So I’ve Published a Book… Now What?

Last Month’s Videos

300 Days: My Most Challenging, and Rewarding Season Yet

In this video, I look back on the last 100 days here on youtube, and see what I’ve accomplished, what I’ve learned, and how my channel has grown.

What I Did the Day My Book Launched (to keep from going crazy)

A short and sweet video diary of storts about looking into what I got up to the day my book launched.

Book and Art Links

Annelise and the Pendragons: Liberation

Kristina’s Art

KV Writes

Book Chapters: The 10% I’m Allowed to Share

I enrolled my book into KDP Select which increases the reach of my book. However, it also means that I have agreed not to publish the ebook through anyone other than Amazon for now. I’m only allowed to publish 10% of this book digitally anywhere other than Amazon. The first chapter is on my Instagram, but here, you will get the whopping first 1.5 chapters… please, hold your applause.

I hope you enjoy, and I hope to be sharing some early chapter drafts of my new book next month!

Chapter 1: The Offer

Jimmy was fidgeting behind Annelise as she scratched a perfect circle into the ground around the two of them with the base of her staff. He had pulled his hood over his balding head, and his brown eyes flitted up and down the dark alley. He was acting as though he expected a Conciliar Warden to pop out of the stonework any minute. It was making her nervous. She tied off the circle with a draconic rune. The circle glowed bright blue. The air around them shimmered for a moment, then faded. With the ward up, they could now speak freely without fear of being overheard. With a flick of her wrist, her staff retracted, and her hand was empty.
She turned to face Jimmy. “You can relax now, Jimmy. We’re warded. Now, will you tell me what this is all about?”
“You’re sure you weren’t followed?” He tugged at his collar and hood in an effort to conceal just a bit more of his face. This, however, was impossible as both his collar and hood were already stretched out as far as they could manage.
“I wasn’t followed. Why did you want to meet?”
Jimmy took a breath and held it for a second. “You know, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.” He turned to scamper down the alley.
Annelise grabbed his arm to stop him from slinking off into the city. “Look. You asked me to meet you here. I’m here. Tell me what this is about.”
Jimmy peered up and down the alley again. “Someone’s been asking about you.”
Annelise frowned, the back of her neck starting to prickle. “Who?”
“I don’t know, two guys.”
“Are they cops?”
“I don’t know for sure. They weren’t flashing badges or anything, but when I went to get my money from Frankie, I heard them asking him about that missing VanTover painting he fenced for you last month. They were very persistent. They could be undercovers. And…” Jimmy paused. “They were Pendragons.”
Annelise swore. “Are you sure?”
Jimmy nodded. “Golden eyes and everything.”
They were almost certainly magical law enforcement then. There was hardly a member of the Pendragon clan out there who wasn’t some high-ranking member of the government or working for the government in some capacity. And now these two were after her. The walls of the alley seemed much narrower than they were only minutes ago.
She ran a hand through her hair. “Did Frankie tell them anything about the VanTover?”
“I don’t know, I don’t think so.” He glanced over his shoulder. “That’s all I know, really,” He looked at Annelise. “So what do you plan to do?”
Annelise shook her head. “I’m not sure yet.” A car passed by the entrance to the alley. Annelise’s eyes flitted in that direction, waiting and watching to see if the car would reappear. It did not.
Jimmy continued. “If you postpone the meeting with this client, you’re going to spook him. And I don’t know about you, but I could use the money. I couldn’t collect from Frankie today.” He fretted with his collar.
Annelise frowned. It would be risky to go through with the deal. On the other hand, she had spent months curating the artwork she was creating for this buyer. He was willing to pay a handsome amount for it. She hated to see all the work that went into putting this deal together go to waste, as well as the thousands of dollars they could make from it.
Annelise looked at Jimmy, weighing his words, tone, and body language. He looked genuinely stressed. She knew firsthand what it was to fall on hard times. When she had, Jimmy had offered her a way out. Now it was her chance to repay the favor.
“Let’s still go through with the deal tomorrow. Send the buyer confirmation of the meeting. I will just have to do my best to close the deal as quickly and discreetly as possible. Also, maybe ask the buyer if he would consent to me casting a few wards around his house for extra protection.”
Jimmy nodded. “I’m sure that can be arranged. Guys like him love any excuse to interact with magic that isn’t the standard transportation or medical stuff.”
Annelise chuckled. It was very true. She glanced down at the ward line surrounding them. “I’m surprised you chose to meet out in the open.”
Jimmy worked primarily in the cyber world. He mistrusted everything and everyone and preferred to hide behind the ones and zeros on the screen. He was a cyber-fence, arranging meetings between potential buyers and sellers of illicit goods. In exchange for facilitating, he would get a cut. Annelise utilized his services when selling imaginary lost relics. Since the real thing didn’t exist, nobody would be looking for it, and the risk was lower.
But when she was selling a recreation, like the VanTover, she went through Frankie for an extra layer of distance and security.
“I needed to change up my methods,” Jimmy’s eyes were wide, and his voice barely above a whisper. “If they’re after you, and they’re after Frankie, then they’ll be after me next. I couldn’t risk our usual methods of communicating.”
Annelise raised an eyebrow. Jimmy had no usual methods of communicating. He had been known to deliver messages with methods that ranged from digital billboards to a carrier pigeon. She didn’t even know anyone used carrier pigeons anymore until some kid showed up on her doorstep with a fat bird and a note for her in his hands.
“You can’t trust anyone or anything.” Jimmy glanced up and down the alley again. “Besides, you make me too much money to get caught.” He flinched as he chuckled at his own joke.
Annelise didn’t laugh. “Yeah.” Her stomach felt tight. She couldn’t stop thinking about the wardens who were on her trail. It was a disaster waiting to happen. “Thanks, Jimmy. I owe you one.”
“Yeah, you do.” He pulled his jacket straight and made to scuttle down the alley.
“Jimmy?”
He turned to face her, looking a bit agitated, but listening nonetheless.
“You really strapped for cash?”
Jimmy stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Yeah.”
Annelise knew little about his personal living situation, but he seemed stressed about this. She suspected that he had dependents, but she could never tell for sure.
She unzipped a pocket that lined the inside of her navy blazer and pulled out the small wad of cash she kept on her. “Here.” She handed him the money.
Jimmy looked at her in astonishment.
Annelise stuffed her hands into her pockets. “Like I said, I owe you. Both for having my back now and… you know. Before.” ‘Before’ being when Jimmy managed to single-handedly pull thirteen-year-old Annelise out of the depths of poverty and give her a lifeline in the form of her first job. He had sent work her way ever since. Annelise wouldn’t be the woman she was today without Jimmy Sneke.
 Understanding and gratitude crossed Jimmy’s face. He held up the money. “Thanks.” He tucked it into a deep pocket and scurried down the alley into the shadows.
 Annelise watched him go, her mind already racing. How had she been found out? And what was she going to do now?

