Secrets Outside the Secrets

I surprised myself last night, I really did.  Just when I didn’t think I was going to have a good writing session, I sat down and worked my way through a little over nine hundred words, and that ended up getting the scene right around twenty-three hundred words, with more to come.  I may get in a few this evening–maybe just to finish a few thoughts–but my best guess is I’ll finish the scene tomorrow night.

And then I get to write about angsty Kerry.  It’s so much fun.

"So far it's going great.  If only I could get this story to write itself."

“So far it’s going great. If only I could get this story to write itself.”

Yesterday we got a little bit of info on what happened in the aftermath of jaunting out of Casa Malibey, and we got to see what Berniece Rutherford really looks like.  And while we’re on the subject of Kerry’s case worker, Annie has a few more questions:

 

(The following excerpts from The Foundation Chronicles, Book Three: C For Continuing, copyright 2016 by Cassidy Frazee)

Though she was the one who first told Kerry about the slow aging of witches once they were through puberty, Bernice’s appearance only emphasized the point even more. “I’m certain I will. You must excel at this job.”

Bernice shrugged. “Not really. It’s common for The Foundation to choose case works who are only a few years removed from their own graduations. They feel it’ll help us empathize with our charges since we went through the same things only a decade before.” She glanced towards the unlit fireplace. “My own case worker was twenty-four when I same out.” She took a long sip of her tea before setting it aside. “One of the advantages you get being born into a Normal family is you get someone to help you through school.”

Being a Legacy it was true that Annie didn’t require a case worker since, as her mother said once, she didn’t need to live outside The Foundation system as much as a witch from a normal background. “Yes, I don’t need a case worker—” She eyed her guest. “But I have one anyway—don’t I?”

“Because of your relationship with Kerry—which we both know is more than just a relationship.” Berniece crossed her legs. “I see all the reports on you as well as Kerry. I know your proficiencies in magic; I know how well you tutor each each. I know of your astral bond—” She motioned with her hand towards Annie. “—and I know why there’s a medical monitor etched into your chest.” She smiled moments after her host glanced downward as if to assure herself that the enchantment wasn’t showing. “You’re a part of his life, and he yours, so I am kept aware.”

 

This is the first time we actually learn that they are a package deal, and that Annie is looked at just as much as Kerry.  And by saying that Berneice knows they are more than just a couple, she’s referring to the special situation that originally brought them together.  In a way, Ms. Rutherford is sitting across from one half of the youngest married couple in The Foundation, and she isn’t there to give Annie an update on her boyfriend–she’s there to tell her about her husband.

But Annie has some ideas about the person in the lake house with her she needs to discuss:

 

Annie was curious about how much the case worker was aware of their lives. “You know of our shared vision, yes?” She nodded back over her right shoulder. “You’ve spent enough time looking up there for it not to be a coincidence.”

Berniece looked downward with half closed eyes. “I have read the report on your shared vision, and what represents to you.” She scratched the bridge of her nose with a nail. “I also get reports on your Guardian activity.”

“You do?” Annie was surprised to hear this. “Why do you get that?”

“To keep track of your progress—I mean, in a way what you do with them could be considered part of your schooling.”

It was only then that Annie figured out something about the woman across from her. “You work for the Protectors, don’t you?”

“Why do you say that?”

“You have access to reports on our academic progress, to issues which are personal, and you know the things we’ve done with the Guardians. I don’t believe you are a Guardian, so that leaves being a Protector.”

I wonder if Berniece knows about Annie’s rune dream, too?  Probably, because those dreams were an important part in both their lives.  Annie’s likely showed their link to their astral bonding–and may have indicated that the Three Bindings took place–and Kerry’s dream not only reminded him that he, too, was connected to Annie through their astal bonding, but there was a “someone” inside them waiting for their chance to merge and become one with him.

Ever think Berniece reads these reports and wonders what of crazy hell she’s gotten herself into?

I guess this means we find out if Ms. Rutherford really is a Protector.  I mean, after getting you to this set up, it wouldn’t make any sense not to give you a payoff.

The Aftermath of the Aformentioned

So, actually, a pretty productive weekend.  Did some editing, did shopping, did writing, did TV watching, had diner with friends, stayed out of trouble.  As of last night I climbed over the five thousand word mark in the new novel, which is about where I expected to be after a week–well, eight days, but there were a couple of days there where I didn’t actually do a lot or any work on the new novel, so more like five thousand in six days.

I quibble.

And that brings us to the post of the morning:

"Seriously, she thinks Rose is the best?  I'm gonna have to set this bitch straight, won't I?"

