slice and side salad into it.

While she waited for the food to heat, she stepped over to the bedside and looked down at the other girl. Her breathing was deep and regular. Stella assumed she had fallen asleep, but when she covered her up with a quilt, Linda responded with “thank you.”

The couch was still covered with the plastic storage boxes filled with Stella’s belongings from her destroyed apartment.  Stacking them off to the side, she made a bed for herself with the extra pillow from the bed and a spare blanket from a closet.  After finishing her pizza, she found a spare complimentary hotel toothbrush in the bathroom, brushed her teeth, then lay down and drifted off into a fitful sleep.

It was not quite 10:30 AM when Stella woke up.  Linda was no longer in her bed.  In her place was a handwritten note from a hotel notepad that said “meet me on the roof.” Stella took the time for a quick shower before putting on her costume and flying out the window and up to the top of the building.

Linda, or rather Skygirl since she wasn’t wearing her brown wig, was lying on a quilt.  She wore a pair of dark sunglasses and a bright purple bikini, which Stella noted barely contained those giant breasts; didn’t do anything for those huge thighs though.  A small cooler filled with soft drinks and a daily newspaper sat beside her.

“Good morning,” said Skygirl.

“Good morning.  You’re looking better.”

She did look better too. The color had returned to her skin and there was no sign of the sickness that had ravaged her the day before.

“I just needed to get out in the sunshine.  What are you planning to do today?”

“I have to find a new place to live.  I can’t crash on your couch forever.”

“I kind of wanted to talk to you about that.”  Skygirl sat up and pulled the glasses down below her eyes.  “I thought that maybe you and I could be roommates, that is, if I decided to relocate.”

“I don’t think so. Chicago doesn’t really need another superhero.  I’m already here and so are those twins with the magic rings—I never can remember their names.  Look, I know you have like, this super-club back in Kansas City with Comet-Knight and the witch, and your brother…”

“Skyboy isn’t really my brother…”

“Whatever.  The point is: I don’t play well with others. That’s why I’m here, you know.” She made air quotes.  “In the mortal realm.”

“I wondered about that. Aren’t your parents gods or something?”

“No, they’re not gods. My father is a demigod, which just means hisparents were gods.  And my mother is an Amazon, which I used to think meant she was a warrior woman, but apparently just means she’s some kind of immortal hoe-bag.”

“What about your name? Stella O’Claire doesn’t sound like anyone from Mount Olympus.”

“Stella really is my name. It’s because my mother said I had stars in my eyes.”  Stella made a face.  “When I got here though I landed on O’Claire Boulevard, so I just went with it.  Now most people think the street was named after me rather than the other way around, which is cool.  But anyway…”

Instead of just standing up, Linda kind of levitated and then turned around so that her feet touched the surface of the roof.

“I don’t fit in.  I don’t fit in there, in Kansas City.  Ebony Witch was Dad’s friend, not mine, Comet-Knight is an old perv, and Skyboy… well, it’s just kind of creepy hanging out with a fifteen year old version of your dad.  Besides, I thought we made a great team yesterday.”

“We did alright…”

“Maybe we could just try it out for a while, you know roommates and partners…”

“Teammates,” corrected Stella.  “Roommates and partners makes us sound like lesbians.”

“Right, teammates.  So we should get an apartment together.”

Stella rolled her eyes and let out a big sigh.  “On a trial basis.”

Skygirl clapped her hands together.  “Yay! I’ve already found a place in the paper that we need to go look at.”

A Plague of Wizards – Chapter 13 Excerpt

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Lady Terra held the binoculars to her eyes and examined the battlefield stretched out across the plane. It was a truly horrible sight. The bodies of more than ten thousand lizardmen were strewn across the great field.  Hundreds of dinosaurs, large and small, feasted on the remains. Along the nearer side of the war zone, a group of about one hundred lizzies made their way through the bodies, offering aid to any to whom aid would still make a difference.  They were easy enough to spot, with their bodies painted half white and half sky blue.

“What do you think, Kaetarrnaya?”

The girl looked up into the cold-blooded eyes of King Hsrandtuss.

“It is a horrible victory, Great King, but you have turned back the enemy.”

“Very little is as it seems in war, my little soft-skin,” the king hissed humorlessly.  “This was not a victory.”

