Tag: Wizard/Mage

Flash: Punch a Nazi

Erin Penn

Photo by BENCE BOROS on Unsplash

“They’re back.” Rick had his back to the door as he whispered low enough no one beyond the bar could hear thanks to the additional enchantments the owner had added after the incident last week.

Drawing a deep draft for a half-giant, I glanced toward the door where the new bouncing staff held up their hands trying to deescalate the situation. Four to one wasn’t good odds. “Tats,” I spat, darkening my skin further, drawing up my hair into elaborate braids. “Take care the Pix’s top, could you?” I jumped over the bar and slid down the other side. “I got some lessons to teach.”

“Sure thing. Should I let the boss know?”

“Not going to matter.” I didn’t have the patience to be polite and play by human rules. My long stride ate the distance between the bar and the door.

“Look man, your club ain’t allowed here anymore since you guys broke sanctuary last week.” The fae bouncer kept their hands visible. Even wearing their male aspect, the winter Seelie was over a foot shorter than the lead vampire.

“Whatcha gonna do about it, fairy?” The vampire crowded the bouncer toward the wall, confident the three jackets he came in with would guard his back.

I scented with my tongue. The groupie vampires had been turned in the past month, and the were of the group had at most three moons since being bit. The lead vampire pushed a decade but wasn’t the sire of the babes. Smith really needed to clean up his coven or I would clean it for him. With an egg to consider, all unnecessary dangers in my territory needed to be eradicated soon.

“They are going to let me take care of it.” I crossed my arms over the black cropped shirt the wait staff used as a uniform. I shifted my mobility from the human appearing glamour to normal flight, then I pulled some extra weight from the plane where I stored my excess. Just six percent should be enough; it wasn’t like my present body presentation could handle more than that, especially since I restored the shape to slimmer version for work.

The vampire didn’t even turn around at my words, foolishly thinking after a measly decade and a nip of the teeth he now qualified as an apex predator. Cockily, he held out a heavily tattooed arm with a finger up. “One fucking minute doll and I will get to you.”

“Nah.” I grabbed the finger and pulled it down, along with the muscular arm, then yanked him toward me. The vamp had been a weight lifter in life, and at over seven foot, he weighed a meager three hundred pounds. I had moved 1,500 pounds of extra mass from my main form.

He moved, I didn’t.

I dead-palmed the punch he threw as he turned, wrapping my fingers around it.

His eyes grew round, before narrowing at the negroid features I had started wearing since Massey agreed to be my egg carrier. He tried to yank his hand away from my grip, and I let him succeed. I watched as his bigoted brain downplayed my danger because of the color of my skin and the shape of my nose, and maybe even the size of my breasts. Supremists often came with a side of misogyny.

“Fuckin’ cunt.” He gripped and ungripped his hand, testing the mobility.

“Tell you want, let’s do a one-punch contest. You win, we serve you. Hell, I’ll even buy the first two rounds. I win, y’all leave and never come back.” I spread my arms. “I’ll even let you go first.” I smiled with teeth showing, maintaining full human appearance. The expression didn’t seem to faze the gang members, but the crazy grin made the bouncer take a step back. Fae understood crazy. I nodded to Seelie. “Just hold up the line for a couple minutes if you can, this won’t take long.”

“You got that right.” The lead vampire growled. “It won’t take long at all.”

“You agree? You tats leave and don’t come back, ever, if I win?” I carefully adjust my stance to make it look like I was bracing for a punch. Looking like you are walking while you are actually flying isn’t the easiest thing, but I had plenty of practice in a variety of forms and glamours.

“Yeah, sure.”

He blinked as the magic covenant slid into place.

“Sanctuary grounds. Don’t make contracts you don’t want enforced.” I smirked. The regulars quickly learned never to stiff a bill or skimp on a promised tip. Roderiguez didn’t run tabs. “Be sure to make the first punch count.”

“Oh, I will, bitch.” The huge undead took a step and swung hard. The power of his punch pushed him back a few steps, and he curled around his hand.

I was disappointed when I didn’t hear bones crunch. “You pulled your punch, that was stupid.” I moved to close the gap. “My turn.”

“Jump her.” The elder grunted at the younger vampires. But they weren’t his spawn, so they had the option to back off, which they took. I memorized their faces. Smart vampires made good neighbors, if they remembered to be smart and not try to be clever. Only the werewolf responded, transforming to full lycan shape and leaped at me. Either the lead vampire had were- control, a common enough ability, or the furry hungered for a pack and answered to an alpha orders. Hurting him would be like kicking a chained puppy. I backhand him gently into the babes. The two younglings grabbed him and hold him back.

To control the slap, I had turned toward the werewolf. The owner of Bar None frowned on killing customers, even unwanted ones.

The pack leader used what he thought was a distraction to jump at my back at vampire speed. At a mere decade, his speed was a joke. I easily spun, brought across just a minuscule portion of my talons into this form, and punched through his chest, holding his black heart hostage, before he understood what happened.

“That wasn’t part of the agreement. Ordering the fledging like that. It was to be you and I.” I stared up at him, letting a bit of my golden lizard pupils shine through my human appearance, and curled back my lips. “You broke Sanctuary.”

I squeezed my fist closed, then dropped the decaying corpse on the ground.

Wiping the blood turning into dust over my bare stomach, I turn to the remaining tats and jackets. “You were part of the agreement. You understand that right?”

The two vampires nodded their heads vigorously. The transformed wolf growled groggily, his broken jaw healing with audible snaps.

“Don’t come back. Let the rest of the gang know too.”

I dropped my chin to stare into the vampires’ black eyes, breaking the common-sense rule of never making eye contact with vampires. They were too young for it to matter. The werewolf tilted his neck, exposing his throat.

“You come in while I’m here, anyone with your colors, and I will remove you.” I kicked the shrinking dust pile to indicate how I would remove them. I taught lessons but only once. Supernaturals either had a learning curve or they didn’t. “Got it?”

They nodded.

“Go.”

The three children rushed out the door.

“Alphin, do a better job and sweep up this mess.”

