#which is both very cool and also makes the hypothetical project twice as long

[nonwal]

Is there any chance you might post a snippet of "a wolf is a ghost with teeth"? it sounds amazing, and the things you keep reblogging with the fic tag are most intriguing. : D Semi relatedly, the most recent chapter of "the sea, the stars, the dreamers" was so so good! P.s. Likelihood of being finished has no effect on my interest in reading a fic. ; )

absolutely! how about the opening to Eadwulf's POV?

His mouth tastes terrible and the entire world is moving. Also, he was dead. He was definitely dead before, and now he isn’t, and he's not sure how he feels about that one yet. He holds his breath, because corpses generally don’t breathe and that would give it away to whoever brought him back. Hands are still immobilized, which can't be a good sign. He can hear water—that explains why everything is swaying—and closer than that, someone breathing. Two people, maybe. Hard to take out even one, without the ability to cast. He could probably hit them with the mage’s irons clasped around his hands, but he'll risk breaking bones that way. He waits a moment longer, hoping for more clues. He'll need to move soon. The urge to inhale is becoming too intense to ignore. "I don't think it worked," a voice says, dejected, a familiar Nicodranian accent. Eadwulf takes a surprised breath before he can think better of it, opens his eyes. "Oh, it worked," says the hot one—Fjord, his name is Fjord—also sounding a bit dejected.

I'm glad you're still enjoying tStStD! that one's definitely gonna get finished, though at this point I have no idea when

[waveridden]

FIC: some things you just can’t refuse

“No, no, Sy, hear me out.” Aava leans in. “Hypothetically, where do I get a copy of the paperwork I would need to take on a CI?” (Campaign White Collar AU, 2k, undertones of Tryst/Aava/Leenik)

AUcember || read on ao3

#

Aava has her gun up as she steps into the warehouse. She knows she doesn’t need to, knows this place like the back of her hand and exactly where she should go, but it’s good to be prepared anything.

“FBI,” she calls, not really trying to project her voice. The echo bounces around the warehouse. “Come out where I can see you. Hands up.”

“I’ll put my hands wherever you want them,” a voice calls back. It’s weak, like he’s making the joke because he thinks she’s expecting it.

Aava holsters her gun. “And if I want them in the air?”

Tryst Valentine, escaped fucking convict, leans out from behind a pillar. “You gonna shoot me, Agent Arek?”

“You gonna give me a reason to?”

“I hope not. C’mere.”

Aava sighs, but she goes over to where he’s sitting against the pillar and sinks down next to him, sitting on her hands. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Tryst gives her a wan smile. “How’ve you been?”

“Oh, you know. Solving crimes, chasing down escaped cons. The usual.” She cuts her eyes over to him, assessing. “How about you?”

“You heard from Leenik lately?”

She frowns. She has never visited Tryst during his sentence - it’s inappropriate for agents to fraternize with the criminals they catch - but she and Leenik get coffee once a week. Except. “Not in a couple weeks.”

Tryst thumps his head against the pillar behind him. “That’s what I thought.”

“Hasn’t he been visiting you?”

“Not in a couple weeks.”

“So you broke out of state prison to try and find him?”

“It’s Leenik,” Tryst says, like that makes absolute sense.

The problem is, it does make absolute sense. Leenik is an art forger, just like Tryst is, but he didn’t get caught in their job that went south. And afterwards, he and Aava had become friends, and Aava was… well, she was sort of taken with him. He’s sweet, and he’s smart, and he’s excitable. Aava understands why Tryst refused to give him up for a shorter sentence. Aava understands a lot about Tryst, because of Leenik.

“They’re going to put you away for a long time for this,” Aava says, as gently as she can. “This isn’t the kind of thing that you come back from. Forgery is a lot less of a problem than a prison break.”

“I couldn’t find him.” Tryst’s head lolls from side to side, and Aava sighs and lowers her shoulder. His head plops onto it. They haven’t had a lot of in person interaction, not outside of the investigation and hearings and the like, but she knows Leenik loves him. That counts for a lot. “I looked everywhere.”

“I’m looking too.”

“You don’t know all the everywheres that I do.”

“And you didn’t have a lot of time to look everywhere.”

