Citizen surveillance was the best way forward.

After all, who could object to an elderly lady sitting, knitting, a cup of tea beside her and a cat on her knee, keeping an eye on the neighbourhood?

No one liked being watched by security services or a remote and uncaring AI.

It was the perfect solution, politically.

The same nosy neighbours who once peeped through net curtains with disproving, judgemental stares now did so through the anonymity of the internet, knowing if they reported poor behaviour the police would come.

It put a whole new meaning into the phrase ‘neighbourhood watch’.

E.M. Swift-Hook

For the next few weeks I was about as busy as barely five feet of woman can be, and it culminated in me having to make a flying visit to Silicon Valley. And that was a real crock of shit. I arrived back in the proper world one Sunday lunchtime, to find Mum waiting at the station. She gave me a big hug and a worried look.
“What? Do I look as bloody as I feel?”
“No, it’s not that. You look okay.”
“What then?”
“The piranha is looking for you.”
I felt my smile turn feral. “I guess another relationship just broke down. Bar-steward.”
Mum looked so worried that I had to put my arms around her.
“Don’t you worry. I can handle him. And I don’t even have to worry about the Sight. He’s so shallow that there’s nothing to See. Also there are some things about him that are most enjoyable.”
She blushed and I gave her a little shake.
“Not just that, dirty girl. Although…”
And we wound up laughing. She drove me home and I fell into bed. I have seldom been as glad of anything as taking my foot off and getting horizontal.
Oh yeah. The foot. I don’t suppose we’ve covered that yet. I was born without a left foot. See. I told you you’d have to pay attention.
Anyway, I have a prosthesis, and very few people are even aware of my little problem. It isn’t a big deal, but after three consecutive flights and a train journey, I’d right about had enough.
I slept for getting on for a whole day and awoke refreshed but stinky. I opted for the whole whirlpool bath deal with bubbles and stuff and I’d just climbed out when I heard a key in the front door.
“Anybody home?”
It was Danny, my cleaner and a good friend.
“Yeah. I’m in the bathroom.”
“Okay. Will I make you some breakfast?”
“Please.”
And I heard him clumping up the stairs. By the time I reassembled myself I could smell bacon and coffee. Dan was in the kitchen, in a particularly fetching apron, just dishing up bacon and scrambled egg.
“Thanks mate. None for you?”
“No. I had waffles and bacon and maple syrup this morning already. When did you get home?”
I sat down and tucked in. “Yesterday” I said around a mouthful. “Scuse. I’m starved.”
He grinned and sat opposite me with a coffee. “Okay. You fuel up and I’ll talk.”
“Guess who’s back in the field?”
I quirked an eyebrow, although I actually had a very good idea.
“The delicious doctor. Seems his latest relationship went tits up.” I shrugged and Danny continued. “This time it wasn’t him by all accounts. Came home too early and found her taking private lessons with her personal trainer. Is alleged to have blacked PT’s eyes for him, then thrown her out bag and baggage on the spot. Suze says he rubbed it in by calling her a cab, and paying the man to take her home to her mother.”
I could feel myself grinning.
“The biter bit then.”
“Indeed. But what about you. Gonna take him back?”
“I expect so. But it is only sex you know.”
“You sure about that?”
“Am. He and I understand each other very well.”

From Jackdaw Court by Jane Jago.

Listen to Granny because Granny always knows best!

I have no philosophical objection to gum chewing. If you wish to masticate plastic then that is fine by me.
But.
Effing well dispose of it properly.
That means. 
Not. 
On the pavement. 
Under the edge of the pub table. 
Stuck to the wall next to wherever you are sitting.
Etcetera.
Remove the disgusting globule from your gob. Wrap it in a tissue. And put it in the bin!
The other thing is more about aesthetics. You may think that chewing gum makes you look like James Dean. It don’t. You look like a fucking llama.
A stupid fucking llama.

