Rules for Magical Worlds
Lee Roland
The curious mind of a creative writer determines the rules when he or she
builds a magical world, and sets the stage for larger than life characters to
act out their stories.
The most exciting and enchanting things happen, though, when someone
breaks the rules. What if a witch grew
sharp teeth and started sucking blood?
Or a furry and fanged werewolf dressed in a suit and went shopping at
the mall? What if a demon started
cuddling, feeding and adopting stray kittens?
In some instances, the rules for a magic world are clearly stated. Take Melian Devlin, witch-heroine in Casual
Curses and Meticulous Magic. She’s
trying to explain magic to her soon to be lover Titus Moran. Titus has no idea of the wild enchanting world
she’s about to dump on him.
“First and biggest rule, don’t use magic to
hurt non-witches. Regular people like you and your mom have no defense against it.”
Mel lowered her eyes. “Magic can kill.
We can only use it for self-defense or survival.
“Second rule? We’re not supposed to use
magic to gain personal wealth. That draws too much attention. We live secret
lives—for good reason. History will tell
you that. Witches have always been on the ‘somebody get a rope’ or ‘let’s build
a nice big fire’ list.”
Melian’s
problem? The bad guys keep breaking
those rules and circumstances force her to take radical action.
Melian
offers other rules that are a bit more oblique.
“I know.
You’re going to have a bumpy ride at first. Everything is connected in magic,
Tiger. Everything. Only thing that changes is the distance and angle.”
Everything
is connected in magic. That’s often a
big one. It’s the “figuring out” the
connections drives the protagonists toward a goal.
Too
often, magical rules are determined by television and movies. One person, after
reading a scene in a book said, “Vampire bodies? But that’s not right. Vampires turn to dust when they’re
staked.” The reader closed the book because
it didn’t follow his version of the rules.
One
question asked of magical novels, “Is it urban fantasy or paranormal romance?” More rules to deal with. It seems as if the
focus of romance is the love story and saving the world is an afterthought.
Urban fantasy saves the world first, and sometimes people fall in love. Both genres are great, but some readers feel
the need to slap a specific label on a novel and put it in its place.
If
a reader approaches each novel with an open mind and allows the writer to develop
their world and guide the protagonists through the maze, that book can reward
the reader with all the creative energy the writer can offer. That’s what it’s all about. The reward.
Forget the rules and enjoy the story.
Casual Curses and Meticulous Magic
The Gramarye Series
Book I
Lee Roland
Genre: Urban Fantasy/Paranormal Romance
Publisher: Highland Press
Date of Publication: September 24, 2014
ISBN: 978-0-9916439-2-9
ASIN: B00NOZCUB0.
Number of pages: 292
Word Count: 92,000
Cover Artist: Iris Hunter
Book Description:
What happens when a dysfunctional witch and a tough PI work together to save an aging apartment house filled with ghosts, dragons and one oversexed house plant?
Spirits, spells and mayhem…Magic rises in the Gramarye
Melian Devlin is a witch who often resorts to exotic and slightly illegal methods of acquiring money to maintain the 300-year-old Gramarye, the stone apartment house that’s her heart and home. Her life is a series of skirmishes that occasionally end with her behind bars.
Titus Moran is a no-nonsense PI who makes big bucks busting insurance fraud schemes. So how did he wind up in a tortuous battle to keep Melian out of jail? Did the delightful young witch with her gray eyes and magic at her fingertips enchant him—or does the Gramarye hold greater mysteries.
Titus will enter a new exciting world when he joins Melian in her quest to save the Gramarye. Melian will fumble along in her usual impulsive way, leaving a trail of disasters behind her. If they’re lucky, they might survive.
Available at Amazon BN Smashwords Books A Million
Chapter 1
Melian Devlin
considered her arrest late Friday evening an ill omen, a portent of dire thingsto
come. At the very least, it would ruin her weekend. Her bad luck had continued
after her arrest when she’d found herself standing before Judge Franklin P.O. Merkle.
Merkle’s exact words were, “You again?”
He’d set her
bail at an obscene five thousand dollars.
Psychic readings
weren’t illegal in the City of Ashburn, Florida, but selling magic potions skirted the legal line of medicine, hence her
arrest. And then there was the sticky issue of not having a business
license—again. Minor infractions. So why did Merkle have such a burr up his
ass? Maybe because he was working late on Friday? The malicious cop with an
aversion to psychics hadn’t helped either.
Standing behind
bars at ten o’clock that night, listening to her Great Uncle Will royally chew
her butt, confirmed Mel’s dismal assessment of the situation.