“No problem. Sure thing.” The fae stumbled over their words. “On it.”

I turned around, forgetting for a moment to make it look like I wasn’t flying, the spin raised me an inch or so off the floor. Sighing, seeing about half the customers with their eyes wide staring at me, comparing the rumors of what they heard about last week against what they just witnessed, I shunted my talons and weight back to the other side and landed on the floor light enough not to crack the tiles. “What?” I asked the crowd, “Boss said no more tats. We are a Sanctuary. Anyone got a problem with that?”

People shook their heads and dropped their heads to their drinks.

“Remember to treat your waitresses with respect, because if you think I’m scary, you should see an annoyed witch.”

The wait staff chuckled at that one, all of them apprentices of the owner, a thousand-year-old wizard capable of maintaining a Sanctuary in a large metropolitan area, and one of the few being on the planet who remembered what it is like to hunt dragons. Some of the regulars joined in the laughter. By the time I made it across the club to slide across the silver-trimmed bar, conversations were restarting around the room.

(words 1,449; first published 1/19/2024)

Flash: Comfort House

Erin Penn

Image by JAY WILDE (https://www.bhg.com/home-improvement/exteriors/curb-appeal/victorian-style-home-ideas/)

The horseless dropped me off at the corner. Pulling my collar up and my hat down, I dodged my steps through the puddles reflecting the gas lamps lighting the sidewalk. The cold raindrops struck my heated cheeks as I rushed to my destination, reminding myself what I wanted was a basic human need. There was no need for embarrassment.

The embarrassment should be society’s for putting the fulfilment of this need behind a ledger book. Certain things should not require coin exchanges.

965 Steward Lane was set back from the cobblestones street and cement walkways of the busy mixed residential and commercial sector. Trimmed in burnt orange, crisp turquoise, and mint green, the three-story Victorian building mixed well with the seamstress shop on one side and the breakfast house on the other where the owners lived above the first-story business. The rose bushes leading up to the porch shined in the nighttime lamplight, reds and pinks sparkling as rain continued to fall. It looked so ordinary and respectable, I questioned Widow Leery recommendation. Only the thin horizontal wooden sign of a snake coiled around a rod with a cluster of grapes on the left end indicated its business. As promised, the grapes and rod were not painted purple.

I was deprived, not depraved.

Even deprived to the point of tears, I hesitated turning to walk down the brick path. But who knows when I will get another childless night?

My daughters each previously had taken sleepovers but never on the same night. More will likely happen now the youngest was thirteen and Confirmed.

I should go home. One more night alone will make no difference. I remain frozen in place long enough, searching for an escape, either forward or back, my eyes find a small painted wooden sign attached to the open gate. Curious, I step to the side to be able to read the mint green words painted on the burnt orange sign.

Laughter and Hugs Provided

A sob escapes.

Yes, my babies have given me laughter and hugs by the armful for years. Only recently have they transferred these affections to schoolmates and neighbors to the exclusion of their boring mother. My sister, who rents us the fourth floor of her walk-up, as typical of her nature, remained more shrew than sympathetic shoulder. How her spouses tolerate her has been a mystery I have never been tempted to unfurled. I grew up with her; it was enough she was happy and willing to offer me aid, limited as it is, after Raymond died in the war.

I could use laughter and hugs.

I walk down the bricks and mount the four steps to the wooden porch. The front door opens. Taking a deep breath, I enter the establishment.

“Welcome to Elizabeth’s Comfort House. May I take your cover, Ma’am?” The butler bowed slightly, before straightening and holding out a hand for my wet hat and coat. Sharply dressed in a black jacket and white bow tie and cummerbund, the servant makes me feel vastly underdressed.

I glance around the area, one last-last chance to duck out or move forward. In the foyer sits the hostess, if not Elizabeth herself, she likely will claim to be Elizabeth. Her cotton dress, a blue-green turquoise, deep skirt covers the legs of her chair, beside her rests a guest ledger like one sees at hostels and funerals on a painted table with spindly legs. An empty overstuff chair, the upholstery embroidered with snakes and grapes, waited beside her for me. Beyond her guardianship laid what I seek, a tea room full of men.

Males willing to sell their time to women.

They appeared cleaned and mingled with females, some seated in tete-a-tetes, others standing in groups with three or four short-haired or bunned women around them. Above the gathering hovered oil lights, a clear statement of wealth and a warning the men were well protected. Few houses in town had access to magicians. But this wasn’t a house, it was a business. Any relationship I establish here was a transaction.

I passed my hat and outer coat to the butler before I touched my vest, verifying my wallet remained with me, and approached the hostess. I showed leg in a bow I learned when taking my daughters to dance lessons. At thirty-five and after a hard week on the manufacturing floor, the ligaments protested the stretch, but the delivery would have please Mistress Florence. The inspection of guests indicated my attire fell in the lower end of acceptable, so I felt the need to break out extraordinary manners to offset my appearance. I took the uptick of her polite smile as approval.

“Forgive me for not standing, ma’am,” the hostesses smoothed the fabric over her legs, “skirts, you understand.”

Most women, when they entered the work world after the men went off to war, gave up the excess fabric. Manufacturing machines, no matter what the factory made, didn’t forgive dangles and snags. Long loose hair became a peace-time legend among the working class. But all of us older women remember the challenges of maneuvering the fabric.

“Of course.” Internally, I wonder what she is hiding beneath her petticoats. Was she the one responsible for the float spells and tucked a wand or spice within easy reach to protect her investments? I tilt my head to the chair beside her, “May I?”

Her lips twitched again and her eyes sparkled, granting approval with a small nod.

I sit, doing a pinch on the linen to keep my ironed lines sharp and the hem of the trousers just above my shoes, then turned my body toward her and the front door where I watched the butler go into a small side room to hang my coat. Inside the room, I could see windows facing the porch.

“I don’t believe I have seen you before, ma’am. My name is Elizabeth Kennedy,” she said as she pulled the ledger into her lap. “May I ask how you found us?”

