by Sarah Noffke
John considered her words for a long time, his eyes searching the ground without really seeing it. “I’ve heard of the House of Seven before. Chloe didn’t always have nice things to say about it.”
Liv nodded. “That’s not uncommon. Some magicians don’t like the regulations the House puts on the community, but its overarching goal of justice is a good one.”
“And you work for them now?” John asked. “That’s the other job you have?”
“Yes, but it’s at night, and I can handle doing both.”
John pointed to her leg. “And that injury?”
“A magical snake bit me, and I was asleep afterward for three days.”
John whistled through his teeth, shaking his head. “No wonder your brother looked so bad. He is your brother, right?”
Liv nodded. “Yes, and he’s a magician too. My family lives at the House of Seven.”
“And you don’t want to live with them?” John asked. “I know that after your parents died, well, you went through something and needed time, but it seems as though you’re coming back to them. Wouldn’t you feel better if you were around your own kind, living in a better place? It’s got to be nicer than that rundown apartment of yours.”
Liv shot him an offended look. “I happen to like my place very much. And no, to answer your question, I don’t need to be with them. Not all the time, anyway. I belong here. Well, as long as it’s okay with you. Like I said, my life as a magician is full of dangers, and I can’t guarantee that they won’t follow me home.”
“A magical snake bit you, huh?”
Liv nodded, trying to read the look in John’s eyes. It spoke of his concerns and regrets and uncertainties.
“I remember that magicians have adventurous lives,” he said, his voice low. “Chloe told me stories, and I saw my fair share, although I think she kept me sort of sheltered. I never met her magician friends, and maybe that was for the best.” He looked away, the pain from his past surfacing in his eyes.
“John, if this is too much for you, given everything you’ve been through—”
He held up his hand to stop her from continuing. “Liv, you’re a magician, and you have a dangerous role. It sounds like you could be dragging all sorts monsters back here, and it could all but destroy the shop or our lives or the city. I’ve worked thirty years building this business, and the thought that it could all be put at risk? Well, it doesn’t bother me one bit.”
“What?” Liv asked, leaning forward. She had been absolutely certain he was going to say that she needed to pack her bags and get out.
A sincere smile broke across his face. “Liv, what I do matters, but not more than the people in my life. So what if you’re a magician with a crazy night job? So what if deadly monsters could be lurking outside the shop? You’re also one of my favorite people, and I’d prefer not to let you go. No matter the risk in your life, I’m all in.”
Liv couldn’t believe this. She wanted to throw her arms around John’s shoulders and hug him tightly. Instead, she simply smiled. “I can’t believe you’re okay with all of this.”
“Actually, I can’t believe I am either. After everything with Chloe, I thought I’d never want to be around magic again, but much has changed over the years. You’ve changed me. However,” John gave her a sudden look of warning, “if ever your life doesn’t work intertwined with mine, you can tell me. I’m still not sure that mortals and magicians should mix. I want to believe they can because I don’t want to let you go, but I’ll always do the right thing for you, even if that’s letting you go.”
Liv did reach across the space and throw her arms around John then, making Pickles whimper at the sudden movement. She held him close, and he hugged her back. When she released him, she was arrested by the tender look on his face. It made him look so much younger, as if their moment of honesty and emotion had magically transformed him. “John, I’m not going anywhere. I want to believe that the two races can exist together, not separately like they have for so long. Don’t ever worry that I’m going anywhere. As long as you’re okay with a freak magician and her talking cat, I’m sticking around.”
John looked at Plato suddenly. “The cat can talk?”
“Oh, yeah,” Liv said. “Go ahead, show him, Plato.”
The lynx yawned and settled down on his stomach, resting his head on his paws.
John looked at her sideways. “You’re sure you’re a magician and not just certifiably insane?”
“I’m both,” Liv said.
John pushed up from the stool, setting Pickles on the floor. “Well, now that this business is out of the way, I have an important question for you.”
Liv looked up at him curiously.
“Where’s that carrot cake you promised to bring me? I’m starving.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Rory’s front door was open when Liv arrived at his house that afternoon. Plato halted on the threshold, sniffing the air.
“Oh, come on,” she said, waving him in. “They are only kittens.”
“They are annoying little beasts,” Plato countered.
“Well, lookie there. You can talk,” Liv stated, narrowing her eyes at the cat. “Maybe next time you won’t make me look like a fool. John still doesn’t buy that you can talk. He believes that I can fix things with magic and faced off an evil serpent, but he drew the line at a talking cat.”
“I only talk to you,” Plato said.
“That’s not true. You told Clark that it was the lophos who bit me.”
“I made an exception, but as a whole, I prefer to only talk to one person. Let’s say it helps me conserve my energy.”
“Yes, and you obviously need to do that, since you nap most of the day.” Liv followed the noise, stepping over a pair of kittens wrestling in the kitchen. Something was simmering on the stove, a savory aroma wafting from the pot.
Rory was chopping wood in his pristine oversized backyard.
“Hey there,” Liv said, gaining his attention. “I have news.”