“Thanks, Cassie:  I wondered when you were getting to the point.”

I do get there, eventually.

If scene one was a lead-in to a flashback, and scene two was the flashback, then it only seems to reason that scene three is gonna bookend scene two.  And that’s just what happens:  we now head back to the House by the Lake and finish up what was started a few thousand words back:

 

(The following excerpts from The Foundation Chronicles, Book Three: C For Continuing, copyright 2016 by Cassidy Frazee)

“You jaunted out of their house?” Annie leaned forward and snorted. “I wonder how shocked they were by that?”

Berniece snickered before taking a sip of her tea. “Quite a lot, I imagine.”

“Did Kerry know you were going to do that?”

“No. I thought it best he not know.”

Annie nodded in agreement. “Probably would have made him more nervous.”

“And that was something he didn’t need.” Berniece set her cup and saucer on the end table next to her chair. “I didn’t want to add to the stress he was already under.”

“Then why did you jaunt out?”

“Why not? His parents knew I was witch, so why pretend that I can’t do simple magic?”

Annie couldn’t argue with her logic. Magic is something we do; why pretend you can’t? “I imagine Kerry had to explain what happened.”

“More than likely.” Berniece sighed. “Poor kid.”

 

Having Ms. Rutherford jaunt right out of sight while standing in front of Kerry’s mom probably didn’t help Louise’s nerves much, though I imagine Kerry probably chuckled after that happened.  Ah, just wait until Kerry starts doing that:  he’ll be like Carl and never stay inside the house.  Though that might not be a thought that went running through his mom’s mind at that moment . . .

 

“Why didn’t you stay with him?”

“Because his mother and father wanted me to leave, and to go against their wishes would have created a situation.” Berniece passed her hand over her tea cup and a wisp of steam rose from the water. “We’re instructed to become confrontational only if necessary, and it wasn’t necessary. Not at that moment.”

Annie didn’t belabor the point: it didn’t take much imagination to see the harm that would be caused by an Aware case worker getting into a fight with the Normal parents of a young witch. It would hurt Kerry more than help him if she’s refused to leave. “Have you heard from him since last night?”

 

You could say, “She should have stayed there while Kerry’s parents ripped him a new one for no good reason,” but why?  To force yourself into the conversation?  To prove you’re not going to let the Normal people push you around ’cause you’re one of the Aware and better than them?  Bang-up job you’re doing there to keep people from shitting themselves, because you’re not helping your cause by being an asshole to the parents.

It’s really a shitty place to be, but Ms. Rutherford will say things later on to support why she doesn’t think it’s a problem.  Besides, it was pointed out that Kerry can stand up for himself these days, though when it comes to his parents, there’s still a lot of internalized conflict there.

Now, has Kerry contacted his case working?  Well . . .

 

“No.” She removed her mobile from her purse and checked something. “I had a Watcher go by his house around twenty-two thirty last night, and their message then said that he was up in his room at his desk doing something while his parents where still in the family room watching TV and talking.” She put her phone back in her purse. “No messages this morning, but that’s not usually. They’ll likely take a pass by his house before noon.”

“I see.” Annie didn’t find it unusual that a Watcher had checked in on Kerry, or that Berniece asked for the check-up. “How long will that continue?”

“For the next few days. Just to make certain things haven’t turned bad.”

“You don’t expect that, do you?”

“No. But best not to take chances this first week.”

“True.” Annie cleared her throat. “May I ask a question?”

Berniece sipped her tea before answering. “Go ahead.”

“May I see what you really look like? I mean—” She gave a small grin. “You showed Kerry.”

“Oh, of course.” In seconds Berniece shifted from her older, more adult appearance to her unaltered appearance. “Sorry: guess I’m still in the habit of looking that other way.”

“You’ve had to look that way with us for a year and a half, so I see how it might be hard to break.” Annie reexamined her guest. “You do look young.”

“Remember this when you’re my age: you’ll look the same.”

 

Now you know that Ms. Rutherford showed up in “older mode” when she walked into the Lake House, and part of that may have been due to knowing she might meet Annie’s parents.  She can do away with that now because, well, the magical cat is out of the bag, and there’s no need to hid among your own kind–a phrase she used with his parents, and which may have not been the best phrase to throw out there.

The process here with the excerpts will be to put out about five hundred words daily, while writing a little more than that every night when possible.  That way I stay ahead of posting and don’t feel pressured to get the new content in before putting it out for all to see.  Right now I’m two posts ahead, and if I can get another six hundred into the story tonight it’ll stay that way.  I do hope to not feel pressured to write, because in the last few months of the last novel the pressure was there in droves, and I really want to avoid that at all cost right now.