… or ‘How To Speak Typo’ by Jane Jago

ashsole (noun) – bottom of a clog

attentin (adjective ) – when used to describe standing indicates a slipshod attempt at uprightness. As in: the guard’s attentin stance was clearly indicative of a wish to be elsewhere

barve (verb) – to vomit at high velocity 

befe (adjective) – muscular but not necessarily intelligent 

barzillion (adjective) – of pubic hair having the appearance of having been cut with a knife and fork 

chesee (adjective) – being possessed of large and obviously fake breasts

davish (adjective) – prone to laugh at one’s own jokes

galnd (noun) – hard bogey stuck in much-used handkerchief 

greese (noun) – goose fat

haircat (noun) – member of any one of an almost infinite number of tribute bands

huming (verb) – the noise made by a haircat trying to sound like Mick Jagger

jma (acronym) – juicy male athlete

prevert (noun) – the stage before sexual misconduct 

snoze (adjective) – asleep and snoring with one’s mouth ajar

wanj (noun) – a small, pale being who always has at least one hand in his pocket

weethe (verb) – to wriggle in what one vainly hopes is a sensuous manner

wonam (noun) – confused female

xcrap (adjective) – bad porn

zrbra (noun) – the largest size of brassiere 

There is a definite art to getting what you want from your boss, but shouting in her face that she doesn’t deserve to have you working for her, is probably not the best one.

But then it’s not every day you get a multi-million contract and when you break the good news in person, she says you are no longer going to work for her.

Of course, you feel a right twonk when she looks at you and says coldly that she meant she wanted you to be a partner in the business.

Wanted.

God I hate the past tense.

E.M. Swift-Hook

Then the flap of the pavilion was thrown back and Alexa stood there, her eyes blazing and her face almost ugly with anger.
“What do you think you are doing?” she demanded. The Zoukai fell silent like a group of guilty children. “How dare you show these things to the entire caravan before I have so much as set eyes on them? Dogs. This all belongs to me. It is not common property.”
She rounded on Caer her tone venomous. “I sent you to fetch what is mine, Captain, not to set up a stall for your Zoukai to maul over my goods. How dare you allow it. You have no right to even touch these things without my permission. You would not pull apart the bales in the wagons, and these things are as much mine as the contents of those bales. I do not expect to see you and your men pawing through them.”
Caer stood with his eyes downcast, tightening the grip on his own anger. It was beneath his pride to make any excuse or apology. Instead, he waited until she had finished, then turned and snapped at his men. “Bring the Caravansi what is hers.” They laid it all out before her as if making an offering to a goddess or bringing tribute to a queen, but Alexa remained utterly cold and aloof, as if nothing she was being shown was of any real value. Even when Caer manhandled the unconscious captive and added him to the display she seemed unmoved.
“Is this all there was?” Her tone was contemptuous.
“No, Honoured One. This is only a small part of what we found,” Caer told her, quickly. “There is much more.”
Alexa looked as though it was a matter of complete indifference to her.
“Very well, Captain, tomorrow you and your men will take some slaves up the mithan and bring away whatever you think we can carry that might have some small value.”
Caer struggled to know what he was supposed to say to her. He was utterly confused by her attitude. After all she had said before, it made no sense, he had expected she would be overjoyed. Then with a suddenly pounding heart, Caer realised that there was a reason she was being like this. He and he alone had been allowed to see the truth of her feelings – the naked excitement burning in her eyes when she had first talked of the discovery. If she gave no special value to these things then the rest of the caravan would not think them so precious and their cargo would be safer.
“Your will, Caravansi,” he murmured obediently.
Alexa turned on her heel and swept back into her pavilion, the girl holding the flap aside for her to pass. Letting his breath hiss out between his teeth, Caer swung himself back onto the pony and issued sharp orders for the salvaged items to be stored and guarded. The Zoukai moved to obey, faces grim, their mood subdued by their Caravansi’s chilly reaction. Then Caer remembered the unconscious man and pushed his pony over to where he lay.
“Take him to the herb woman,” he instructed Zarul, “and make sure she understands that if he dies I will hold her responsible.”
“Your will, my Captain,” the young Zoukai responded promptly.
Then Caer headed his pony to the picket. What he really needed now was food, strong wine and an obliging slave girl, followed by a good night’s rest. He wanted to have cleared the mithan by midday and be back on the road before dusk. Tomorrow was going to be a long, hard day.

