by Justin Sloan
Here’s why: I did an experiment between books three and four in the Reclaiming Honor series. I took the time to write my sequel to Hounds of God, titled Hounds of Light. It’s a werewolf, vampire, and magic story, and I figured that, since I’m having success here, those should do well too.
I was pretty damn wrong. The first book in that series did well, published back in December (it has 79 reviews now!), but book 2 basically flopped.
Shucks.
So the good news there is that I’m committed to writing lots of books with Michael Anderle, at least as long as he will let me. But guess what? I would have done that regardless! I love writing in this world, and I love you all as fans in this world. So really it didn’t change anything, except for the fact that, now that I’ll be full-time, I would like to do about one or two Kurtherian Gambit books a month, and one of my own every other month.
If my own books don’t sell so well, is there a point to do this? My thought is yes, because more books mean more chances to build up more of an audience. Maybe that will mean more readers coming into the Kurtherian Gambit universe who have never read any of these books? That would be awesome! Or maybe it just means that, someday, if Michael runs out of stuff for me to write, I can stand on my own.
It would be great to know that this full-time author situation will last.
So yeah, any help with reading, spreading the word, or even just emailing me to let me know your opinions on the matter would be SUPER helpful and appreciated.
And that takes me on to my next thing I wanted to share: Isn’t the new Age of Magic series awesome? In fact, I love the concept so much… I’m going to write an Age of Magic series with Michael! You heard it here first. I will definitely be writing more Valerie books, and yes, Robin is going to be a big part of those, I think, but because I’m going full-time I will have time to do a bit of both. I hope you give the current ones a chance, and I hope you give mine a chance when they come out. They are going to be so fun! I’m all giddy looking at the cover art that has been coming in, and have a guy working on a map already.
I’ll stop now, but only after you let me say one more time how amazing life is, and Michael, for allowing me this opportunity. I have LOVED getting to know you all over the last few months, and can’t wait to share more adventures and Facebook messages with you all. Your reviews inspire me, and your personal messages remind me why we do this.
Thank you.
On to the next book!
With love,
Justin
Author Notes - Michael Anderle
Written April 4, 2017
My turn!
THANK YOU for reading another one of our books in The Kurtherian Gambit Universe. It is a pleasure to have the opportunity to tell our stories and have the fans react.
(Lots more fun since the reactions are positive!)
When we set off on this little adventure with Valerie, it was an interesting experiment on collaboration and wondering ‘what if.’
What if I could help another author by collaboration? Could I help them enough to help them attain readers? Would fans like a story with other authors writing in the Kurtherian Universe?
Would they (you fans) yell at me because I was screwing up the timeline?
The answer is yes.
Yes, you fans DO like other stories, and yes, you DO yell at me for screwing up the timelines!
There isn’t much I can do at the moment about the timelines because the authors that are working with me are authoring freaks of nature ™ (smile). What I mean by that, is so many of them make my relatively rapid pace of production seem anemic. I wanted to write in other areas, and we just decided to ‘go for it.’
I felt like this time, I had replaced my Indie Publishing (Author) Outlaw hat with an Indie Publishing (Publisher) Outlaw hat, and we all just said, “Fuck it! Our fans will go on this crazy messed-up ride with us… we hope!”
And you have. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be reading this author note, and you won’t know that I said this. So, for EVERY one of you reading this, I’m 100% accurate.
Well, damn. So long as you are reading this in the back of the book – and someone didn’t just clip out all of the Author Notes as you are reading those as a set…
Sumbitch. Ok, I’m MOST LIKELY right! Hahahahaha.
I digress. So, I’m really digging the authors getting together to make sure they aren’t stepping on each others writing toes. Justin and Craig Martelle (the Author of Terry Henry Walton Chronicles series – where the FDG comes from) worked to make sure those parts of the story were right in voice, character and concepts, even though Craig won’t be up to this timeline I think until maybe books 8 or 9 perhaps. That is the hallmark (to me) of some fabulous people.
Justin mentioned the Age of Magic, and I guess I can admit we have another Age that will be opening in a few short weeks. This time, it is in outer space where Bethany Anne and the Etheric Empire kicked ass and took names. It is AFTER Bethany Anne, and her core team left the area, but the Etheric Empire and Lance Reynolds (among a few others) stick around.
Lance tells Bethany Anne, “I ain’t up to running around the damned universe. Just come see me every five years or so, and we can catch up.”
For those wondering what will happen after TKG21?
There’s your hint.
Love, Cokes, and Tacos,
Michael
p.s. We are about one and a half hours from releasing this book to the fans, may you all enjoy it, and may you read it like crazy!