Right now, the only one who should feel pressure is a certain ginger in Cardiff…

Truthing the Magical Way

Yesterday I promised that we’d get to see Kerry showing the parents what he could do witchy wise, and today that time has come.  We know Kerry is trying to convince his folks that, yes, he’s really one of those people who do real magic and just don’t pretend, and given that they’re being such hard sells–well, sometimes drastic measure require drastic actions …

 

(The following excerpts from The Foundation Chronicles, Book Three: C For Continuing, copyright 2016 by Cassidy Frazee)

Kerry sat back slowly while keeping eyes locked on his mother. Before leaving Berlin he’d told Ms. Rutherford that his mother would have the hardest time with his coming out, and expected at least one outburst from her. “Okay, Mom.”

Louise turned on Ms. Rutherford. “Why are you having us listen to this bullshit? Why are we really here?”

“We’re here because it is necessary for Kerry to reveal the true nature of his studies.” Ms. Rutherford remained icy calm as she faced a hostile parent—something with which she’d had personal experience in the past. “Everything Kerry’s told you is true—”

“You expect us to believe he can actually do magic?” Louise scoffed loudly. “You made it sound as if you had something important to tell us—”

“It is important, Mrs. Malibey—”

“And you throw this—this goddamn nonsense at us.” Louise looked as if she were about to stand. “This is—”

Kerry.” Ms. Rutherford put just enough volume and tone in her voice to shut down the conversation from the other side of the room. “Maybe now is the time to do what we discussed.”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

Louise immediately perked up. “Do what?”

Kerry’s eyes focused on nothing as he slipped into deep concentration. “Show a practical application.”

“Of what?”

He looked up and at his mother. “This.” Kerry held his hands up and flicked out his index fingers—

 

Do we expect you to believe your son can do magic?  No, Mrs. Malibey; we expect you to die!  Oh, wait:  wrong story.  Anyway, Kerry’s about the lay the mojo down, and–well ….

"I'm always amazed . . . that I actually wrote this crap."

“Yeah, Kerry:  show us what you got.”

Okay, then here goes:

 

All the window shades dropped simultaneously and what little outside light there was dimmed considerably. The door to the kitchen quickly closed and latched, and a black curtain seemed to fill the opening between the family and dining rooms. A moment later all the lights in the room went out, and the family room turned dark instantly.

A bright glowing sphere formed in front of Kerry and rose off his upwardly turned left hand until stopping a few centimeters short of the ceiling. It grew slightly brighter until the family room was filled with a soft white luminescence.

Kerry looked upward for a moment, then turned is gaze across the room to his parents. He crossed his arms. “That should do it.”

His parents sat looking about the room in surprised and confusion which Kerry had expected. Louise slowly turned to him. “Wha—what happened?”

“I used a variation of the levitation spell to drop the shades and shut the kitchen door.” Kerry sat back, looking somewhat pleased. “I threw a masking effect across the windows and did a kind of privacy curtain over the dining room entrance—” He looked to his left at his work. “It’s not that good, but I’ve only been working on something that big for about a month. And last I did a simple light spell and levitated it up towards the ceiling so we can see.” He shrugged. “Pretty simple.”

Davyn emerged from a semi-stupor brought about by Kerry’s crafting. “Simple?”

“Yeah, it really is, Dad—”

“What Kerry means is it’s simple for him.” Ms. Rutherford glanced over towards the boy on his left. “This is the reason he’s in all the advanced—”

“Stop it.”

Ms. Rutherford grew quiet and waited a few moment for Louise Malibey, who now seemed on the verge of being either confused or frightened, to gather herself together. “Is something the matter?”

Louise half-closed her eyes. “Stop this: just stop it.”

Ms. Rutherford nodded towards her left. “Kerry?”

“Sure.” He made the slightest of motions with his left hand: instantly the blinds rose to their proper open position, the door to the kitchen opened, the light ball near the ceiling vanished as the light came on once more, and the privacy effects on the windows and dining room entrance vanished. He leaned forward, rubbing his hands against his thighs. “There.”

Lousie stared hard at her son. “You did that.”

Kerry gave a slight nod. “Yeah, I did.”

“That wasn’t a trick.”

“No, it wasn’t.” He held back from chuckling. “No one from The Foundation came in while the house was empty and set this up so I could trick you.”

Dayvn seemed to relax though he appeared wary and apprehensive. “So you used—magic?”

This time Kerry nodded twice. “Yes: I used magic.”