***

The wind on the roof of the parking garage whipped Annelise’s chin-length hair across her face. She sat on the railing, looking out over the city of Canol Dinas: The seat of the magical government in North America. The sun had just set beyond the Sierra Nevada Mountains that surrounded the city. The San Joaquin River that had glimmered on the edge of town mere moments ago now turned a resolute blue that darkened by the minute under the deepening California sky.
From her vantage point, she had a decent view of the Drake’s Maw: a tunnel cut beneath a mountain to the south of the valley. The mouth of the tunnel was carved into the shape of an enormous dragon head with mouth open, fangs bared, and eyes fierce. In the fading light, the headlights of the cars flowing out of the tunnel’s exit looked like fire pouring out of the dragon’s mouth. Below her, a steady stream of cars flowed and merged in an intricate dance of traffic.
A few parked cars were scattered across the top-level parking. The fact that there were cars in the North American seat of magic at all was a marvel owed to the efforts of the integration. Now, it was rare that a car burst into flames from magical overexposure.
A few blocks away from her, she could see the line outside of the magical transporter pad facility snaking out of the building and overflowing onto the sidewalk as people waited to enjoy the privilege and ease of instantaneous travel all across the planet. The long lines of security were a small price to pay for this commodity.
“Annelise Windstarter,” a deep voice rang out behind her.
Annelise turned and smiled. “Harold.”
A large man with dark skin and a rich baritone voice swaggered up to her, smiling. He carried a large black briefcase in one hand, and the other was tucked loosely into his pocket.
“How’s it going?” he asked.
“My day has taken a peculiar turn.”
He handed her the briefcase. “How so?”
Annelise didn’t elaborate, but balanced the briefcase on the railing and pressed a palm against its surface. Lines of blue light flickered across the top of the briefcase, and it unlocked with a click. She lifted the lid and inspected the contents. The briefcase contained several rolls of canvas, arranged in neat rows. Some of them contained paintings, while others were free from paint. The canvases were all yellowed, some more than others. Small tags near the top of each row dated the canvases. The dates ranged from 1750 to 1896. Perfect for her line of work.
Annelise snapped the briefcase shut and pulled a small velvet pouch from her pocket. She handed the pouch to Harold. “I was wondering if you knew anything about the investigation looking into the VanTover,” she asked.
Harold inspected one of the golden Dutch Ducats from the pouch. He looked up at Annelise, his grin never fading. “I hear there’s a special warden task force that is cracking down on forgeries and other art-related cons,” he said. “I’m guessing these two are a part of it. Marcus says that the client tried to get the VanTover displayed in a national gallery. That’s probably how it ended up on their radar.”
Annelise let out a controlled breath, between nearly pursed lips, trying to untangle the knots that had worked their way into her stomach. “Frankie needs to find better clients. If he keeps selling to idiots who can’t keep their mouths shut and their art in vaults, he’s going to get us all busted.”
Harold chuckled. “What can I say, a paying client is a paying client.” He leaned against the railing, crossing his arms. “I’m surprised that you were the one to swipe the VanTover. Acquisition is not normally up your alley.”
Annelise looked out over the city. “You’re right. It’s not. But…sometimes I create replicas. I never deal in the real thing. It’s too risky.”
“It was a replica?” Harold asked. He looked impressed. “Did Frankie know?”
Annelise shrugged. “Frankie and I have an agreement. He doesn’t ask, and I don’t tell. If he believes it’s the original, he is more convincing in his sales pitch. And if I don’t tell him, I have to ensure that my work is flawless. It works out for both of us. So far, no client has ever been the wiser.”
Harold gave a low whistle. “You ever think about selling originals? You could go straight?”
Annelise chuckled. “Sure. Maybe in my second career, I’ll be a famous artist, and you’ll be a door-to-door salesman.”
Harold laughed a full-bellied laugh, after which the two fell silent. Tension returned to Annelise’s stomach.
She ran a hand through her hair, but the wind sent it back to whipping her face. “I tried to get in touch with Frankie earlier, but his gallery was empty. Any idea where he went?”
“I haven’t heard from him since yesterday. But Jimmy says that some wardens were poking their noses into the VanTover that Frankie fenced for you. My guess is he holed up after that encounter.”
She chewed the inside of her cheek. “Do you know anything more about these cops?” she asked.
“Not much. But it seems that the VanTover has put them on your scent. They’ve been asking about some of your other transactions as well.”
Annelise’s stomach dropped. She tried to calm her racing heartbeat and quell her growing frustration. “Frankie had better keep his head down and his mouth shut, or I’m going to bruise his shins with that stupid cane of his for a change.”
Harold put a hand on her shoulder. “You’ll get through this. Just keep your head low for a while, and this will all blow over.”
Annelise let out a breath through puffed cheeks, trying to calm her nerves.
“Are you… already mixed up in something?” Harold asked.
Annelise nodded. “Yeah. I’ve got something in the works.”
Harold shifted his weight and put his hands on his hips. “Well, if you can rearrange it, do. If you can’t, then take the loss. It’s better to lose out on some money now than be a guest of the state for the next five years.”
“Yeah… I’ll see what I can do,” she mumbled.
Harold gave her a look and then rubbed the back of his neck.
“Look… I don’t normally do this. But if you need me to step in for you, I’m willing to do it. Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you did for me with that Aztec deal two years ago. I could make the sale, and you could keep your head down. If they’re after the source, they are more likely to be interested in moving past me to find you.”
Annelise’s stomach roiled at the thought. She knew he was a professional, but she could not afford for this to go wrong. Going herself was risky, but at least she would have control over the variables. She smiled wanly up at Harold. “Thanks, Harold. I appreciate the offer, really. But I think I’ll be okay.”
“And there’s nothing I can say to convince you to call it off?”
Annelise pressed her lips into a thin line. It wasn’t just her future at stake. She owed Jimmy. He needed this.
She shook her head, “No. I’ll be okay. Don’t you worry about me.”
She had spent a lot of time planning for her meeting with this client tomorrow. If she rescheduled now, she was sure she would spook him, and all that work would go to waste. It was a setback she couldn’t afford. All she could do was close the deal as quickly as possible and then go to ground.