“Frances Leery recommended your services to me when she found me adrift in melancholy a few weeks ago on my back porch.” Crying my eyes blood red more like. The calendar was above the bin in the kitchen, and I had noticed the date before walking down the stairs with the trash to dump into the containers my sister keeps in the alley. On the second turn fire escape, I remembered the date matched the day I received the letter which began “Mrs. Penkeeper, we regret to inform you…”

“Ah, many of our patrons seek our services for attending to this condition.”

“She did indicate that, dear friend that she is.” I hide behind my polite smile all the frustration I felt listening to Widow Leery taking Widow Penkeeper to task for not keeping up proper appearances as though we were close confidents, not block busybody and quiet neighbor. I think I would be less upset about her interference if she wasn’t right about my mental state and steps I needed to take to fix it and why.

“Even with an excellent recommendation from Mrs. Leery, to protect our employees, I will be asking you some questions.” The hostess reached for a peacock pen on the lower level of the table and twisted it out its inkwell.

“Please.”

“Your name and occupation.”

“Mrs. Edith Penkeeper, most people call me Dicey. I work for JJ Worthingtons, cutting the cards for textiles and helping with the looms.” I can read a bit, even upside down. “I see you record addresses, I live on Elm, the 300 block.”

“Thank you.” Elizabeth placed the feathered pen back into the jar and turned it until it was secure. “You do understand we only offer comfort, not the more … physical exchanges you might find elsewhere.”

I nodded. “One of the reasons I sought you out.” Widow Leery had given me the names of three places she frequented and this one sounded the safest.

“And, I apologize for the necessary, but our fees.”

I recited what I understood the cost of drinking tea surrounded by men to the cost of an overnight stay. She corrected me up and down and expanded the list of services they offered, including female companionship. “I’m interested, should I find someone amenable, staying the evening.”

“Very good. For the tea, the cost is five sheets. Leave it with the girl at the door. Should one of our gentlemen or ladies agree to escort you upstairs, you will settle the bill with them.”

“Thank you. Now, if you don’t mind?” I brace to stand and at her nod, lever myself out of the chair. “It has been lovely to meet you.” I make a slight bow, then spin on my shoe and make my way to the tea room.

At the door, a child, younger than my Wilma but old enough to do numbers well, waited beside a till. I pull out my wallet and remove a fiver. She thanks me neatly and I enter the room.

The customers and employees are easy to distinguish. The employees continue the theme of burnt orange and turquoise in patterned clothing of dresses on the women and lounging gowns with trousers for the men. Except for two, all the men and women employed by Elizabeth wore their hair long or in messy buns with loose strains begging to be tucked or pulled by the clients. One man had a clean-shaven dome but made up for the difference with a beard, and the woman shaved her black curls close, and displayed thick muscular arms. Both had already been drawn into personal conversations and had two or three green sheets of bills in front of them. One woman customer glared at the person who obviously had preempted her favorite comfort provider instead of mingling with the unclaimed people.

I traversed to the table with the teapots. In front of each was the name of the tea, most of which I had no experience with, and a small picture I guess of what plant they represented. I chose the mint, unwilling to risk my tastebuds on top of everything else I was attempting tonight.

“Leave room for cream on top, it helps cool it faster.” A deep voice rumbled beside me.

I turn to find a tall male beside me, he is pouring a cup from something marked with a bright flower and starting with a H – h-biscuits or something. “Thank you for the tip.” I smile at him. He is about my height and blond, not something I normally find attractive. His hair fell to his waist, and he bent deliberately to gape his lounging jacket to display a bare chest.

Too much for me.

I move to where sugar cubes, what a luxury, I might just come back for the tea, and milk options were stored at the end of the table. “What are you drinking?” I asked.

“Hibiscus, I just love the color and the tart flavor.” He tipped the steaming teacup toward me so I could see the rich color.

“That is beautiful.”

“Almost as beautiful as you.”

I laugh lightly. A real laugh. I hadn’t been flirted with in fourteen years. Drafted, Raymond left to before he even knew he had given me a second child. “Hardly, but thank you.” I take a sip. The mint was a spearmint base tea, sharper than the peppermint I expected. I put the cup down to swirl in a sugar cube. “Dicey.”

“Harvey. Would you like to join us under the green globe? We are speculating which portals are likely to be active during opening season.”

I look up at the oil lamps and notice each is a different color of glass and that the area under them are cleared of chairs but full of people. “Hm. Maybe later. Again, that you for the creamer hint, Harvey.” I move away toward a different globe, not really wanting to talk about a subject little better than the weather. The portals no longer poured out enemy monsters, but the Messmer magic left tears in reality’s fabric which reached their height of activity in late October. Scientists were working on ways to close the portals permanently, but so far nothing even shrunk them or contained the magic when they opened.

The yellow globe had people talking about the local stage production, and the traveling orchestra coming out of Newer York City. Purple picking out the politics of the Commissioners Board. I wondered if the conversations changed night to night, or even within a night. I ended up on the edge of the red globe where people debated the merits of the recently released novel Anthem. Between children and work and block duties, I didn’t have any time to read. Personally, I thought the author divorced from reality with her staunch stance against mysticism and magic.

“You look bored.” A man whispered in my ear.

I looked up, and up some more. This male towered over me by a handful of fingers spread wide. Brown hair, nearly auburn in the red light, rioted in curls around his shoulders. “Well, I’m not anymore.” And it wasn’t just because he wore his lounger close to his body, or his green eyes contained the exact green of cornfields drying for harvest, but he felt comfortable. My belly uncurled from tension for the first time of the evening.

He chuckled. Retaining eye contact, my gray to his green, he reached for one of my hands holding my teacup and pulled it up to his mouth slowly. “My name is Albert.” He kissed my knuckles, then returned my hand to my nearly empty cup.

I near swooned. I shouldn’t. The man’s face was virtually unlined. My best guess was twenty, maybe twenty-one. But instead of moving away, I stammered, “Dice, Dicey. People call me Edith. No, I mean I’m Edith and people call me Dicey.”

“A hooligan growing up, were you?”