“I don’t want to go back,” Tryst says, barely above a whisper. Aava’s heart clenches. “I don’t- Aava, I can’t go back to prison not knowing what happened to him. He’s not going to be able to visit me when I go back, I know the kind of sentence I’m going to get.”

Aava lifts a hand to stroke through his hair. “I can’t help you.”

“Can you find some way-”

“You can’t ask me to let you go.”

“Never,” Tryst says quickly. “I would rather have you in the FBI, because that means one of us can keep looking for him.”

Aava thinks about it, carefully. It’s true that she can’t do much - definitely can’t let Tryst go, definitely can’t keep him a secret. That’ll end badly for the both of them. But there are other things she can do, visitations and work releases and - hm.

“I’ll figure something out,” Aava says, slowly. “But I need to arrest you again.”

“Looking for a reason to hold my hand?”

“Looking for a reason to tie you up,” Aava answers tartly.

Tryst laughs, sounding a little more like himself. “Well, if the lady insists…”

“The law insists.”

“What you say matters more to me than the law,” Tryst says, with finality. The scary thing is, Aava’s pretty sure that he means it.

 #

 “Hypothetically,” Aava says.

Synox groans. “No, no, wherever this is going-”

“No, no, Sy, hear me out.” Aava leans in. “Hypothetically, where do I get a copy of the paperwork I would need to take on a CI?”

Synox narrows his eyes at her. Aava only gives him the most blank, professional look she can manage, like that’s going to prevent him from realizing that she has a plan of some kind.

“Who,” he says at last, which is promising, if she plays her cards right.

“Professional forger. Served most of his sentence.”

“You trust this forger?”

“I think he’s competent, and I think he’s going to be able to do his job.”

“That wasn’t a yes.”

“You don’t want me to say yes,” Aava says, which is true. It also masks the fact that her answer is a resounding, bone-deep yes.

“Agent Arek, you’re one of the best agents we have.”

She keeps her face impassive. “I’m aware, sir.”

Synox snorts. “No, Aava, I don’t think you are. You’re one of the only people where I don’t care if you say you trust this CI with your bleeding heart. If you say that, I will assume that the guy deserves it and give you the paperwork anyways. You’re asking because it’ll make you better at this job.”

“I’m asking because I want this CI to work with me.”

“Reason enough for me,” Synox says. “Paperwork will be on your desk tomorrow morning, and it’ll be back on mine by the time you leave for the day.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You and Mister Valentine had better solve a lot of cases for me.”

Aava finally lets herself smile. Of course Synox would know that it’s Tryst. The fact that he trusts her means a lot more when she knows the depth of that trust. “We wouldn’t do anything less, Sy.”

“Good,” Synox says. “Because I’m expecting a lot from you.”

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Aava says mildly, and Synox grins at her.

 #

 Tryst walks out of the prison gates and directly into Aava’s arm, burying his nose in her hair as he does. “Thank you,” he says, quiet against her ear. “Thank you, thank-”

“Uh,” Fentara says, with all of the grace of a highly trained new agent. “Should I do something about this?”

Aava waves her off, with the hand that isn’t currently rubbing between Tryst’s shoulder blades. “We’ll give him a minute.”

“Are you sure?”

“If it were anyone other than him, I’d let you tase him.”

Fentara’s eyes flick up and down Tryst as he steps back. She doesn’t look impressed, which is one of Aava’s favorite things about Fentara. “Whatever you say, boss.”

“Boss?” Tryst repeats. “Agent Arek, you mean to tell me you’re supervising this young lady?”

“Don’t get me wrong, she could knock you on your ass in a heartbeat,” Aava says. This is the wrong thing to say, judging by the weird look on Tryst’s face. “And you are barking up the wrong tree by even looking at her, so-”

“Ah.” Tryst’s face clears. “Not that I was interested to begin with, but-”

“I can tase you even if she doesn’t ask me to,” Fentara says. “It might be impolite, but-”

“But I trust Agent Ren’s judgment.” Aava arches an eyebrow at Tryst, who’s giving her this weird, sort of gross soft smile. “Please remember that I’m supervising you, Mister Valentine. So anything beyond professional courtesy-”

“Oh, professional courtesy,” Tryst says glibly. “Yeah, I know all about that. And you can tell me all about it later, but last week when I broke out was the first time I had food other than prison food in a very long time, so if I could get some more good food-”

“Has your ankle bracelet been outfitted yet?”

