Dear Reader Who Writes,

It is one, Moonbeam Farquhar Metheringham IV, breathlessly excited and a teensy bit fearful. One pens this missive to one’s faithful followers from the departure lounge at London Heathrow. One sits in the relative safety of the business class lounge, managing to avoid the eyes of the various suited, booted and frightening ones around one, as one metaphorically sucks one’s pen in an effort to order one’s thoughts and compose a missive suitable to emanate from the ballpoint of a genius such as oneself.

And why, do I hear you gasp, is your beloved pedagogue leaving England’s verdant pastures just as spring is donning her robes of tender green? You may well wonder. And you must be assured that this dereliction of duty is none of my own doing.

Those of you who have retentive grey cells will recall that it was one’s pater’s avowed intention to desist one’s paltry allowance forthwith. However, it would seem to be beyond the capabilities of even that scrawny unfeeling reprobate and the creature who is soon to become Madam Metheringham VII. Something about trust funds and tontines and other such things of which one wots not… One is experiencing extreme difficulty in not wrinkling one’s brow in that manner which is both unbecoming and wrinkle-inducing. But what is, in vulgar parlance, described as the bottom line, would seem to suggest that one may not be cast off without a shilling, and that one’s signature is necessary on a raft of documentation to both ease one’s parent out of a little local pecuniary difficulty and to provide one with a guaranteed income no matter how many round-heeled harlots the lizard-skinned oaf espouses.

All of which means one is summoned to a meeting at the offices of Messrs Schuster, Schuster, Abramowitz, and Flugelhorn in San Francisco. Which is why one is seated amidst this faux leather splendour sipping creme de menthe and penning a missive to my estudas.

But hark. One’s flight is called. A bientot.

Moonbeam Farquhar Metheringham IV

Adoring Fans can join my Facebook Group

Reva nodded and turned back to the desk. She reached out her hand to shuffle through the papers on the desk.
“Stop, Inspector!”
The command—and it was definitely a command—was full of arrogant authority and came from the doorway. Reva looked up and frowned. “Inquisitor Ailan Malvaceä, what a pleasant surprise.” She didn’t bother to hide the disdain in her voice.
“Senior Inquisitor, Constable Inspector Lunaria.”
“I hadn’t heard you’d been promoted. Who’d you have to kill,” Reva said, again not bothering to hide her sarcasm.
Ansee looked from the Inspector to the Sucra officer. He could feel the tension between the two. Even allowing for the known inter-agency rivalry between the Constabulary and the Sucra, it was clear that there was more going on here at a personal level.
Senior Inquisitor Malvaceä ignored her and stepped into the room, giving the body a glance. Reva inwardly smiled as she saw him pale just a bit. Good.
Malvaceä wore a dark green hooded cloak that bordered on black. It was clasped with a silver cloak pin intricately worked into the shape of an eye, with an opal set where the pupil would be. Under the cloak he wore a chainmail and leather tunic under a shirt of black linen. He wore calf-length black leather riding boots polished to a high sheen and had on black jodhpurs flared at the hips. His hair was light blond and cut short, barely coming down to his ears. He had tan skin the color of faded fir. He glanced up from the body and gave Reva a critical look with light blue eyes.
“You are out of uniform, Inspector,” Malvaceä said.
“It’s my day off,” she deadpanned, returning his stare.
Ansee stepped back from the desk. He half expected them to draw their weapons at any moment.
“And is this Seeker Rubus’s replacement?” The Inquisitor turned his eyes on Ansee, who flinched a bit at the attention.
“This is Seeker Carya,” Reva said.
“Well, Seeker Carya,” Malvaceä gave him a cruel smile. “I hope you can measure up. You have a big spellbook to fill.”
“What do you want, Senior Inquisitor?” Reva put special emphasis on senior. “In case you haven’t noticed, we are trying to conduct a murder investigation here.”
“Please, don’t let me stop you. I assure you, the Sucra wants First Magistrate Avecath’s killer found and brought to justice just as much as you do. I am here merely to collect the First Magistrate’s letters, documents, and other writings.”
“The hells you are,” Reva snapped. “I have the authority to collect all the evidence in this case, and that includes the Magistrate’s papers. They may have information related to his death.”
“I seriously doubt that,” replied Malvaceä evenly.
“Maybe not,” Reva admitted. “But they’re evidence and I will collect them as regulations require.” She made a move to pick up some of the papers.
“Touch those papers, Inspector, and I will arrest you for treason.” Malvaceä’s voice was calm but carried an edge of menace. Everybody in the room stopped what they were doing and looked at the two of them.
Reva knew Senior Inquisitor Malvaceä well enough to know that it was not an idle threat. He was full of the righteous power that came from being a Green Cloak and would love to exercise that power with Reva. She withdrew her hand and asked, “On whose authority?”
“Why, King Aeonis’s authority, of course.” Malvaceä gave Reva a sneering smile and held up a rolled document with the King’s seal set in green wax. He didn’t offer the document to Reva to examine, merely taunting her with it before returning the rolled paper to a case at his belt.
“Now step aside so I can perform the King’s business.”

