So, I’m trying to finish the OTHER book I’m working on now, but this sequel is determined to distract me. Don’t you hate that? When characters start acting up? Practically demanding that you sit down and write their story? It’s like hey! You’re not the only one who’s important, okay?!?! I’m gettin’ to it. Geez.
Here’s a snippet. The Best Bite is out now.
Then there was the lunch period he recalled the pierogi their Polish housekeeper had made for him in Prague two summers past. Stuffed with potato and bacon, the little dumplings had been served with just a touch of butter and sprinkled with cheese, delicious. Five had appeared in the same earthenware bowl Ramine had used to serve them to him. That one he’d had to play off, too many people saw him, sitting in the cafeteria as though it wasn’t strange to be eating food not served that day with silver flatware edged in gold.
His reputation as an eccentric had been firmly set after that, and he quickly learned to control his thoughts by focusing intently on whatever he was doing. At least then if something popped in unexpectedly it wouldn’t be out of context.
Are we not feeding you enough? His father asked after the pierogi incident. Bastien felt a pang of sadness as his sire’s laughter in his ear sent tingles down his neck and shoulders.
So much culinary magic, my boy. One would think you were starving! But then I suppose what they say about teenagers and their hollow legs is true.
His father had begun speaking in his mind not long after the madeleine incident. It had taken some getting used to, and at first Bastien had been certain he was going crazy. Now, sarcastic as his sire often was, having him mentally close by was comforting.
Very funny, dad. This was completely unintentional, I assure you.
That’s your problem. You must always intend, otherwise your mind will make decisions for you based on the strength of your inner most desires and wants, not what you need and request.
Easy for the old man to say from wherever the hell he was.
Swearing, his father had said absently, and faded in a way that signaled he wouldn’t return again that day.
Now, staring at his latest catastrophe, Bastien realized it was just like his father to be concerned with proprieties inside his own head, yet be nowhere around now that his inheritance was going up in smoke before his eyes.
He stared morosely into the flames. This fire was much larger than that first tiny flame sprouting from his fingers. It had started the same, but it had quickly grown bigger than a bonfire. Actually, now it was bigger than a frickin’ house fire. He’d tried everything he could to put it out. At this point all he could do was watch as it devoured the woods behind his house.
It would be nice if you put that out. Some of these trees are quite old.
“And just how do you suggest I do that, father?” He didn’t even bother to hide his sarcasm. With this inferno raging before him the last thing he needed was endless mind prattling. He needed a bloody big fire extinguisher and post haste!
Will it so.
Bastien threw his hands up in fury and actually stomped in a circle. “You think I haven’t done everything I can think of to douse this bloody blaze?” he roared, and was aghast when the flames devouring his family forest blazed even hotter.
The flames seeming to snarl as they stretched toward the sky, moving unreasonably fast like wild, freed animals racing for a distant gate. Their home was fairly isolated, but it was only a matter of time before someone saw the smoke and called the fire department, if they hadn’t already.
Begging and pleading, you ridiculous boy. Thinking only of the humiliation in admitting that you accidentally set your own forest ablaze. Fear of jail, by God. You are a witch descendant from a long and proud line. You are Suirre! Order the flames to die.
Bastien shook his head in anguish. “Stop!” he cried. “Stop now! I order you to extinguish immediately! God help me, stop!”
The flames continued to burn, but the flame seemed to snarl less angrily.
Is that all you’ve got? Once you sense the advantage, press forward. Go hard! Isn’t that what you young people say?
Bastien narrowed his eyes and walked toward the flames with his hands out, fingers clenched like a magical boxer.
“I said end!” He roared…