Pieces of String too Short to Save

If I Were a Blackbird

2006-04-01T08:44:00.000-08:00

I posted the lyrics on DisOrganization and decided I might as well sing a bit too. Sorry about the bad reception--cell phones!!

A cut piece from one of the versions of Heart's Desire

2006-03-25T12:24:00.000-08:00

And of course, my time ran out before I could finish the paragraph. Ah well.

This was before Josiah became the prisoner in the dungeons--oops! Did I let that slip?!

copyright 2006 Jennifer St. Clair, as always.

This was a piece that came to me as a whole...

2006-03-12T18:58:00.000-08:00

In my quest to rewrite Heart's Desire, I'm ending up with a lot of unusable bits and pieces. This one I don't think will fit into the current version, but who knows?

Lucas heard the growling first, a continuous undercurrent in the air that had suddenly grown still and quiet. It took him a moment to pinpoint the sound--just off the path and over a small rise--but the underbrush hindered his approach as he struggled to push past the brambles.

The growl continued, unabated. And just under its promise of vengeance, Lucas heard a whisper of a voice, the words too low for him to comprehend.

At first, when he topped the rise and stared at the tableau below, he could not believe his eyes. A Hound--oh, it was definitely one of Gabriel's Hounds--had pinned a young man to the ground, standing over him with bared teeth and a murderous gleam in its eye.

The young man--seemingly human, but that was the problem with the residents of Beth-Hill--made no move to even attempt to escape. his eyes were tightly closed, his fists clenched, and one bare arm had been torn in places almost down to the bone.

A similar wound on his leg told Lucas that the Hound's prey had tried to run.

Neither noticed him until he spoke. And even though he doubted one of Gabriel's Hounds could harm a member of the Council, he gripped his stick tightly before speaking.

"What is going on here?"

The Hound stopped growling. It glanced up with an almost comical look of panic on its face, and retreated quickly into the trees. Lucas waited a moment to make sure it would not return, then slowly made his way down the small hill to where the young man lay.

"I'll call the Healer," Lucas said as he approached. "Lie still."

The young man opened bloodshot eyes. Lucas noticed bruises around his throat, as if someone with human hands had first tried to strangle him before setting the Hound upon him. Gabriel? But why?

His face was unfamiliar, but something in his gaze niggled a thought at the back of Lucas' mind. Not necessarily the pure panic--most supernatural residents of Beth-Hill had no wish to fall under Council surveillience--but something else that Lucas could not coax to the forefront of his mind.

"She--She's not home," the young man whispered. He tried to move his wounded arm and gasped, his face white. "I was--I was just there."

"She has a cell phone for emergencies," Lucas said. "I'll call her. Lie still." He pulled out his own cell phone, which, predictably, had no service this far into the forest. "Damn and blast!"

"I didn't think they would attack," the young man whispered, his voice fading. He used his unwounded arm to help him sit up, but he did not try to stand. His red-brown hair shone in the light of the setting sun as he bowed his head, hugging his wounded arm against his chest.

Lucas stared at the leaves stuck in his hair. "I only saw one Hound," he said, well-aware of the fact that no sane person would deliberately provoke the Wild Hunt. "What were you doing?"
He could have added "And who are you?" to his question, but the boy was wounded, after all. Questions could come later, after Sennet healed him.

"I was trying to save two lives." A tortured gaze stared up at Lucas through a tangled mat of hair. "I was trying to do the right thing."

Not all that far away, a Hound howled, long and loud. Lucas jumped. The young man flinched back as if he had been hit.

"You--You're Lucas Lane." His breathing had quickened, and Lucas had no doubt that a large part of his reaction was from the pain.

"Yes, I am." Lucas turned his cell phone off and then back on, just in case it would work. It was a shame he couldn't use magic to connect to the nearest tower. Or could he?

"A member of the Council."

"Yes." Lucas sent out a tendril of searching and wrapped the end around the cell phone's antenna. Less than a second later, the screen lit up with just enough bars to call out. Quickly, before his patient died from the shock of blood loss, Lucas dialed Sennet's number.

"I need--"

Another howl drowned out his words. This one was closer, and a moment later, it was answered by a different Hound, farther away.

"What did you do?" Lucas asked, wary now. He listened to the phone ring, and wondered if something bad had happened to the Healer. "What is your name?"

"Tell Sennet--ah!" His breath caught in his throat. "Tell Sennet my name and that Emle is gone."

"I don't know your name," Lucas said softly.

A tear trickled down the young man's cheek. He started to raise his hand to wipe it away, then remembered his wounded arm and let the tear fall.

"My name is Malachi," he whispered, and shivered despite the summer heat. "And my life is forfeit." He shivered again, violently this time. "You would do best, I think, to leave me here. The Hounds can gnaw my bones after they kill me."

"Why do they wish to kill you?" Lucas asked. The phone continued to ring in his ear, but he hardly noticed it now. The larger part of his attention had been captured by the presence of two white Hounds standing less than thirty feet away. They made no sound, but Lucas could tell they were waiting for something. What?

Strange to see the Hounds without their Master. Stranger, even, for them to attack, especially since the binding was due to expire so soon. Gabriel had been so careful of late not to anger the Council. Why stop now?

Unless--and a new, horrible thought intruded into Lucas' mind. "What did you do to them? Where is their Master?" Using the Council's combined power, he tugged on the binding and felt nothing in response. Nothing. It was as if--as if the binding had been broken. Or severed.

"What did you do?" Without quite considering the consequences, Lucas grabbed Malachi's unwounded arm and pulled him up. He dropped his cell phone in his rush to discover Gabriel's fate, but Sennet was no longer on his list of priorities. "Where is Gabriel?"

Up close, the chalkiness of Malachi's skin made Lucas realize just how close he was to collapse. His glassy eyes were faded and dull, and as he struggled to stand, his wounded leg collapsed under him.

But even this close to collapse, he managed to hold onto a scrap of dignity, despite the tears that spilled down his cheeks.

"You think--yes. You do think that." The smallest smile swept across Malachi's lips. "Gabriel is alive. And I'm sure he'll be pleased to hear of your concern for his well-being."

Lucas released him, too angry to be cautious. Malachi landed heavily on his bad leg. Lucas doubted he could have helped the scream that tore free from his throat.