“No?  But Xecheon’s dead greatly outnumber ours.”

Hsrandtuss’s dewlap flushed.

“Yes, almost three to one,” he said.  “This was not the enemy’s true aim though.  It was a feint, a distraction, and not a bad one if truth were known. This tells me that their idiot king has found someone with a strategic mind.  Where could he have gotten such a genius, Kaetarrnaya?”

“Maybe one of his people have a gift.  Or it could be that a new group of lizzies have joined Xecheon.  Hundreds arrive at Yessonarah each month.  I wouldn’t think they would have as many immigrants, but they could have some.  Perhaps one of them is a skilled warrior.”

“That is well-thought-out and very possible,” said Hsrandtuss.  He waved and a male brought over two folding chairs, setting them up. The king took one and indicated with a wave that the girl should take the other.  “Is there another possibility?”

“Xecheon could have advisors from the humans,” she said.  “The Bordonians or the Mirsannans are both looking to expand their power in Birmisia, and there are a dozen other countries that might send weapons and advisors. For that matter, they could be human soldiers of fortune, beyond the control of any country.”

“Could it be the Brechs?”

“That wouldn’t make any sense,” said Terra.  “We’re allies.”

“I am your king,” said Hsrandtuss, touching the tip of her nose with a clawed finger.  “You must not lie to me.  Might they not want revenge on me for defeating them on the battlefield?”

“I will not lie, Great King. I do not think it is the Brechs. Greater Brechalon seldom breaks treaties, though this would not be the first time.  Also it might be more likely we would break our treaty with you than with other human countries, since many among my people consider the lizzies inferior.”

Hsrandtuss gurgled in anger.

“But the cost and the danger of destabilization is very great compared to the possible return. My people will often prefer a less than ideal situation to an uncertain one, even when there is a possibility of improvement.  There is a much greater possibility that it is a lone Brech who is aiding Xecheon, but I find this unlikely too.  You are known to be fair with humans and you have much greater wealth.  A single treasure-seeker would be much more inclined to offer aid to you.”

“I am pleased with you, Kaetarrnaya.  You have spoken true with me, even when it might not make your own people appear their best.”

“I am a noble female of Yessonarah.”

“Yes, you are,” said the king.  “Now I want you to remember that.  Who else could be helping our enemies?”

“I don’t know… other lizzie states?”

“No.  What is it that makes us so great?”

“Yessonarah is great because it is the chosen city of the God of the Sky, and its people are his chosen people.  But there are no other drag…”

Hsrandtuss leaned in close to her face and stared into her eyes.

“There can’t be… there can’t be another dragon leading them,” she said.  “There can’t be.  Can there?”

Hsrandtuss sat back and reached into his mouth to scratch around one of his back teeth.  Then he spat on the ground.  A male appeared and handed him a water skin.  After pouring a long stream of water into his mouth and swallowing, he handed the container to the girl.

“You know the answer already,” said the girl.  “Don’t you?”

He climbed to his feet and stretched himself up to his full height.

“Who do you think you are talking to?  Of course I know.”

“Which is it then?”

“It is all three, little soft-skin.  Xecheon has chosen as their general an old enemy of mine—a warrior of some skill. His name is Tokkenttot.”

“The one from the story!” gasped Terra.  “You stole Tokkenoht from him.  You stole his sister!”

The king hissed.  “Yes, and he wants his revenge.  He has taken twenty great war machines from the humans, the ones whose name sounds like salamander mating calls.  They are designed to destroy to city walls and fortifications.  They have also sent two hundred human warriors to help operate them.”

“Salamander mating… the Bordonians?”

“Yes. They are the ones.”  Hsrandtuss stretched his right shoulder, still scarred from the dryptosaurus bite.  “Of course, none of this is as troubling as the fact that they have themselves a new god leading them—a small blue female dragon.  They are calling her the Goddess of War.”

Women of Power – Chapter 3 Excerpt

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Azure Hotel;

Downtown Chicago;

 

Linda Ford stepped out the front entrance of the hotel. The wind whipped around her. With her left hand she held down her pleated miniskirt and with her right hand made sure that none of her honey colored hair poked out from beneath the brown wig.