A laugh escapes. “At least some thought so, before we moved to the city.”

Albert reached out his broad hand and rubbed the fuzz where I cut my hair with a thumb. I only leave the very top thick where I can tuck it into a cap. The sides I keep short for when I have to climb into the looms and put in the new pattern cards. “This is a beautiful black.”

“Thanks, I’m surprised it hasn’t gone gray with my teenagers.”

“You have children?”

“Two of them, girls.” I bit my lip. Of course they were girls. If either of them were boys, I would have been remarried and not need his services.

“Are they as beautiful as you?”

“I’d like to think so.” I take a sip of my tea and realize it is empty. “Oh, um. Do you have a tea you would recommend?” I ask while walking over to the table.

“Have you ever had rose tea? Elizabeth makes it from our gardens here.”

“No I haven’t.”

***

I wake in the morning, light flowing in under my curtains, to the scent of cotton and female musk in my nose where it is buried in a swirl of black hair. My arm is secured around Dicey’s body and she is curled perfectly into my form. My morning wakeup call presses against her back, so I lift away, taking time to admire the mark I left on her shoulder where it could be covered for her work.

While we aren’t licensed for breeding duties, we did have a wide range of activities we could offer at our discretion as part of our services or personal interest. My personal interest included marking this woman. I ran my fingers over the lip-shaped bruise, pushing just an “h” worth of hex into my temporary claim on Dicey, before slipping out of bed and down the hall to the third-floor water closet.

When I come back, I find her in the hazy stage of waking between dreams and duties. My heart leaps when I see the brightening of her sleepy face, then sinks when her visage closes off like a door as she remembers where she is.

I got a battle to overcome, but I will win.

Wizards get a lot of leeway claiming spouses. After two years general service, we could pick out up to four wives where the average man was limited to two and the second one was assigned. I only had a few more months until I was twenty and completed the mandatory comfort duties, after which, I will be picking up her as a spouse. Her aura called me across the room last night, and now I know she exists, I expect it will call me across the city.

“How long before you need to go home?”

“The kids are old enough to let themselves in,” she whispers sadly, “but I should be back to make them lunch and help them with block duties this afternoon.”

“The light says it is only six. We have a couple hours.”

I go over to the bed, sit on the side, and bend over to kiss her. Thoroughly.

(words 2,859, first published 1/21/2024)

Book Review (SERIES): Bubba the Monster Hunter Season 5

Erin Penn

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Blood, Sweat, & Tears: Bubba the Monster Hunter Season 5 (SERIES) by John G. Hartness

  1. Born to be Wilds
  2. Swamp Music
  3. Houses of the Holy
  4. Blaze of Glory

BOOK BLURB ON AMAZON for BLOOD, SWEAT, & TEARS

Bubba’s back from Fairyland, and sometimes it feels like they shoulda just stayed there!

Man, coming back to the real world sucks. Bubba and his whole team have been fired on account of going MIA for a year and a half (yeah, time moves differently in Faerie. Yay.), and now they’ve got to…get jobs? Oh, this is going to go well.

Blood, Sweat, & Tears tracks Bubba, Skeeter, Uncle Father Joe, and Amy as they re-enter society, get new jobs, almost burn down down the bar stupid enough to hire Bubba, end up owning a shifter crossfit gym, travel to Florida to learn way more about Uncle Father Joe’s new girlfriend than they ever thought they wanted to know, and then end up dealing with Quincy F’n Harker?!?

Yeah, that’s right. The Quincy Harker/Bubba crossover that you’ve all been waiting for happens right here, and the results are explosive, to say the least. No really, I’m not exaggerating. A lot of shit blows up. Because, well, Bubba.

MY REVIEW for BLOOD, SWEAT, & TEARS

Blood, Sweat, & Tears: Bubba the Monster Hunter Season 5 collects four novellas into one volume and hits a story out of the ballpark.

Born to be Wild – the perfect reintroduction of the cast after the year among the fairies. Gets our favorite redneck and his friends back on the saddle of doing what they do best – being in bars and blowing things up … sometimes both at the same time.

Swamp Music – another blast from the past where Father Joe’s girlfriend reaches out for help and Bubba delivers.

Houses of the Holy – Hartness writes two strong series which he said were placed in the same universe. Fans wanted a crossover – so Bubba goes to the Queen City. It’s not often Bubba is the backup team, but to stop an apocalyptic level spell he’s all for letting the wizard taking the lead. He’ll just sit back and guard a sword in a church. How hard can that be?

Blaze of Glory – Takes everything up a notch. Mr Card – sometimes known as Dracula – has gone off the reservation. One of the people the vampire cared deeply about died, and monster that he is, he normally doesn’t react well when that happens. For most beings, that might be a drinking spree — and for someone once called Vlad, a drinking spree has a very different connotation. Can Bubba find him in time? Or will something else find Bubba and his team first?

 

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BOOK BLURB ON AMAZON for BORN TO BE WILD

He lost his job because he’s not exactly human. His girlfriend got fired just for dating him. His best friend…well, Skeeter’s okay, actually. It ain’t like this is a country song or anything.

Bubba the Monster Hunter is back from Fairyland and trying to figure out how he fits into the normal(ish) world again. He’s got a job as a bouncer at the Don’t Drop Inn, but that all goes up in smoke (way too literally) when his newest case comes waltzing in the front door with a mini zombie apocalypse in tow!

Bubba has to save a vampire from zombies and figure out who wants to make Caufield Evers Oglethorpe IV dead. Again. That investigation will involve magic, werewolves, rogue government agents, subcutaneous tracking devices, and crossfit. Just another day in the life of Bubba the unemployed Monster Hunter!

MY REVIEW for BORN TO BE WILD

4/21/2019 First Readthrough – At last, Season Five begins and we see Bubba back in his element.

Friends – including Skeeter’s high pitch voice in his ear!
Starting the story at a Bar!
Beating on people for fun and profit, killing bad things with high explosives, and deciding some bad guys just need talking to (after slugging a couple times).
Humor and wild tangents.
Taking his girl out to lunch and then visiting a necromancer for dessert.

