My name is Elliott James, and I am currently writing a series about the modern day descendant of all of those Prince Charmings who keep cropping up in fairy tales. The series is called the Pax Arcana, and the premise is that Prince Charming wasn’t a prince at all, and there weren’t just one of them - there was actually a long family line of knights who specialized in witch-finding and dragon slaying and enchantment breaking. Their exploits were romanticized or distorted over time after the supernatural world went underground. Anyhow, my stories involve a monster hunter named John Charming, and they basically take fairy tales and treat them like action and horror movies in modern day times as told by someone with a sarcasm disorder. So for my blog entry, I’d like to give….
TEN REASONS THE TRADITIONAL PRINCE CHARMING ISN’T ALL THAT CHARMING
1. I love you forever Snow Wh….I mean, Beauty! Sleeping Beauty!.
2. Can we just admit that Prince Charming’s not exactly a brilliant tactician? The sun would glint off of shining armor and give his position away for miles and miles…
3. Thinks it’s appropriate to go around kissing women who are in comas.
4. HOST: “Bachelor Number One, what’s the number one absolute most important quality that you look for in a wife?”
PRINCE CHARMING: “I’d have to say a beautiful singing voice…”
5. Can’t seem to figure out that being rude to strange old women is a bad idea no matter how many times he gets turned into something.
6. “So what did this Cinderella’s face look like your majesty? Uhmm…you did look up occasionally, right? Well, what did she talk about…”
7. If his way of testing to see if a woman is worth marrying is seeing if she will respond to something the size of a pea in her bed, he might have some insecurity issues. Just saying.
8. Riding happily into the sunset would make it hard for you to see ahead and outline your position to anyone following you. Seriously. Who trained this toolbox?
9. The real ending to Rapunzel: “Brace yourself! I’m going to climb your hair now! [LOUD SHARP SNAPPING SOUND] Rapunzel? Rapunzel?
10. Praising a warrior prince for his spotless white horse and his gleaming sword is like praising a lumberjack for his baby smooth hands.
TEN REASONS THE TRADITIONAL PRINCE CHARMING ISN’T ALL THAT CHARMING
1. I love you forever Snow Wh….I mean, Beauty! Sleeping Beauty!.
2. Can we just admit that Prince Charming’s not exactly a brilliant tactician? The sun would glint off of shining armor and give his position away for miles and miles…
3. Thinks it’s appropriate to go around kissing women who are in comas.
4. HOST: “Bachelor Number One, what’s the number one absolute most important quality that you look for in a wife?”
PRINCE CHARMING: “I’d have to say a beautiful singing voice…”
5. Can’t seem to figure out that being rude to strange old women is a bad idea no matter how many times he gets turned into something.
6. “So what did this Cinderella’s face look like your majesty? Uhmm…you did look up occasionally, right? Well, what did she talk about…”
7. If his way of testing to see if a woman is worth marrying is seeing if she will respond to something the size of a pea in her bed, he might have some insecurity issues. Just saying.
8. Riding happily into the sunset would make it hard for you to see ahead and outline your position to anyone following you. Seriously. Who trained this toolbox?
9. The real ending to Rapunzel: “Brace yourself! I’m going to climb your hair now! [LOUD SHARP SNAPPING SOUND] Rapunzel? Rapunzel?
10. Praising a warrior prince for his spotless white horse and his gleaming sword is like praising a lumberjack for his baby smooth hands.
Fearless
Pax Arcana Series
Book Three
Elliott James
Genre: Urban Fantasy
Publisher: Orbit
Date of Publication: August 11, 2015
ISBN-13: 978-0316253444
Number of pages: 448
Book Description:
When your last name is Charming, rescuing virgins comes with the territory -- even when the virgin in question is a nineteen-year-old college boy.
Someone, somewhere, has declared war on Kevin Kichida, and that someone has a long list of magical predators on their rolodex. The good news is that Kevin lives in a town where Ted Cahill is the new sheriff and old ally of John Charming.
The attacks on Kevin seem to be a pattern, and the more John and his new team follow that thread, the deeper they find themselves in a maze of supernatural threats, family secrets, and age-old betrayals. The more John learns, the more convinced he becomes that Kevin Kichida isn't just a victim, he's a sacrifice waiting to happen. And that thread John's following? It's really a fuse...
FEARLESS is the third novel in an urban fantasy series which gives a new twist to the Prince Charming tale. The first two novels are Charming & Daring.
This can be read as a stand alone.
Available at
A modern twist to the Prince
Charming tale in this third urban fantasy in the Pax Arcana series.
IT
TAKES A VILLAGE IDIOT
Once Upon a Time, Ted Cahill had
changed. The only real question was whether Cahill had changed too much or not
enough.