Tryst leans down and draws up the left leg of his pants to reveal a standard issue ankle bracelet, with a light blinking green. “Newest accessory, all the models are clamoring over it.”

“They explain to you how that works?”

“I have to be within a two mile radius of the office at all times, unless I’m with you, and that includes where I’ll be living,” Tryst says dutifully. “Now, what does this all mean for me being able to eat?”

Aava smirks. “It means we’re getting dinner together.”

Tryst gasps, putting a dramatic hand to his chest. “But Agent Arek, what about your agent in training?”

“Agent Ren has other plans.”

“Got a date with a girl,” Fentara says. “And I’m not interested in spending any more time with your clown ass outside of work hours.”

“Wow,” Tryst says. “You really are training her, aren’t you? She sounds exactly like her.”

“The way I raised her,” Aava says dryly. “Let’s go.”

 #

 “This isn’t a restaurant,” Tryst says as they pull up to the high-rise. “Not that I’m complaining about whatever’s going on here, but seriously, I wasn’t-”

“Trystan,” Aava sighs. They let Fentara out a few minutes ago, and Aava said something about needing to make one more stop. “You know where we are.”

Tryst looks out the window, eyes moving up and down. She can tell the exact moment he realizes where they are, because his mouth forms a perfect O. “This- have you-”

“I started stopping by every day two weeks ago, just to see.” Aava puts the car in park and leans forward, resting her chin on the steering wheel. “And then twice a day. Nothing ever changes or moves. He hasn’t been here in a while.”

“Does it look like there was a struggle?”

“Not at all.”

“He wouldn’t leave,” Tryst says, hovering somewhere between desperation and certainty. “Not without telling someone. You, or me, or- or the other contacts he has, or-”

“I know.” She lifts a hand without looking to stroke it down his shoulder, and he goes quiet. “I know he wouldn’t.”

“Is Tony still there?”

“The pit bull? He hasn’t been in the apartment, and I haven’t found him boarded anywhere.”

“God, Leenik,” Tryst murmurs. He reaches up and takes Aava’s hand absently, tangling their fingers together, and she lets him. “Why did you bring me here? To look for evidence?”

“Actually,” Aava says, “it’s because I checked with the landlord and rent is paid up for a couple months. And we are a cool 1.85 miles southeast of the FBI office, and this is a lot nicer than the place they were looking at putting you up.”

Tryst squeezes her hand. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, help me find him.”

“I will. I have resources you don’t have.”

Tryst and Leenik were part of a group. Aava knows this. Aava knows that he has people on his side that she doesn’t know about, that she’ll never really get to meet. She didn’t know how to get in touch with them. And sure, having Tryst out of prison will mean that she has someone else to help her at work, but more than that it means that she has more lines connecting her to Leenik. More ways to get him back.

“Okay,” Aava says softly. “We’re gonna figure this out. But now, let’s get you some real dinner. Anything you want.”

“The FBI will pay for anything I want?”

“No, but depending on what you want, I might.” She finally looks over at him, and he grins at her, all soft and mushy. “Oh, shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Tryst says, looking as shit-eating and stupidly fond as he always does. “Take me wherever, I’m not picky.”

“Oh, you’re not picky,” Aava mutters, and starts the car. “Whatever you say, Valentine.”

[cmpriest]

I said I'd go before us, and show the way back home

New Year’s resolutions are for shit, and this one is no exception: I will become a more regular blogger in 2017. I’m not saying every damn day or anything, but I didn’t mean to let this go for so long. There’s no good reason, except that things got crazy and I got distracted and this wasn’t a priority. I’d like to make it a priority again. It helps me focus. Kind of. For lack of a better way of putting it.

Let’s see…what’s been up since November 22nd, the last time I posted here?

Pet news is a mixed bag. The ElderCat’s kidney numbers are declining, and her fluid schedule has been upped to twice a week. I don’t honestly know how much longer we can expect her to be with us, but we will keep her here, and keep her happy, as long as she’s interested in remaining. For now, she is feisty and funny, and in command of the entire household – even though she’s lost almost two pounds in the last four months. At present, she is literally half the size she was when we first adopted her in February of 2002. (Back then she was described as being “several” years old, so her precise age is unknown.)