One of the Hounds moved, then, whining softly, as if sympathizing with Malachi's pain. The other one growled and snapped at its brother until the other Hound retreated.

Lucas glanced down at Malachi, who had not moved. "You can't fault me for thinking the worst," he said, refusing to feel guilty.

Before Malachi could reply, Lucas sensed a presence behind him. He turned to see Sennet standing at the top of the little hill, almost exactly in the same place he had been standing less than twenty minutes before.

"You called? Is there a problem?"

Lucas stepped aside so she could see Malachi, and watched the recognition bloom on her face.

"You know him?" His words came out harsher than he intended.

Sennet ignored his question. "What happened?"

"I found him pinned to the ground by one of Gabriel's Hounds," Lucas said. "He told me to tell you his name, and that someone named Emle was gone."

He tried to find the Hounds in the growing gloom, but they had vanished again, back into the forest. Sourly, Lucas realized he wasn't at all relieved.

Sennet's face paled. "What? Gone? How?"

"Why don't you ask him?" Lucas folded his arms. "He's been less than forthcoming--I thought that he might have murdered Gabriel, since the Hounds seem to want him dead."

But it was obvious, now, that Malachi would not be able to answer any questions for the moment. His eyes were closed, his face rivaling the white of the moon. Dark shadows had formed under his eyes, and his lips were tinged with blue.

"You'll let me approach?" Sennet asked.

"Of course." Lucas did not interfere when Sennet knelt beside Malachi and placed her hands on his forehead. He watched as the familiar golden glow streamed from her fingers into his body, repairing the damage the Hounds had wrought.

He thought he saw her stiffen a bit initially, but she made no mention of anything she might have seen.

Healers were neutral. Lucas knew that as well as anyone, but for better or for worse, he was involved in this now, and he wanted some answers.

As an experiment, he tugged on the binding again. Still no reply. Where was Gabriel?

"Who is Emle?" He had waited long enough for answers.

"I can't tell you that," Sennet said, not looking up from her work. "Patient privledge. You know that."

"For saving his life, I think I deserve to know something," Lucas snapped. "I'm fairly certain he would not wish the Council to investigate whatever is going on."

"At the moment, all I know is that Emle is gone," Sennet said after a moment. "She's nine months pregnant, and due any day. I don't know if she's dead, or missing--" She gently smoothed a lock of hair away from Malachi's eyes. "Or worse. And I won't know until he wakes up and tells me."

For one short moment, Lucas wished he wasn't a member of the Council. Fighting the distrust had grown old over the years, and he had no stomach for the bare truth that the Council just wasn't trusted. That particular tide had started to turn twenty years ago, after the tragedy that had claimed far too many lives. The Council had not truly recovered from that blow.

And now, the result of that long-ago mistake was that no one trusted the Council or its members.

"Then I will wait for him to awaken," Lucas said quietly, keeping his temper in check. "I need to know what's going on, Sennet. And it looks like Malachi might well be the only one who can tell me."

"You cannot persuade him by magic if he refuses to talk to you," Sennet said. "And we're not staying here. I'll bring him to my house. He'll be safe there."

"No." Even before she had spoken, Lucas had made up his mind. "Bring him to my house. He'll be just as safe there." When Sennet would have protested, he held up his hand. "And I swear not to coerce him to tell me what I want to know. My house is closer than yours."

"And if he refuses to talk to you?" Sennet shook her head. "Will you let him leave?" She stared down at the blood on Malachi's clothing. "There is more to this than you realize, Lucas. And I'm not sure the Council needs to be involved."

"Then pretend, just for a moment, that I'm not a member of the Council," Lucas said. "I will let him leave. But I--" How much should he tell her? And then, all of a sudden, he was weary of secrets. Weary of beating around the bush when a good mowing was what the situation really needed. "The binding the Council placed on the Hunt is set to expire three nights from now," he said. "And Gabriel has been very careful not to anger anyone these past few months. For his Hounds to attack someone is very disturbing, even if they have good reason to attack. And I've tried to use the binding to summon Gabriel. He isn't responding. I need to know what happened!"

The light of Sennet's power vanished when she raised her hands from Malachi's body. "You can usually feel him through the bond?"

"Not as such," Lucas said. "But I always get a response. He is bound to respond. He cannot disobey." He hesitated. "That's why I thought Gabriel was dead."

"And Malachi said he was not?" Sennet carefully pulled him to a sitting position and lifted him up before Lucas could even attempt to ask if she needed his help. She smiled at the look on his face. "Healers don't just heal. I have other talents of my own, and one of those allows me to lighten heavy burdens."

"If you say so," Lucas said, considering that Malachi was probably taller than Sennet. "Yes. He said Gabriel was alive. But something had to have happened. He cannot ignore a summons!"

Sennet hesitated. "I'd suggest not trying to summon him again until Malachi wakes up. Not yet, at least. Give him a little time."

"You saw something, didn't you? When you touched him?" Lucas had always wondered if that particular legend was true about Healers.

Sennet sighed. "Lucas, Healers are neutral for a reason."

"I know," Lucas said. He scanned the forest one more time for any sign of the Hounds, then turned around. "If you're certain you can carry him, then follow me."

Chapter

Malachi awoke with a gasp as a ghostly Hound went for his throat. He lay rigid for a moment, his heartbeat thundering in his chest, and strained to see through the murky darkness.

He lay on a bed in someone's house. The sheets were soft cotton, and an old quilt lay over his body, a perfect tableau of normalcy that awoke the cauldron of panic that bubbled in his chest.

He was in someone's house. Without thinking of his wounds, he slid out of bed and discovered that he wore someone's nightshirt and little else. His clothes were not evident in the room.

In the mirror beside the bed, he saw fading bruises around his throat, and remembered Gabriel's wrath. He had to hold on to the bedpost when he remembered the mad flight through the forest--and the pain of Seth's sharp teeth tearing through both the skin and the muscles of his arm and leg.

His wounds were healed. The scars were still red and angry, but the terrible wounds had healed.
That meant Sennet had been there. And that meant Sennet had touched him, and that meant Sennet probably knew he was a Hound.