Geoff Habiger and Coy Kissee are life-long friends and co-owners of Tangent Games. Coy lives with his wife and one cat in Lenexa, Kansas. Geoff lives with his wife, son and two cats in Tijeras, New Mexico. Wrath of the Fury Blade is their second novel together.

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/782660

Question 1: What do you most want to achieve in life?

I think that once I’m no longer able to perform my duties as Constable Inspector, I’d like to be First Constable. I think that my experience on the streets can really help out with the younger constables, but since I don’t play politics, I think my chances of that happening are about as good as an oak’s keeping its leaves throughout the winter. Either way, I want to make a life with my wayward boyfriend, Aavril, who’s out gallivanting on a ship someplace at the moment.

Question 2: Who are the important people in your life: your friends and foes?

Aavril, obviously. Then there’s my mother, Aeollas, and my brother, Gale – well, his name is really Ghallen, but he was always such a terror when we were growing up that his nickname stuck. Since my father’s death, Mother and I have leaned on each other for support – even more so since Gale is stationed in the Smoke Highlands and rarely gets leave to visit. Cas, sorry, Castanea Rubus, was my partner for many years, though family matters forced her to leave Tenyl and take a position with the Constabulary in Narris. I miss her dearly.
I don’t know why you want to know about my foes. Trust me, being a Constable Inspector means that I have more than my fair share of them. I’d say that the biggest thorn in my side is Ailan Malvaceä, an Inquisitor with the Sucra, the King’s secret police. The Sucra are stuck-up snobs at the best of times, and are always a pain in the ass, but Malvaceä has elevated arrogance to an art form. I’d love nothing more than to catch him making a mistake and shove his nose in it.
Finally, there’s Ansee Carya, a Seeker in the Royal Tenyl Constabulary, who has apparently been assigned as my new partner. I really don’t know why the First Constable planted him on me. He certainly is not up to Cas’s standards and I have my doubts about his ability to do his job. Time will tell if he’s a friend or a foe.

Question 3: Do you have any hobbies?

Ha! Who has time for hobbies? Even on my days off from the constabulary (which are rare) I’m never really off duty. I barely have time to help Mother around her pottery shop, or to play with Gabii (my pet parrot), let alone finding the time to have an actual hobby… unless you count going to plays. Is that a hobby? I love attending plays, especially the cheesy ones that show naive adventurers trying to sack a dungeon and getting humiliated. Cas and I always made a point of going to at least one play every week, and afterwards we’d spend time at the pub talking about our favourite scenes and actors. Oh, how I miss Cas.

Inspector Reva can be found in Wrath of the Fury Blade by Geoff Habiger and Coy Kissee.

The night was like velvet against her skin as she dropped her wrap and waded into the ink-blue sea. As soon as the water reached her thighs she leaned into its cool caress and began to swim along a moonlit pathway to the rocks.

Climbing out onto a weed-covered ledge she lay down and let the moonlight have its way with her.

She was so entranced by the lure of the night that she didn’t hear the faint splash of another swimmer, and nor was she aware when something clambered onto her resting place.