***

Annelise stepped through the door of her house. She sighed, and for a moment, she leaned on her staff, pressing her forehead against its familiar surface. Her day had been long and unproductive, not in small part due to the fact that she was preoccupied with the notion of the wardens who were on her scent. She had tried to get a better sense of who they were and what they were after, but to no avail. No one knew anything…or no one was talking.
She kicked off her shoes and placed her staff in its nook by the front door. She tapped a rune next to the door, and it glowed with a pale golden light. Several orbs of light around her house came to life, giving off a pleasant glow and illuminating the room. Her living space was small and opened directly into the kitchen. The room was devoid of furniture save a small table with a single chair that sat near the wall, and a more comfortable chair that sat beneath a glowing orb by the window. A bookshelf climbed up the wall behind it. The rest of the wall was covered in artwork.
Annelise made her way towards the side door that led from the living area into the garage. She clutched the handle and stilled, frustration from the day welling inside her.
She had tried to get a message to Frankie, but he was nowhere to be found, and no one seemed to know how to get a hold of him. No doubt the cops had spooked him, and he had gone underground for a while…or he had been arrested.
Annelise pushed away her worried thoughts. There was something tangible here that she needed to work on, and it was time to focus on that instead of chasing fruitless whispers.
She slipped through the side door of her home and into the garage. The garage was brightly lit, warm, and inviting. No matter what time of day it was outside, it always seemed to be late morning on a sunny day in her garage. Shelves upon shelves of paints, parchments, canvases, clays, and various other art tools lined the walls.
She added her newly acquired antique parchments to her collection.
In the center of the room, on her work table, sat her current project: an antique, corroded knife salvaged from some forgotten corner of the world. With a few artistic touches, a bit of storytelling, and just the right buyer, Annelise would transform it into a long-lost magical relic worth tens of thousands. There were only a few final touches she needed to add to make it perfect.
As she settled into the project, her stress drained away, and her mind cleared. While she carved and wove delicate spells around the knife, the concerns about the wardens and Frankie’s potential treachery faded into the background. All that mattered was the work in front of her.