Classic Bubba. I’ve missed you. Like fire ants in the Spring, makes me want to shout “Come and get some”.

2/27/2022 Second readthrough
Season five is complete and I carved out time to read it. This book is the perfect setup to the four novella series – reintroducing the characters, establishing their styles and methods, human and horror, blowing things up. The perfect beginning.

 

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BOOK BLURB ON AMAZON for SWAMP MUSIC

Bubba’s facing off against the most fearsome creature in history – Florida Man!

Well, not really. But kinda. Bubba’s hitting the road to to help a friend when Uncle Father Joe calls for aid. Bubba rolls into Orlando to help out the defrocked priest and his scientist/were-gator girlfriend, and ends up stumbling into something much bigger than even that giant lizard’s cloaca! Somebody’s hunting cryptids, and it ain’t him, so he needs to find out what’s going on back in them swamps, and why suddenly everybody is named Director Shaw?!?

Bubba will battle foes both human and cryptid, and some a little of both in this hilarious horror comedy novella. Season Five of Bubba the Monster Hunter continues with Swamp Music!

MY REVIEW for SWAMP MUSIC

This novella published in May 2020 – and is the perfect homage to the first half of the COVID, while still ALSO being the perfect Bubba book for crazy no-shit mayhem, while still ALSO being a continuation of character building and story progression of the overall story for the Bubba universe in the fifth season.

Born to Be Wild reestablished our hero and his team back on earth – reminding us what Southern Region Monster Hunting looks like. It was fun and lively, but not so deep on the characters.

Swamp Music picks up the action a pace, gives us additional depth and history of this long-running series when Father Joe needs help when his girlfriend’s cousin gets kidnapped. Now that he is an ex-priest … what is gonna happen with GF if the rescue is successful.

And that depends on Bubba dealing with a bunch of Florida weirdness including animal theme parks, were-gators, and keeping an eye on Geri who may still be itching to do a killin’.

Pitch perfect Bubba story. This is why we read Bubba stuff.

 

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BOOK BLURB ON AMAZON for HOUSES OF THE HOLY

The long-anticipated Bubba/Quincy Harker crossover starts here!

Bubba is hired by the Department of Homeland Security to guard some relics in Charlotte, but there’s more going on than there seems. Doesn’t DHS have Quincy Harker, a mostly capable wizard type, right there in Charlotte? And Isn’t Bubba blacklisted from working for the government after DEMON decided they wanted to kill him? And didn’t he smear vampire guts all over College Street that last time he was in Charlotte?

Find out all this, and learn more about the nefarious Director Shaw’s plans for DEMON and world domination as Bubba the Monster Hunter meets up with members of Quincy Harker’s crew to stop the ultimate evil from going down in the Queen City!

Events in Houses of the Holy take place simultaneously with the Quincy Harker novel Conspiracy Theory.

MY REVIEW for HOUSES OF THE HOLY

The third novella of Bubba’s fifth season starts the core of the season’s story. In Born to be Wild and Swamp Music, Bubba was a little out of shape … okay, a lot out of shape. But he now owns a cross-fit gym so he started working out a bit and getting down to a fighting weight (if when you are “down” and still over 300 pounds can be counted as such – when you are over six and a half, it can). And good thing too.

Because Mr. Hartness, the author, did a fan service thing and had his two favorite characters meet. Quincy and Bubba in the same room.

Bubba is called to the Queen City (Charlotte, NC) from his Georgia stomping grounds to operate as the backup team during a little bit of apocalypse.

Normally Bubba is the “A” team, but he is okay to let this slide. Demons and spells and ending the world is more a Quincy thing. He and his team are happy to take the government paycheck … and sweet, sweet equipment.

Of course, being Bubba, he manages to get himself banned from a bar the first day. Next assignment has him guarding a sword inside a cathedral. Hope his day gets better – or EVERYONE’S day is going to get a lot worse.

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BOOK BLURB ON AMAZON for BLAZE OF GLORY

The stunning conclusion to Bubba the Monster Hunter Season 5 is here!

Bubba and the team have been called to Charlotte to help the Department of Homeland Security on a job. Since being in North Carolina, Bubba has been tased, kidnapped, beaten silly, and met DEMON agents, actual demons, and an angel. Now he’s been hired to hunt down the literal most famous monster in history – Count Dracula.

Only problem is, Dracula’s nephew, the wizard Quincy Harker, doesn’t like the idea of Bubba hunting his family in his city.

Will Bubba and Harker finally throw down? Will Bubba get kidnapped and beaten up again? Will the be explosions?

That last one was a trick question. Of course there will be explosions! Get your hands on the thrilling conclusion to Bubba the Monster Hunter Season 5, because this one changes things forever!

MY REVIEW for BLAZE OF GLORY

Fourth and final novella of the fifth season of Bubba. This story overlaps with Mr. Hartness’ Quincy Hartness series but can be read without knowing all the background of the Quincy-verse.

What matters is the man the world once knew as Dracula just lost one of his favorite humans. When normal beings lose someone this close to violence, they go on drinking sprees. “Drinking spree” takes on new meaning when applied to the world’s most famous vampire. Bubba’s job is to bring him back before that becomes a problem.

But can he? Especially when while Monster Hunting, something is hunting him and his team. Can they all make it out alive? (or undead in one case.)

This is a masterpiece of a book with the laughter and tears only possible with a long-running series where you KNOW the characters.

Flash: All the Way Back

Erin Penn

Photo by Orkhan Farmanli on Unsplash

Chapter One: A Mother

A big black SUV pulled up to the curb outside my suburban house. I glance over to where my two kids are playing in their wading pool as I pretend to turn off my hose. It was never on; I had been practicing elemental water magic taking care of the roses, hollies, and yews surrounding my home. The magic still dripped around me from the plants, ready to be called up. I eased back the energy when I recognized the person stepping out the back but didn’t dismiss it entirely. She wasn’t suppose to be here today.