“Cab Miss?” asked the doorman.

“No thank you.” She smiled sweetly. “I’m going to walk.”

“Might not be safe this time of night.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said, stepping out of the halo of lights around the hotel entrance.

Linda was so happy to be out on the street that she almost started skipping. She turned north up State Street, her oversized Gucci handbag swinging at her side. Once again the brisk breeze blowing in from the lake caught her by surprise. She smiled as she brushed the brown hair out of her face. The smile disappeared however, when she picked up the words of a conversation directly ahead of her.

“If she’s at the Azure, we will have her all to ourselves. All the others are camped out around the Swiss Hotel.”

Coming toward her from the opposite direction were two tabloid photographers. They hadn’t spotted her yet, so she ducked into an alley. Following it till she reached an intersection, she then turned north again into another alley.

Apparently Linda’s plan had worked—for the most part. She had taken a large suite at the Swiss Hotel for no other reason than to mislead the press. Her room at the Azure had been arranged by her business manager and was under his daughter’s name. Though she was now hundreds of yards away from the two men she had overheard, her super-hearing allowed her to determine that she had eluded them. They were still on their way to her hotel.

“Hold it,” said a voice from behind her.

She turned to find a tall, thin man pointing a gun at her.

“Toss your purse onto the ground.”

“You’re robbing me?”

“Throw it down and I won’t hurt you.”

“How really extraordinary. Nothing like this ever happens to me in Kansas City.”

“Throw down the purse, sweet-cheeks. You don’t want to get shot… or worse.”

“I guess you don’t know who I am,” said Linda.

“As long as you’re not All American Girl, and you’re not, I don’t care.”

“Well then, I guess you’ll have to shoot me.” She put one hand on her hip.

The man didn’t shoot. Instead, he rushed forward and slammed the pistol into the side of her head.

“Well, that’s just rude,” said Linda, standing completely unharmed, exactly as she had been. “I can see that this city really needs my help.”

She took a quick, deep breath and exhaled with such force that the would-be robber was thrown across the alley. He landed on his buttocks and stared at her open-mouthed.

Suddenly something going on miles away drew her attention. Her supervision saw spectrums far beyond the range of normal. Usually she just ignored it, but she wasn’t about to ignore this. She peeled off the blouse and miniskirt, rolling down the megamesh sleeves of her costume. Then she pulled the brown wig off.

“Since you didn’t actually steal anything or hurt me, I’m going to let you off with a stern warning.”

“Skygirl?” said the man, now that the symbol on her chest was revealed.

“That’s right.” She stuffed her outer clothes and her wig into her handbag and floated up into the air several feet, where she removed her high-heels and put them in the bag too. “It’s not too late to turn over a new leaf, you know. I haven’t had time to check, but I’m sure there is a twelve-step program available for whatever your problem is. Now don’t let me catch you again.”

She lifted one hand in the air and shot into the sky like a rocket.

A Plague of Wizards – Chapter 12 Excerpt

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Lady Terra held the binoculars to her eyes and examined the battlefield stretched out across the plane. It was a truly horrible sight. The bodies of more than ten thousand lizardmen were strewn across the great field. Hundreds of dinosaurs, large and small, feasted on the remains. Along the nearer side of the war zone, a group of about one hundred lizzies made their way through the bodies, offering aid to any to whom aid would still make a difference. They were easy enough to spot, with their bodies painted half white and half sky blue.

“What do you think, Kaetarrnaya?”

The girl looked up into the cold-blooded eyes of King Hsrandtuss.

“It is a horrible victory, Great King, but you have turned back the enemy.”

“Very little is as it seems in war, my little soft-skin,” the king hissed humorlessly. “This was not a victory.”

“No? But Xecheon’s dead greatly outnumber ours.”

Hsrandtuss’s dewlap flushed.

“Yes, almost three to one,” he said. “This was not the enemy’s true aim though. It was a feint, a distraction, and not a bad one if truth were known. This tells me that their idiot king has found someone with a strategic mind. Where could he have gotten such a genius, Kaetarrnaya?”

“Maybe one of his people have a gift. Or it could be that a new group of lizzies have joined Xecheon. Hundreds arrive at Yessonarah each month. I wouldn’t think they would have as many immigrants, but they could have some. Perhaps one of them is a skilled warrior.”