SHORT STORY
From Justin: I included this short story as a special treat, because why not. It’s a bit of a prequel to a Space Marine novel series I’m doing with a couple of guys, and I figured this is a fun way to share that, but make it special in that we won’t include what you see below in those books, and it won’t be available on Amazon. I hope you enjoy!
***
Mackie stared at the wall and the contours of paint that formed lines like the clouds, wishing he could think of such mundane things forever, instead of this damned alien invasion.
The Syndicate, everyone was calling them. Supposedly a message had made its way in through Central Command, demanding all militaries across the world lay down arms and submit, or face utter annihilation.
Some here in the U.S. had run to join the Marines, the first to fight, because they promised citizenship, a better life, and if you were desperate enough, a way to escape the lives of mediocrity or, in most cases, poverty.
But not Mackie. No way in hell would he join that slaughter machine, not after what they had done in Latin America, and elsewhere before. Those fucking Marines and their actions had been all over the news. Some claimed they had gone rogue, others said it was all black ops.
Mackie knew the truth, because he knew people in the Resistance, people who shared what they heard with him.
The order had come from the UN itself, to be carried out by the world’s strongest fighting force. Go in, don’t worry about casualties, and remove the heads of three different Resistance factions in one swift move. Sure, it had set the Resistance back dearly, but whoever had issued the command had clearly not considered how many men and women would be that much more willing to join the Resistance after such actions.
He had tried to convince his neighbor, Quinn, that there were other ways out of her condition, and that joining the Marines was one of the worst possible options. That the Resistance could provide the protection she so longed for, not for herself, but for her little girl, Sammy.
Instead, Quinn had enlisted the day after the invasion message came over the channels. Now it was on every news station—the countdown timer. He could hear it through the walls, and it was almost time.
Like fucking New Years Eve, he thought. Except, instead of a ball dropping here, it would be the end of the world as they knew it.
He stared at the wall, counting with it, “Five, four, three…” He closed his eyes, unable to continue, and then he heard the voice carrying throu
gh the wall, little Sammy, only nine years old.
“Zero,” she said, and he mouthed it along with her.
The room darkened, and Mackie turned to the sliding glass doors that led out to his apartment balcony. Already the sky was full of invading ships—long and narrow, almost mistakable as Air Force jets, but not quite.
Something was shooting out of them, coming straight for the city. A bunch of somethings, actually. Metallic objects with wings, like gliders, somewhat, and what looked like individuals diving to the earth in red, metallic suits, shooting fire boosters from their feet when they were close, to slow their descent.
The invasion had begun. A crash sounded and the building shook, and then Sammy screamed.
More than anything at that moment, Mackie wished he had forced the girl’s grandmother to listen to him, to go with him and seek out the Resistance, to join them and find somewhere underground where they could wait this out. It was their best chance, but few had thought the Syndicate would bother to invade small cities like Shiloh.
They were here, and it was go time.
Now that it was happening, they would have to listen to him. He shot out of his chair, grabbed the shotgun he had waiting, and stuck a pistol into his side-holster.
“Sammy, I’m coming for you!” He threw open the door and pounded on the next one over. “Open up! We’re not safe here!”
“Stay the fuck away, aliens!” her grandma’s harsh voice shouted. “You ain’t probing shit here!”
What was her name? A damn fine time to forget. He pounded on the door and shouted, “It’s your neighbor, Mackie, and we have to go NOW!”
Not waiting for another second, he kicked the door, and went sprawling backward. Damn, that wasn’t as easy as the movies made it look. So instead he took a different tactic, and slammed the doorknob with the butt of his shotgun, until it fell off. He slammed the door this time with his shoulder, and it went flying open.
“Ahhh!” her grandma shouted, coming at him with a frying pan in one hand, a knife in the other.
“Whoa, whoa!” He took a step back. “It’s me, Mackie!”
“GRANDMA!” Sammy shouted, jumping into her grandma’s path with a book that she used to knock the knife aside. “It’s our neighbor and he wants to help.”
Her grandma paused, breathing in short, raspy breaths, but seemed to finally look at Mackie now.
“The fuck you doing breaking down our door?” she demanded.
“You need to watch your mouth around your granddaughter,” he motioned to her, “and we need to get out of here, now. I know a place, so come on.”
“It’s too late for me,” Sammy said. “I’m a fucking lost cause at this point. Plus, I mean, aliens… right? Do a couple swear words really matter?”
“She’s mature for her age,” her grandma offered, and glanced back outside as the building shook again. “This place you’re talking, it’s underground.”
He nodded enthusiastically.
“Then stop playing with yourself and get us the hell out of here.”
He motioned to Sammy with exasperation. “Really?”
“I’m with her,” Sammy said. “Get a move on.”