“Hey Danny!” My wife waved at me before saying something to those still in the vehicle. After she slammed the door shut, the dark oversized vehicle pulled out. When she started waddling my way, our youngsters, upon seeing their mother, leaped out of their pool and streaked toward her across the grass.

“Brian, be careful,” I yell, setting aside the hose and closing the distance.

Our oldest took a stutter step at my command, which mean Tyla only got hit by twenty pounds of exuberance instead of the combined sixty. Emma wrapped her arms around both of Tyla’s legs upon contact, but my very pregnant wife managed to remain standing. Brian took a gentler approach, but velco’ed on the side opposite his sister none-the-less. They had missed her.

When I got in range, I pecked her check. “You’re home early.”

She was three days ahead of schedule. I ran a quick charm behind her back, while I grasped her arm. Tyla wasn’t nervous or scared, but that meant little with a seer wife. She processed things years before I even know a danger is coming. The lack of anger though, that was a good sign. Since coming in her full confidence after college, her temper shook mountains. The core stillness, on the other hand, like waiting for a sword to be drawn, that didn’t bode well.

She gave me a twisted smile indicating she knew I had cast an empath linkup. It rivaled the expression on the snake torque I gave her during our wedding ceremony five years ago, its gray eyes sparkling in the mid-day sun, the gleam matching her eyes. “I missed you too much.”

I leaned in close to whisper in her ear, “Bullshit.” The Sisters never do anything without a plan.

“You say the sweetest things.” Tyla laughed, a light blush rising, before grabbing me by the back of my head and pulling me in for a deep kiss. After letting me come up for air, her voice dropped into a growl. “Let’s get inside, hmm?”

Damn. I run a finger over her lips and she gives them a quick bite. Her gray eyes wink white a moment before returning to normal.

Damn. Damn. “Let me put away the hose and clean up the mess.”

“No problem. Come on Emma, Brian, let’s get you cleaned up for dinner.” Tyla herded the kids inside.

Outside, I did the visible cleanup. I also activated all the protections I had built up outside the house over the years; stone walks, water features, a firepit in the back for my elemental specialty and likely well-planned for by any Purists observing us, but the true protection laid in the plants. One of the professors from the university helped me with the landscaping. The yews and hollies snapped to attention and the rose thorns extended, dripping oily allergens as obnoxious as poison ivy.

***
Chapter Two: A Mission

Daniel finished putting the children to bed while I cleared the table of leftovers. I checked the chore chart, grateful once again his willingness to work with my inability to keep days straight. A big red rectangle picked Thursday out of the background. Laundry.

I moved to the laundry room where a half dozen small piles scattered around the floor. No baskets were in the sorting or folding areas. I opened the dryer to discover a pile of pink leggings and blue jeans, so pulled over an empty basket. While I moved the items from the washer to the dryer, my husband joined me, pulling over the basket of the finished dryer clothes for folding. After turning on the dryer, I ask, “What’s next?” pointing at the piles he had sorted at some point today.

“Underwear, whites, and cottons.” He indicated two of the six piles.

I start picking them up and shoving them into the washer.

“So why are you here, really?” he asked, rolling the pink leggings with daisies into a tight tube.

I shrug. “It’s the safest place.”

He barked a laugh. “Our house? Better than the Sisters’ fortification with their guards and security systems?”

“And a big, very known location with dozens of access points.” I scrap detergent from bar we buy from an herbalist with a dulling knife into a bowl until it reaches the inside mark for a medium load. Dumping the curled soap on top of the load, I start the washer, then reach for the sharpening stone. “The Sisters decided to send some of the more vulnerable home.” I rub my huge belly; inside the baby kicked in protest of me underplaying some of the details of the heated discussion between me and the rest of my cohort of Fates.

My husband sighed deeply. “Is it starting?”

“We think so.” The sharp sounds of steel on slate fill the room as I bring the soap knife up to a keen, safe edge.

“You should be at the Fortress or at least Adheim.”

I shake my head. “No, today I’m bait.”

“What?!?”

***

Chapter Three: A Massacre

Fucking hell. She did not agree to that, did she? “What do you mean, you are bait?”

“They are attacking tonight,” my wife wiggled her hands back and forth, “in nearly all timelines. And we decided to place some of the more tasty morsels outside the Estates, me being one of the best.” She smiled deeply and winked. “Because of you. They want me, but the purists HATE you.”

As they should. Between me and her, we have stopped or disarmed every attack they made against us since the day they dropped the bomb on us during her freshman year at college. And while she always tried for the non-confrontational, non-lethal method preferred by seers, as an elementalist, I didn’t limit my options to being a nice guy. “I don’t like this.”

“I don’t either. There is no way to get the children away in time.”

I grip her wrist, the one holding the honing stone. “Are they — will they be okay?”

“Usually, but not always. That will depend on you.” Tyla tapped my hand gripping her with her knife.

“What will I need to do?” I growled, not letting go.

Snatching her hand out of my grip, she turned, placing the knife on the magnet holder above the washer, out of reach of the children and the honing stone in the bag beside it. With her back turned to me, she spoke to the wall. “Don’t hold back. Whatever you do, trust me to do my part, and don’t hold back.”

Goosebumps raised on my arms and across my back. I gasp the back of her neck, turning her around. “What do you mean–”

Behind us, the wall exploded. Due to our placement between machines, I take no injury and am able to get a wind shield up in time to protect her. She looks up at me, a spell-bomb in her hands, and snarled, “Get them,” before crushing the ball between us.

A thousand memories assaulted me and instantly cleared.

“You bitch,” we say staring into the eyes of our woman.

The ball was a reincarnation charm. All memories in every life just became available to us. In this lifetime, we were a college professor and still managed to wrack up a kill count in the dozens over the past four years protecting what is ours. Our wench and our spawn.

This was our most civilized life ever.

Tyla just unleashed a monster.

“Your bitch.” She smiles her possessive snake smile with white eyes gleaming. “Go. Win.”

We summon a sword from the other side of the world from the sandy grave it had been buried in for the last five centuries. We grab her head and ravage her mouth, half of the lifetimes remembering this being as our match and soulmate. “Keep the youngins safe,” we order before jumping out the door into our backyard.

