Again I have the good fortune of showing you more from the talented Angel Martinez. Every one that has ever read anything by Angel knows just how good the work is... So I will just get on with the showing.
I’m one of those writers who gets
upset over the lumping together of Science Fiction and Fantasy. They share
space on brick and mortar bookshelves. They’re often listed as a single
category in a publisher’s catalog. But for me, it’s like squishing together
Mystery and Horror (“Oh, it’s over there on the sleuth and spook shelf!”) or
Romance and Suspense (“Sure, just check the love and lugers aisle!”)
While both are genres that deal with
plots that don’t happen in the “real world,” (someone had to show me that on
the map the other day – interesting, but I’m glad I don’t live there) Science
Fiction and Fantasy arise from completely different premises. Fantasy stems
from the assumption that magic exists. The nature, form, function, and
manifestations of magic are up to the author, but magic, nonetheless. Science
Fiction begins with the existing laws of physics and biology and either
postulates the next step, or steps in our ever-widening discovery of the
universe, or extrapolates on current social/ political trends and takes them to
their possible conclusions.
We all know how I feel about SF, my
favorite left-brain activity. But I love my Fantasy as well. One’s brain needs
to be well-rounded, you see. I love it all – bring me the paranormal, the high
fantasy, the urban. Let me sink my teeth into fae and wizards, ghosts and
fairytales.
It’s probably because I’ve read so much Fantasy that I wanted something different when I wrote Finn. Elves and wizards and dragon-shifters weren’t scratching the itch. I needed… a pooka. What’s a pooka? Ah. He’s Irish, but don’t call him a leprechaun. You might get punched. If you truly want to know, come read the Endangered Fae stories.
This is Finn’s world – where the fae are coming to realize they may be on the endangered list…
(Available for pre-order at Silver Publishing!)
Finn, Endangered Fae #1 - the story of a pooka lost in New York and the heartbroken man who rescues him - releases 3/3/12
Finn's Christmas, Endangered Fae 1.5 - a short holiday tale in which Finn comes to grips with several human oddities, including gift giving and *gasp* the importance of promises. Coming 3/10/12
Diego, Endangered Fae #2 - in which Diego and Finn have their
first real quarrel. Of course, those two can't just have an argument. They have
to unleash unexpected forces and... well, that comes out 3/24/12.
Finn's glad to be back. He's waiting for you...
An excerpt from Finn,
Endangered Fae #1:
The figure crouched on the bridge shocked Diego so
thoroughly he drove a hundred yards before he realized what he had seen.
A man squatted on his heels on the rail, one hand on a
cable, the other clutching a ragged blanket at his throat. Threadbare cloth
flapped around bare ankles. The persistent wind yanked it this way and that to
show flashes of naked legs.
“Holy shit,” Diego muttered, as he
wrestled his ancient Toyota into the nearest side street to park. This was none
of his business. Didn’t he have enough problems? Even as he argued with himself
he ran, dodging traffic and ignoring angry epithets as he pelted back up the
bridge against traffic. The inevitable gaper delay had slowed the flow at
least, making his precarious journey easier.
People stared from the safety of their vehicles as they
inched along, but no one stopped to help.
Diego ignored them. His primary concern was not to
startle the man into falling. He slowed his approach, ready to offer soothing
words, but the man heard his footsteps. Long black hair whipped and snaked in
the wind, hiding his face, though Diego caught a glimpse of bared teeth.
“Did you come after me?” the jumper snarled. “I
won’t go back.”
“Go back where?” Diego seized the opportunity to start
the man talking.
The jumper shook his head to clear the hair from his eyes
and peered at Diego with black eyes – not dark brown, but black, set in deep,
shadowed sockets. “No, I suppose you don’t look like one of those,” he
said in a softly accented, weary voice.
“One of who?” Diego edged closer to stand next to
him.
“The ones who shut me in the iron cage. I changed. I
escaped.” His words seemed to stick in his throat and even above
the traffic, Diego heard him swallow hard. “But now I’m too tired. I
can’t...and the river is so filthy. I think it might kill me.”
At least he doesn’t sound like he wants to die. “Look, if you don’t want
the police catching up to you, or the hospital staff, or whoever it is, this is
about the worst thing you could do. You’re upsetting all these people and attracting
a lot of attention. They’ll be here any minute.” Diego reached out a hand,
palm up. “Please come down. Let’s get you safe and out of the wind. Then we’ll
see about straightening all this out.”
The man regarded him through the shifting curtain of hair
for a long moment. “What are you called?”
Depends who you talk to. “My name is Diego. Diego Sandoval.” He
lurched forward, his stomach plummeting to his feet, when the man swayed, but
the jumper retained his place on the rail.
The man repeated his name a few times as if trying it
out, and then nodded. “It’s a good name. Pleasurable to say.”
“And you?”
“I am called Fionnachd.”
Diego tried to repeat it and won a hint of a smile from
the man when he mangled the pronunciation. “Could I call you Finn?”
That got a shrug. The blanket fell back from his shoulder
to reveal all-too-prominent bones. “You could. Some have. I don’t mind.”
“Climb down, Finn,” Diego urged again. “I’ll
help you. Let’s get you somewhere quiet where you can rest.”
Finn took his fingers in a light grip and Diego caught a
whiff of rotten orange rinds as he slid from the rail.
What the hell am I doing? He could have Hepatitis or HIV
or tuberculosis, or worse. He’s probably crazy. Maybe even dangerous.
The intense plea in those black-on-black eyes silenced
his practical objections. Lost and alone, this man needed someone. Diego had
never been good at walking away.