For example, when I first met
Cahill, he had been a mouthy homicide detective in Clayburg, Virginia. Now he
was the sheriff of Tatum, New York, which basically meant that he was better
paid, had more administrative responsibilities, and was forced to be a lot more
polite to a lot more people. But when someone in Cahill’s jurisdiction died in
a suspicious manner, he was still a homicide detective at heart. And Tatum and
Clayburg had a lot in common: Both towns are nestled in mountains, both towns
are hosts to small private universities, and both towns call themselves cities,
as if saying the word could make it true. So, how much of the change in
Cahill’s status and environment was really all that significant?
Another thing about Cahill that was
different—but not unrecognizably so—was his physical appearance. Cahill’s skin
was a little paler than when I’d first met him, and I was willing to swear that
his freckles were disappearing. His excess body fat had melted off like wax
from a lit candle, and his cheekbones were still pronounced, but in an angular
way rather than chubby. His brown eyes were still small but now burned with an
intensity that might be compelling or disturbing depending on how you looked at
them… or how those eyes looked at you. This quality is actually fairly common
among supernatural beings struggling with predatory instincts.
And that, of course, was the biggest
change, the catalyst for all of the cosmetic alterations in Cahill’s life. Ted
Cahill had become a dhampir, a vampire who still retained some of his humanity.
It was when trying to figure out how much humanity Cahill still retained (or
what humanity meant exactly) that things got confusing.
“So, what about it, wolf boy? Do you
smell it?” Cahill had been pushy and snappish ever since we arrived. He seemed
to feel like he was doing us a huge favor by letting us help him, because
asking for help had been so difficult.
“I smell it,” I confirmed. Sig
Norresdotter, Cahill, and I were standing in the middle of a frosty and fenced
in horseback riding ring next to Kincaid University’s stables. It was that kind
of private school. Tatum in January was a lot colder than Virginia, and I was
wearing a grey hoodie under a brown Flying Tiger fighter pilot jacket. I was
also wearing black leather gloves, thermals under my dark blue jeans, two pairs
of socks beneath my running shoes, and a slight frown.
The scent in question had been
dissipating for twenty-four hours and was now too faint for normal human
senses, but I could discern a weird, flat tang in the air. It was the slightly
off, kind of wrong, almost burnt smell that writers of the old tales used to
describe as brimstone. When someone or something from another plane suddenly
materializes on this one, molecules from the visitor’s dimension get shoehorned
into ours, and molecules from our plane get sucked into the visitor’s home to
fill up the empty spaces left behind. It’s like the alternate-universe version
of swapping spit. And the surrounding air has a neutral but not quite natural
feel to it afterward.
Cahill gave me an impatient look.
“And?”
“And why don’t you shove an orange
cone up your ass and go direct traffic, you doorknob?” I said. “I’m trying to
concentrate so I can do your job for you.”
Well, okay, I didn’t really say
that. I might have a year earlier, but I’ve been working on my social skills.
Instead, I confirmed Cahill’s suspicions. “Something supernatural manifested in
this corral.”
“Was this thing summoned?” Sig spoke
up, wearing some kind of cream-colored, soft-shelled female outdoor jacket
unzipped. She wasn’t bothered by the cold any more than she was by the heat of
the huge steaming cup of drive-through coffee that she was gulping instead of
sipping.
By way of answering, I fished out my
wallet and flashed the driver’s license I was currently using. “Does it say
Gandalf on here or something?”
I really did say that one.
Sig gave me a look, and her glare is
a formidable thing: icy-eyed, intense, full-lipped, and framed by long golden
hair flowing over Scandinavian cheekbones. I stared back and saw how smart and
strong and beautiful she was, and smiled.
Seeing that smile, her eyes
softened, and the corners of her lips curved upward slightly. Being around
Cahill again had us both a little on edge, so I relented. “Yeah, it was
probably summoned deliberately. Things that break into our universe without an
invitation are rare, and they usually kick up a shitstorm right away. They
don’t go bump in the night; they go boom.”
Sig nodded and addressed Cahill
without looking at him or using his name. “This missing college student… What
was her name again?”
“Lindsey Williams,” Cahill supplied.
“I was thinking maybe you’d see her ghost around here.”
“I don’t,” Sig said shortly. She
doesn’t particularly like the I-see-dead-people part of being descended from
Valkyries, but she doesn’t deny it either. “So, a security camera caught this
Lindsey Williams heading this way at three thirty in the morning, right? What
was she doing here that early?”
“Normally, I’d say she was meeting
someone she shouldn’t,” Cahill said. “Some married professor, maybe, or her
BFF’s boyfriend, or her drug dealer. But after a little nudging, her roommate
admitted that Lindsey used to sneak out here at night pretty regularly. She
said that Lindsey was horse crazy and that the upperclassmen in the equestrian
studies program get to choose all the best horses for themselves. So Lindsey
liked to come out and take some of her favorites for a night ride.”