 

Yeah, Mom, I used magic.  So this cat’s out of the bag and is never getting back in–then again, what cat ever does?  Boxes, however:  all bets are off about when they’ll get out.

I wanted Kerry to do something that would show he’s really skilled with crafting the Art, as they say back at the school, but not do something that would literally scare the shit out of his parents.  Fireballs and Cold Fire?  They wouldn’t have dug it.  Shadow Ribbons?  Too sinister.  Air hammer?  Yeah, blowing out the windows in the family room would have made a statement.

And, yes, he could have done a little transformation magic like change the color of his hair or darken his complexion, but he’s probably aware by now that his parents would probably have freaked out even more if they knew their had their own little Mystique living under their roof, and that their child is a person who can literally become you if they want.

This, however, does lead to a few questions and a revelation–

 

Louise turned to Ms. Rutherford. “So all the students at school are witches?”

Ms. Rutherford remained calm. “Yes.”

“And the instructors?”

“They’re witches as well: it’s necessary.” She sat back just a bit. “And before you ask, yes: the staff at school are witches as well.”

Louise looked downward as she swallowed once. “That must mean—” She looked at the woman sitting across from her. “—you’re a witch, too.”

“I am.” Ms. Rutherford crossed her arms and gently rubbed her chin with her right hand. “I went to Salem, just like Kerry.”

Dayvn nodded slowly. “When did you go?”

“I started in 2001: I was among the first A Levels to begin the new century.”

“When did you graduate?”

“2007.”

Both of Louise’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “How old were you?”

“Seventeen.” Ms. Rutherford looked at Kerry with a certain pride. “The same age as Kerry will be when he graduates.”

“But—” Louise looked down and away as if she were having difficulty understanding something. “That was only six years ago.”

“Yes, it was.” Ms. Rutherford chuckled lightly. “In case you’re wondering, I’ll be twenty-three in about six weeks.”

“You don’t look anything like twenty-three.”

“I know. When we’re dealing with the parents of children from Normal backgrounds—non-witches, mind you—we try to make ourselves look more ‘age appropriate’. It allows the parents to feel more comfortable when dealing with us. But now that you know I’m a witch, there really isn’t any need to keep up the charade—”

Though she didn’t change in height or size, Ms. Rutherford’s features flowed from that of a woman who may have been in her mid-thirties to someone who appeared to be maybe three or four years older than Kerry. The transformation took place in less than three seconds, and when it was over she spoke to the visibly shocked adults. “This is how I really look. And how I’ll look from now on when I speak with Kerry and come for him.”

 

Now this little bit of writing required that I do something:  mainly, figure out all the stuff with Berniece’s life.  I knew a little about her, but it was only in this moment of writing that I locked her down to an age and attendance.

And that means having to get a time line ready.

And that means having to get a time line ready.

And it also shows that The Foundation is thinking ahead in that they like the people who have to deal with their student’s parents to look–let’s say “professional”.  Which is to mean age appropriate, as she says.

And that makes things a bit more interesting when we realize that those moments in which Ms. Rutherford comforted Kerry when his moments of need, she’s really only ten years older than him and Annie.  And that means she probably does relate to him better, because it wasn’t that long ago she may have went through the same things he’s going through now.

It’s also easy to see that here are at least three people at Salem that she may have known, though it’s doubtful she was ever friends with them.  Even her covenmate Wednesday would have been an E Level once Berniece was out of The Fishbowl, and that’s a pretty big gap to jump in terms of friendship.  Still, she would have likely known those three people, and she likely would have had Erywin, Jessica, Maddie, Ramona, and Mathias as instructors, and maybe even Helena, too; I’d have to check on that last.  She’s a good person to have as your case worker if you need something done, because she knows people, yeah?

So now that the Malibey’s have seen transformation magic up close and personal, they’re okay with it–

 

Louise’s face froze into a tight mask. “You look like a teenager.”

“Well—” She glanced over to Kerry, who was examining his case worker’s true appearance. “I do look like I’m eighteen, but that comes with being a witch.” She turned back to Louise with a smile. “It comes with being what I am.”

“I see.” Louise folded her hands across her lap and stared unfocused into space. “I need you leave.”

“I beg your pardon?” Ms. Rutherford cocked her head to one side. “Is there a—”

“I need you to leave.” Louise straightened as her eyes turned cold. “I want you out of this house, and I want you out now.”

 

–Okay, maybe not.  Then again, we knew Louise Malibey was going to be a hard sell, and we weren’t disappointed.

The question remains:  where happens next?

I guess you’ll have to wait and see, won’t you?