***

“Would you like to see the item?” Annelise asked the rather young, rather portly, and rather very rich man sitting across from her.
They were sitting in Mr. Aisel’s penthouse suite. Bright sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, which offered a stunning view over the city. A sleek black leather couch was mirrored by two matching armchairs with a glass coffee table in the middle. An astonishing collection of priceless odds and ends were scattered throughout the apartment with no eye for cohesion. If it was expensive, this man wanted it, regardless of whether it fit with any of his other decor.
Still, Annelise had to appreciate his enthusiasm. It worked to her advantage. Rich, sourceless men such as himself enjoyed purchasing magical artifacts for the novelty. He might not have any magic of his own, but there was little that money could not buy.
“Yes, please.” Mr. Aisel leaned forward, an excited grin plastered across his face.
Annelise pulled a long, narrow, wooden box out of her bag and placed it on the sleek glass coffee table. She turned it towards Mr. Aisel, who was seated in the opposite chair, and opened it.
Mr. Aisel peered inside. His eyes widened in appreciation. “It’s very beautiful.”
“And it has quite the history.” Annelise lifted the corroded yet elegant blade out of its casing. “Given 500 years ago by Emperor Aang as a gift to his most beloved son, it had the power to assure victory over one’s enemies. With this blade in his hand, Emperor Aang’s son won many battles in his father’s name. But tragically, while caught in a storm at sea, he tried to use it against nature itself. As he pushed the blade beyond the limits of its purpose, it backfired and sank the ship. The ship, its treasures, and this blade have been lost until very recently, when some spearfishermen discovered it off the coast of China. Quite the acquisition for an astute collector such as yourself.”
She passed the blade over to Mr. Aisel with care, who reached out to accept it with both hands, holding the blade in reverence.
“How did it come to be in your possession?” he asked, looking up from the blade.
Annelise looked him in the eye and smiled her sweetest smile. “Mr. Aisel,” she batted her eyelashes at him. “If I gave you my sources, I’d be putting myself out of a job.” She leaned into the arm of the couch, dangling her shoe off her toes. “I’m afraid my source is going to have to remain my little secret for the time being.”
Mr. Aisel returned her smile and chuckled.
“I suppose.” He turned back to the blade.
“Now you’re naturally more than welcome to have a curator authenticate it, but... if I may?” She sat up and gestured towards the blade.
“Please!” He passed the blade back to her.
Annelise placed the blade on the table and flicked her wrist to extract her staff. It appeared in her hand as though it had always been there. Mr. Aisel leaned forward in anticipation. She waved her staff over the blade, and the runes in the ancient draconic language that she had etched into the corroded metal glowed a pleasant blue before fading.
“See here? These are characters for strength, power, and victory.” Annelise looked at Mr. Aisel, who was gazing at the blade in admiration. “Would you like to call an authenticator?” she asked. The best way to convince someone they didn’t need one was to be over-eager to enlist one.
After a moment, “No.” He looked up at her. “I think I’m satisfied. Miss Windstarter, you have yourself a deal.”
Annelise beamed as she reached out her hand to shake his.
The front door of the penthouse flew open with a crash.
“Freeze!” Two wardens burst into the room, staves brandished. Their black uniforms were emblazoned with the golden High Council insignia on the shoulder, and “Warden” printed in sharp letters that marched across their chests.
Annelise froze mid-reach to her handshake with Mr. Aisel, her mind racing. How did they get past her wards without the alarm going off? She jumped to her feet, her heart pounding. “What is the meaning of this?” She cried, hoping to sound adequately indignant.
“Miss Windstarter, you’re under arrest.” The warden with dark brown curls seemed almost gleeful as he sauntered forward, brandishing a set of magic-suppressing cuffs. His golden eyes twinkled in amusement.
Annelise bristled as he pulled her hands behind her back and cuffed her, but she did not resist. No one fought with the Conciliar Wardens.
She felt a numbness sweep over her as the cuffs clicked into place.
His blond companion stood in the doorway, barring any hope of escape.
“On what charges?” she asked, still playing the indignant, wronged businesswoman.
“Hmm. Let’s see,” He picked up the blade that lay on the table. “Let’s start with forgery and black market dealing and see where we go from there.”
“Umm… What about me?” Mr. Aisel asked.
“Well, sir, did you buy this item?” He waved the fake relic in front of Mr. Aisel’s face.
“Uh, no. Not yet.”
Annelise wanted to slap her forehead and might have done so if her hands hadn’t been bound. The warden gave him a long look that seemed to express what Annelise felt. How could he be so stupid? Conspiring to commit a crime was a crime too.
“Well…then I guess we can’t charge you with anything. You had better leave.”
Mr. Aisel didn’t move.
“Now!” The warden reiterated, gesturing towards the door.
Mr. Aisel tripped over his feet in his rush to leave the room, almost knocking over an original antique vase. By some miracle, it teetered back onto its pedestal as Mr. Aisel scampered past the blond warden and out the door.
“We’ll be watching you.” The blond one called after him as he disappeared down the hall.
Annelise stood silently as she watched her mark disappear around the corner. She wanted to scream. She had lost her mark and was caught red-handed. How was it that he got off scot-free and she was here in handcuffs?
She waited for the wardens to haul her off to prison, fingerprint her, or at least say something, but they did none of those things. They just meandered around the room, observing the random assortment of artifacts that were on display and occasionally looking at each other like they were having some sort of silent conversation.
Annelise used the time to observe her captors and weigh her options.