From The Fated Sky the first part of Transgressor Trilogy, and the first book in Fortunes Fools by E.M. Swift-Hook.

Listen to Granny because Granny always knows best!

I’m as fond as the next woman of a honed, tanned and tattooed young male body (although the effort necessary to achieve it argues a worrying level of narcissism). What pisses on my strawberries big time is the unlovely sight of a fat, sweaty pensioner dressed in nothing but a snot rag and a cheese wire.
These guys are inevitably a weird shade of magenta and liberally endowed with white body hair. Their bellies precede them like sweat stained battering rams, and their pendulous breasts swing with each step of their bandy little legs.
If I could get a shotgun…

Adrenalin-Packed, Anime-Style, Science Fantasy

“The tricky thing about living in history is surviving it.”
Fionn should know as the legendary Greywolf and his Tempest Blade have lived through a fair chunk of history. Yes, Fionn, Gaby and Alex are back and there are new faces too like Kasumi and Joshua, trying to shape the world for the better despite history, monsters and supernatural incursions.
The heroes are preparing for the Triannual Chivalry Games held in the heart of the Kuni Empire – called ‘games’ but these are also an alternative way for nations to settle their differences without resorting to war and there is also a major diplomatic event going on in the background. But things happen at the games that have dramatic consequences and suddenly our heroes are back on track to have to save the world from the eponymous cursed titans.
This is science fantasy in the pure sense of the word – a high-tech futuristic setting combined with magical powers – such as the Gift – and magical, sentient weapons such as the Tempest Blades themselves. It is high adrenaline action, manga/anime style and yet it has deeper currents too. There is an exploration of depression as Alex suffers it terribly, showing how it can feel from the inside and how it impacts those around someone they care for suffering with it. It also shows how sometimes what others see as a disability can be an advantage as Kasumi’s profound deafness actually protects her when others fall.
I enjoyed this book a lot and thought the characters interesting and diverse, although I will admit I found the writing a little lumpy in places and the ‘cool’ dialogue (and monologues even) for me were sometimes just a little over-contrived rather than cool and witty. There were other aspects I struggled with too – people who are described who were clearly cartoon characters in appearance just shattered my reading immersion. But then this book is aimed at those who love Japanese comic book culture, where such is the norm and the expectation.
If you enjoyed Tempest Blades: The Withered King then you will love Tempest Blades: The Cursed Titans. If you love manga and anime and want to read books that encapsulate that in the written word, pick up either of the Tempest Blade books, but I’d suggest starting with The Withered King so you can begin your journey from the beginning…

E.M. Swift-Hook

First admission, I’m really not the target audience of this book at all, as neither manga nor anime really float my boat. But I’m always game to give anything a go and I did enjoy the first outing of this little gang of superheroes…
So. The Cursed Titans?
It’s not easy being a superhero, particularly when you are Alex who is both bored and plagued by depression. The chance to compete in a sort of superhero Olympic Games could be his saviour. Or his nemesis? You’ll need to read it to see.
Me? I found it mostly very readable, if occasionally a bit clunky grammar and vocabulary wise. The action comes fast and furious and there are plenty of baddies to boo.
Overall this is a brave attempt to look at real world issues through the medium of comic-book characters with amazing superpowers. And mostly it does precisely what it sets out to do, hide a message in a strong story.
If you love your manga and anime grab this book and dive in.
A solid four stars.

Jane Jago

It was raining, he could hear it hammering on the metal sheeting that roofed his prison. Skipper sighed and lay down on his hard bed. He’d no idea how long he’d been there. Weeks. Months. He wondered what he’d done to deserve this. Whatever it was he’d not do it again. Ever. 

If he was given a second chance. 

If…

The outer door opened. 

Voices.

“He was a lockdown puppy. They didn’t want him when they were back to normal.”

“He’s gorgeous. We’ll take him.”

Skipper looked up into a kind smiling face and wagged his tail.

A second chance.