His life was forfeit, then. Gabriel would not let him live this time. He slid down the bed post and sat on the floor, staring down at the rug beneath him. Hardly daring to breathe, he cautiously probed his mind for the bond.

Nothing. He could no more feel his Master than he could the other Hounds. And that meant--that meant Zachariah's death had been true, not a terrible nightmare. Malachi bent his knees and buried his head in his arms. Was Josiah dead as well? And Emle? And the baby as well?

The sound of the door only caused to increase his panic, but he stayed where he was, sheltered by the bed.

He smelled Sennet before he saw her, and smelled food as well, something both hot and nourishing. And tea?

"I brought you something to eat," Sennet said. She did not sound perturbed to find him out of bed. "You lost a lot of blood. You need to regain your strength."

"No I don't," Malachi whispered. "My life is forfeit. You--You shouldn't have healed me."

He felt her approach his side of the bed, but she did not draw any closer. "This is not your house."

"No, it's Lucas' house. He insisted."

Malachi heard a clink as she lowered something to the floor. His stomach growled, surprising him.

"May I ask you a question? Lucas isn't listening, and there are no active spells at work in this room."

Malachi didn't realize he was shivering until she draped a blanket over his shoulders.

"You did lose a lot of blood. You should be in bed."

"My health does not matter," he whispered. "My life is forfeit." He glanced up at Sennet, dry-eyed. "You know."

She nodded. "Yes. I saw when I healed you. I'm sorry." She sat in front of him, relaxed and serene. "May I ask how that is possible? That you are a Hound? And what happened to Emle?"

"We all have human forms," Malachi said. Since she knew, then why did it matter what he told her? As soon as the bond returned--or he set foot outside Lucas' house--he would be dead anyway. "Our Master used to let us interact with the humans--and sometimes the Council. But we haven't been able to do that for a long time."

"He let you shift shape to guard Emle?" Sennet guessed. "What happened to her, Malachi? Did Gabriel--"

"No!' The shout surprised him--he didn't think he had enough strength to yell. "No. Our Master would never harm a hair on her head. I think--I think he truly loved her." More tears. He wiped them away, but they continued to spill down his cheeks. "He left Josiah and Zachariah to guard her, and obeyed Lucas' summons. But Lucas wasn't there and we headed back home. And then--" He felt the sharp streak of pain again that was the breaking of the bond that was shared by every member of the Hunt. He felt the disorientation, and the fear when Gabriel began to run.

Malachi had followed his Master. The rest of the Hunt had milled around uncertainly for a moment, but they had caught up fast enough, especially when Gabriel had stopped at the body of a Hound--Zachariah--right outside the cave entrance.

He had been shot twice in the head.

"Josiah lay inside, in the house. He was still alive, so I thought I would get you, but My--Our Master forbid me to go."

"He forbid you to save a life?" Sennet hands clenched. "Is he still alive?"

"I don't know. The bond between us is broken." Malachi clutched at the blanket, remembering an earlier blanket, when he lay naked on the floor and Emle had covered him. "I hope not."

"And Emle was gone?" Sennet asked.

"She wasn't in the house or the gardens. None of us could find her trail past the back door into Faerie. I shifted into human shape to plead for Josiah's life and--and--" He touched the fading bruises on his throat. "I disobeyed. I ran to your house, but you weren't home. So I thought I would try Lucas' house, just in case you were there." He bowed his head. "Seth caught me first."
"Seth is another Hound?"

"He--He harbors resentment towards me," Malachi said, which wasn't the entire story at all. "And without our bond, I'm certain he thought I would betray the Hunt to the Council."

"Your Master could not control him so he went after you?" The food smell sharpened. "Malachi, at least drink something. I think you did the right thing. Hopefully Gabriel will think so as well."

"He will kill me," Malachi said, and heard no tremor in his voice. "I have no doubt of that. He should have killed me last time, and I--" He shook his head. "It doesn't matter anymore. My life, indeed, is forfeit." With the utmost of care, he slowly pulled himself to his feet. "I might as well get this over with."

"Take me to your home, then," Sennet said. "Show him you meant well."

Malachi shook his head, imagining how Gabriel would react to the Sennet's presence. "I'll go alone, if Lucas will allow me to leave."

"He said he would." Sennet, too, stood up. "Please, Malachi. Take me with you."

Malachi hunched his shoulders, still hanging onto the bed. "I won't make it anywhere near to home," he whispered. "You shouldn't have bothered to heal me." He took a careful step, then released the bedpost. With care, he thought he might be able to make it out the door.

"Josiah might still be alive," Sennet said, and that was the clincher, right there. "If I come with you, I will heal him as well."

Malachi grabbed the bedpost again, and closed his eyes. "If I am punished, then, you are not to interfere. Just heal Josiah and leave." Could she do that? Could she leave, knowing Gabriel would more than likely kill him?

"Agreed," Sennet said after a moment of silence. "Let me talk to Lucas first. And then we'll go." Before she left the room, she set the tray of food on the end of the bed. "Eat something. I don't want to have to carry you all the way to your home."

"It's not my home anymore," Malachi whispered, and sank down on the bed.

In the end, though, he obeyed, even though the food tasted like ash and sat in his stomach like a lump of lead. At least he would have had one last meal before death. Zachariah and Josiah--unless by some miracle Josiah was still alive--had not even had that luxury.

Chapter

"You want me to allow you both to leave without any guarantee that I'll ever know what happened?" Lucas shook his head. "The Hunt is the Council's responsibility, Sennet. I can't ignore the fact that a Hound attacked someone. Malachi could be guilty of a horrible crime, but that doesn't condone their actions."

Sennet tried to think of a good argument--or, failing that, one Lucas would accept. "Can you at least trust my word? This matter has to do with the Hunt. If I can get Gabriel's permission to tell you what happened, I will tell you everything I can. I swear." When he still would have argued, Sennet folded her arms. "The word of a Healer is not to be taken lightly, Lucas."

"Nor is the word of a Council member," Lucas snapped. "Very well. But I don't like this. I don't like this at all." He hesitated. "Will you at least let me talk to him?"

"This is your house," Sennet said, wondering how Malachi would react to Lucas' presence. "I certainly cannot stop you. But--There are other wounded in this, Lucas. And I may have a chance to save one of them. According to Malachi, there are dead as well."