The blond one’s golden eyes matched his neat, straight, golden hair that swept across his forehead. His tall frame had to stoop in a graceful curve to observe some of the artifacts more closely.
Annelise could not discern any weapons on his person beyond his staff, but he remained frustratingly close to the door. She filed the door under “Plan B”.
She turned her eyes to the other warden. The dark-haired one bore a striking resemblance to the blond one. Perhaps it was because they had the same golden eyes? But the cut of their jaw was the same as well. Perhaps there was a closer family resemblance than being part of the same ancient clan?
The dark-haired one’s complexion was more olive, however, and he had dark curls that danced around his face. He moved around the room with the grace of a martial artist, every move and gesture belying hidden strength.
Annelise flicked her eyes past him to the large window that opened up onto the balcony. No. With her hands tied behind her back and the steep drop below, it was more likely to be a death sentence than an escape route.
She turned her eyes back to the front door, analyzing the furniture between her and her exit. Moving as little as possible, she slipped her heels off her feet. She waited for a moment when the blond one seemed particularly engrossed in a piece of decor, and burst into a sprint. She darted around the glass table and went straight over the couch. She leapt off the backrest and landed in a crouch on the other side. With her hands bound behind her back, she almost lost her balance, but she managed to steady herself as she lunged for the door.
A blur of bright blue barreled into her. The air left her lungs as she was knocked off her feet and sent sprawling to the floor. Her shoulder throbbed with the impact.
She groaned and rolled over onto her back. The dark-haired warden’s staff was still glowing faintly from the spell he had just knocked her over with. His eyes were still infuriatingly cheerful.
“So…. What now?” she asked, frustration seeping into her voice.
“Now that you know you can’t escape, we take the cuffs off.” The blond one said. He helped her up and freed her wrists before moving to lean against the door, blocking Annelise’s exit.
Annelise’s brow furrowed in confusion. A wave of dizziness passed over her as the magic-suppressing cuffs were removed. Like blood rushing into a previously asleep limb, her whole body tingled as magic surged through her again.
Annelise opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying to figure out what was going on and which question to ask first. Finally, she settled on: “I’m confused.”
The brown-haired one looked up from a magical trinket he was inspecting, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Oh, we’re not actually here to arrest you today. We just thought it would be more fun this way. Also, we needed to make sure you wouldn’t run.”
Annelise ground her teeth. “So… you’re not actually wardens?”
“No, we are definitely wardens.”
What was going on? “Who are you?” she asked.
“Ah, of course,” he turned away from the trinket and gave her his full attention. “We haven’t introduced ourselves. I’m Michael Pendragon, and Goldilocks over there is Tristan Pendragon, my cousin.” His cousin shot him a dirty look, but Michael continued. “We have a mutual friend. A certain James Sneke?”
Annelise’s stomach dropped. Had Jimmy snitched on her? The betrayal stung unexpectedly. She tried not to trust people for exactly this reason, but Jimmy… She thought that, after everything they had been through together… She had thought there was some measure of trust between them. Apparently, she had thought wrong. Trust was always a bad choice.
“This isn’t a bad job. How did you do it?” Michael picked up the blade lying on the table, oblivious to her emotional turmoil.
“Why, Mr. Pendragon! It’s the real artifact, of course.” Annelise’s voice was smooth, her denial automatic, but her mind was racing.
Michael just smirked and waved his hand over the runes. “Now I’m no historian, but I was given a proper Pendragon education, and there never was an Emperor Aang in all of Asia’s magical history. Add to that the fact that there is…” he held his hand over the blade once more, holding it longer this time. A faint trail of delicate runes glowed white along the knife from pommel to tip and down again. He looked at her in admiration. “...a faint perception ward, wound around a small object like this. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s pure elegance.” He turned back to examine the spell. “How cruel of you to take advantage of the poor man. He never stood a chance.”
“Pshh. He is many things, but poor he is not. He has more money than he knows what to do with. I’m merely helping him along by taking some of it off his hands. Besides, if one of the sourceless decides he’s going to collect magical artifacts, perhaps he should start by learning something about magical history. I’m simply providing him with an incentive to further his education. It’s a good cause. I’m like Robin Hood.”
“Robin Hood stole from the rich and gave to the poor,” Tristan was still leaning against the door. He seemed unamused.
“Yes, well, he’s rich, and I’m poor.”
“Well then,” Tristan stalked over to the black leather couch and sat down. “You’ll be pleased to hear that we are about to offer you a lot of money.”
Annelise cocked her head as she sat down and leaned forward. “I’m listening.”
“My cousin and I need to acquire a particularly secure and highly illegal artifact. It’s a three-man job, and we want you to be the third man.”
Annelise raised an incredulous eyebrow at the golden-haired man. “You’re barking up the wrong tree. I don’t do teamwork, and I don’t do acquisitions. It’s too risky. Besides, I have no experience in infiltration or extrication. I’d be useless to you. You might as well just…let me go.”
“No. Michael and I will be doing most of the infiltration and extrication. We will need you on surveillance. But if the item is discovered missing, we won’t be able to get away. We need time.”
“That’s where you come in,” Michael jumped in. “We need you to forge a replica so they won’t notice that the artifact is gone until well after we’ve made our escape.”
“We also plan to forge some work orders, so that our presence on target will seem legitimate and greatly mitigate the risk. We require your help with that as well,” Tristan added.
