“Man up,” I said briskly. “We need to know all you know about your little friend.” I threw him a wad of paper tissues and waited for him to get his stuff together.
“I met him about six months ago. At a wine tasting in the Napa Valley. He was the only other person there who didn’t talk like he had a stick up his ass. We had dinner.” Weaver’s voice was thready but he had himself in hand. “Wasn’t until we had met up a few times that I even found out he worked for Blue Ess. He’s only ever been here once other than today. That time we went to the guest house over by the western border of the property, so he has never been in the main house.”
“He ever ask you any stuff about the boss?”
“No. Never. We never talked about his work. Or mine.”
“Any other way he could’ve gotten info from you? Codes or the like?” Cyrus was less tactful than I maybe would have been but the question had to be asked.
Weaver shook his head. “No. I carry my codes in my head. And I don’t see how he could have got them from there.”
Cyrus grunted. “So why’d he pick you up then. Or was it just coincidence?”
Weaver looked truly miserable. “I don’t see how it can have been. I’m not a great believer in coincidence.”
I was thinking as hard as I had in a very long time.
“Lab,” I said curtly, “and we need to be quick.”
Cyrus fairly sprinted. Weaver was half a pace behind. And I kept pace as best as I could. Both men seemed to have caught my urgency as they had me in the computer lab with the doors locked behind us quicker than I would have thought possible. I went to a familiar tool chest and, swallowing a burst of nausea as I worried about the good, kind man in whose house I stood, I grabbed a handful of items.
“Weaver. Gimme your phone. Now.”
He was too surprised to do anything but accede, handing over a brand-new Galaxy. I opened the back and he paled.
“Don’t be a wuss Weaver,” Cyrus growled at him. “If she effs your phone up, I’ll buy you a new one.”
I showed them my teeth. “If I do break it, I’ll buy you a new one. Now shut up and let me work.”

From ‘Vicious Reality’ by Jane Jago published in Challenge Accepted 

The life of an elderly delinquent in limericks – with free optional snark…

I am old, of which there’s no debate
Being wrinkly and rumpled’s my fate
Lost control of my bits 
And the left of my tits
Now hangs down twice as low as its mate

© jane jago

…. or ‘How To Speak Typo’ by Jane Jago

azamon (noun) – unfriendly elf, purveyor of all the things you never know you needed 

delte (adjective) – geographical, of rivers, having a small muddy estuary but big aspirations

dismissibve (adverb) – of mansplaining the action of flapping a hand at any raised objections

flestive (adjective) – of Christmas decorations being old and mildly mouldy

moced (verb) – past  participle of the verb to moce – to move slightly awkwardly as if one has a stone in one’s left shoe

mucter (noun) – small Caledonian gentleman with a large ginger moustache and galloping halitosis

out to fo (compound idea) – of hen parties looking for fast food, a fight or a f***

relaly 1. (noun) – special race for clumsy people who keep dropping the baton.
2. (adverb) – of relationships, describes the moment in an argument when you want to poke his eyes out with a knitting needle

suoth (adjective) – directionally challenged

Ther Elet (proper noun) – Miss Universe contestant from the planet Thrab, notable for her rendition of Mull of Kintyre on the Appalachian Nose Flute

trpuble (adjective) – of pubic hair being inexpertly barbered

virhin (noun) – female who last had sex a very long time ago

Disclaimer: all these words are genuine typos defined by Jane Jago. The source of each is withheld to protect the guilty.

The goddess came to me in a dream. All silver and blue she was and shining like the moon. 

“Oh my child,” she said and her voice was like the touch of a lover’s hand. Then she showed me the devastation and the horsemen riding through the sky.

I awoke with the certainty that our world was approaching the end of days and I went out among the people with ashes in my hair.

They stoned me for my words, but I wouldn’t stop speaking.

Today they will kill me. 

But at least I shall die before the world ends.