"What happened?" Lucas asked, but it was more of a response to her words than an actual question.

"I intend to find out," Sennet said.

"Then go," Lucas made a shooing motion with one hand. "I certainly don't want the Council to be blamed for someone's death. We've enough bad publicity as it is."

"I will tell you what I can on my return," Sennet promised.

Lucas had not put up much of a fight. Malachi didn't ask Sennet what she had promised him, but he had not attempted to keep them prisoner. He had even provided Malachi a new set of clothes--or washed his old ones. Malachi couldn't tell.

Would he have acted any differently if he'd known Malachi was a Hound?

"Should you stay in human form?" Sennet asked. "If the others attack you--"

Malachi took a deep breath. "Only Seth attacked. I don't think Nathaniel meant to bite me." He stepped off Lucas' front porch and stared at the dark forest. He did not want to face his Master. He wanted to turn tail and run back into Lucas' house and beg sanctuary from the Council, if such a thing were possible.

"We'll find out soon enough," Sennet said as a white shape appeared among the trees.

Malachi stepped forward. "Is Josiah--" He couldn't finish. It was enough, for a moment, to be able to believe that he was still alive.

"Why don't we move away from Lucas' house?" Sennet suggested. "If you still don't want the Council to know that you can shift shape, we can ask him beyond the trees."

Malachi touched his forehead. "I feel nothing from them. Usually--Usually we can communicate. But not anymore." He did not resist when Sennet took his hand to pull him into the safety of the trees. "Is Josiah alive?"

The Hound hesitated, and glanced at Sennet.

"She knows," Malachi said impatiently. "She healed me. And I was unconscious, so you can't blame that on me!" He pulled up the sleeve of his shirt to show him his scars. "You know I'm doing the right thing. If you're not going to answer my question, then let us pass!"

He took six steps before Nathaniel spoke behind him.

"I apologize for biting you. And doubting you. I did not realize what you intended."

Malachi turned around. "Why can't I feel you anymore? Is the bond broken only for me? Did our Master cast me out?" He did not want to voice that question, but it hovered in the back of his mind.

"No. He didn't cast you out," Nathaniel said, brushing a lock of hair out of his eyes. "It is like that for all of us."

"What about Josiah?" Sennet asked. "Is he still alive?"

"We don't know," Nathaniel said. "Our Master carried him into the bedroom and we haven't seen him since. Thomas is waiting outside the door. He will try to send word, but without the bond--" He shrugged. "There is little we can do."

"Will you prevent me from bringing Sennet to our home?" Malachi asked. "If Josiah is still alive, Sennet will heal him."

"I won't stop you," Nathaniel said. "But Seth might try." He hesitated. "You were in his house, Malachi. Does he know?"

"He doesn't know," Sennet said before Malachi could speak. "And we're wasting time. The longer we stand here the less time Josiah has to live."

"If he's still alive," Malachi whispered.

"He won't be if we delay any longer," Sennet snapped. "Let's go!"

Blindly, Malachi started walking, the maelstrom in his head too loud to pay attention to anything in front of him. He would have stepped off the bank of a creek--a drop of twelve feet, at least--if Nathaniel had not caught his arm and pulled him back.

"What is wrong with you?"

"This is my last night on Earth," Malachi growled, and snatched his arm away. "Leave me be!"

"If he didn't kill you for betraying us before, he won't kill you now," Nathaniel said quietly, and turned towards Sennet. "Follow me. He certainly will not kill us both."

His words shook some of the panic loose from Malachi's mind. He blinked, swayed, and would have fallen if Sennet hadn't appeared to steady him.

"I'm not leaving without Malachi," she said. "And neither should you."

"I'm--I'm okay," Malachi murmured, and took a deep breath. "Do you really believe that?"

"Death is more permanent than punishment," Nathaniel said.

For a moment, Malachi saw no sign of fear in Nathaniel's gaze. But then his eyes shifted sideways, and Malachi saw that he did not quite believe his own words.

For some strange reason, that made him feel a bit better.

"Let's go. Sennet is right. We're wasting time." Before his panic could smother what little courage he had left, he set off through the trees. Nathaniel and Sennet were right behind him.

copyright 2006 Jennifer St. Clair

2005-09-08T14:53:00.000-07:00

Illusions--a reading from my third novel--a really moldy oldie, and quite amusing. :)

2005-08-28T07:13:00.000-07:00

Audioblogging my pieces of string--a cut piece from Fire and Water

2005-08-22T14:58:00.000-07:00

Um. Early "Nine Lives and Three Wishes". Really, really early.

2005-08-17T16:40:00.000-07:00

A "Lost in My Documents" find--this was written on my birthday in 2001. It didn't make the final cut, or even the second cut of Nine Lives and Three Wishes. However, I kind of like Brutus. He's ruthless in more ways than one. Perhaps a sequel is in order? Hmm.

When Brutus was three weeks old, his human, an old man who stank of tobacco and whiskey, gathered up Brutus and his brothers and sisters, dropped them into a stained pillowcase, and threw the whole lot into a drainage ditch on the side of a lonely highway. Of the nine blind, defenseless kittens, six survived the initial impact. Four managed to claw through the fabric before they starved. Two were killed on the road. One was carried off by a hawk.

Brutus alone survived, more by luck than any divine providence. He survived and grew into a rangy black killing machine, cold eyed and feared by cats and dogs alike. Brutus was the only cat in Beth-hill who had fought a rottweiler and survived to tell the tale. Brutus was the only cat truly above the law; a wild embarrassment on the fringes of polite society.

Brutus hated humans. Even with his scars and battered face someone always wanted to take him in, and he had played the same scam over and over again at the animal shelter. Time after time he would purposely be caught, only to play on the sympathies of humans who didn’t know any better. Time after time, he would be taken home, pampered and cared for, until he exacted revenge and was eventually driven out of the house.

He had a collection of flea collars hanging from a tree near his hideout, a testimony to his power.
He batted one now and the little bell echoed across the silent forest.

"Boss!" A filthy white kitten who looked more like a rat than a feline scampered up the tree and quivered for attention. Brutus blinked lazily and turned his head. The kitten shrank back.

"Boss, I was scrounging around behind the wizard’s house, you know? He leaves scraps out sometimes, and I thought I smelled garlic bread last night. But those damn birds ate it all."