Annelise narrowed her eyes at them. “How do I know this isn’t a trap? I agree to help you and then, bam! You put me back in those cuffs of yours.”
Michael beamed at her. “You don’t. But we won’t. We already have what we need to take you in if we wanted to. What we don’t have is a reason to take the cuffs off of you, unless we really need your help.”
He was entirely too cheerful for this conversation. Annelise was sure he was laughing at her. She thought for a moment, weighing her options. “What is the artifact?”
The two wardens exchanged a glance.
Michael squirmed a little in his seat.
Tristan turned his gaze back to Annelise. “A key.”
Annelise cocked her head. “Any particular key?” she pressed.
“The key to the Subraek.”
Annelise stood up in shock. “What exactly do you want with the Subraek?” She struggled to keep her tone measured. If she was dealing with terrorists, she wanted nothing to do with it.
“It’s not what you think,” Tristan said, exasperated. “We have no desire to unleash the imprisoned monsters and spirits on the world. We are actually wardens.” He paused. “We believe the last known dragon was captured and imprisoned in the Subraek.”
Annelise sank back into the couch. The Dragon? The last dragon disappeared just over one hundred years ago, right before the integration of the magical community into the sourceless community. She had vanished without a trace. Her disappearance had caused a major stir, and the government had instituted the largest search and rescue operation in a millennium to try to find her again. All their efforts had failed. The Dragon Seat on the High Council remained vacant. It was the highest-profile cold case of the last two hundred years, and still, there seemed to be no clues and no leads.
“I thought only the council had the authority to open the Subraek. If the Dragon was imprisoned by the government, why would they make such a fuss about looking for her?” Annelise asked.
“Because she wasn’t imprisoned by the government, but by a small, corrupt contingent within the government. We are trying to break her out and expose the whole plot, but if we go through the normal channels, not only will it take years, but they will probably move her before we get the approval to go investigate,” Michael said.
Annelise bit her lip. Their reasons didn’t seem deranged. Still, to break into the Subraek... It was high treason. If something, anything went wrong, she would be locked away in a hole so deep she would never see the light of day again.
“Please.” Tristan leaned forward. His voice held a new note of desperation and longing. “She’s been missing for far too long. We can’t do this without you. Your work and your talents could be the key to setting her free. She needs us. She needs you, Annelise.”
Annelise paled a little. She didn’t want anyone needing her, almost as much as she didn’t want to need anyone else. She lived alone. She worked alone. As a rule, Annelise didn’t pull jobs with other people. There were too many variables, and she found people too unreliable. She was happiest alone.
And then there were the two Pendragons. Annelise didn’t trust them. She didn’t really trust anyone, but she certainly didn’t trust them. What was keeping them from getting what they needed from her and then leaving her holding the bag? It would read very easily as a headline. Long-time suspected con woman and art forger, arrested for government vault break-in! She could already imagine the picture on the front page: her face dejected, as some warden snapped magic-suppressing cuffs onto her wrists. She shuddered.
“You mentioned some compensation?” she asked, stalling for time and searching for a smooth exit from the conversation.
“We are offering you two million dollars. If all goes well, the job shouldn’t last more than 10 days.”
Annelise crossed her arms. “Two million is rather light considering the risks involved.”
Tristan leaned back in his chair, his golden eyes leveled at her. “You are, of course, under no obligation to help us.” His tone was light, but there was a hard edge to his expression. “We can put those cuffs back on you and book you for forgery and black market dealing right now. It’s your choice.”
So that was it.
They were blackmailing her into helping them.
And yet, for a moment, she considered the latter offer. The Subraek key would be held in a government vault, heavily guarded, with all kinds of wards and security. It was a choice between definitely going to jail for 5-10 years and very probably going to jail for the rest of her life. And yet… she couldn’t bring herself to give up and let herself be carried away to prison just yet. But she didn’t like it. Not one bit.
Annelise shifted in her chair, trying to suppress her frustration and fear at her current predicament. “So just to be clear, all you would need is for me to forge a replica of the key, help forge some work orders, and keep an eye on surveillance while you make the switch?”
Tristan nodded. “And of course, you would need to accompany us to the Subraek while we release the Dragon. We can’t risk you getting caught and spilling everything to the authorities before we find her. Besides, we might have further use of your skillset as our little adventure progresses,” Tristan said blithely.
Annelise paled. Accompany them to the Subraek? The place where every monster from every history book and children’s story ended up? And still, Annelise couldn’t bring herself to go to prison instead. She wanted to scream.
“Anything else?” she snarled.
Tristan was unbothered by her foul mood. “No! That is all,” he sounded as cheery as though they were discussing tea orders.
They asked a lot. Too much, really. She didn’t relish the thought of working with these mages. She hated working with other people. But Annelise really didn’t want to go to jail, so if there was even a small chance that she could still avoid it, she was going to take it.
“So.” Tristan stood up and held out his hand. “Do we have a deal?”
Annelise stood up and reached for his hand, but at the last moment, he pulled away. “Don’t shake unless you mean it.”
“I know how an agreement of honor works,” Annelise bit out.
Tristan held out his hand again, and Annelise took it, resisting the urge to try to crush his hand.
The deal was struck.