“That is well-thought-out and very possible,” said Hsrandtuss. He waved and a male brought over two folding chairs, setting them up. The king took one and indicated with a wave that the girl should take the other. “Is there another possibility?”

“Xecheon could have advisors from the humans,” she said. “The Bordonians or the Mirsannans are both looking to expand their power in Birmisia, and there are a dozen other countries that might send weapons and advisors. For that matter, they could be human soldiers of fortune, beyond the control of any country.”

“Could it be the Brechs?”

“That wouldn’t make any sense,” said Terra. “We’re allies.”

“I am your king,” said Hsrandtuss, touching the tip of her nose with a clawed finger. “You must not lie to me. Might they not want revenge on me for defeating them on the battlefield?”

“I will not lie, Great King. I do not think it is the Brechs. Greater Brechalon seldom breaks treaties, though this would not be the first time. Also it might be more likely we would break our treaty with you than with other human countries, since many among my people consider the lizzies inferior.”

Hsrandtuss gurgled in anger.

“But the cost and the danger of destabilization is very great compared to the possible return. My people will often prefer a less than ideal situation to an uncertain one, even when there is a possibility of improvement. There is a much greater possibility that it is a lone Brech who is aiding Xecheon, but I find this unlikely too. You are known to be fair with humans and you have much greater wealth. A single treasure-seeker would be much more inclined to offer aid to you.”

“I am pleased with you, Kaetarrnaya. You have spoken true with me, even when it might not make your own people appear their best.”

“I am a noble female of Yessonarah.”

“Yes, you are,” said the king. “Now I want you to remember that. Who else could be helping our enemies?”

“I don’t know… other lizzie states?”

“No. What is it that makes us so great?”

“Yessonarah is great because it is the chosen city of the God of the Sky, and its people are his chosen people. But there are no other drag…”

Hsrandtuss leaned in close to her face and stared into her eyes.

“There can’t be… there can’t be another dragon leading them,” she said. “There can’t be. Can there?”

Hsrandtuss sat back and reached into his mouth to scratch around one of his back teeth. Then he spat on the ground. A male appeared and handed him a water skin. After pouring a long stream of water into his mouth and swallowing, he handed the container to the girl.

“You know the answer already,” said the girl. “Don’t you?”

He climbed to his feet and stretched himself up to his full height.

“Who do you think you are talking to? Of course I know.”

“Which is it then?”

“It is all three, little soft-skin. Xecheon has chosen as their general an old enemy of mine—a warrior of some skill. His name is Tokkenttot.”

“The one from the story!” gasped Terra. “You stole Tokkenoht from him. You stole his sister!”

The king hissed. “Yes, and he wants his revenge. He has taken twenty great war machines from the humans, the ones whose name sounds like salamander mating calls. They are designed to destroy to city walls and fortifications. They have also sent two hundred human warriors to help operate them.”

“Salamander mating… the Bordonians?”

“Yes. They are the ones.” Hsrandtuss stretched his right shoulder, still scarred from the dryptosaurus bite. “Of course, none of this is as troubling as the fact that they have themselves a new god leading them—a small blue female dragon. They are calling her the Goddess of War.”

Women of Power – Chapter 2 Excerpt

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“I want to get away. I want to fly awa-a-a-y. Yeah, yeah, yeah,” sang Stella, to herself. Not that anyone could have heard her. Stella O’Clare, better known to the world as All American Girl, was soaring through the skies over central Pennsylvania. Just below, she could see tiny little cars driving east and west on I-80. She loved flying. If it was for nothing but the fact that the cars looked like tiny little toys, she still would have loved flying. She was keeping an optimal altitude for looking at things on the ground—right around five thousand feet. Airline jets were well above her and birds, as it was not migration season, were well below her. The only thing she had to watch out for was the occasional small aircraft. She had passed one going in the same general direction that she was. She’d waved and the family inside; a man, a woman, and three children had all waved back. They probably didn’t know who she was. She had left her boots, gloves, and the rest of her star-spangled costume at home, wearing instead her little black dress and a sexy pair of black pumps.

