Excerpt . . . and Sperm Cake

Next Tuesday, May 29, my favorite couple (and certainly the most interesting and enduring) will again take center stage in one of my books. 

Granted, the events in Fugly wouldn't have transpired without the presence of Jackson Spey and Adin Swift. And Dustin DeWind in Abercrombie Zombie wouldn't have had much hope of redemption without Jackson's aid. But a catalyst is different from a major player. In Carny's Magic, Jackson and Adin are MAJOR players. Although the novel centers primarily on Carny Jessup (hence the title -- duh), the nineteen-year-old protagonist wouldn't have had much of a story without J&A.

The blurb for and first chapter of Carny's Magic are now posted at Loose Id. You might want to read them first. Over the next week, I'll put up additional snips here on my blog. Hope you like them. (Oh, and don't forget to enter the giveaway at Stumbling Over Chaos! It runs through May 28.) 

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This scene, from the beginning of Chapter Two, immediately follows the excerpt posted at the publisher's site.

*

When I open my eyes, I’m no longer standing outside a Polish flat. I’m lying down. Indoors, on a couch. I swim back into clear water and see Jackson kneeling beside me. He’s pressing a cool, damp cloth to my forehead.

“Here, drink this,” he says gently. He eases a moisture-slicked bottle into my hand. A sports drink. A straw angles out of the bottle’s mouth.

“Did I faint?”

“More or less.”

I close my eyes and grimace. “God, I feel like such a pussy.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. It isn’t only pussies who can’t take this weather.”

I want to thank him, but thanking a guy for telling you you’re not a pussy seems like something only a pussy would do.

I’m grateful it’s much cooler in here than outside. The building must have central air. I simultaneously raise my head and lift the bottle, slipping the straw between my lips. I’ve always hated jock drinks—every single one makes me think of a Jonestown cocktail mixed with pond slime—but I obviously need it.

“Thank you,” I say.

“You’re welcome.”

As I drink more, I look up and see Adin standing on the other side of the coffee table like a guardian angel. No better sight could greet a swollen eye. He smiles kindly at me, with a touch of concern.

“How did you get here?” Jackson lays the back of his hand against my cheek. I assume he’s gauging my temperature. No electricity this time, just a hint of rough skin.

“Walked.”

“From where?”

“Around Eleventh and Greenfield.”

“Are you crazy? That’s almost two miles away!”

“Closer to a mile and a half.”

“Still. Why didn’t you take the bus?”

“I don’t like riding the bus. And I probably would’ve had to transfer.” Crazy but true. There's no bus line that runs straight from Tricia’s place to this place.

“Did you have any breakfast this morning?”

“No. I wasn’t hungry.”

“When were you in that fight?”

“Late last night.”

Adin, who’s still in his angel stance, shakes his head in dismay. “You’re probably dehydrated and suffering from heat exhaustion and lack of sleep.”

“Not to mention the effects of that ass-whupping,” Jackson adds.

Good impression I’ve made. Any wizard would want an apprentice who’s an idiot. I feel like Mickey Mouse in Fantasia, scrub mops running amok around his silly rodent ass.

“I’m not going back there,” I mutter, more to myself than my hosts. “I’m not spending another night in that place. I’ll find a friend to crash with. Or I’ll sleep in Kosciuszko Park. I don’t care, as long as—”

The men exchange confused glances. Adin answers me. “No one said you had to go anywhere.” His voice is mild, soothing. An aloe vera voice.

“I would like to know why you’re here, though.” Jackson removes the cloth from my forehead and stands, gazing down at me. “We never got to that part.”

Fucker looks eight feet tall, all scowl and shoulders. Oh boy. “I want…I want to be your apprentice.”

“What?” he and Adin yelp in unison.

I look back and forth between them. “Seriously. I want to learn magic from you. I’ll live in your garage if I have to.”

Jackson’s forehead is still rumpled in disbelief. “Have you seen my garage? There isn’t enough room for one car and a well-shaped ass in there.”

I manage to lift one corner of my mouth. “Then how do you get in and out of your vehicle? Your ass ain’t exactly flat as a pancake.”

Adin snorts in amusement. “You don’t know the half of it.”

* * *

And now for dessert! This good-enough-to-eat photo was ganked from Billy Martin (Twitter @docbrite):