Chapter 2: The Choice

“Excellent,” Michael said, shaking her hand as well. He flashed her a big smile.
Annelise smothered her ire at his cheerfulness, and instead tried to project a calm demeanor.
“Now, Miss Windstarter, tell us what you need to create your forgery of the key,” Michael said as he settled into the black leather chair that complemented the couch.
Annelise flopped back down onto the couch and crossed her legs. “First, I’m going to need a guardsman who works in the government vault, and a slinky dress.”
Michael laughed. “Is that how you plan to get the specs of the key?” he asked. “Sounds like fun! But not necessary. I have already done the recon myself, but you’re welcome to get into a slinky dress if you want.” His golden eyes glimmered with mirth, and a touch of mischief pulled at the corners of his smile.
Annelise rolled her eyes. “Just show me what you’ve got.”
Michael stood up and retrieved a cylindrical container that he had left just outside the door. He pulled out a rolled-up sheet of paper with a detailed drawing of the key from several angles and placed it on the coffee table.
“This is good work.” She looked up at him, impressed. “Did you draw this from memory?”
Michael nodded.
Annelise turned back to the drawings. They were good, but she was going to need a bit more to make a replica. “I’m going to want a look at it myself if that’s okay.” She motioned towards the couch.
A look of hesitation flitted over Michael’s face before he flashed her a brilliant smile. “No problem.” He bounded from the chair to the couch.
 Annelise scooted herself a bit closer to him. Michael’s cheeks were tinged the slightest amount of pink as she reached up and took his face in her hands. She crushed the stray observation that his freckles were artfully splattered across his obnoxiously perfect nose and focused on the task at hand. Looking into his golden eyes, she reached out with her mind to touch his. The memory of Michael’s trip to the vaults bombarded her mind with such force that she wondered if he was trying to hide some other memory or thought. Annelise pushed away her own curiosity and focused on the memory in front of her.
 Michael was following a guard through the vaults. A seemingly endless row of locked doors lined the long hallway. A strip of glowing light lined the sides of the hall on the floor and ceiling. Finally, the guard stopped and placed his hand on one of the doors while inserting a key into the lock. The door glowed silver and then swung open. There were several objects in the vault. The key was on a pedestal surrounded by the dancing lights of security wards.
 In the memory, Michael walked towards an old scroll with runes she did not understand. The yellowed velum was cracked with age, and the scroll was kept behind glass. Michael pretended to investigate the scroll, but he kept glancing in the direction of the key. As he did, Annelise inspected the key.
 It was large. From end to end, it was longer than her hand. It looked to be made of copper that had experienced extensive oxidation. The shape was angular but simple, save for the runes that were etched into the handle along the neck and in the teeth of the key.
 Annelise spent some time analyzing the key, memorizing the texture, the details on the runes, and how it played in the light. She only withdrew when her temples started to throb. Michael’s face was also scrunched against a headache.
 “Sorry.” She grimaced as she placed a palm to each of her temples and pressed for a small measure of pain relief. “I lost track of time.” She got up to get them both some pain medicine before remembering that they were all still in Mr. Aisel’s living room.
 Michael graciously waved her off. “No worries.” He pressed a light hand to his head. “Do you have what you need?”
 “Yes.”
 “Good,” Tristan strode back into the room from the direction of the kitchen with two cups of water and some pain medicine. “Miss Windstarter, can you have the replica complete in one week?” He handed her one of the cups.
 She bit her lip. It would be tight, but she could get it done. Then again, all the better. The sooner she finished this job, the sooner she could be rid of these Pendragons. She nodded.
 “What materials will you need from us?” He asked.
 Annelise shook her head and then winced as her head pounded at the motion. “I prefer to source my own materials. Thanks.” She knew where to get what she needed, and on such a tight schedule and high-stakes job, she preferred her own sources over any more unknowns.
 Michael clapped his hands together. “Wonderful! We will stop by your residence in one week, and fill you in on the details and discuss the matter of the fake work orders we will need then. I trust you will do an exquisite job. We are depending on you.”
 “Oh, and Miss Windstarter,” Tristan said, as Annelise got up to leave. “If you run, we will find you and throw the entire book at you. That’s a promise.”