It was almost nine when she landed in Manhattan, setting down on west 47th street: a short block from Ditko’s. Ten or twelve pedestrians whipped out their cell phones and snapped pictures of her. They might not be too sure who she was without her costume either, but they knew she was a super. Spying a hot-dog vender twenty feet away reminded Stella that flying always made her hungry. In fact, she was famished. She skipped over to the mustachioed vendor.

“Eight dogs, no onions,” she ordered. “Just mustard, relish, dill pickles, cucumbers, chili peppers, and celery salt.”

“I don’t got celery salt or cucumbers,” replied the man. “This ain’t Chicago, you know. Twenty-four dollars.”

Stella reached between her cleavage and pulled a wad of bills out of the little hidden pocket inside and just below the dress’s plunging neckline. She handed the man two twenties.

“Oh, and give me an extra large papaya juice.”

The man handed her back fourteen dollars, one of which she tossed into a large tip jar on top of the cart. Then she started down the street with a paper cup of papaya juice in one hand and a pyramid of hot dogs balanced in the other. By the time she reached Ditko’s, she had finished the entire meal and tossed the trash into a bin.

Half a dozen spotlights were shooting up into the sky in front of Ditko’s, the hottest superhero nightclub on the east coast. Dozens of paparazzi were out front shooting pictures of everything they could, which wasn’t much. It was way too early for anyone who was really anyone to show up. Stella cut across the street and then back the other direction to do a little shopping. It wouldn’t do to be one of those who arrived before eleven. When she did finally return to walk across the red carpet, past the throngs of rubber-neckers and photographers, she had purchased a very nice necklace and a dozen pairs of shoes, all of which she had ordered shipped home.

The bouncer at the door was nearly seven feet tall and five feet wide, and he looked like he was made of muscles and more muscles, with a few muscles thrown in. Stella could have crushed him with one finger and the look that passed across his face told her that he knew that too.

“Good evening, All American Girl,” he said, as he pulled the rope aside and let her pass. Casting a quick look over her left shoulder at the line of people waiting to get in, Stella could make out half a dozen C and D grade supers mixed in with the normals.

The throbbing music and flashing strobes made stepping into Ditko’s like stepping onto a spaceship. Stella threaded her way between those people who were trying to dance, those people who just wanted to be near the people who were trying to dance, and those people who were trying to hump the people who were trying to dance. It was tough going, and then some idiot stomped on her foot. And he was wearing his costume. Wearing his costume to a club. Lame, lame, lame. Stella grabbed him by the chin and pulled him close, squeezing his cheeks between her fingers.

“Stay off my foot, Maxipad.”

“That’s Maximan,” he said indignantly.

“Whatever.” She tossed him aside, not stopping to watch him crash through a table, and then she continued to the bar.

“What will it be?” asked the bartender when she got there.

“A Manhattan—and don’t overdo the vermouth.”

“Regular or super?”

“Me or the drink?” she asked.

“Either, um both.”

“Super.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

Stella looked the bartender over as he set about preparing her drink. He was a good-looking guy, no doubt about it, but she had always considered it too much trouble dating a normal. It might start out fine, but as soon as things moved into the bedroom… Who wanted to stay in control all the time? Clench your thighs together or thrust at the wrong moment and somebody was in the hospital, or worse. Of course supers always used the line “I don’t want my enemies to find you.” It wasn’t really true though. It just sounded better than “I might accidentally fracture your pelvis or break off your penis during foreplay.” Skyman had managed a relationship with Doris Drake for forty years, but that was the exception. Even so, they had never had a child, so who was to say just how intimate they were.

“Here you go,” said the good-looking bartender, setting a martini glass the size of a small sink on the bar. It had a dozen cherries and a whole orange at the bottom.

“Thanks,” said Stella, daintily picking it up and taking a drink.

A Plague of Wizards – Chapter 12 Excerpt

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If anyone had looked at Ravendeep from the outside, and if that person knew nothing of the history of Ravendeep, they might think that it was a modern correctional facility, a proud part of His Majesty’s penal system. The building, a massive five-story edifice with high, gabled roofs and a great tower with a gigantic clock that called back to Freedonian architecture of a century before, was only possible on such a scale because of the construction materials and techniques made possible by the Industrial Revolution. On Avenue Fox, the structure, which had replaced a twelve hundred year old stone fortress some fifty years earlier, was bordered on one side by Swift Lane and on the other by a street officially named Lord Oxenbourse Lane, but which most everyone called Cutpurse Lane. Of course, if anyone had made such an observation and such a supposition, they would have been very wrong indeed, because the majority of Ravendeep was not in the modern and architecturally renowned building, but in the twenty levels, carved out of the solid bedrock below.