Her first real awareness was the feeling of a pair of big hands, one grasping her wrists as they lay above her head and another turning her chin so she looked into a pair of completely lightless eyes. She smiled, and nodded, willing him to fulfil her dream, and lifting her body towards him in mute invitation. He stilled her movement with his calloused palms, caressing the column of her throat before turning his attention to her moon-silvered skin, licking and biting until she could no longer keep still. She moved again, lazily and slumbrously, and she could have sworn she heard a grunt of satisfaction from the male who held her in his thrall.

As he made her his she stared into the eyes of the moon, unable to do anything other than feel. It was a great sense of loss to her when he was done, and his weight lifted from between her thighs.

Then he was gone, leaving only a trail of phosphorescent bubbles to show her kelpie lover wasn’t a dream….

© jane jago 2017

You are old, and your winter is near
When cold winds will blow round your ears
When you’ll shiver and shake
And your old bones will quake
Why doesn’t that fill you with fear?

© jane jago 2017

Hola niños.

In a spirit of kindness and the immolation of self upon the altar of mutual aid and comfort, one has undertaken to answer literary questions posed by one’s students and their little friends.

This particular problem is one that faces many of us as we strive to draw inspiration from the people around us. I have often found myself wondering if my next door neighbour has yet realised that he has been immortalised in my pen portrait of the evil villain in Chapter Thirteen of ‘Fatswhistle and Buchtooth’.

Dear Ivy,
How do I include my annoying mother-in-law as a murder victim in my next novel without risking a divorce?
Thanking you for your kind attention.
Penny.

This is an absolutely spiffing question Pennykins. The answer is, of course, a matter of complete simplicity to a mind as great as one’s own…

Describe the lady in every irritating little detail.

Enumerate her most revolting habits. Show the reader how she speaks, snores, breaks wind, misunderstands, and annoys. Detail her physicality, how she dresses, and how her voice sounds. Because she will NEVER recognise herself, and her offspring will equally not ever connect their beloved mother with the horror depicted in your prose. You are absolutely safe. Kill her off. With impunity. Or with whatever blunt, or sharp, instrument pleases you. Those who dislike her will recognise the old beldame and applaud your perspicacity. Her loved ones will never catch the reference.

Oh, and be sure to include the statement at the front of your book that all names, characters and events in the story are are fictitious and that no identification with actual persons (living or deceased), is intended or should be inferred. Then even the law is on your side.

Win. Win.

Moonbeam Farquhar Metheringham IV

If you have a problem you may avail yourself of one's wisdom by posting your problem HERE or contacting me through my Facebook presence. Adoring Fans can join my Facebook Group.

Is it dark underground is it cold
Are there creatures a million years old
Will they steal your emotion
Latch on with devotion
Until they have eaten your soul

© Jane Jago 2017

From Transgressor Trilogy  The Fated Sky

The path he chose was only crossable in the middle of the short summer season and even though it was nearly three moons since the last rush of spring flood, the steep pass was still a treacherous mixture of loose stones and turbulent streams. At its highest point there was still snow and ice underfoot and even leading the ponies, there was danger in every step on the slippery rock. But this was the land of his youth and Durban knew it well. He had grown up in the wild vastness of the Garia mountains and had sometimes managed to escape from the pressures of his intense and unusual upbringing by vanishing alone for days at a time into the natural wilderness around his childhood home.

He contemplated making a detour to the remains of that strange place, now demolished, where he had endured an upbringing unique on Temsevar, learning of things no other child on the planet was taught. But his work was urgent and he could not afford the delay. Besides his last encounter with the imperious guardian and mentor of his youth, by the temple of the gods in Alfor had left him with little appetite for another.

The choice was taken from him. He woke to find her ancient body warming itself beside his night fire. A skeleton pressed with flesh. The woman he knew only as Alize.

“Do not trouble yourself,” she said, as he got up quickly to build the fire, the voice was a wisp of frost. “This body is almost done.”

“And then?” he asked. He had to know.

And then you will have to bring me what I need.