2001 A Blogging Odyssey

I show no shame in ripping off the title of one of my favorite movies and using it for my own.  But given this is post number 2001, what else am I gonna say?

How about “I finished scene two last night?”  Yeah, that’s a nice thing to say.  It saw me returning to form a little as I wrote eight hundred and sixty-eight words, and that’s close to nine hundred, and that’s almost a thousand, so maybe I’m starting to get back into the swing.  Maybe.  I have a TV recap to do tonight, so I’ll likely not get into the third scene until early Saturday morning.

Still, though, I finished this scene.

It only took four days, but I got it done.

It only took four days, but I got it done.

This scene is the flashback.  This is where we see what happens after those five words are spoken at the end of B For Bewitching, and some have waited–well, weeks, to discover what happened next.

And instead of talking about that, why not show it?

 

(The following excerpts from The Foundation Chronicles, Book Three: C For Continuing, copyright 2016 by Cassidy Frazee)

“Mom, Dad . . . I’m a witch.”

Kerry sat in silence for a few seconds waiting for the response he knew was coming. For the last month, since the night of the lighting of the Beltane bonfires, he’d played this scene out in mind, knowing what he was going to say and imagining what his parent would do and say. He’d expected them to appear shocked and find his comment ludicrous, to even wonder if he as suffering from a mental disorder.

He imagined the worst.

He did not expect for them to sit and stare at him in silence.

His eyes shifted from her father to his mother. “Guys?”

Louise Malibey was the first to break the silence. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m a witch.” He glanced at Ms. Rutherford on his right, who nodded for him to continue. “I can do magic.”

His father, Davyn Malibey, cleared his throat. “You mean like what Davie Blane does?”

“No, dad—” Kerry shook his head. “He’s an illusionist. I’m a real witch: I do real magic.”

“I just don’t understand—” Louise’s appearance had moved from confused to one that was bordering on annoyed. She turned her attention to Ms. Rutherford. “I though this was about something important?”

Ms. Rutherford raised a skeptical eyebrow. “This is important, Mrs. Malibey. This is your son’s life we’re discussing.”

“Are you—?”

Davyn held up a hand before his wife could say anything further. “If this was true, shouldn’t you be a wizard?”

“No, Dad.” Kerry sat back, now a bit relaxed. “That’s a word a bunch of dudes made up a few hundred years back because they didn’t want to share the same designation with women. As far as practitioners of The Art—that’s how you really refer to magic—as far as they’re concerned, you’re a witch whether your a girl or a boy. Same with sorceresses: it’s the same word for either gender.”

“Sorceresses?”

Ms. Rutherford picked up on the manifesting tone in Louise’s voice, and felt having Kerry give as much information as quickly as possible to be the best course of action. “Kerry, why don’t you tell your parents what you actually do at school.”

 

Yeah, Kerry, why don’t you rush over all the black magic shit and tell them about the school work your parents haven’t asked you about all the other times they could have asked you.  You have to figure that Kerry knew this was going to be a bit difficult to get his parents to understand, given they’ve shown zero interest in his school work up to this point, so it’s a a bit of an uphill battle for him.

Do his parents want to hear about classes?  Believe it or not–

 

“Yes—” Louise’s voice had suddenly become far move restrained. “I’d like to hear this.”

“I’m certain of this.” Ms. Rutherford turned to her charge. “Kerry?”

Davyn spoke up while Louise sat quietly. “Yes, what do you do, son?”

“Well—” He ran his hand over his thighs as he leaned forward. “I’ve taken history, math—um, algebra and geometry—basic and earth science as well as botany. I’ve had two years of astronomy where we’ve learned more math. And we’ve taken self defense classes, too: I’m actually taking the advanced class, and probably will until almost the end of school.

“But the real reason I’m there is to learn how to craft magic. I’ve taken classes in normal spells, in Formulistic Magic—that’s really chemistry with magic—in transformation magic, and in sorcery. And in those first three, those are a few of the advanced classes I’m in. I also get special tutoring in sorcery, and I tutor someone in transformation magic.”

Kerry moved on quickly so he didn’t have to explain the special tutoring situation. “I’ve also learned how to apply magic to what I learned in botany and in my self defense class, so it’s possible to change things there with a bit of crafting.

“Also, I fly. I’ve taken two years of flying, and I’ll start my third when I return—”

“Flying?” Louis seemed puzzled by her son’s comment.

“Yeah, Mom: flying.”

“With what?”

“With a broom.”

Both parents were surprised by this, though Louise was able to respond the quickest. “A broom? Like a witches broom.”

