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Wednesday, March 14, 2012

You wrote a series about a...what?

A POOKA!
Yes, you heard me. A pooka. Not the best known critter in the fae pantheon, but one of my favorites. The pooka is a uniquely Irish spirit, his origins shrouded in ancient times, his actual status in the fae world rather ambiguous. A shape shifter and a troublemaker, the pooka tends toward magical mischief and misdirection, though he can become spiteful, even vengeful, when angered.

Traditionally, he takes the form of a black horse with glowing eyes, or a black billy goat, or an eagle, or even a human traveler. My pooka? Well, our Finn is a handsome one and usually good-natured. Humans fascinate, puzzle, and sometimes frighten the hell out of him. Finn will be the first to tell you he feels that courage is highly overrated.

Endangered Fae – this is Finn’s world, a world where the fae are coming to realize they might be on the endangered list…

Finn, Endangered Fae #1 – the story of a pooka lost in New York and the heartbroken novelist who rescues him.


Finn’s Christmas, Endangered Fae #1.5 – a little holiday romp in which Finn tries to stay awake for the holidays and tries to puzzle out some human oddities

Diego, Endangered Fae #2 – a lover’s spat leads to dire consequences. Not only are Diego and Finn on the rocks, the fate of two worlds hangs on their decisions.

With Finn and Diego, magic often leads to mayhem…read on for a snippet from Diego



Excerpt:

The house was still standing. Good. Finn hadn’t had any major battles with household appliances. Diego pulled the truck into the freestanding garage at the back of the house. He smiled as he caught sight of the black jeans discarded in an untidy pile on the back porch. Finn was out, then, swimming and hunting.

A terrible thought had struck him on his way home. What if Finn had truly been pining, neglecting himself? He had sounded cheerful enough when Diego called each night, but he was a practiced liar and could have been covering up to keep Diego from worrying. A Beauty and the Beast scenario had crept into his thoughts, where he would come home to find Finn stretched out in the garden, dying. Stupid, of course, since Finn could go years without food, but knowing that he was doing what came naturally and not sitting inside sulking lifted a shadow from his heart.

He picked up the jeans and draped them over the porch railing. Finn might want them when he came back. “All right, cariƱo, you’ve had to wait days for me. I can wait a few hours while you’re fishing.”

The house was in order, no mess, no plates of half-eaten chicken strewn about, and no oil paints smeared on the living room rug. A completed canvas leaned against the wall, a new one. Diego frowned at it, head cocked to one side. Predominantly black and gray with anguished streaks of red and yellow, it screamed emotional distress. Perhaps not doing so well after all.

He climbed the stairs to take his bag to their bedroom and stopped cold in the doorway. A young woman lay in his bed, wrapped in his electric blanket and in his Finn’s arms. As he watched, she turned with a little cooing sound and nuzzled at Finn’s throat.

“Holy. Shit.”

Finn’s head jerked up, expression frozen in horror. “My love, I didn’t hear you arrive—”

“I guess not,” Diego said softly. “You’re a jackass.” He dropped his bag, hurried down the stairs and out the back door.

“Diego, wait!” The anguished wail followed him out but he didn’t stop until he hit the gravel drive.

Finn shot through the door, stark naked, still half-erect. Great, wonderful, go ahead and throw it in my face.

“Diego, please.” Finn spread his hands, looked down at himself, and at least mustered the sense to reach for his jeans draped on the rail. “Let me—“

“No. Don’t.” Diego held up a hand to stop him. “I don’t want to hear your excuses, your justifications. Not just now.”

Finn’s mind reached for him, a soft, tentative touch, while he took a step closer, reaching a hand out to him.

“No, damn it!” Diego flung up the mental wall to keep him out and backpedaled three steps. “You need to leave me alone right now. I came home early. I was worried about you. Stupid me.”

“But I—“

“I don’t care why you took her to bed! I don’t want to hear what happened!” He ran his hands over his face, chest constricting with anger and pain. “I knew. I knew what you were when I fell in love with you. A liar and a satyritic who’s let his dick lead him around for centuries. But why make me promises you knew you couldn’t keep? Dios… Finn…”

“My love—“

“Leave me be for a few! Let me think without you hammering to get in!” He spun away and strode off into the woods.

#

Finn shivered in the wake of Diego’s fury and yanked the jeans on, marking the path of his retreat. Diego was so hurt, so angry, Finn could sense the lightning begin to spark in his head. If he let it go too far, he would have an attack of the falling sickness. Out there in the woods. Alone.

Of course, if Diego was angry enough, he might turn the lightning on Finn.
He chewed his bottom lip and came to a decision, taking the steps two at a time to race back to the bedroom. The girl was just sitting up, befuddled and groggy. She looked up as he skidded to a stop in the doorway.

“You were drowning. I pulled you out. There’s a phone beside you. Call someone to collect you. You are in a house at Box 22 on Old Route 249. They should find it by that.”

He didn’t stop to see if his rapid-fire instructions were heard or followed. Heart pounding against his ribs, he hurled himself back down the stairs and after Diego. The trail was as much physical scent as thought scent. Diego’s anguish could have been heard for miles by any creature not head-blind and the little sparks of magic leaping from him crackled more and more loudly.

“Don’t turn me into fried pooka, love, please, please,” Finn muttered as he ran. Diego had never been able to use his enormous potential while fully awake, but once he seized, the unleashing of his mental lightning was daunting.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up, the sudden pull on the flows of surrounding magic nearly sucked all the air from the woods. Finn broke into a full out sprint.

“Diego! Diego, no!”


About the Author: Angel Martinez is the erotic fiction pen name of a strange little creature who lives in the mythical state of Delaware (mythical since no one but natives can place it on a map.) A lover of all things beautiful and an amateur folklorist, Angel’s books live at Silver Publishing, Amber Allure, and Romance First. For more info on her work and other silly things, please visit the website.


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