"Your point." Brutus liked to see his subjects react to his growl.

The kitten ducked down. "Point, yeah, boss. My point! So there I was, sitting on the compost heap, and here comes Misty! You know that calico chick with the toddler?"

Brutus narrowed his eyes.

"Yeah, boss, the point. She comes running down the road yelling for Tib and babbling about fairies."

Brutus cocked an ear towards him. Encouraged, the kitten straightened up.

"She said fairies had kidnapped her kid, and the kid’s mother was missing. She wanted to know if Tib could help her find him."

The feud between the wizard’s cat and the mainstream felines had not really interested Brutus. He was not a member of their parliament; he made his own rules. But it did pay to know what the rules were, so it meant something when he broke them.

"Tib told her… he told her…" the kitten almost wet himself from the excitement. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Tib told her he could change her into a human. To get the kid back."

Brutus stared. He was rarely shocked, preferring to know everything that would happen in advance. But this… this was something new. And it had the possibility to become something good. He gave the kitten a tight-lipped smile and rose, stretching to his full length. "Walk with me and tell me more."

The kitten bounced along beside him as he dropped down to the ground and slithered through the underbrush. A couple lazy sentries watched them pass; Brutus made a note to deal with them later.

"Tell me everything you heard," he instructed as soon as they were within five feet of the waterfall. The noise would ensure that no one would overhear their conversation. "Was there anyone with you? Did you tell anyone else about this?"

"Nah, no one else likes garlic bread," the kitten said, full of self-importance. "Only me, Tib, and that Misty chick knows anything about it."

"Did you see her as a human?" Brutus asked. He did not want the kitten to realize the import of what he had overheard, but he also needed to know everything before the kitten met with a fatal accident. He moved closer to the waterfall, just in case. It would not do for spies of the parliament to find out what Tib could do. They would sentence him to death, and then Brutus would not be able to exact his revenge.

"They went inside," the kitten said. "And I thought you’d want to hear what I heard, so I didn’t stick around."

"I see." So he had no way of knowing that Tib had been telling the truth. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to kill the kitten anyway and find out for himself if Tib could change a cat into a human.

"Let’s go over it one more time," he suggested, moving even closer to the edge of the bank. The waterfall’s roar almost drowned out his voice.

The kitten followed him blindly, as always.

Brutus waited until he heard the whole story before he made his final decision. "Come closer. You’ve done well."

Quivering, the kitten crawled towards him. Brutus licked the top of his head. Startled, the kitten jerked backwards, his paws scrabbling in the soft soil of the bank.

Brutus snagged his tail before he could go over the edge. "Is it so bad?" he asked. "I only wanted to thank you."

The kitten stared at him for a moment, still clearly frightened. It took him almost a full minute to crawl back to Brutus, who licked him again.

Five minutes later, a rusty purr rumbled out of the kitten’s throat. His eyes were closed, his guard down completely.

"Roll over," Brutus suggested. "Let me get the rest of you clean. The kitten tasted faintly of garlic and greasy dirt, but Brutus didn’t mind. He wouldn’t have to lick him for much longer.
The kitten obediently rolled over and stretched out on the soft ground, closing his eyes and exposing his throat for Brutus’ pleasure.

He made sure it was clean before he bit down as hard and he could and tossed the body over the cliff and into the waterfall below.

copyright belongs to me, as always.

Rings and Things...

2005-07-30T19:04:00.000-07:00

Author's note: Found an oldie today while digging through a box of storystuff. I started "Tales From Cairbre" at the height of my Dragonlance obsession (Forgotten Realms, too), and ended up with a quartet of handwritten novels. This passage tells me that there's recycling in even the worst writing, as you'll see further on with excerpts from early and late drafts of Heart's Desire. As usual, everything is typed verbatim. This particular scene was written on October 15, 1990. I had just turned 16.

"Close your eyes for a minute," he told her at long length, "I have a surprise for you." Kelsey closed her eyes, and Aurek slowly pulled five strands of hair from his head and began to twist them together with his hook and hand. The thread thickened, and hardened until Aurek was able to twist it to form a ring. The edges melted together, and when he was done, he held a ring almost identical to Kelsey's in his hand. The only difference was in color. Hers was pale gold, shining subtley, and his was delicate strands of white interwoven into a ring that merely consisted of five single hairs. Kelsey opened her eyes when he slipped it on her finger and gasped in astonished surprise.

"Aurek..." she breathed, and threw her arms around his neck, kissing him and hugging him at the same time.

"I love you, Kelsey," he whispered, squeezing her to him.

"Oh, I love you too, Aurek," Kelsey murmured, kissing him again, "beloved..." At that moment, Essien decided to wake up.

Either I read this passage and remembered it later, or subconsciously decided to use the ring theme again. In an early draft of Heart's Desire, written some time in 2001.

"I’ve never ridden a horse before," Sarah said uneasily.

"You only need to sit," Gabriel said. "They will do the work for you."

"Wait," Sarah whispered, and pulled three strands of hair from her head. She worked quickly and formed the strands into a thin ring and slipped it over Michael’s finger.

He stared down at the ring on his finger and watched it turn into burnished copper, the strands of hair fusing together to make a whole.

"How did you do that?" he asked, staring at Sarah.

She gave him a tremulous smile. "I’m not sure. It seems to be a good idea, just in case we get separated." And that will give us something to remember each other by, if we do not succeed. She didn’t speak that part out loud, but he read it in her eyes.

He pulled three strands of his own hair and twisted them into a ring while the hounds milled restlessly around their feet and Gabriel waiting on his high horse.

When he slipped the ring onto Sarah’s finger, it changed to a rosy gold, the strands of his hair fusing just as Sarah’s had.

"Are you ready?" Gabriel asked with a tinge of amusement in his voice.

Michael helped Sarah up, then mounted his own and gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile. Gabriel raised a twisted horn to his lips and blew a long blast.

The horses and hounds leaped into the air. Michael squeezed his eyes shut as the wind roared against him, and tried to concentrate on keeping his seat.

He could only hope Sarah did the same.