“John knows you’re a magician,” he said, setting his axe down.
“Damn it. Why is everyone stealing my reveal moment?”
“It’s a conspiracy,” Rory answered.
“How did you know?”
He shrugged, pulling a rag from his jeans to wipe his face. “I just knew.”
“Oh, that’s such bullshit.”
Rory peeked at her from behind the rag as he wiped the sweat on his cheeks. He seemed to relax a bit. “Okay, fine. It was a lucky guess. But lies and secrets are like clothes people wear. When you free yourself of them, well, you look different.”
Liv gazed down at her frayed jeans and t-shirt. “And I look different now?”
“You look less weighed down.”
“I like that,” Liv mused. “And it’s true. I feel better knowing that he knows the truth and accepts me no matter what.”
“Did you seriously doubt that he wouldn’t?” Rory asked.
“Yes. There was a real possibility that he’d tell me I was crazy or to get out.”
“Then you are crazy.” Rory walked over to a work area he had set up with burnt-out coals and a barrel of water and tools Liv didn’t recognize. He retrieved a sheathed sword and carried it over to her.
Pulling the leather sheath off the sword, Rory revealed a short silver blade that caught the setting sun. The hilt was smooth, and Rory had inlaid blue gems. In the giant’s hands, the sword appeared undersized, as if it had been made for a brownie. However, when he handed it to Liv, she realized it was the perfect size for her.
“Meet Bellator,” Rory said, taking a step back as Liv wrapped her fingers around the hilt and froze for a moment. Her hand seemed to melt into it, becoming one with the weapon. Her eyes trailed to the fine point on its tip, taking in the expert detail.
“It’s beautiful,” Liv said in a hushed voice.
“We rarely describe a sword that way, but I’ll allow it since the venom of the lophos is still making you talk
funny.”
Liv pursed her lips. “How should I describe it?”
“Well, it is a giant-made sword, which means that it will never dull or rust. For its whole life, the sword will look as it does today. And since it was made specifically for you, Bellator should lend you numerous benefits, but you’ll have to train in order to learn what they are.”
“’Bellator?’” Liv asked.
“Yes. The maker names each sword, and that’s the one I’ve chosen for yours.”
“What does it mean?”
“That you ask too many questions,” Rory replied.
“Ha-ha,” Liv said, moving the sword back and forth through the air, but not really knowing how to practice with it. “Are you going to teach me how to use Bellator?” When she was a child, she’d trained with her mother, but she didn’t remember most of it. Actually, when she thought back, the memory of her mother and sparring with her only brought a tightness to her chest. She would have to get over that and remember what her mother taught her and improve upon it.
Rory picked up his axe and centered a log on the platform he was using for chopping. “No, I don’t want to be a part of your combat training. I’ll reserve my skills for training you how to use your spells and elemental magic.”
“So that means you’ll be teaching me how to throw fireballs?”
He swung the axe over his head, splitting the log cleanly. “The answer to that is still no. But I’ll teach you other helpful things.”
“Thanks, but who is going to teach me how to use the sword?” Liv asked.
Rory looked over his shoulder at her. “For that, you’ll have to find a competent teacher. I suspect you know someone already if you’re willing to let down your guard and trust them. However, I do have a warning.”
Liv froze, waiting for him to continue.
“No one must ever know that I made this sword for you.”
“Won’t it be recognized as being giant-made, though?” Liv asked.
Rory swung the axe again, splitting another log. “It might, but you’re not obligated to tell anyone where it came from or who made it.”
“I don’t understand,” Liv said. “What’s the harm in someone knowing that you made it?”
Rory turned around to face Liv, the axe resting on his shoulder. “The giants have not made a sword for a magician in a very long time. If anyone was to find out that the grandson of Rory Bemuth Laurens made a sword for a magician? Well, my days of peace would come to an end. Magicians can be unjust to giants, and elves and other races shun us from time to time. But no one is crueler to a giant than their own. Keep this between you and me, Liv.”
“Of course. Always. And thank you. Bellator is…” Liv paused, searching for a better word than beautiful. A description that would make Rory know how much she appreciated the gift. “Bellator is magnificent.”
Rory nodded, quiet pride taking up residence in his eyes. “You are welcome.”
Liv tested the balance of the sword, swinging it through the air, noticing at once that her reflexes sped up. Her movements were cleaner, and strangely, her leg didn’t hurt as she pivoted to slice through the air. Something had changed within her the moment she picked up the sword, and she looked forward to finding out how it enhanced her, as she knew it would. A sword made specifically for her by one of the greatest swordsmiths on Earth was bound to hold a special magic unlike any other.
Holding Bellator, Liv felt unstoppable. She felt like a Warrior who could take on the world.
Sarah’s Author Notes
February 9, 2019
Thank you so much for reading and supporting the books. I’m so high on life after the release of the first book. Currently sitting in a hotel room in Las Vegas and pampering myself after finishing this book. Michael is out of town or otherwise I’d be pestering him to eat BBQ or nachos with me. BBQ nachos! Yum. Anyway, we didn’t know how this series would be received, but the response has been amazing. Thank you again!