©jane jago

This was all pure charade. All the forensic data for the crime he was supposed to commit was already prepared and logged, ready to be released by Jecks. What Grim found more disturbing was the smooth ease with which it all rolled into motion, like a well-used mechanism. This was clearly not the first time something like this had been set up. It made him wonder how often someone had been framed by the CSF before. Not a comfortable thought.
“It’s not right, Grim – you shouldn’t have to be doing this.”
Cista Tyran greeted him, brushing her hair from her eyes furiously as she spoke. The anger ran taut throughout her body and her expression was dark as the clouds at a storm front. She had insisted on being here. Soon a secure link alarm would be triggered which would be the signal for her to leave and for Grim to make his first steps into the blasted wasteland that his life was about to become. 
“It’s not like I had much choice,” he reminded her. “As you pointed out a while ago, someone has to stop these people and it looks like I’m the one for the job.”
Ty pressed her teeth into her lower lip so hard Grim fully expected she would draw blood.
“This isn’t just dangerous, it’s little short of asking you to commit suicide. If our people get a clear sight of you they will shoot you down and if you make one mistake around the bad guys, then they will do the same and that is assuming they even bother to give you any kind of fair hearing in the first place, which I doubt.”
“I thought you were here to send me off buoyed up and ready for anything.”
“Would you prefer that I did?”
He shook his head. It meant a lot that Ty was saying this kind of thing. Her loyalty was something he hadn’t really expected. And it mattered. She was the only person aside Jecks who would know his real position.
“It’s dirty and dangerous,” he agreed, “and it is destroying my life. But better that than have the Coalition collapse or another Legacy out there for us to have to fight.”
Ty said nothing, just looked even more unhappy. The trouble was that they both knew when she walked out of the door he was on his own. Completely. Grim was used to working that way, albeit with a strong support network in the background, but having to work without that safety-net was not such a big issue for him. He had never really had to call on it much anyway. Ty was a team player, not someone ever inclined to run completely solo and he could sit behind her eyes for a moment and see why she struggled with the idea of abandoning him. Not that she actually was, even if it felt that way. In reality she was the person holding the other end of the single life-line that still connected him with the CSF and legality. They had a series anonymised communication links he had memorised for emergencies, once each was used it would be invalid and they would have to move to the next.
“Just promise me you’ll let me pull you out if you get somewhere shut-ended.”
There was a look close to appeal in her eyes. Grim shook his head.
“We both know that isn’t going to be an option. If I get stuck somewhere I won’t be in a place to yell for help.” He found himself gripping her arm briefly, unsure if he meant it more as a reassurance or as an emphasis. “What I most need from you is that when I ask you to move, you move fast. When I find these two I’ll do my best to box them in alive or dead, but that’s when I’ll most likely need to yell for back-up.”
Ty studied his face, he could see her emotions slowly seeping into the background as she took back self-control.
“I’ll be there,” she promised. And he had no doubt at all that she would.
They both heard the link alarm warning that time was up and Grim stepped away as if consciously releasing her. But she leaned in and pressed her cheek against his as she gave him a brief, tight, hug.
“Take care out there, Grim.”

Iconoclast: Not To Be the latest Fortune’s Fools book by E.M. Swift-Hook, is available for preorder and will be released on 1 February

The life of an elderly delinquent in limericks – with free optional snark…

I am old. Don’t enjoy the sensation
Of belonging to this generation 
Where everything falls
Even boobies and balls
Is dementia our next destination?

© jane jago

Floating was easy on the currents of the blue, blue sea.

But then hunger happened and it was no longer sufficient to float without aim. It was necessary to grow.

First there was plankton, then the smallest of fishes to be souped and absorbed. 

Soon they were large enough to engulf the biggest fish and take what was needful from the crying corpses. Nobody cared when they harvested the ocean, but when they took drylander prey, with its sweet flesh, the hunter became the hunted.

The flying machines dropped their bombs, and one jelly became one million hungry floating beings. 

©jane jago

The Rabid Readers Review ‘The Interspecies Poker Tournament’ by Claire Buss

The Interspecies Poker Tournament gives us another madly inconsequential Roshaven story.

Ned Spinks has a new case, but his sidekick Jenni isn’t necessarily playing on his team Claire Buss is a mistress of humour, but she doesn’t make the mistake of offering us unadulterated cheer and there are moments of real pathos which ensure that the story pulls you in and takes you along on a crazy road trip.

The wonderful thing about this book is the ensemble, the gingerbread men, the odd octopus, Roshaven itself.

I was sorry to find myself less in love with Jenni and Ned this time, but it’s still an unhesitatingly five stars.

Jane Jago.

Roshaven Revisited

A serial killer is on the loose in and around Rosehaven. Pixies, mermaids and gingerbread men are amongst the victims and the only clue is the presence of a strange silvery substance on the body of each victim. As the body count of fae beings rises, Ned and Jenni have to unravel the mystery – well Ned does, Jenni sort of already knows… 

What I really enjoyed.

The setting and worldbuilding. I love Roshaven and the way the descriptions offered by the author made it easy to immerse into the world once more. 

The character cameos. The minor characters are a true delight. From a snarky harpy to an octopus with an obsession for filing and sentient gingerbread men who have to avoid damp. The character interactions and the banter make great platforms for ongoing humour.

The concepts. There are many wonderful ideas like filled with humour and delight. I will mention but one example to avoid spoilage. Imagine opening your office door and discovering it has become a magical aquarium…

The humour. The author is fast becoming a true master of the art of comedic writing. This is not a laugh out loud book, though one or two moments came close for me, but it is one that will make you smile and giggle inwardly on just about every page. Like the very best comedy, it has moments that are very unfunny too, with pathos and even horror grounding the reader so the next exalting leap into humour is even more hilarious by contrast.

What I struggled with.