And then, the rings come up again, in the as-yet-unfinished version of Scarecrows, the third book in the Beth-Hill series:

"Ah." Michael emerged with one of his diaries in his hand. "Wait. I have something I want to show you. Can you give me three strands of your hair?"

"Three strands... what?" Sarah could decide whether to be amused or apprehensive at his request. "Why?"

Michael smiled, enjoying the mystery. "You'll see." He flipped through the book until he found what he wanted, then propped it up on the chest of drawers.

"You're going to cast a spell? Using my hair?" Sarah pulled three strands of hair from her head and held them out.

"And mine," Michael said, and did the same thing. "I found this spell a long time ago while researching something else. It was unique enough to pique my interest, so I wrote it down. For later. Only, there wasn't a later." While he spoke, he twisted the strands of hair together until they formed two spirals. He loosely knotted the spirals together so they would not unravel, and laid them on the table beside his bed.

"Watch." He passed his hand over the two spirals and closed his eyes. "If love be true, then rings these be."

A soft gold light spilled from Michael's fingers to infuse the two loops of hair. Sarah watched, entranced, as the golden light surrounded the two circles, moving faster and faster until she had to look away.

Michael stepped back and opened his eyes. "If love be true, then rings these be," he whispered, and took her hand.

The golden light exploded into a shimmer of sparks, illuminating the room for a moment before they faded away.

Michael turned on the lamp and fell to his knees.

Sarah gasped. Even now, after being around magic for almost a year, she could not get used to seeing it in practice. "Michael, they're beautiful."

The twists of their hair had vanished. In their place, two rings in braided gold, one more red and one darker, almost brown.

As always, copyright 2005 Jennifer St. Clair

A Golden Oldie

2005-07-07T12:14:00.000-07:00

Rusty oldie? Really bad oldie? I found this notebook in a box while I was cleaning my office. The story doesn't have a title, but here's the *ahem* memorable first line:

The first thing he remembered upon awakening was pain--lots of it--centered in no particular place, gnawing down his barriers like a plague of nasty termites.

It's descriptive, at least. Probably circa early 90s, if I'm reading it correctly.

As always, copyright remains with me.

An Early Version of 'Heart's Desire'

2005-02-03T11:37:00.000-08:00

In honor of my #1 and #2 bestsellers at Fictionwise, I thought I'd post a snippet of an early version of Gabriel and the Hunt. They're a lot different now, and if you buy Budget Cuts or The Secret of Redemption or read Binding the Hunt, you'll see why.

Gabriel looked very out of place on Sarah's battered denim couch with his riding boots, black leather pants, and what looked like a cashmere sweater underneath the trench coat. He sipped the tea for a moment, seemed to savor the taste, then stood.

"I should go."

"Are the other Hounds outside?" Sarah asked.

"They are." Gabriel cocked his head, as if he couldn't imagine why she would ask. "They're standing outside at the bus stop, awaiting my return."

Sarah stood, crossed to the window, and had to push aside the branches of a ficus tree to peer out at the bus stop. Five identically dressed men stood near it, and all five stared up at her with identical expressions of watchfulness. If she didn't know they were the Council's Hounds, Sarah would have guessed them to be some sort of shadowy government agents. They looked like refugees from a goth band, but without the piercings and makeup.

She glanced back at Gabriel. "Do you think they might want some tea? You can invite them up and I'll put a fresh pot on..."

Gabriel blinked. He seemed to be frozen, as if he couldn't quite believe what she had asked. Then he carefully set the teacup down on the table and looked at Lucas, who had a very peculiar expression on his face.

Sarah narrowed her eyes. If she had to guess, she would have said Lucas was trying not to laugh.

"You would invite all of us into your home?" Gabriel finally asked, amazed.

Sarah glanced at Lucas, daring him to protest, but he only shook his head and gave her a little shrug.

"If you think they would want some tea before you report back, you're welcome to fetch them," she said.

Lucas muffled what sounded to be laughter in another fit of coughing. Gabriel glared at him for a moment, then inclined his head.

"Very well. I will 'fetch' them." It took him a moment to open the door and let himself out. As soon as he was gone, Sarah filled the teapot again and put it on the stove to boil.

She heard no sound from Lucas in the living room, but the kitten padded into the kitchen and gave her an incredulous look.

"Did I do something wrong?" When she rejoined Lucas, he had managed to regain his composure.

"Oh, no, you did nothing wrong," he finally said. "You've just raised yourself to godlike status in Gabriel's eyes. Most of the Council is afraid of the Hunt."

"The Hunt?" Sarah asked as a warning bell rang in the back of her mind. "I thought you said they were the Hounds?"

"Properly, together they're the Hunt. Separate, the Hounds," Lucas explained. "They've been in the Council's employ for hundreds of years, for better or for worse."

"Wait a second," Sarah had read enough folklore to know exactly what he meant. "Are we talking about the Wild Hunt?" She fluttered her hands in the air. "Like, harbringers of death? That Hunt?"

"The very same," Lucas said.

"I invited the Wild Hunt into my house?"

"You did." Lucas seemed to be enjoying himself immensely.

Sarah buried her head in her hands. "And I told Gabriel to fetch..."

copyright 1997 Jennifer St. Clair

A Light in Darkness

2005-01-24T14:49:00.000-08:00

Author's Note:

This story was written April 10, 1995 in response to a dream I had in February 1995. I had forgotten of its existence until I starting sorting through "Story Stuff" boxes, and thought it was interesting enough to post as my first piece of string. I am typing this verbatim, and not fixing any of the grammar, etc. After all, I was all of 21 when I wrote this, way back when.

He was gone when I returned, the fire in the grate burned out ever since I'd been gone. His bed, comforting in its softness, was cold. I don't know how long I'd been gone this time--keeping track of time is almost impossible when you can't see the sun he swears is still there. I would have known if he was in the room. Even though I am blind I can tell when a room is unoccupied--a handy trick seeing that we're not the only strange creatures living in the Mountain.

We pay our dues to the dragon, whose Mountain this is, in increments of things he says are junk, making the dragon a Junk dragon. But one man's junk is another man's treasure, or so he's told me, so I guess that would make sense.

We'd been living in the Junk Dragon's mountain ever since the sun blew up and humanity died. Eiric said he rescued me. I've lived with him in this little room for too long to remember.