“You say it took a little nudging?”
Sig’s voice was tight as she repeated the words. Cahill had carried a major
torch for Sig back in Clayburg. I couldn’t really blame him for that, but
vampires are low-grade telepaths, and as a dhampir, Cahill had some of those abilities.
When he’d partially turned, he’d started broadcasting his feelings for Sig and
made her experience them too. From what I understand, they flirted around for a
few days before going out on a date. Then they had dinner, and at some point
while talking about how strange it was that they’d known each other so long and
now this new thing was happening, Sig had a distant idea in the back of her
mind. Sig is nothing if not strong willed, and the suspicion kept drifting back
to the surface of her thoughts despite the tide of hormones trying to bear it
away. After dinner, while Sig and Cahill were kissing in the parking lot behind
the restaurant, Sig wrapped her arms over Cahill’s shoulders and pulled him
close… and broke his neck. Lo and behold, the sudden rush of new feelings that
had come into Sig’s life completely disappeared.
Cahill’s neck improved. Relations
between him and Sig did not.
Cahill claimed the whole thing had
been an accident, a result of having new powers that he didn’t fully understand
and was still learning to control, and that was entirely possible. On the other
hand, Cahill had used Sig’s unavailability as justification for using other
women like Kleenex to wipe off excess sperm while his marriage fell apart. So
it was kind of hard to say whether Cahill’s feelings for Sig were real or
whether they were just his excuse for being a player, and that was a difficult
uncertainty to deal with. If Cahill’s telepathic seduction of a woman he truly
cared about had been unintentional, it was tragic, and he was kind of a victim.
If it weren’t an accident, Cahill had mentally raped Sig as a means toward
physically raping her. People are complex, so there was the whole question of
what Cahill had done consciously or subconsciously too, or how much of the
event he had reinvented or lied to himself about.
Which was why Sig had compromised.
She left Cahill breathing but told him to get his dick out of Dodge if he
wanted to stay that way. And Cahill, whatever his other faults, knew Sig well
enough to take her seriously. Hence Cahill’s new job running a small police
force in a town in upstate New York. I don’t know if Cahill had called Sig
reluctantly or if he’d been looking for an excuse, but when he came across
something he didn’t know how to handle, he’d called her just the same.
And she had answered. Sig is like
that. She tends to have an “it takes a village” attitude toward monster
hunting. I have mostly hunted supernatural predators alone, partly because I
had no choice and partly because I’m an idiot. But Sig is worth going outside
my comfort zone for.
“I gave the roommate a mental push,”
Cahill’s voice resonated with a complex mixture of defiance and anger and
shame. “If I don’t practice using my powers, I’ll never get better control of
them. And this was for a good cause.”
Sig considered that while taking a
big slurp of her coffee coco mucho mocco whatever (I’m a coffee purist), then
turned her focus on me again. “So, what are we dealing with here, John? I saw
your lips do that I-smelled-a-fart twitch they do when you connect some nasty
dots. Spill it.”
Being attracted to a smart woman has
a lot of rewards. It also comes with a few challenges.
“Yeah, I’ve put some pieces
together,” I grumbled. I would have liked another minute to think about them,
but I went ahead and squatted down closer to the ground so that I could outline
a wide area with a sweeping index finger. “Did you notice how this part of the
corral has the outline of hoofprints frozen in the mud much clearer and deeper
than the rest of the riding ring?”
They had not.
“This patch of ground got moister
than the rest and then froze. I figure the creature that manifested a physical
body here used water as its elemental base.”
Cahill made a “time-out” sign and
gave Sig an exasperated look. “Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! I asked you to bring Professor
Peabody here because I don’t know a lot about this stuff, remember? What do you
mean, element base?”
Professor Peabody was a cartoon
character on the old Rocky and Bullwinkle show who had a lot of doctoral
degrees. He was also a talking dog.
Grrrrrrrrr.
About the Author:
An army brat and gypsy scholar, ELLIOTT JAMES is currently living in the Blueridge Mountains of southwest Virginia. An avid reader since the age of three (or that's what his family swears anyhow), he has an abiding interest in mythology, martial arts, live music, hiking, and used bookstores. Irrationally convinced that cellphone technology was inserted into human culture by aliens who want to turn us into easily tracked herd beasts, Elliott has one anyhow but keeps it in a locked tinfoil covered box which he will sometimes sit and stare at mistrustfully for hours. Okay, that was a lie. Elliott lies a lot; in fact, he decided to become a writer so that he could get paid for it.
Twitter: https://twitter.com/EJ_Author
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