He laughed and shook his head. It was what he loved about Quinn, that and the memory of the time their hands had brushed at the market half a block over, that one time when they had both been reaching for the same box of soup. He knew from the bottom of his soul that the touch hadn’t been an accident. It just couldn’t have been. And so he worked hard to recreate that moment. It was why he made every effort to run into her in the halls. Her spunk, her playful attitude, and then there was the way that she always made him believe it could someday be possible. Sure, she did that with just a look, but he knew it would happen for them, eventually.
That is, it would if they all survived this, and right now that was looking rather doubtful.
“Just try to stay with me,” he said, spinning from the room and leading them back out into the hallway.
“Your grannie falls, you’re carrying her, not me,” he said, realizing it was a dick move the moment the words left his mouth.
“Works for me,” Sammy said. “As long as you know that if you fall, tough shit.”
“Hey,” he stopped at the corner, peering around to see half the building missing, “what’d we say about language?”
The little nine-year-old stuck her tongue out at him, but her eyes went wide when she saw the missing wall and torn apart apartments that showed through. Rocket-launchers were going off, aimed at the alien ships, and the sound of semi-automatic rifles carried from a distance.
Either the Marines or the Resistance were putting up a fight.
Grandma caught up a moment later, huffing and out of breath, and when she saw what they were looking at she held Sammy close. “Whoever the hell you are, mister,” she said, a finger pointed at Mackie’s chest, “get us out of here. NOW.”
Mackie just stared at her, then slowly shook his head. “I’m your neighbor, Mackie. I’ve lived next to you for, what, three years? Me and your daughter—”
“Let me stop you right there, because I highly doubt any sentence coming out of your mouth that relates to you and my daughter. And because you’re rambling, when sticking around here could mean our death at any minute.”
“But you do know me?”
She just glared.
“Fine, fine.” He motioned for them to move on, and they all ran for the stairs. It was only four flights down, but he hadn’t counted on an old woman slowing him down. Truthfully, he had half expected her to die of a heart attack the moment the invasion began.
A man ran past, ducking into a hallway, when the sound of shooting sounded, then a thud.
“Keep moving,” Mackie hissed, motioning them downward.
At the ground floor, he turned and picked up grandma, helping her down the last two steps. With a tilt of his head and a wink, he kept on, ignoring the mutterings of “Was that necessary?” from behind.
The back door was already open and Sammy was halfway out, when Mackie darted forward and pulled her back just as a plasma blast hit the door and melted it away. More gunshots and an explosion later, and he poked his head out to see a group of men in dirty old cammies was firing on one of their invaders.
“GO!” he shouted, and took off for the alley opposite them.
“Where’re you taking us?” Sammy asked, catching up to him. They reached the alley and had to turn and wait for grandma to reach them.
He was about to say something, but she must have anticipated it because she gave him the finger and said, “So this is your plan? Lead us outside so we’re easier targets.”
“We get underground, the Resistance will know what to do.”
“Those terrorists? Those traitorous bastards?”
“Those would-be liberators and heroes,” Mackie corrected her. “The only people around with underground networks where we might be able to hide.”
He spun, searching for the path he’d seen them go when last he’d met with a Resistance representative. They had turned away and departed the moment he had said he wasn’t ready, but he had been sure to find out where they returned to. It was simply more of a necessity that he keep Sammy safe, for now.
Another explosion overhead, and it looked like the Resistance had scored a hit against the Syndicate! The moment of joy was short-lived, however, as a new wave of Syndicate warriors arrived moments later in their blood-red armor, and had the nearby street cleared of resistance within mere moments.
Then, across the little square they now found themselves at, two retreating Resistance fighters went running.
“There!” Mackie said, motioning so the others could see. One was bald and the other had short hair cropped on the sides and combed to the side. They were on the retreat, and one had paused to kneel down beside a section of wall close to the floor.
He sprinted over and, before the two fighters could slip within and close the door, he was there, holding it open and th
e fighters looked up at him with terror and confusion.
“I’m your newest recruit,” he said, glancing at the other the girl and grandma approaching. “We need shelter.”
“A little late to the fight, pal,” the bald one said, and then slipped inside, but the other nodded, and held open the door for all to enter.
BRRRT! A line of bullets hit between them and they all fell back and away from the door, looking up to see a Syndicate warrior in all red, his face covered in a red mask with silvery, shining glass over his face. A symbol like a snake eating itself was on his chest, and a rifle was pressed up against his shoulder.
Mackie put himself between the warrior and Sammy, while the Resistance fighter unslung his rifle and started firing at the warrior. Bullets bounced off of the red armor, and the warrior just kept coming.
“Get inside!” Mackie shouted, but when he looked, it was only her grandma. Her eyes went wide, and she pointed.
Sammy had run around back of the warrior and, to their horror, was running toward him. She leaped with a shout, distracting the warrior, who turned to look behind himself just as she slid between his legs and came out the other side, both hands on his rifle.