“Psychic?”
Will’s deep voice rumbled the word. His tired eyes watched her from a weather
worn face. “Mel, honey, you ain’t no psychic. You’re a witch. You’re supposed
to use magic.”
He shook his
head. “I understand why you can’t get a regular job, but can’t you find
something irregular you’re good at? Or at least something legal?” He glanced
over his shoulder and pitched his voice lower. “You should’ve marked a cop soon
as he walked in the door, then spelled him out of making an arrest. You’re
allowed basic self-defense. I taught you that.”
Mel winced at
Uncle Will’s words. He had taught her. She was simply incredibly incompetent at
casting spells and making potions, and utterly terrified of making a mistake.
What if she hurt someone? Pretending to be a psychic and selling a few harmless
herbal elixirs was easier—and safer.
They’d put her
in a simple holding cell inside the precinct station after she’d seen the
judge. The arrangement gave detainees a chance to post bail before they moved
them to the main jail downtown, something Mel had hoped to avoid. Prospects
didn’t look good.
The sparse cell
had a single bench bolted to the floor and air filled with the odor of acrid, nose-searing
bleach. Her cellmates, two tough prostitutes, sat on the bench staring straight
at the wall. Imperfect witch she might be, but she could still deal with the
bullying they tried when she first came in.
“Will, please,”
Mel begged. “Go talk to Milo for me. Give him an IOU. I’ll get the money some
way.” Milo the Bail Bondsman, her father’s second cousin, usually handled her
bail. Milo hadn’t returned any of her numerous calls.
“Yeah. Sure.”
Will laughed, but it didn’t sound funny. “Gettin’ money some way is what landed
you here. I can hear Milo now. Cousin Melian? She told my Granny Panopoulos to
put all her money on a horse named Show-Too in the third race and—”
“I told her
thirty dollars to show on the number three horse, not… Oh, hell.” She wrapped
her hands around the bars to steady herself.
Granny
Panopoulos had cried to Mel about not being able to pay her mortgage and buy
food in the same month. She figured Granny could lose thirty dollars and learn
an excellent lesson about the futility of gambling. How was Mel to know the
woman had fifty thousand dollars tucked in her mattress and a persistent bookie
looking over her shoulder? Oh, right, she was supposed to be a psychic.
“Okay, girl,
here’s the deal.” Will shoved his hands in his pockets like he always did when
he had to deliver bad news. “I’ll get you out on Monday—” “Monday?”
“Yep. I’m not
going to call Milo on a Friday evening or ruin his weekend. And I don’t trust anyone
else.” Will’s head bobbed. His sorrowful expression tore at her. His eyes
remained bright and his mind-dagger sharp, but time had worn his aging body. He
loved her, and she shouldn’t have troubled him.
“Ya’ know
Mel...” He sighed. “Honey, you’re twenty-seven years old. Couple of days and nights
in jail won’t hurt. ‘Bout time you learned a lesson. Past time, in fact. While
you’re there, think about having to stay longer, what might happen then.” He
turned and shuffled out of the room.
Mel leaned her
forehead against the cold hard bars. What a stinking mess. She wasn’t a true
psychic, but the power, the magic she lived by, occasionally gave her glimpses
into the situations surrounding people. A haphazard thing she couldn’t control,
but between it and the potions, she made a little money—as long as some cop
with an attitude didn’t arrest her.
Mel had paid
little attention when the nervous young man with dark, curly hair entered her low-rent
storefront room four hours ago. He had a sweet, shy smile and almost pretty
face. Not a hint of a cop in him. He paid her forty dollars for a reading and
asked her if he would ever find true love. His precise words. “True love.” That
alone should have tipped her off. She felt sorry for him and tried to sell him
a magic potion. Only a twenty-dollar mixture of Vitamin B and Ginseng, but with
the power of suggestion, it might be enough to adjust his outlook on life. He
was far too good-natured and attractive to be alone. Then his partner had
charged in and gleefully busted her. It didn’t take much to make some cops
happy.
About the Author:
Lee Roland is a full time writer who lives in North Central Florida. She loves the peaceful rural area where she shares a home with three small dogs who think they are pit bulls and an evil cat with sharp claws.
Lee writes stories of urban fantasy and paranormal romance where strong men and women battle the wickedness hiding under the surface of the modern world. Her characters are passionate in life and love and are formidable enemies to the malevolent criminals in their worlds.
Her first series, the Earth Witches, was published beginning in 2011 by NAL. Her website, www.leeroland.com offers samples of the Earth Witches books and information on their world. There are short stories and news of any upcoming books and events.
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