Sorry for this late post. I am working feverishly to get book 7, MAGIC ON THE LINE cleaned up so I can submit it to my editor next week and that has pretty much eaten all my working braincells. I hope to have a more functional brain by mid-week, and will finally catch up on emails and everything else I’m behind on. Thank you for your patience!!
Friday Fragments are my way of counting down to the release of MAGIC ON THE HUNT on April 5th. Every Friday until then, I’ll post an excerpt or deleted snippet or alternate scene from the Allie Beckstrom books.
Today’s snippet comes from MAGIC ON THE HUNT. I don’t think it’s too spoilery, but if you’d rather wait until the book comes out, or if you haven’t read MAGIC AT THE GATE, you might want to click away now. Thank you for checking in! Have a great weekend!
Without further ado, here’s a little Shamus and Stone.
“Hey, Stone,” Shame said. “C’mere, boy. I brought you something.”
Shame picked up the paper bag and shook it.
Stone’s ears lifted into points. He cooed and tromped over to Shame.
“Look at this.” Shame pulled a box out of the bag.
I groaned. “Are you serious?”
“Sure, I am.”
“Jenga?” I said. “He won’t understand how to play it. He’s a rock.”
“Oh, now, you don’t have to hurt his feelings, do you? Stone is a smart boy.”
Shame opened the box and carefully upended it onto the table. The stack of blocks teetered for a second, then stood like a nice little tower.
Stone cooed and rumbled, his wings rubbing against his back.
Stone and blocks, like butter and bread.
“See now, here’s the trick.” Shame pushed one of the long, thin blocks out of the tower with just his pointer finger, then placed the block to the side. Stone stood entranced, like he had just seen magic for the first time.
“Push the block.” Shame said. He chose another block, pushed it out of the stack.
“You try. Push the block,” he said.
Stone scooted up closer to the table and sat on his haunches.
“He won’t do it,” Terric said.
“Bet on it?”
“What you want to lose?”
“Deal, though I hate stealing from your mother.”
“I have my own money, you arse.”
“And yet, we’ve never seen it.”
“Just use one finger,” Shame said, holding up his middle finger and looking at Terric.
Stone held up one finger, mimicking him. I snorted.
“One finger,” Shame said, this time showing his index finger.
Stone growled, stuck out one finger, touched a block, and looked at Shame.
“That’s it. Push.”
Stone pushed. The block shifted a millimeter or two.
Careful to keep his finger out of the hole this time, he moved the block half way through the tower, then shifted so he could reach the other side and pull the block the rest of the way out.
He clacked, and his wings opened and closed while he talked to the tower of blocks. He was one happy rock.
“That’s it! Good job.” Shame rubbed Stone’s head. Stone soaked up the praise, then pushed another block out. And another. And another. Within seconds, the tower had taken on an entirely new shape—more holes than solid lines, blocks stuck half out, completely removed, then replaced on ends, on edges.
It looked like an M.C. Escher painting, unbelievably, eye-trickingly complex.
Terric chuckled. “You’ve been out-Jenga’d by a rock.”
“A rock who just earned me twenty bucks. Hand it over, Ter.”