Over Christmas, we took the dogs to my dad’s place in Kentucky and left the cats at home, to be house-sat by my cousin and her boyfriend – as well as our friends/neighbors around the corner. The cats were fine, but the dogs…had issues. Rather, Lucy had issues.

It was all too much for her, being taken to a different place with Big Dogs in Residence…and she got turfy. She got resource-guardy. She got Very Rude, and we ended up having to relegate her to “dog jail” when we couldn’t keep one solid eye on her. She simply couldn’t be trusted. (Dog jail was a 2-story sunroom with all the amenities. She wasn’t exactly locked into Alcatraz.) When we got home, we signed her up for behavior/training classes at a local place that has a good reputation for dealing with these kinds of issues. She had her first class today, and she did very well.

When all is said and done, Lucy will have four weeks of general behavior training, and then four weeks that address her nervous aggression. Actually, we’re hoping that the general training will take the edge off it – and we might just go on to the advance course. The trainer thinks it’s possible. Training will give her some confidence.

Fingers crossed.

Greyson continues to do well, but then, he always does. He’s an easy dog – laid back and lazy, with no interest in oh, say, stealing a bowl full of beef stroganoff and shattering that bowl for funsies and eating some of the contents while slinging the rest around your husband’s office. Or taking a big dump in your office. Hypothetically.

He’s just cool like that.

Quinnie is also doing great. She still gets along well with both dogs – mostly playing with Lucy, mostly cuddling with Greyson. Once in a blue moon, she gets the little old lady cat to play with her a little. But more often than not, she’s napping in an outrageously posh fashion that interrupts my ability to make up the bed in the morning. All in all, it’s a pretty good life.

* * *

I got a new piercing. I had one cartilage hole on my left ear that’s been bugging me for twenty years – it kept trying to close up, and sometimes got infected (even after all this time). Yes, it was done in a mall with a gun, because I used to not know any better. Now I do.

Rather than get it re-done properly, I’ve decided to let it go – and I got the right side pierced instead.

A friend recommended Monarch Body Piercing, and I’m very glad she did. If you’re in the Chattanooga area, trust me – it’s worth the drive to Hixson to have Kelly do the job. She was a total pro, and entirely pleasant. Go check out her shop!

* * *

In writing news, I wrote another 53,000 words on – and finally finished a (truly terrible) Draft Zero of – The Toll, bringing my 2016 fiction word count to approximately 156,500 words. Not my best effort, but not my worst, either. I hope to to better in 2017, but I have a lot of production stuff in the queue – so maybe I won’t be able to.

Rewrites for The Agony House are breathing down my neck, and likewise so is cleanup for a good Draft One of The Toll (which is already decidedly late). After that…perhaps by March?…I’ll start working on something new. I’m not sure what yet.

Or, hell. Maybe I’ll just give up and take a break.

* * *

In publishing news, I only had one novel released in 2016 (The Family Plot) – plus a couple of short stories: “The Knoxville Girl” – in Out of Tune II from JournalStone, and “The Mermaid Aquarium” – in Scary Out There from Simon and Schuster.

2017 is going to be a whole lot busier on the publishing end of things. Depending on how publishing schedules do or do no shake out, I should have at least two books appear on shelves – Brimstone in April (Ace), and The Agony House sometime in the fall (Scholastic). Perhaps three, but I’d be a little surprised to see The Toll squeak in under the wire at this point. Still, you never know.

I’ll also have several other projects hitting the streets – a contribution to the next Wild Cards project (Mississippi Roll, slated for December – via Tor) called “Death on the Water,” as well as another collaborative project with Christopher Golden and others called Indigo (slated for June, from St. Martin’s Press). Throw in another short project (“Good Night Prison Kings”, in Dark Cities from Titan in May)… and that’s a pretty decent showing to come.

* * *

Right. Well. I’ve spent over an hour sitting down to write this, so I’ll just wrap it up. Thanks so much for reading, and I hope you’ll tune in again. Stick with me. There’s more to come.

I said I’d go before us, and show the way back home was originally published on The Haunt*