***

Annelise fled the apartment as soon as the Pendragons let her go and raced for home. She stepped through the door of her house in a daze. She drifted through her empty home and passed into her garage. Her art space was her sanctuary and usually gave her clarity. She stared at her empty work table. She would have to get materials… and…
The clarity came, but it was not pleasant. Her mind flitted back to the Pendragons, and her stomach turned. She was sure that they would get what they needed from her and leave her hanging. She stumbled forward and gripped the desk for support; her knuckles stood out like ghosts against her flushed skin. She felt trapped—doomed either to live a short, miserable life facing the horrors of the most dangerous sub-realm known to man, or abandoned to a dark hole of a prison where she would never see the light of day again. She was caught in a current of events that was dragging her deeper in, and she could see no way out. Her breath came in gasps, but she couldn’t seem to get any air. She sank to the floor.
She couldn’t do this. She needed to get away. She needed to run.
Her mind latched onto that idea like a lifeline. And as she did, her breath returned. As she lay on the floor, the wild beating of her heart slowed, and the shaking of her limbs subsided. She had to run. It was the only way.
With a surge of energy fueled by urgency, she pulled herself to her feet and headed back to the door. She reminded herself that she had gotten along just fine so far in life by depending on nobody but herself. She was the one person she knew wouldn’t let her down, and these Pendragons… no. It just wouldn’t do.
She was going to get herself a nice new identity and disappear. Forever. She had seven days before they were expecting her, and she would make the most of every minute.
She stepped out the door, her mind racing. She wasn’t sure how much surveillance the Pendragons had done on her before approaching her, but she had to assume that all her usual contacts were not an option for a new identity. She groaned.
That left only Waylyn.
He happened to hate her guts.
Annelise wasn’t too fond of him either. They had been on bad terms ever since they had both tried to sell forgeries of the same piece to the same client. It had been an unfortunate coincidence, but someone had stolen it, and they had both decided to cash in on the opportunity. Waylyn’s brushwork was decent, but Annelise’s work was flawless, and side by side, Waylyn’s was obviously a forgery. It had ruined Waylyn’s relationship with the well-paying South African businessman, and Waylyn had never forgiven her for it.
Now, she needed his help. She specialized in art and artifacts. Waylyn was more of a jack of all trades. He could make her a new identity. Whether or not he would was the real question.
She pushed the door open to the dingy pawn shop that was the front for his real business. Year-old window paint letters advertising a sale that ended almost as long ago blocked the meager light fighting its way into the shop. Stacks of things that nobody wanted were piled around various counters, each with a little paper price tag that shuddered when the outside wind burst through the door behind her and raced through the shop. The bell jangled overhead.
Waylyn took one look at her and pointed to the door. “Out.”
“Look, I need your help. I’m willing to pay,” Annelise pleaded.
He gave her a long look. “You’ll pay double—no triple— or it’s no deal.”
Annelise clenched her jaw but nodded.
He gave a low whistle. “You must be in some kind of trouble. What do you need?”
“I need a new identity. The full works. I need it confidential, untraceable, and I need it within a week.”
Waylyn snorted. “You are in some kind of trouble. Don’t tell me, I don’t care. A small part of me wants to turn you out the door and let you meet whatever’s coming to you…”
Annelise held her breath.
“But since you’re paying triple, I suppose I’ll be lenient.”
He took her to the back of the shop, got the pictures he needed for the new IDs, and Annelise forked over a hefty amount of cash.
Her gut churned as she turned over the money. The kernels of guilt stirred within her. She had honored her word all her life. And now… This was the first time she had ever gone back on her word.
She ran her hand through her hair, shoving it out of her face. Why couldn’t her mind pick a side? It seemed like she had no good options.
She thought about the Dragon, trapped somewhere for all these years. She gave her head a shake and squashed the queasy feeling of guilt away. It was true the Dragon didn’t deserve to be trapped, but it wasn’t her fault, and it wasn’t her place to fix it. Besides, there was no guarantee the Pendragons were right about her being held in the Subraek. They might get down there to find nothing. This could all be for nothing. It was better to get out now before she was in way over her head.
She spotted a small pile of bracelets lying in a heap. They were woven from thread but each one had a small crystal set into it with a draconic rune woven into the pattern of the band. The rune referred to the way a dragon left no trace when it flew through the sky. Annelise picked up a bracelet, and could feel the hum of magic encapsulated in the crystal. She thought it might be useful to have a charm to protect her from a finding spell.
“You really don’t want to be found, do you?” Waylyn asked, seeing her holding the traceless charm.
Annelise put the charm on the counter. “How much?” she asked.
Waylyn rubbed his neck. “Yeah, here’s the thing. I only sell those bracelets in sets of,” he hesitated, “five. So that’s going to be five hundred dollars.”
He had obviously pulled that number out of thin air. “Waylyn, I just need the one.”
“Yeah, sweetheart, I’m afraid I just can’t make an exception. Either you buy all five of them, or you don’t buy any. Good luck staying in hiding without one.”
Annelise shoved a hand into her pocket and slammed the money onto the counter. “Whatever. I’ll take all five.” She grabbed the charm off the counter, and then snatched up approximately four more out of the pile as she strode out of the shop. If she grabbed more, Waylyn didn’t try to stop her.
…

Till next Month!