The words formed in his mind even as the over-bright eyes gripped his gaze.

“I will if I can,” he said.

You can and you will. This has to be. More than you can begin to imagine rests on what you have to do.

“My imagination is very good, you could try me sometime.”

There was a sensation of contempt.

You had your chance to ask me and you refused it.

“I was a child,” Durban protested. “That is beyond unfair.”

You were a child then, yes, but you have not changed. I came to remind you of what you must do. That is all.

It dawned on Durban, belatedly, that there was no way the woman he had spoken to in Alfor could be sitting here in the mountains with him. He opened his mouth to say as much, but closed it again immediately. The space where Alize had been sitting wavered as if it were a reflection in a still pool and someone had dropped a small pebble in the middle. Then he was sitting alone by the fire.

E.M. Swift-Hook

Twinkle, twinkle someone said
How many stars out there are dead
How many suns have crashed and burned
While our little lives have turned
We lift our eyes and try to find
Constellations in our minds
Where is the archer, where the goat
Where the virgin’s milk-white throat
Celestial bodies overhead
Ain’t it a shame that most are dead

© jane jago 2016

With Love, Ella  is a contemporary women's fiction novel.

“Wow El, you look stunning.”
She got down to the last step and jumped into his arms and never wanted to let go. They got into the car and drove off to the surprise location.
Daniel could sense that something was going on because Ella didn’t seem like herself. He saw right through her façade.
“Hey El, is everything okay? You seem kind of distracted.”
“Yeah everything is good. It’s just been a rough week with being sick. I guess my energy isn’t fully back to where it should be yet, but I’m all yours tonight I don’t want to think about the past week. I am so proud of you. I saw the highlights from the game. You guys are doing amazing,” Ella said.
“It has been one hell of a preseason so far. But enough about football. I want to just be in the moment with you.” Daniel leaned over to give her a kiss before getting out of the car and opening her door.
Ella looked around at the surprise location.
“The beach? I didn’t bring a swimsuit.”
Daniel laughed. “Don’t worry babe, you won’t need one. We aren’t going swimming.”
They walked from the car to beach laughing and stealing kisses the whole time. Ella had stopped in her tracks suddenly with Daniel right behind her.
“Oh Daniel, this is beautiful. I can’t believe you did this for me.”
Ella look around to see a beautifully set table with a light pink tablecloth, and pink and white rose petals scattered on the table and on the sand by their table. There were little floating candles on the table. It looked magical. Ella had tears in her eyes. Daniel was always thinking about her and going out of his way for her. She couldn’t believe how lucky she was. She was blown away, but still In the back of her mind she was nervous of his reaction to her news.
“You are truly one of a kind, Daniel Collins. This means so much to me,” Ella said through the tears.
Daniel pulled her into him and kissed her before pulling out her seat and pushing her in. He took off the tops of the food containers at their seat and poured the wine.
“This food smells and looks amazing,” Ella said.
“Well it’s your favorite meal from the club.”
“Who can resist Scott’s spaghetti and meatballs?”
“No one with taste.”
They spent the rest of dinner catching up and enjoying each other’s company. Ella noticed that Daniel was starting to get fidgety and had a nervous energy. She held his hand and smiled at him. He kissed her hand and held them tight.
“Ella, you have always been my best friend and for the past six years I have been lucky enough to call you the love of my life. We may fight at times, but I know that I could never be without you by my side. Words could never describe how much you mean to me. You are the reason I wake up in the morning and the reason I never want to go to sleep at night. When I think about my future the only thing that I know for sure is how much I need you in it. You are my everything.” He grabbed a box out of his pocket and got down on knee. He looked her right in the eyes and said, “Will you do the honor of making me the happiest guy in the world and be my wife?”
Ella was shocked. She shouldn’t have been surprised, as this had been a long time coming. But still she didn’t think it would happen now when her life had just fallen apart. Tears formed in Ella’s eyes.
“I…uh…I need a minute.” Ella said before slipping her heels off and taking off down the beach.

You can find out more about the book and its author, Alexa Randolph, on her website.