I’ve had a ton of fun writing this book. And you know who is extra happy about it? My daughter, Lydia. She told me the other day, “Mommy, I’m glad you’re a writer because it ensures we always have something to talk about.”
OMG, I freaking love that kid. And she’s right. Being a writer does ensure I never had a dull moment and there’s always weird shit going on in my head.
Speaking of Lydia, I modeled Sophia after her. She’s smart, beautiful, beyond talented and fun. Also, a perk of being a writer’s kid is that she got to name characters. Sophia and Liv were both named by Lydia. Plato is modeled after my cat Finley. And Rory was inspired by a scientist friend of mine who is really a gentle giant. He may never know this though. Having a giant who secretly does nice things was a great Anderle idea. I planning for him to do other noble gestures which Liv will secretly find out about. I love people who do things because they are the right thing to do and not to get the praise or reward.
Every time I talked to Lydia about this book, she’d tell me that she was hungry for a cookie. It was always the mention of Brownies that got to her.
Okay, the maid is kicking me out of my room and I’ve got to get on the road. First though, BBQ nachos at The Henry. Love you all, lovely readers.
Michael’s Author Notes
February 10, 2019
THANK YOU for not only reading this story but these Author Notes as well.
(I think I’ve been good with always opening with “thank you.” If not, I need to edit the other Author Notes!)
RANDOM (sometimes) THOUGHTS?
Donuts.
Ask me for anything around the Hotel Antlers in Colorado Springs, Colorado and I could probably get it.
Steak? The Famous Steakhouse is just two blocks away from the hotel.
Amazing food with a lot of Hatch chilis used in the recipes?
One block.
Heck, there was even a CHEAP Starbucks connected to the hotel. I know a Starbucks in a hotel is not that unusual. However, i’d probably spend at least twice as much money to purchase the same drink in a Starbucks in a hotel on the strip as I paid in Colorado Springs.
But, did they believe in donuts in that little area? No.
Certainly not donuts. If there was one, I didn’t see it the few walkabouts I took to go to restaurants or the store to purchase gloves.
There is a saying that "nothing tastes as good as skinny feels."
Except donuts.
Donuts tell skinny it can go f*ck itself.
—-
THANK YOU for the awesome support this series has been receiving! I’m super jazzed you enjoy the merry band of characters we are sharing with you.
For most of my life, I thought my problem with stories was a mistake.
Something that should be contained, constrained, and caged up allowing me to focus on other projects.
Little did I know that instead of caging my thoughts, I needed to let them out.
AROUND THE WORLD IN 80 DAYS
One of the interesting (at least to me) aspects of my life is the ability to work from anywhere and at any time. In the future, I hope to re-read my own Author Notes and remember my life as a diary entry.
American Airlines flight coming back from Colorado Springs USA - Superstars Writing Conference (Kevin J. Anderson)
I’m in seat 2F sitting next to the window (dark outside, can’t see anything.) I have two books worth of Author Notes I need to write and a book and a half of beats for a new project to finish by the time we make it to Las Vegas.
Hope I’m up to it. Right now my eyes are drooping.
Oh, and Metallica’s Seek & Destroy just started playing in my headphones.
…
I’m ready to bang my head, but it is entirely inappropriate in first class. I”d ask my wife but the scathing glance she would give me would be sucky at best.
… That doesn’t stop me from CRANKING IT UP!
FAN PRICING
$0.99 Saturdays (new LMBPN stuff) and $0.99 Wednesday (both LMBPN books and fri
ends of LMBPN books.) Get great stuff from us and others at tantalizing prices.
Go ahead, I bet you can’t read just one.
Sign up here: http://lmbpn.com/email/.
HOW TO MARKET FOR BOOKS YOU LOVE
Review them so others have your thoughts, and tell friends and the dogs of your enemies (because who wants to talk to enemies?)… Enough said ;-)
The Defiant Magician
Chapter One
Green smoke rose up from the cauldron, partially obscuring Adler Sinclair’s pale face. He fanned the fumes to his nose, inhaling deeply.
“It’s not right yet.”
“Do you think this is wise?” Decar asked, pacing back and forth in front of Adler’s work table, which was littered with ingredients—many on the illegal list.
“It will work.” Adler’s eyes narrowed as he chopped up more chusetor, a rare flower that caused hallucinations and other mental disorders.
“That’s not what worries me.” Decar halted, the sword on his belt clanking. “If they have the sword, then—”
“We will get it back,” Adler stated definitively.
“But why would Olivia Beaufont take it? She must know something, just like her siblings and her parents.”
Adler shook his head. “There is no way she can.”
“But the sword…” Decar insisted, the stress making his long white face appear suddenly older.
“Don’t worry. Turbinger can only reveal the history to a giant of pure blood, and who will believe them? We’ve done our job discrediting the giants. We’ve made them look like brutish, uncivilized creatures.”
