Brigit is a uniquely powered druid but she’s too busy playing the odds, rocking the blackjack tables in Vegas to accept it. Will she find her inner strength in time to save the world from the mindless minions of a supernatural sociopath?
Here’s how Odds of the Gods starts:
Brigit’s skin prickled. To the shopkeeper, she said, “You’re selling religious artifacts like they’re trinkets.” He was always cranky, but she couldn’t decide if he particularly disliked her or whether he hated his job because of the tourists on the Vegas strip.
She liked the shop, the jewellery and ceramics were made of wholesome, natural elements, silver, clay, wood and stone, from which she could draw power from for her spells.
He sneered, behind wire-rimmed glasses that were so smudged his eyes were invisible.
Brigit pressed him: “Those are sacred objects, the carvings in the front window.” New today, the carvings were the most beautiful kachinas she had ever seen. The artist used the lines of the burled root to twist life into the figurines. Each had the body of a man, head of an animal and various other features, wings, tail, or paws, as befitted the beast-person.
“No one knows or cares.” He waved his hand, trying to dismiss her.
The vibrant colours of their clothes and adornments animated the kachinas, yet there was a discordant note to the wordless whispers they lay in Brigit’s consciousness, as though their spirits were at odds with their flamboyant appearance.
The prickling of her skin told a different story. She ignored the warning.
“Yeah, but you do,” Brigit said. He had to know the fine ethical line he was traversing by selling religious objects, especially those that contained an active essence. “Those beautifully carved totems are special.”
See the Blog post where I answer ten questions about this story.
For Fish Sake, a science fiction novel.
Veb has two bickering personalities in her head, the result of a memory implant she risked to land a job selling shoes, but she won’t let that stop her from saving her friend, Ichy. He’s been kidnapped because of his pivotal role in a bill before the Galactic Administration to declare fish sentient beings.
For Fish Sake begins like this:
“Do you have any experience selling shoes, Ms., errr, Veb?” The woman interviewing Veb jingled with dangly jewellery and reeked of burnt herbs and breath mints, much like Veb’s mother.
“Not as such. But I have two Ph.D.’s and that should-”
“Can you speak the language of the shoe-buyer?”
“I speak several dialects and was taught programming language at school.”
“That would be handy if we sold footwear for computers.” The woman crossed her arms in front of her chest.
“I do like shoes.” Veb knew this was lame, but it was the best she could do with this siren glaring at her.
“You need experience for this position, dear.”
“How am I going to get experience if I can’t get a job?” The sinking feeling Veb had was heightened by the chair she sat in. It felt insubstantial enough to deposit her on the floor at any moment.
The shoe lady snorted and slashed a stylus in front of her data screen. Veb suspected her resume had been deleted.
As she waited for the Uniway to take her back to the condo, she wondered, had the interview gone that badly? Okay, something on a prehistoric planetlette just crawling from the primordial ooze would know the answer, even if it didn’t know what shoes were, because it hadn’t evolved feet yet.