The firepit is flaring from their elementalist calling the energy forth.

My land. My magic. You are fools to attack me here.

We force the invader’s energy back, claiming dominion, returning the magic in a feedback loop spell our present life had developed. Someone screamed as their eyes boiled. The woman said not to hold back.

The man of today is worried the horrors we are about to unfurl will disgust our wench, but we know her measure. She owns the monster she has leashed with her love.

The metal elementalist memory sends the sword singing through a golem, while the water elementalist redirect water from a programmed night-time watering system to drown a driver who thought themselves safe a block away.

And the aspect of the evil creature that is ourselves which loves plants, the one who was the worst of us, rises from where we have buried him. Most of us have been simple soldiers, warriors, and killers. That lifetime had been a devoted gardening monk. Most people consider herbalists these soft, caring beings. They don’t realize how many plants are actually poisonous. That the majority of plants on this planet rather kill humans than be cultivated. During that lifetime, we communed with plants and embraced their hatred.

Daniel Hawkins, with his careful landscaping, had provided it with an army of vines, trees, and shrubs.

Three creatures leap beyond us, scrambling up the outside of the house to the girl-spawn’s window. We nod. That is the most defendable position. The woman said to trust her with her part. She could guard the children.

We turn away as three bodies fly back from the window, sparkling from electricity.

That’s our mate. Now to prove ourselves worthy of her. We roar and rush forward into the savage greenery.

(words 1,719; first published 12/28/2023)

All the Way Forward Series
1. All the Way Forward Part 1 (chapters 1-3) (8/29/2021)
2. All the Way Forward Part 2 (chapters 4-6) (10/21/2021)
3. All the Way Back (chapters 1-3) (5/1/2022)

Flash 2000: All the Way Forward Part 2

Erin Penn

Photo by julian mora on Unsplash

Warning: Mature activities – chapter 5 & 6

Chapter Four: A Musing

I shouldn’t ask, but I’ve lived with the memory of sending a child into a panic attack for seven years and now I find out why. Curiosity leads to many questions which are better off unasked. “Have you had sex yet Miss Singer?”

Tyla shakes her head.

“I don’t…” I close my eyes, damn seers. How to approach this. “The hands tied up and keeping you quiet are unusual actions, but not outside things I have done with consent. Do you think they may be within things you would accept with consent?”

The student gives me a timid smile. “I don’t know. What happened, what will happen, didn’t feel very consent-y for either of us.”

“Do you know where this will occur? Maybe we could avoid it? Delay the event?” I tap my desk. “You says it has to occur and we are the right sizes, but we should be these sizes for a while.”

“It’s the lecture hall.” Her whisper gets rough as she talks to her hands. “You have me tied on the podium with your necktie on the metal frame used to hold your laptop in place.”

For a second, I can see her tied up as described, my tie looped around the frame, her lips bruised as I hold my hand over her mouth and I pound into her.

Well, that is going to make using the podium difficult for a while. Can’t lecture sitting down.

“So no?”

“I really can’t drop out.” Tyla looks up at me earnestly. “The Sisters need me. They want me to finish school in three years, so I got to have this course this semester. There is no way around it.”

I rub my forehead thinking. “I can’t have you as my student.”

“I have to have this class.” She picked at her bag. “And this, that, has to, will happen.”

“Could I tutor you and have Professor Caskcut give you the tests and grade your papers?” I stand to control the leg bouncing. “Get you officially not my student.”

“And what excuse do you want, Danny?”

Her voice had changed and I look over. Her body is completely different, how it is held. Fear is gone from every limb. Left in it’s place is knowledge, heavy, infinite. Sexy, confident, lethal. Tyla’s gray eyes are white.

I gulp. A seer realized. Us mere mortal elementalists shouldn’t be rubbing elbows with the likes of them.

“What excuses do I have, Miss Singer?”

She laughs. “Well, most of the futures I’m your wife so we could be engaged, some we are just friends raising our little boy, your spouses like me, and others, well… Limited thread. But you asked for excuses, engagement for love at first sight, the administration loves that.” She tilts her head smiling, seeing something other than the here and now. “Your grandmother’s emerald engagement ring is beautiful. We could tell the administration about me having a vision but they don’t need to know what it is about. We can truthfully say it is interfering with my learning and to bring Leo in to help. My grades clearly indicate additional tutoring is needed. I may be able to encourage my Sisters to request special treatment, but they hate that. Still they will give in if you don’t like the other options. Still wife is the safest option. We tend to live the longest that way.”

“Wife?” I squeak. Not something I had ever considered, especially with a student. But the rest of it is concerting. “Safe? Live, as in other ways we die early?”

The woman in front of me smiles sadly. “War is coming, Danny. The Sisters are delaying it as long as they can. But the Union is dissolving.”

With those words, Tyla dissolves. Her head coming forward and hitting my desk, then her body slumping out the chair onto the floor.

“Fuck.” I rush around and open the door. “Taylor, call the healer.”

“What happened?” asks the teacher’s aide sending their familiar winging away. “Damn, I knew I should have reported it as soon as it happened.”

“What?” I shake my head, “Later. Help me get her out here.”

***

Chapter Five: A Malice

My eyes drop to Professor Hawkins tie as I enter the class for our review lecture before finals. “I thought you burned that.” I hiss quietly. It was The Tie of the vision. He had worn it two months ago and I let him know it was the One and he had immediately torn it off and stuffed it into the podium.

“Sorry, administration is visiting all the rooms today and I got ketchup on my other tie at lunch.”

“Ten-year.” I mutter, knowing he isn’t close yet, and my little issue with him isn’t helping. Him giving me his grandmother’s engagement ring, and us being officially engaged to get the other elemental Professor to fasttrack my training, had been completely unexpected and couldn’t have helped his standing with the administration either. When he gave me the ring, he said to call him Danny and I hadn’t been able to yet.

“Yeah, they like their uniform, now get up there, Singer.”

