Tell us a little about your latest or upcoming
release.
Jules is the story about a witch that’s out to cause
a cross-species war. It’s a tale of action, an adventure, and a great fictional
manual for starting great amounts of trouble.
What would your readers be surprised to learn about
you?
I am a nerd. I watch some cartoons. And if I ever
hear the words “Exterminate!” screamed at me, I will dive under a table and
probably wet myself.
When you’re not writing what do you do? Do you have
any hobbies or guilty pleasures?
If I’m going to feel guilty about it, I try not to
do it. I like to read, I go out and love on my horse, I’ll rampage through the
house with the cats. I like to play computer and console games. I used to nerd
out about Manga before I became a broke college student. Basically, if it’s not
a full-blown hobby, I’ve at least dipped my toes in all sorts of nerdoms. The
ones that stuck became hobbies. The ones that didn’t became memories.
Of all the characters you’ve ever written, who is
your favorite and why?
Honestly, it’s a toss-up between Jules, Sting, and
Hansel. I tend to enjoy all my characters, but those three have come out with some
of my favorite dialogues. Plus all three of them popped up in the story when
they weren’t supposed to…or at least, they were only supposed to be a minor
part. Gotta love characters with a strong personality.
If this book is part of a series…what is the next
book? Any details you can share?
The next book centers around Rod, my lovely magical
thief and his quest to steal from the Keepers, the non-human law enforcement.
It should be a fun adventure. I will admit, I watched a lot of Ocean’s 11 while
writing it. It’s coming in June, so be on the lookout for my summer release!
What book are you reading now?
I’m re-reading Electronica by Jessica Benya mostly.
I’ve also got Lord Foul’s Bane by Stephen R. Donaldson and a few others on my
‘reading’ list.
What is in your to read pile?
Just about everything on my bookshelves, both
physical and digital. I think somewhere my bookshelves went from ‘those things
that hold books’ to ‘those things that hold my to-read pile’.
Jules: The 2nd Adventure
Kaelia Stevens
Genre: Magical Realism
Date of Publication: December18, 2015
ISBN:1519697090
ASIN:B019KYLOJC
Word Count: 26,489
Cover Artist: Ryan Bayron
Book Description:
War. It doesn’t start with armies or bombs. It doesn’t start with declarations or protests. It doesn’t start with speeches. It starts with one thing. Intent.
Jules understands this concept. She intends to kill a cult leader. She intends to undo magic from the past. She intends to get her family home.
She intends to start a war.
Jules Excerpt 1
826 words
Something shimmered between us.
The vague image of my father began to materialize, shaping himself enough to
see spiked hair, a black overcoat, and cigarette smoke.
I sent her here, Jake, he
tonelessly interjected. My daughter is
here to warn you.
"Warn me of what?"
"Trouble," I responded. "Heading your way."
A boy who looked about twelve pushed past Jake. Of course, it
didn't mean he was twelve. It meant he was young. Elves. We appear younger then
we are.
This one had fine, silver hair, big blue eyes and a finely-boned
face. He had a vague similarity to his grandfather, Gidel. But his eyes were
the exact same shade of blue as his mother's, and when he smiled it was her
smile. The memory of his mother came back to me instantly. I suddenly
remembered that her death was the reason I found Afanasiy in the first place. I
was going to burn him for killing her and instead, I got indoctrinated.
I could only assume this elf in front of me was Caine and Caine was
the cousin I didn't know I had.
His smile fell as he looked up at Cronoth.
"They're coming, aren't they?" Caine asked softly.
"The marwolaeth are coming for me." He looked up at Jake. "What
will we do?"
"They're not coming for you, child," I said, cutting Jake
off. Caine swung around to stare at me.
It's Layla, Cronoth said.
She is on her way here, accompanied by
Olyvia and Rod.
Jake's mouth turned into a thin, stretched line. Sheathing his gun,
he looked down at Caine and said, "We need to go."
"But..." Caine protested as Jake began to shove him back
into the smithy. "Can't I see Olyvia again?"
My father's apparition disappeared. The door to the smithy was left
wide open and unobstructed, allowing me a better look inside.
The floors were old, rotting, wood planks that met the brick of the
inside wall. Directly in front of the door was an old cement staircase, cold
emanating off the steps as if the stairway itself was haunted. To the right of
the stairs an old, beaten counter followed the wall, the wood chipped, splintered,
and completely broken in some places. There was a gaping hole where a small
swinging door used to be, the hinges exposed and rusting like rotted teeth. A
doorway behind the counter was covered with a curtain, and beyond the counter
sat an open doorway. My view of the small room beyond the door was blocked, the
room out of sight.
"Nope," Jake answered, going behind the counter. He
shoved the curtain aside and slipped past, his voice drifting out among the
sound of clanging metal and shuffling canvas. "I doubt she'd remember you
anyway. Not after last time." He returned quickly with two old gym bags,
the straps fraying along the edges and one seam nearly broken open. He managed
to fit a finger through the hole and swore under his breath.
Caine's eyes fell for a moment. "I guess not. But"—he
looked back up to Jake, who was busily hand-stitching the seams
together—"what about this Layla person? Who is that?"
"Your cousin," Jake answered. He motioned to me with his
head. "Like her. Only younger. Less bloodthirsty. And she has a
soul."
"You're funny, nanny," I said, crossing my arms. "Do
you do cook and clean as well?"
"Cook. Clean. Stitch up bloody wounds. Tend to the mentally
unstable and the emotionally disturbed." He glanced up at me and gave his
thread a final pull after knotting it back on itself. "Take your
pick."
When I said nothing immediately, he looked down at Caine, held out
one of the newly-stitched gym bags and told him to go pack his things. Caine
protested and Jake gave him the devil-parent glare.
Caine disappeared up the staircase in a blur. A door up above
slammed open.
"Damn kids," Jake muttered, grabbing a few items hidden
under the counter. "Not thinking about the whole picture." He
unwrapped the packages, slowly checking them over. Canned food, preserved
edibles, and water bottles were examined as I stood there.
"Out of curiosity," I said, leaning back against the
dusty brick wall, "why don't you want to let him talk to Olyvia?"
"Would your parents
let you relive an—" He stopped short of his answer, glancing up at me.
"Never mind. Your kind never understands."
"My kind?"
"Don't play dumb," he said, wrapping the cans back up and
dumping them into the bag. "You know what I mean."
"I really don't," I answered. "Witches? Marwolaeth?
Which 'kind' do you see me as?"
"Warriors," he answered shortly. He nodded to himself and
wrapped up the water bottles. "Your whole family is created of
warriors."
"And?"
Jake stopped packing. He looked up at me. Leaned forward on the
counter.
"When your father brought Caine to me, all those years ago, do
you know what had happened?"
A half-Hawaiian, half-Spanish, half-Italian, half-Filipino, K. Stevens is 4'6" of sarcasm and introverted weirdness. She enjoys time spent communing with local flora and fauna. She hopes to one day be considered one of the greats in literature, but will settle for people at least knowing her name.
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