Esther stretched out on her belly on the metal cot, which was the only piece of furniture in the room. Her mind had wondered to the subject of her name. She had thought herself quite clever when she had come up with Esther Ssaharranah. Perhaps she had been too clever. Finding oneself in prison was just the type of situation in which being Esther Staff might have proven beneficial. Iolana had committed any number of crimes from reckless driving to something that at least bordered on treason, and she had yet to see the inside of a jail cell. If that stupid girl at the King’s audience was to be believed, then Iolana’s mother was pretty much a serial killer and she certainly wasn’t incarcerated.

The lizzie looked around. The cell had been hewn out of solid rock, so the room wasn’t quite square at any corner and no wall was completely smooth. Only a door made of rusted iron bars, that somewhat matched the metal cot, broke up the monotony of dull grey stone. A small amount of flickering light, from the gas fixture in the corridor, illuminated the room. Not that one could see anything. Had she been in possession of one, Esther thought that she might be able to read a book, though humans, with their less acute night vision, would have found that impossible. No, this was not a fit place for Esther Staff. Not even Esther Ssaharrahah. No, this place was fit only for the name they had given her—Prisoner 563621A.

“Miss Esther. Are you awake?”

Esther glanced to the doorway. Police Constable Bean was peering between the bars. She climbed to her feet and stepped over to him.

“If ever I’m not awake, you have permission to wake me. Having a visitor is well worth missing a bit of sleep.”

“Now I feel bad that I can’t stay,” he said. “I just came by to check on you and make sure you weren’t being mistreated.”

“Not mistreated exactly. More ignored than anything.”

“That’s sadly the case, most often. Better than being given the third degree though.”

“The third degree? What’s that?”

“It’s all about interrogation,” explained the constable. “The first degree is questioning. The second degree is intimidation.”

“Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

“Well, I don’t think you have to worry about that. Anyway…” He fumbled in his jacket pocket for a moment, before producing a small tin. “I brought you some kippers… I mean… well, it seemed like something you would eat.”

“Thank you, PC. That was very kind.” She reached through the bars and took the tin. “In truth, they’ve been feeding me better than I expected. But I will enjoy thessse.”

“Is there something that you want that I could bring you?”

“I was just thinking that I might like something to read.”

“I’ll have a look around upstairs,” he said. “People leave all kinds of things behind. I happen to know there’s a copy of Odyssey.”

“Anything but that. Please!”

“I thought, what with her being your friend and all…”

“Who do you think had to proofread it over and over and over?”

“Well, I’ll find something,” he said, with a kind smile. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” said Esther. “Thank you for remembering me.”

A little while later, a jailer brought her evening meal, and slid it under the door. The evening meal was always the same—beans with a bit of some indeterminate meat, probably pork. Along with it was piece of bread, one that was fairly heavy and probably had sawdust as a major ingredient. Esther actually preferred it to the light, airy bread that Iolana insisted upon. Finally, there was a quart of water.

After eating, Esther lay back down on the cot. She dozed off thinking about the breakfast that would arrive consisting of exactly what had made up yesterday’s morning meal—one boiled egg, one piece of bruised and probably moldy fruit, and a quart of water. This would be followed by lunch, which would be four savory biscuits, a hunk of yellow cheese and a piece of dried cod, and a quart of water, just as it had the day before and the day before that.

She had just finished her lunch the next day, which had been much more palatable with kippers on the biscuits, when Iolana appeared outside the bars of her door.

“You look well,” she said, her voice full of sunshine, fresh air, and freedom. “The rest must be doing you good.”

“I’m not well, I’m not resting, and if you think I look good, it’s only because there is very little light in which to sssee me.”

“Well, someone is in a bad mood.”