Jenni. It’s only a niggle, but Jenni is now the most powerful magical being in Roshaven. Too powerful, in my opinion, to allow the story to have jeopardy. She has a spell to solve every problem and everyone does what she tells them. Even Ned only goes so far as to feel ‘snippy’ at her when she consistently and persistently withholds vital information from him about their case. She is no longer Ned’s sidekick in fact, he might just be lucky to consider himself as hers. I loved the dynamic of the relationship they had in The Rose Thief and felt that was missing from this story.

Overall thoughts.

If you loved The Rose Thief as much as I did you will really enjoy the continuing crazy comedy that is The Interspecies Poker Tournament. If you’ve not read The Rose Thief, I’d thoroughly recommend grabbing it now and then following up with this book as a delightful dessert!

E.M. Swift-Hook

Maybe by Jane Jago and E.M. Swift-Hook . Sometimes we walk the edges of realty… You can read Part I here.

“So what has this to do with anything?” she asked at last, when the small talk dried up over their beer.
“Your dream,” he said, “the one you keep having about a glowing necklace of strange pearls.”
Jess nodded, she had told him of it when he asked her if she ever remembered her dreams.
“I’m not sure they were pearls, just the kind of odd light they gave off made them seem like it. They were pearls shaped in ridged spirals.”
In the dream, she had seen something glowing under her uniform blouse, shining and everyone staring until she had run away and been standing on a cliff edge, then ripping open her blouse to see the strange necklace lying there on her naked breasts. The image came into her mind clear as a photograph and she heard Roald draw a small, sharp breath, which brought her back to the pub.
“Uh, yeah,” he said, his expression slipping into an odd smile, “that’s the one.”
For some reason, she felt uncomfortable and looked out of the window to escape the moment.
“It’s only been since the – the accident,” I’ve never had that kind of dream before.”
Standing naked on the cliff-edge, her hair so long it ran the full length of her back and blew out around her, sparking with energy, and feeling so whole, so complete – so powerful.
“I know.”
The way he said it, made her blush. She started pulling herself to her feet, leaning on the crutches.
“I need to get back – I promised I’d take my aunt to the talk on astrology. She loves all that kind of stuff.’
Roald rose too.
“And you don’t?”
“I never used to,” she admitted, as he helped her ease back into her coat.
“And now?”
She tried to shrug, but it was not so easy with the crutches.
“Maybe, believing in fate helps make this all seem less meaningless. Maybe it helps make sense of the senseless. Even if all I’m doing is seeing patterns in the stars by joining the dots with random lines.”
He stopped on the way back up the hill to the car. Asking her to wait as he dived into a tourist shop, full of costlier craft items. She studied the window but could not see what had caught his eye. When he came out he pushed a small flat box into her hand.
“Just something to remember today by,” he said. The leaned forward to kiss her, lightly, one hand running up over the curve of her breast, lingering as he whispered: “You look beautiful naked.”
She had been so stunned that she had frozen, her whole body stiff, paralysed. Just as it had been when she woke up to find herself in hospital. So she had not said a word as he turned his broad back away and strode off into the crowds of tourists, lost to sight the moment he did so.
Sitting drinking coffee poured from her aunt’s ceramic samovar, it seemed a lifetime ago.
 “You know the young man I mean, don’t you pet? He came to one of my rune workshops? You went out with him a couple of months ago – he seemed such a nice young man.”
“I don’t think they got along, Susan,” her uncle said, frowning.
“No. We didn’t have much in common,” Jessica said quickly.
“Oh that’s such a shame,” her aunt sounded almost as if she really meant it. “He was at the workshop again yesterday, I told him he should be the one teaching it, he’s very good. I invited him over for dinner.”
Jessica felt her hands lose all their strength and the tiny coffee cup slipped through her fingers to shatter on the polished wood of the floor. It was suddenly hard to breathe, as if something was stifling her. Then her uncle was there, helping her up, helping her to escape to the sanctuary of her own room, knowing what she needed, so leaving her alone after a brief hug.
“Don’t fuss over the girl so much, Dave. She’s not a piece of china. And get something to clear that up, good thing it was mostly empty. I’d never get the stains out of the curtains…”
Her aunt’s voice receded as the door to the lounge closed.
She sat there for a moment then started to pack. Slowly, because movements were awkward and not easy still. She had tried to slip unnoticed through the kitchen, but her uncle was there starting on making the usual sandwiches they had for lunch, thick cut ham with pickle for Aunt Susan, and Marmite salad for himself and Jessica. She saw him take in her appearance as he looked up from his work and he wiped his hands on a tea-towel, before reaching into his pocket.
 “Take this, lass.” He pushed a wad of notes into her hand. “No arguments. Come back when you can. “

Jane Jago and E.M. Swift-Hook

Part 3 of Maybe will be here next week…

Shop, they said
Until you drop, they said 
But frankly
I’d rather stay in bed
I’m warmly huddled 
With a cherry-red nose
And no fucker 
Trampling only my toes
Shop they said
You will have fun
Me, I’d rather 
Eat a bun
I may be fat and my clothes
May be funny
But come tomorrow I will still
Have some money

©️jj 2019