E.M. Swift-Hook

Because life can be interesting when you are a character in a video game…

Sure, enough she had barely got home, given Ruffkin his breakfast and made a fresh pot of fruit tea, before the Visitor she had overheard on the pier was banging on her door. She didn’t bother to welcome them, focusing instead on pouring some of the fruit tea into a pottery bottle and sealing it up.
“Come in. It’s not locked.”
The figure who entered might have stepped out of an ancient tale. She was clearly an elf, the pointed ears, elaborate hair and lofty expression of superiority spoke to that. She wore golden armour that gleamed with its own radiance and even lit up the room more brightly. One hand rested on the pommel of a sword, shaped to resemble the skull of a dragon with hollow socket eyes that gleamed darkly and a jagged blade representing flames coming out of its mouth. On her back was a bow, Milla could see it over the elf’s shoulder, which looked like it was made of a milky white wood, set with tiny gemstones.
This was clearly the kind of Visitor Pew called a poser.
“Hail fair lady. I, Blessedknight Gloryjammer, have need of your wisdom.” The elf managed to make it sound as if she were doing Milla a favour by allowing her to help, instead of it being the other way around.
Putting her hands on her hips, she wrinkled up her snout and glared at the elf, and Ruffkin gave a low growl from his bed by the hearth.
“Really?”
The elf looked a bit puzzled and cleared her throat.
“Hail fair lady. I, Blessedknight Gloryjammer, have need of your wisdom.”
“Yes. You said.”
“Uh…?”
“I don’t know how things are in the Melifulous Glades where you elves all come from, but here in Wrathburnt Sands we have these things called ‘manners’. You might even have heard of them?”
The elf had changed colour and looked a little grey.
“I…Uh… B-but this isn’t in the walkthrough.”
“Please,” Milla told her helpfully. “You say please.”
The elf swallowed.
“But it isn’t…”
“In the walkthrough?”
The elf shook her head.
“I don’t think that’s my problem,” Milla said and tapped her foot impatiently.
The elf looked close to tears.
“Alright. Please. Please will you give me the fragging pyramid quest?”
Milla sighed and picked up the bottle of tea and held it out to the unhappy-looking elf.
“You’ll need to get some flyberry cookies from One Eye Rye as well, so save yourself the time and get some flyberries before you go to see him.”
The elf took the bottle and stared at it uncomprehending.
“I already got some berries, but what’s this?”
“Fruit tea. The drakonettes who guard the pyramid love it.”
“But that’s not…”
“In the walkthrough?”
The elf shook her head again.
Milla resisted the temptation to shake hers and instead managed a fake smile. Not that the elf would think it fake. Visitor’s never noticed such things. Except for Pew.
“Uh. Alright. If you say so,” the elf said, sounding sulky. Then the colour shot back into her face with embarrassment “I mean – I thank you fair lady Milla for aiding me in my quest.”
Milla decided not to say that the only reason she had given her the tea was because she didn’t want the elf coming back to her house and trying to use her fire to make the tea herself. She’d learned early on that if she let them do that the Visitors always left the place in a mess.
Instead, she pulled a newly finished necklace of shells from her pocket and dropped it into the elf’s hand.
“Oh, and that’s the quest reward so you won’t need to come back and find me afterwards.”
The elf’s mouth was opening and closing like a fish.
“But..but…”
“But it won’t work until you’ve finished the whole thing in the pyramid, relit the Everburning Eternal Fire, defeated the Lich Lord and summoned the Guardian of the Ages. So you’d better get going. You’ve a busy day ahead.”
As she spoke she gripped one heavily armoured elbow and spun the elf, unresisting, on the spot before pushing her firmly out of the front door and closing it behind her.
This time Milla did lock it. Turning the key firmly. She’d had more than enough of Visitors for the day and it wasn’t even lunchtime. She sat at her table and drank some of the fruit tea. Once she had tidied the place up she might do some baking then pop over to see One Eye and…
There came a thunderous knocking on the door.

We will return to Wrathburnt Sands by E.M. Swift-Hook next Sunday.

Return to Wrathburnt Sands was first published in Rise and Rescue Volume 2: Protect and Recover.