Women of Power – Chapter 1 Excerpt

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Night-time in Chicago;

Just south of O’Hare, off Franklin;

The two black Ford Expeditions sat side by side in the darkness on the broad expanse of concrete. The chemical plant had been closed for years now, and this huge cement bowl that had once been a settling pool had been empty, except for a thin layer of probably-carcinogeous chemicals, for just as long. It was the perfect place for the meeting. Badi looked out of his window. He could see the headlights from the silver panel van approaching. He gave Mudar, in the other SUV, a wave then turned back to Fariq and found him punching numbers into his cell phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Dancing with the Supers was on last night. I’m voting for Airstream.”

“Put that away, you idiot.”

“I’m serious. He deserves to win. The judges are fools.”

“Put it away. The Armenian is here.”

Fariq stuffed his phone back into his pocket as the panel van came to a stop forty feet away. Badi got out and Fariq followed him. Mudar and the others climbed out of the other Expedition, all carrying Uzis. The Armenian, Tufenkian, got out of the driver’s side of the van and stepped over.

“He says your deposit is in the bank. The goods are in the back. Trade me keys.”

Mudar started to hand over the keys to his Ford, but Badi held up a hand to stop him.

“I want to look at the goods first,” he said. “Then you can leave.”

Tufenkian nodded his head toward the back of the van. Badi walked around and opened the silver double doors. Sitting inside were six large metal boxes labeled General Dynamics. Climbing up next to them, Badi flipped the six latches to open the first box and looked inside. There it was—a Red Eye IV anti-aircraft missile. And he was now the proud owner of six of them.

Leaning out of the van, he called to Mudar. “Trade keys with him. We’ve got what we want.”

“Good,” said Tufenkian, heading for the SUV. “I’m out of here.”

“Don’t go too far,” said a female voice. “I’m going to want to talk to you about your boss, after I finish with these guys.”

Badi and the others all turned toward the voice. The compact figure of a twenty-year-old blond girl stepped into the beam of one of the Ford headlights. She was practically naked, wearing only a tiny pair of shorts and a crop top, both blue with white stars. She could have been a college student who got lost on the way to spring break, except for the white boots and gloves. They were straight out of the superhero catalog.

“A super!” shouted Badi.

“It’s All American Girl,” said Fariq.

“I don’t care who she is; shoot her!”

Mudar was the quickest, bringing his Uzi to bear and spitting out lead at full auto. The girl was quicker though, leaping into the air and flipping over his head to land just behind him. She kicked Mudar in the back and sent him flying face first into the Ford’s windshield. As Siraj fired at her, she ducked, and the bullets instead hit the other ford, killing the Armenian, who had gotten halfway into the driver’s side door.

The girl flipped around like a top and hit first Siraj and then two of the others, knocking them out. It was the kind of move that would have gone over big on Dancing with the Supers. But she stopped right in front of Fariq, with her back to him. He pulled the trigger and hit her in the back with twenty or so 7.62mm Teflon coated rounds. Most of them bounced directly back at him. She winced in mild discomfort and turned around to look down at his bullet-ridden body.

Badi didn’t wait to watch her kick the crap out of the others. He ducked back in the van, opened the crate and pulled out the Red Eye IV. Jumping to the pavement, he found her looking right at him, standing with the limp form of Sajit in her right hand.

“Die!” he shouted and pulled the trigger.

The really humiliating thing about it was that he would have missed. The rocket would have gone right past the left side of her head and continued on until it hit one of the skyscrapers rising up in the distance. But she reached up and grabbed it right out of the air and looked at it, still spraying out rocket propellant. Then it exploded. Badi threw up his hands to protect his face from the blast, but he was knocked down onto his back. He jumped up, his ears ringing, to see the girl standing right where she had been, apparently unharmed.

Suddenly Badi and the super were bathed in a circle of light from a news helicopter drawn to the sounds of gunfire and explosions.

“It’s all over,” said the blonde, tossing aside what was left of Sajit like a ragdoll. “The only question is whether I turn you over to the cops or deal with you myself.”

“Go to hell, All American bitch!” he shouted.

“Fine,” she said, and reaching behind her, she ripped off the front end of the closest Expedition.

The last thing Badi saw was the oval Ford symbol, along with the rest of the fender, part of the engine, and the front drive train flying at him, along with that stupid personalized license plate—FARIQ31.