Beware! There are SPOILERS ahead for Albion Academy! If you have NOT read/finished the book, don't read this post yet. You have been warned.
Without further ado, here are some snippets from this month's writing in Albion Apparent:
“Mort, you did think to pack a change of clothes, right?”
“Stars,” Merlin swore, “can’t you knock first?”
Ignoring him, Robin sniffed at the air around him before eyeing the burbling coffee maker. “Is that coffee?” he asked.
“No, it’s a very clever poison that mimics the smell of coffee,” I quipped.
“Lily was one of my mentors when I was younger,” Mortimer said.
“Which is his way of saying I tied him up on my ceiling and made him listen a few of those seditious thoughts I mentioned,” Lily explained.
“You know what’s dangerous? Letting a sorcerer give you a True Name.”
The Elders joined hands, paws, and tails, creating an irregular circle around me. They spoke in a language so far removed from English I barely recognized that it was a language. In the background, I heard the chilling echoes of their earlier laughter and the roar of a firestorm. Then the Elders switched to English and intoned, “May the wish of this petitioner be granted, the desire of his heart be given, the true yearning satisfied. By the might of the Djinn and the word of the Elders, may it be.”
No, Gabriel wasn’t strong. That was why he needed secrets, because he did not have the strength to face his own father without the knowledge of other people’s failures. Because he couldn’t tell his father that he might be on his way to becoming what Aaron Faust so greatly hated now: a wizard.
He smiled. “I will make certain my replacement understands you are to have this class.”
“Replacement?” I asked.
“Knock on me,” said Belchor, “he’ll be a sight better than this laze-about.”
Prince turned to Belchor and said softly, “I still have Grace’s number, you know. I’m sure she’d be glad to—” “There’s no need to threaten me, Terrence,” Belchor said with a creaking whine. “It’s not as though they’re actually throwing you out.”
“And how many of you aren’t human?” Mark interjected. “I heard there were fairies and Djinn and shit hiding out in the Albion parts of the school.” He glanced at me and then at Merlin, as if he could determine who was human and who wasn’t with a look.
The girl next to Mark took out her phone and surveyed the classroom with the built-in camera. “I’ll bet we can see who’s who on here,” she said. “Can’t fool technology.”
“Samantha, please put your phone away. And Mark,” Ms. Kinkade said with the weariness of someone trying to close off an inevitable argument, “just because a large group of people think they saw a dragon—”
“We don’t ‘think,’” said Mark, making air quotes with his fingers. “We know. There’s footage from at least a dozen students on YouTube.” He straightened his fingers and gestured with his hands as if the veracity of his claim depended on the force of his movements.
“—doesn’t mean we should assume the existence of wizards, fairies, marshwiggles, and the like,” finished Ms. Kinkade. Her face puckered as if the subject left a sour taste in her mouth. “And footage can be falsified.”
Marshwiggles? I thought. Where did she get the idea—
Harry raised his hand, and Merlin slipped lower in his seat in anticipation what his Knower was about to say.
“How do you know there aren’t marshwiggles and the like?”
“Well, have you ever seen a marshwiggle?”
Harry thought about it for a moment, then said, “That’s hardly a fair question. Narnia ceased to exist before I was born.”
Fiera Juvelin sat in Mistress Akachi's empty classroom. She wanted to strike the world at its heart and watch the whole mess burn to the ground. Unfortunately, with her father on the loose and her status as a sorceress revealed, she didn't have that option.
As the swirling group of students evacuated the area around the table, the source of their agitation became clear. A large black snake, so dark it seemed to be made of shadows in the night, slithered across the table in an elliptical pattern. It reminded me of the snake game on Harry's computer. Every couple of turns, the snake would lift its head and gaze at the crowd, sifting the air with its tongue.
*As a side note, I had two writing goals this month: to keep up with my new blog schedule and to write at least 30-40k words for Albion Apparent. With the exception of Jan. 2, I have posted all the blog posts I intended to (and a half-dozen more besides with the blog tour), and as of the writing of this post, I am at just over 30,000 words (at least half of which is newly written; the rest is reworked from earlier partial drafts of the book) in Albion Apparent. Hooray for goal setting, and double hooray for goal meeting!