Kerry shrugged. “Well—”

Davyn found his voice. “Like a Harry Potter broom?”

“No, nothing like that. These are—” He moved his hands about like he was grabbing the words out of the air. “It’s like most of a bicycle frame without the wheels. It’s made out of carbon filament, and there’s a seat and a control HUD like you have—”

“Stop. Just stop it.”

 

Well, that certainly sounds like it’s gonna be good.

This part is gonna get farmed out over the next three days, because it can.  About a third of it is down today, and the last part of this get blogged out on Sunday, which gives me time to write more on Saturday and Sunday.  It’s my hope I can always stay a few days ahead of the post so that, when it’s time to put a post out, I have something to excerpt.

In the meantime I’m probably gonna Gish Gallop out a bunch of recaps that I’ve written in the last few weeks, just because I can, and it’ll get me caught up on the stuff I normally reblog anyway.  Look for that stuff to start blowing up in your email box today.

Needless to day, the next few days are gonna get interesting . . .

Bimillennium

You waited and waited, and here it is:  post Number 2000.  So of course it’ll be called what it’s called, because that’s what you get when you have two of a thousand, yeah?

But this the real deal:  two thousand posted, most of which were written with maybe a few dozen reblogged.  I’ll take that, because most of those reblogs were mine, and after tomorrow’s post–which is gonna be a play on another famous title–I’ll do a Gish Gallop on stuff that I’ve written but not reblogged, which are mostly my recaps over on The Snarking Dead.

But you didn’t come here to read about that, right?  No, there’s something else here–

"Oh, look:  Cassidy finally decided to treat us to her work.  About time."

“Oh, look: Cassidy finally decided to treat us to her new work. About time.”

 

That’s the real reason, for today C For Continuing starts excerpting, and at the rate I’m writing I’ll run out of things to excerpt in a few days, because I was only able to write another five hundred words last night.  Don’t worry:  I’ll get into gear.  I promise.  There’s a thousand word night in me somewhere.  Which I’m gonna need because right now my average is well below what I normally do.

But enough of that.  Since everyone waited I figured I’ll throw all of the first scene out for you to read and try to sate your appetites.  Here it, first draft as always, and right off the bat you get into what’s most important at this point in my kids’ story . . .

 

(The following excerpts from The Foundation Chronicles, Book Three: C For Continuing, copyright 2016 by Cassidy Frazee)

What bothered Annie Kirilova the most this morning was the weather. She had hoped for a bright sunshine, but what she received instead was light rain and low cloud cover. The rain also had the temperatures hovering in the low teens Celsius, which kept her out of shorts and forced her into leggings to wear with her long, flowing top and black ballet flats.

Given what was going to happen, she wondered if the weather reflected he mood.

Standing before the large windows of her lake house, she saw that her tree was certainly reading her feelings. The leaves were a bright yellow when she arrived thirty minutes earlier, and now they were a muddy gold. It feels my concern: it knows this. Her mother had seen it as well, when Annie entered the kitchen as she came down the spiral staircase from her bedroom. While Annie was an expert at hiding her emotions, the last few years saw her mother becoming more adapt at picking up on them. She knew the reason why: puberty was having an effect upon her, and while it remained possible to keep her feelings invisible, strong emotions had a way of leaking through the outer façade.

And Annie’s emotions were growing stronger every day.

She turned away from the window sighing and checked the clock in the kitchen: 08:59. Annie wondered if her guest would actually turn up in the next minute as she was told that this particular person had a habit for punctuality—

The LEDs switched over to 09:00. Annie held her breath as she moved towards the dining table.

A few seconds later a shadow passed across the windows followed by a knock at the main entrance. Annie turned and nearly smiled. The stories are true, it seem. She hurried over and opened the door for her guest. “Won’t you come in, please?”

“Thank you, Annie.” Berniece Rutherford entered and paused for a moment as she examined the large, open space. She wore a light jacket over her tee shirt this Sunday morning, and her jeans and sneakers indicated she was anticipating a relaxing day. “So this is the lake house.”

“Yes, it is. I hope you like it.” Annie wondered how much Ms. Rutherford knew about this place. She was aware that as Kerry’s case worker it was necessary for her to receive numerous concerning things that happened to Kerry at school, and it was likely she’d read at least one report on their shared wedding vision—a fact of which she was certain the moment she noticed the young woman’s eyes lock upon the sleep loft in the back. She has to know everything.

Annie stepped closer to her guests and held out her hand. “May I take your jacket and purse?”

“You can hang up my jacket; I’ll keep my purse with me.” She shrugged out of it and stepped a couple of meters away from the door. “Are we sitting at the table or by the fireplace?”