"Where is he?" I asked, my voice echoing down the hall, disturbing the other residents who lived in the enormous Mountain of Junk. The walls were lined with rough things and smooth objects--pieces of cloth that were almost too soft to touch lay mouldering in a corner.

I loved the Mountain. Some of its residents, I'm afraid to say, didn't like Eiric and I. I've never been able to figure out why. We use up none of their stored food--Eiric and I live off of a dwindling supply of dried blood he found in a bombed out hospital on a foraging trip. We weren't harmed by the radiation that covered the earth so I couldn't understand why the others didn't like us.

"Where is Eiric?" I asked again.

I heard a faint rustling sound near me and turned toward it, hoping it was someone who could help me. I usually could help myself, but not when Eiric is missing.

He says I am beautiful, like a Queen in a fairy story. I've never been able to tell if he was serious or not.

"Lelina!" a voice, muffled, but still one I recognized shouted. "Wait right there! Something horrible has happened!!"

I waited while Siegfried extracted himself from whatever he was attempting to get into this time. Siegfried is a cat. Eiric always says that curiosity killed the cat, but I've never been able to figure out what he meant. As far as I know, Siegfried has never died.

"Where is Eiric?" I asked. Siegfried jumped into my arms and I caught him without any difficulty, having much practise.

"The dwarves have been losing many of their number to a strange disease," Siegfried said softly. "Eiric is dead. They blamed him and killed him."

My mind went numb from the shock. "Eiric can't be dead!" I gasped. "Who will read to me? Who will tell me those stories he loves to tell? Siegfried, Eiric can't be dead!" I felt something alien slip down my cheeks and raised my hand to find that they were wet. "I don't believe you. Will you take me to the dwarves?"

Siegfried squirmed in my arms and jumped down. "If I take you to the dwarves, they will kill you too," he said. "You have to get out of here before they realize you're back."

"I can't leave until I know if he is really dead," I replied, although I was deathly afraid of the rough, smelly dwarves. They claimed they lived in the Mountain ever before the Dragon, but I'd never known one to order the Dragon out. Just because Eiric and I were different, just because we were not dwarves made them think they had the right to push us around. And now... If Eiric was really dead, I don't know what I would do. I would be lost.

"I'll take you to where they buried him, but no further than that," Siegfried replied. "They use silver weapons, Lelina. Do you know what silver does to one of your kind?"

I shook my head. Eiric had never mentioned silver, although I do remember once touching some sort of goblet that burned my hand quite badly.

Siegfried jumped into my arms once more and directed me through a maze of tunnels until I smelled freshly turned earth. Siegfried jumped out of my arms, cursing under his breath. I dropped down to my knees and began to feel over the grave. It was hollow. There was no body.

"This is his grave?" I asked. "Are you certain? There is no body here."

"I know," Siegfried replied. "I don't understand it--he was dead, Lelina. But there are some sort of tracks leading away from the grave, but I can't believe he'd just walk away."

"What if it was a Crimple-thought?" I asked. Crimple-thoughts were the dragon's creatures, strange squat things that took the shape of the things they last touched. A Crimple-thought could have taken Eiric away, but where?

"If it was one of the dragon's creatures, then Eiric is beyond saving," Siegfried whispered.

I stroked his back, feeling the way his fur stood almost straight up.

"The Junk Dragon never releases anything it takes."

"If Eiric is still alive, I'm not going to let him die," I said as quickly as I could, and on my hands and knees, followed the tracks down the tunnel. Siegfried followed cautiously. "You don't have to come, Siegfried," I said, but he didn't listen to me. He rarely does. Eiric says its because he is a cat. That I can believe.

The ground kept getting warmer until I was covered with mud, and still the tracks led deeper into the Mountain. After the wet, it abruptly dried out and the tracks stopped.

"The end of the trail," Siegfried reported, but that was something I already knew.

I dusted myself off and faced forward. The air, usually cold and fresh, was now hot and sultry, making me wish I'd worn more appropriate clothing.

"You haven't seen any dwarves, have you?" I asked just as Siegfried hissed a warning and I took a step forward.

"Don't go any further," a gravelly voice growled and I froze.

"He has a sword, Lelina," Siegfried warned. My fear almost choked me, then I remembered Eiric. They had buried him adn he wasn't really dead! Even though Siegfried said the sword was deadly, I still wanted to find him. I wasn't about to back off.

"Eiric isn't dead," I said to the dwarf. "One of the Dragon's Crimple-thoughts took him. Let me pass."

"Not you," the dwarf growled. I've never heard a dwarf do anything but growl. "We will not have you feasting off of our kind anymore." I laughed. I had to--to drink a dwarf's blood would border on the most disgusting thing I could think of.

"We would never do that," I protested. "That's one of the most ridiculous things I've ever heard."

"Your Eiric was found with a dead cousin," the dwarf growled and poked at my stomach with his sword. I'm sorry, but I take offense at swords being poked at my middle.

"I won't let you prevent me from going to him," I finally said. "What do you care if I go to the Dragon? How can that hurt you?" I felt relieved when the dwarf stepped away.

"I don't believe it," Siegfried muttered under his breath, but both I and the dwarf heard him.

"If you didn't kill my cousins, then who did?" the dwarf growled.

I shrugged. "When I return with Eiric, we will help you find out," I promised.

"He's gone!" Siegfried gasped. "I don't believe it, Lelina! You did it! Though how you're going to find out who's been killing the dwarves, I don't know."

I stretched my arms out and found the side of the tunnel.

"Do you think we're still going the right way?" I asked. "Have you ever seen the Dragon?" The going was slower now that I was not on my hands and knees, but I could feel that we were growing closer to our goal. The wall ended abruptly and I dug my fingers into stone, trying to catch my balance.

Siegfried gasped beside me. "What is it?" I asked.

"Junk," Siegfried replied, although I sensed that he was leaving something out.

"Do you see Eiric?" I asked, cautiously feeling my way down a steep slope. Siegfried was no help. He vanished.

I found out why a moment later when a breath of hot, stinking air blew over my face and something very immense shifted its weight mere feet in front of me.

"Who are you and why do you dare to tresspass in my lair?" the voice growled worse than a dwarf's. I shuddered but held my ground.