I mount the steps to the highest area. I really didn’t need to be here. Professor Caskcut had passed me with a 91% after a ton of work, scholarship in tact, but I really wanted to have the elements stick. They are the best attack magic, quick and decisive. Even if I never really master them myself, I do want to know how to defend against them best as I can.

At least Meghan isn’t ever going to be an issue for me again. After collapsing in Hawkins office, everything came out during the investigation into my injuries and she got expelled. I heard her family managed to get her into one of the European schools for next semester.

***

The review was torturous, especially with the necktie on after half a semester outside of uniform. I couldn’t believe how much of the material I needed to retouch. Was I that bad an instructor or they that bad at listening? Well, the test will tell. The room emptied slowly for the last time this semester. Students gave me first bumps and thanked me.

Brittany dropped off three gold origami cranes and Ryan dropped a smooth red stone with a charm clinging to it. I raised an eyebrow, and he said, “Heat charm, your office gets cold in the winter. Should work about a week if I did it right.”

And if he did it wrong, it could catch the office on fire. I don’t trust freshmen, especially those with the attention span that Ryan had, to get it completely right. I’ll add it to my fireplace at home. The entire living room is stone-lined and charmed to handle all but the most explosive elemental magic, a necessary in an elementalist home for when they get sick.

Tyla drifted down last. “Hey.” She said in her soft way.

“Hey.” I say back, looking for the scary defiant woman I had met for a few minutes in my office several months ago. I think I am going to look forward to watching Tyla grow into that woman. I see the firmness every now and again, the refusal to stay down no matter how many times she gets knocked down.

“You did good today.”

I blink at the compliment. “Thank you.” I smile a half-smile, smolder under control. She is still eighteen and it wouldn’t be fair, yet. I glance at the podium and her eyes follow mine.

“Some day soon.” She says to me, blushing lightly.

“We haven’t even kissed.” I whisper back, my voice dropping an octave without effort on my part. Since getting engaged, I haven’t chased anyone.

“And yet, somehow, I know exactly what you taste like.” Tyla’s shy smile changes into a small tease. “I dream of you often.”

I shake at those words. Dreams for her take on another dimension, literally. Makes me wonder how many of the dreams I had about her were shared.

“Surprise motherfuckers.” A voice screeches from the top of the lecture hall as a ball is tossed down from a fire exit.

I throw up an air shield around me and Tyla, and the ball crashes against it, releasing a pink gas. Unfortunately hardening the air to keep the gas on the other side sets off the heat charm in a blast, dispersing the gas throughout the room and sending us flying. I gasp for breath as the wind got knocked out of me.

Raising my head, I see Tyla nearby also struggling to breath. Damn woman is fine looking on her hands and knees. Rolling over, her eyes meet mine. “Oh, um, Danny…”

“Exactly.” I stand and walk over to her and pull her up, pinning her with my mouth against her lips. She might know what I taste like, but I needed to know what she tastes like.

Honey, hope, and ho.

She opens like a flower and drinks me like I’m whiskey shots. Her hands undo my tie and make quick work of my buttons. She starts working on my pants, but I’m not ready yet. She is too greedy.

I invade her space and she backs up and backs up until she hits something that doesn’t move. Seeing raise metal ridge around the edges, I grab the wayward hands and tie them up, then get busy on making sure she is ready for me.

“Good girl.” I growl, finding evidence she is more than ready. I throw the annoyances away and shove my fingers into her cunt, turning them over until I find the place that makes her legs start shaking uncontrollably. “Scream for me.”

“No, no,” she shakes her head side to side, “ten-year.”

“I don’t fucking care.”

“Must. We.” She lifts up on her tiptoes and widens her stance at the same time. “Please. Oh god.” She arches forward, her head slamming back wood. “Shh. Shh. Ah. Ah.”

Her cunt grips my fingers when I add a third. “Don’t hold back.”

She shakes her head side to side, biting her lip hard.

“Fine.” I pull my fingers out and unzip my pants, pulling out my penis. “You want this?” I rub it against her cunt.

Tyla nods vigorously. “Yes, yes, yes. Please.”

I lift her up and she wraps her legs around my back, and I glide in until I feel a barrier. Right. I should have expected that.

Keeping one hand on her ass, I lift the other to cover her mouth.

“I’m about to hurt you a little. But then it will feel real good. Bite down as hard as you want. Nod if you trust me.”

She nodded.

I felt her scream in my soul.

***

Chapter Six: A Misfire

It took two hours for the charm to wear off. When Meghan came by with some of her board relatives while we were still in the thick of the spell, our “depravities” on display for any coming through the doors.

Let me tell you, hair pulling is pretty awesome shit. Danny could do that all day and I wouldn’t care which hole he used.

Her relatives were shocked, shocked, they told us. How dare Professor Hawkins act that way with a student. The administration responded that while they would have preferred Mr. Hawkins hadn’t used the classroom after hours for such activities, they couldn’t find fault of his actions with his finance who he planned to marry over the winter holidays.

(We hadn’t planned it that soon, but the Sisters had, so, yeah, that happened.)

Danny got a slap on the wrist. Oh, no, he had to teach the 100 level courses again during the winter semester. Him and Caskcut usually alternate who gets stuck with them.

Meghan had been more careful with this spell and nothing could be traced back to her, at least legally. The Sisters had no problems knowing who, but free will meant some of the Seer thread powers could not be used in court.

Did Danny and me live a good long life? In many futures. In others, the war took a harsh toll on us and our children. Which one of the futures did I live in? All of them.

That is the blessing and curse of being a seer. The true singular universe exists for the normals all the way forward and back, but us seers, the shadows are lived within equally exhaustively.

Did Meghan have a good life? Not in a single one.

(words 2,101; first published 12/26/2023)

All the Way Forward Series

  1. All the Way Forward Series
    1. All the Way Forward Part 1 (chapters 1-3) (8/29/2021)
    2. All the Way Forward Part 2 (chapters 4-6) (10/21/2021)
    3. All the Way Back (chapters 1-3) (5/1/2022)