Annie finished hanging the jacket. “By the fireplace, please. Would you like tea? I put a kettle on in anticipation.”

Berniece chuckled. “I would love some. Do you have breakfast tea?”

“Yes. Loose leaf.”

“You are ready. That would be fine.”

Annie gave a cut nod then went to the kitchen area to retrieve the kettle and prepare the infuser. She set both on a tray along with a cup and saucer and carried them over to where Bernice sat. Annie waved her hand over the kettle, which began steaming almost immediately, then slowly poured the tea cup just over three quarters full. “I understand you like milk in yours—would you care for some?”

“Yes, please.”

Annie levitated a small pitcher all the way from the kitchen and gently retrieved it in mid-air. Only after pouring in a small amount of milk did she offer the tea to her guest. “Here you are.”

“Thank you, Annie.” Berniece looked up, smiling. “You are quite the host.”

“Mama impressed upon me that we should always make our guests comfortable when they visit.”

Bernice watched the steam rising from the liquid’s surface. “Must have been a little tricky timing this coming to a boil right before my arrival.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Annie sat in the leather easy chair across the coffee table from the case worker. “I brought it to a boil maybe fifteen minutes ago, then placed a small time spell around the kettle to put it in stasis. As far as the contents of the kettle were concerned, maybe five seconds had passed before I removed the spell.”

Berniece gave an approving grin. “Did you learn that on your own?”

“No, Kerry taught me.”

“So your Time Lord is teaching you those spells. I guess you’ll be a Time Lady soon.”

Annie managed a slight smile at the reference while inwardly she groaned. In the last few months of their B Levels Kerry had become quite adept at quickly crafting a selection of time spells of all sizes, and had begun using them to speed up reactions in Advanced Formulistic Magic. Because of this ability, however, Erywin—who was as much a pop culture geek as her soul mate—began calling him the “Salem Time Lord” and openly joked that it wouldn’t be long before Annie joined him as a Time Lady.

She must have included that bit in one of her reports. Annie wasn’t sure if she should feel honored that Erywin was observant enough to take time to acknowledge these abilities publicly, of annoyed that she allowed her private jokes into official documents.

Annie decided to move away from any discussion of her ability with time crafting. “Is it raining in London as well?”

Berniece shook her head. “No, but it’s about the same temperature-wise.”

“Did you have trouble getting here?”

“Not a all. I took you advice: jaunted London to Sofia, had them jaunt me to Pamporovo, then hired a car to your house. Your mother didn’t seem at all surprised when I pulled up.”

Annie shook her head. “No. I’d told her you were coming. Did you walk down from the main house?”

“You mother jaunted me to the deck stairs. I think she felt it necessary that she not be seen.” Berniece sipped her tea. “Umm—that’s perfect.”

Annie settled back in her chair and tried not to be obvious about taking a deep breath before continuing. She felt there had been enough small talk already, and she wanted to get into the reason why she’d asked Ms. Rutherford here two weeks earlier. “If you wouldn’t mind—”

Berniece sensed Annie’s eagerness to start. “No, not at all.”

Annie crossed her legs. “How did it go?”

Berniece held her cup and saucer of tea steady in her lap. “It went about as well as I expected—”

 

Those last remarks should be familiar—

 

FADE IN:

INT. LAKE HOUSE INTERIOR — DAY

The camera centers on ANNIE KIRILOVA sitting in a large chair. She’s dressed casually and for the summer. She addresses someone sitting off-screen across from her.

ANNIE (IN ENGLISH)
How did it go?

QUICK CUT:
Sitting in another large chair across from Annie BERNIECE RUTHERFORD steadies her cup and saucer in her lap. She dressed causally in jeans and a pullover top, ready for summer.

BERNIECE
About as well as I expected.

 

—with just a bit of editing on Bernice’s line, because you can’t always get everything you want in a trailer, can you?

With the first scene coming on their return from school for the summer, and with me saying the next scene is a flashback, that mean what comes next must have to do with the other have of the Lovey Dovey Couples, otherwise why is Ms. Rutherford there?

I guess this means you get to begin seeing what happened to Kerry tomorrow–

Workin’ Like It’s 1999

As I like to say, this is the penultimate post to the last–but wait:  tomorrow isn’t the last post I’ll write.  Far from that.  It’s just that tomorrow’s post is kind of a big deal, so to say I’m a little excited is an understatement.

"I never thought I'd get here. But I'm always thinking that."

“I never thought I’d get here. But I’m always thinking that.”