"I've come for Eiric," I whispered. "One of your Crimple-thoughts stole him out of his grave. Before I leave the Mountain, I have to know if he's still alive."

The Dragon shifted again and something slid against my legs. I stepped back and tried not to lose my balance.

"My Crimple-thoughts won't ever take anything that isn't alive," the Dragon said. "So your Eiric must be alive. What does he look like?"

"I don't know," I whispered. "I've never seen his face."

The Dragon was silent for so long that I feared it had fallen asleep.

"Then that explains why you aren't afraid of me," the Dragon growled. "I can't abide something that isn't afraid of me. Perhaps I'll kill you both."

I had a hard time staying on my feet. My knees kept wanting to collapse.

"I'm very afraid, Sir Dragon," I admitted, "but I cannot live knowing I left Eiric here to die."

The Dragon snorted and a puff of hot air blew over my face.

"You cannot see my magnificant scales or my terrible fangs?" The Dragon asked. I shook my head. "And all you want from me is this Eiric? What if I told you he was wounded beyond repair by the dwarves?"

I stiffened my spine and tried to look as brave as I could. "I would die for him," I whispered, though I really didn't want it to come to that.

The dragon snorted again. "I see," he murmured. "What is your name, child?"

Now the Dragon didn't sound half as angry as before. I cleared my throat and whispered my name.

"Lelina," the dragon replied. "I do not require you to give your life for the life of your Eiric. But I do require some sort of payment in exchange for him."

My mind raced with possibilities. "I will do whatever you wish," I replied, hoping he would choose something I was able to do.

The Dragon chuckled softly. "I have grown too large to move from my chamber, though you cannot see that," the dragon said.

"I can feel your size," I replied.

"I believe you," the Dragon said. "I know what happened to the outside world, and I also know what has been killing the dwarves. You don't want to leave here, do you?"

I shook my head.

"I didn't think so. One of my Crimple-thoughts discovered a book in my Mountain about creatures like Eiric and you. It changed into the creature in the book and killed those dwarves. It is dead now."

"The dwarves will be happy to know that," I commented. "Where is Eiric? What must I do to free him?"

The Dragon shifted again. "I have a small request," he whispered, "though I doubt you can do it. I will live out the rest of my life here, Lelina. You and Eiric can go anywhere you wish. My request is for a story."

"Eiric tells better stories than I do," I said. "He can read the books he found."

"You have books?"

"Piles of books," I replied. "Every time Eiric goes foraging he brings something back to read."

The Dragon sounded positively excited. "What kind of stories do you have?" he asked.

"Any kind you want," I said. "Eiric reads me a different story every night. I think I can persuade him to read you one also."

"I will send one of my Crimple-thoughts to your rooms every night," the Dragon said. "Hold out your arms."

I obeyed and almost fell under Eiric's weight. He was unconscious and covered with dirt.

"You're going to let me leave with him?" I asked, not believing that I actually held Eiric in my arms and that he was still alive.

"If I can trust you not to run away," the Dragon rumbled, but instead of sounding terrifying, he merely sounded lonely. "I will send one of my Crimple-thoughts with a powder that should help your Eiric heal," he said. "If you turn around and walk straight up the hill, you'll be in the tunnel you came out of." I carefully followed his directions and stopped a few minutes later when Siegfried's voice drifted up at me.

"Lelina!" he shouted. "You're alive!"

I smiled and clutched Eiric tighter to my chest. "Of course, Siegfried," I said. "I spoke to the dragon and he doesn't seem to be very mean at all. Just lonely."

"I tried not to listen," Siegfried confessed. "I thought he would burn up." Eiric moaned in my arms. "Is he going to live?"

"According to the dragon, he will," I said. "He's even giving us a potion to heal Eiric's wounds. I can't wait until he wakes up."

"Why?" Siegfried asked, showing that he had been listening to our conversation a little bit. "To keep your end of the bargain a little bit?" I shook my head. "Why, then?"

"Because I'll finally be able to tell him a story he hasn't heard before," I replied, and carried Eiric home.

THE END

(Original author's note:)

AUTHOR'S NOTE

This story began as a dream I had in February. I did not realize Lelina was blind until I sat down and started writing. I've never had a blind heroine that defeated a dragon and angry dwarves without killing any one of them. Siegfried was also in my dream. He looks like a perfectly ordinary black and white cat. Lelina has long blond hair and blue eyes. Eiric has reddish-brown hair and brown eyes.

7-9 pm April 10, 1995
Bethel, Ohio

J.L.S.

Copyright 1995 Jennifer St. Clair

Pieces of String too Short to Save: Author's Cuts

2005-01-24T14:44:00.000-08:00

I can't remember where I first heard the story, but it went something like this:

An old woman had died. Her son was given the unenviable task of executor of her estate. Unfortunately for him, his mother was an old-school packrat, saving anything and everything that might have use in the far-off future. Stacks of yellowed newspaper towered throughout the house, cardboard boxes that had been eaten by silverfish lay in dusty piles against every wall. The closets burst with clothing, more boxes, mouldering books, and receipts from fifty years ago. It seemed an insurmountable task, but the son persevered.

While cleaning out the kitchen pantry full of expired food and home remedies, the son came upon a shoebox with a yellowed strip of masking tape stuck on the lid. In spidery handwriting, he read, Pieces of String too Short to Save. And yes, the box was full of pieces of string, some of them less than an inch long.

The idea of keeping a box full of useless string intrigued me. I keep every word I write, whether I end up using it in the final version of the story or not. Hundreds of snippets, cuts, and rewrites sit in my computer's files. I have two twenty gallon Rubbermaid containers full of old stories, mouldering away.
But I keep every cut sentence, paragraph, or page, for posterity, if nothing else. And they sit. Some of the cut scenes are just as good as the finished stories. Others are interesting to examine to see how the end result differed from the original. Still others are mere ideas, likely never to see the light of publication... save for here.

Eventually, I will post my files of snippets in some sort of organized fashion, for anyone interested to peruse. Since the cut scenes are just clogging my wips folder, they might as well be put to use here.

I intend to explain a bit about the snippets I post, and try to examine why the idea didn't work or why the scene got cut. A "Director's Cut" version of the story, if you will. Hopefully someone will be interested enough in my writing process to make this page useful.

Stay tuned.