So I’m a little over two thousand words into the next novel, which doesn’t sound like a lot, but give it time, I’ll get there.  Not to mention that this weekend is supposed to be hotter that hell and I’ll likely be staying in a lot, so I’m going to set Sunday as a day to write and not a day to fool around watching Netflix.  Because there is stuff I need to get down in the Word Bank, and that’s as good a day as any.

So what to talk about today?  Um, how about bra fittings?

I know, strange subject, but then I get my readers going off in the direction, like yesterday.  Renxkyoko and I were discussing yesterday’s post, and we got off on the subject of “Kerry after the Change” because I made a comment about what sort of panties Girl Kerry will want to wear, and from there I made the comment that she’ll also need a bra fitting, and . . . yeah, there’s a lot of things about this transition that, in time, will likely need to be addressed.  I mean, we’ve seen Annie fly more than once, so the odds are good we’ll see Kerry transition more than once, too.

But will happen in this novel?  Um . . . probably not.  Or maybe it will.  Where would they go?  Forever 21?  Has Annie ever set foot inside a Forever 21?  Probably not.  Not when she’s getting her purses and wallets from the Louis Vuitton store in Paris, so you can imagine–as we already have–that Annie has some high standards when it comes to her threads.  Which means she’s likely to be just as picky about someone else’s threads as hers.  “It’s not a problem, Annie.  I can pick up some jeans at JC Penney’s and–”  And Annie lets out a shriek of horror at the idea ’cause she’s knows a Levi’s store on the Rue Saint-Lazare, and she tells Kerry that’s where we’re going . . .

And for a little reality, I have shopped at that Levi’s store on Rue Saint-Lazare, back in 2006.  I didn’t buy jeans, but my SO did, and she reminded me that European and Asian fits are so much better than American ones.  I’m sure Annie thinks the same, which is probably why she almost never buys clothes in the US.  Then again, she’s a princess–what did you expect?

But all that’s way off in the future, maybe a year, maybe two away.  As of right now I just have to worry about tomorrow, and the writing that comes tonight.  Honestly, it’s this part that makes it all worth while.  The stress, the pain, being tired, feeling like I’m not making anything worth while.  It all goes away once people start seeing the goods.

Let’s see if I still feel that way in a year.

Change as Change Be

Was there writing?  Yeah, a little.  Before I did that I had a long, relaxing lunch with a few glasses of wine:

Here I'm trying out for the part of the new queen of King's Landing.

Here I’m trying out for the part of the new queen of King’s Landing.

Then came home and watched some TV and took a nap.  Then I got up and started getting my images for tomorrow’s Sense8 recap, and it was only after all that was out of the way that I started writing.

The thing is, I didn’t get much written:  about three hundred and ten words and not much more.  After I started writing I began having this running conversation with myself about whether or not I was saying things right.  So I spent time walking about the apartment trying out lines, trying out feelings, trying to figure out if what I wanted to write was what I wanted to write.

I do this a lot:  I will “act out” what I want to write, taking on the parts of the characters who are going down in that part of the story and figure out if it feels good and sounds like it’s legitimate.  I’ve been doing this for years:  when I used to live in Indiana and I spent the weekends driving to and from Indianapolis, I’d use the time in the car to work out scenes by “being” my characters.  And one of those scenes I worked out?  The meeting of the Brain Trust when they were first going over the footage of Kerry’s gender switching lab work before they figured out there was more at work than just simply transformation magic.

I work on that back in the late summer of 2012, which should give you an idea about how much time I sometimes spend on these things.

But the second scene began, and it started out with five simple words:

 

“Mom, Dad . . . I’m a witch.”

 

If you read the metadata synopsis next to the scene title, probably figured out that this is the scene that picks up right after the uttering of those same words at the end of B For Bewitching.  That, of course, makes this scene a flashback, the first one in the series, and it means we’re back with The Malibeys and their child who’s never done anything special in their life.  Oh, Mom and Dad Malibey, are you about to eat those freakin’ words.

It was during the moments when I was working out things that I realized I’d forgotten a scene for Chapter One–I told you this would happen, didn’t I?  If Scene Two is a flashback, and Scene one is obviously the setup, then where’s the payoff?  Still in my head, right?  Duh.  If so, I needed to get it out, and with that–

I did.

I did.

Now after the little drama plays out in the Second Home By the Sea–hey, that would make a great song title, wouldn’t it?–we get to snap back to Pamporovo to find out if there is follow up to the flashback.  And it’s likely as I go along through the story I’ll need to do this here and there, because I’m only human:  I can’t get all my plotting right the first time around.

What really matters is that I get it right in the end.