And it’s Monday again. My adventure in seeing clearly continues. Except that I can’t see the texts on my phone with the eye that was operated on. This caused some concern, so I bought reading glasses, although today I was able to read a text, kind of.

My biggest issue is remembering eye drops. I have alarms on my phone, but I think sometimes I put extra drops in, because I do that thing where the alarm goes off, but I am in the middle of an email or writing, and then I don’t remember whether I put drops in, so I put one in just in case.

Also, not bending over and not picking things up is annoying, especially because I didn’t realize how often I pick up cats and dogs. Also, workouts are my stress relief and I can’t do them, so I am slowly building up stress. Gordon has been taking great care of me, but I would love to be back to my normal.

The Mug and the Tyger

I have this wonderful friend. Her name is Jean Kwok. She is amazing, and we text each other pictures of our orange cats. Before the surgery, we were texting, and I told her I was nervous.

Jean: I had this surgery. Let me call you.

::calls::

Jean (paraphrasing): So yes, I had this surgery, because my eyesight is terrible, but I was in Netherlands at the the time, and they are such tough people. They don’t use strong anesthesia for this surgery and I was begging for anesthesia, and yes. This was rough.

Me: …

Jean: But you will be okay.

She was right, I was okay, and she sent me that cool red mug as a recovery gift. Like me, she is convinced that tea helps with everything. I love it to pieces.

By the way, Jean has a romantasy coming out.

It’s called DOMINION. It draws on Chinese mythology, and it is both visually stunning and romantically complicated. I called her after I read it.

Me: What do you mean with this romantic twist?

Jean: Gentle, slightly evil laugh.

There is a group of warriors who ride mystic animals that are magic tigers. I didn’t know I needed a mystic rideable tyger in my life, but after reading this book, I totally do. I’m not sure how much I am allowed to say about the book, especially because it takes really wild turns, but I linked the description above.

Surprise Appearance

We have a surprise appearance coming up. We will be at Jasmine Mas signing, which will be held at 7:00 pm at B&N Arboretum this upcoming Wednesday, 10/29. This is Jasmine’s event, and we are there to ask her fun questions. I think the tickets are sold out already, but if you are going, we will be there.

Fun Work Stuff

State of life: working. OMG. All the working. We are digging deeper into This Kingdom #2 first draft and working on Augustine’s short on the weekends.

For reasons I cannot tell you, we are commissioning some art and it is with Candice Slater. I’m unreasonably excited about this. Candice, however, will likely regret this contract.

Candice: Beautiful sketch of the tower with petals at the top enclosing an observation deck.

Me: This is lovely, but it will not work because of proportions. Assuming a tower with two rings of rooms inside, we get a hollow space diameter of 75 feet and the overall tower diameter of 204 feet. Let’s approximate 1,000 feet of height – she says it’s the size of the Washington monument, but she is ballparking it from a distance. Assuming deck diameter of 120 feet around 75 foot hole, we have 9 petals, which would be about 42 feet wide at the base and have the length of 60-70 feet…

Math. Woo!

And now a tiny bribe for sitting through the updates:

Diana Snippet

They crossed the parking lot aiming for the entrance. All of her senses were up, keyed on him. She noted everything in detail, the way he moved, the way he placed his feet and shifted his weight, his breathing, his scent… Things made more sense now.  She didn’t have to do anything about it, she reminded herself. Acknowledging it was enough.

“Who will I look like this time?” She’d managed to keep her voice light.

“Yourself.”

“No disguise?”

The blond demi-god next to her shook his head. “There will be no need. Sutton understands the way the game is played. He’s a professional.”

“Augustine?”

“Yes?”

“If I wasn’t there, would you have killed all of them?”

There was a tiny pause before he answered. “It would’ve been bad for business.”

Lila let out a tiny woof. Diana sent a reassuring flood of calm down the link. Yes.  Spectacular, isn’t he?

Why yes, Pancakes is spectacular. Hehehehe.

The post A Mug, Appearance, Math, and a Snippet first appeared on ILONA ANDREWS.

In return, please drop some blog topics and questions into the comments. The sequel to This Kingdom is eating my brain and I need help, heh.

“As you know, Maria, the current state of the economy requires our company to develop agility in an effort to meet the rapidly changing realities of the marketplace.”

The HR manager smiled, her hand resting on a black folder with FINERGY etched in gold on it. She was in her forties. Her makeup was applied with technical precision. Her acrylic nails, translucent pink and of professionally acceptable length, bore small white snowflakes, a nod to the holiday season. A rose quartz necklace dripped from her neck, each bead polished, matching the nails and the nearly transparent pink frames of her eyeglasses.

She seemed plastic, poured into a corporate mold, allowed to harden, extracted, polished, and then placed in the conference room, with her rigid smile and by-the-book hair. A kind of generic mass-produced manager.

The two men sitting on either side of her had come from the same factory and wore identical expressions of dutiful concern for the office drone they were about to cut loose. A united front, in case there were issues.

“In light of these developments, we’ve had to make some difficult decisions.”

 The corporate we. Fun thing about polished plastic – it tended to be slick. Nothing stuck to it, responsibility included.

“We’ve decided to go in a different direction, Maria.”

First name basis, designed to provide an illusion of a personal relationship. We are all family here. Surely you understand. Nothing personal, Maria.

“You’ve been an asset to our team; however, we must reduce our overhead obligations.”

You are not a person, Maria. This was ridiculously badly handled. Painfully drawn out, full of empty platitudes. Just abysmal.

“We’ve chosen to let you go.”

Finally.

“Try not to see this as a setback, but rather a new opportunity to learn lessons and apply them in your future endeavors.”

No, not just badly handled. Gloriously badly handled, as if they had made it a point to hit every checkmark of what not to do when firing an employee. Now tell me you will walk me to the door…

“Cory will walk you to the door.”

And we have a home run.

“Good luck, Maria. We are rooting for you.”

The temptation to offer a golf clap was almost too much, but it would’ve been irresponsible under the circumstances. Arrangements like these came with certain expectations, and they had to be honored.

The box they offered was too large for the meager possessions living on the desk. Sweeping them into the box under Cory’s watchful gaze took mere seconds. An elevator ride followed, the mirror inside offering a reflection of Cory, stone-faced in a Brooks Brothers suit, looming over a woman in her thirties, olive-skinned, dark hair cut in a bob, Harper blouse from Torrid a size too large. Quite the contrast.

The trek across a wide lobby was next, complete with pitying glances from former co-workers, at once sympathetic and wary, as if instead of a defeated woman in business attire they had spied a leper in filthy rags and worried the disease might spread.

The glass doors of the Callas Tower swung open, offering freedom and daylight. Cory walked out and planted himself in front of the door, ready to put his life on the line for the protection of the firm’s secrets in case the ex-employee decided to assault the building.

Too little, too late.

It was time for a dejected walk down the street and out of sight.

The city was going about its business, oblivious to the small tragedies of firings in the name of corporate agility. Thick grey clouds clogged the sky. It would start drizzling soon.

A gunmetal-grey BMW iX slid closer to the curb, and the rear passenger window slid down, revealing a woman’s face. She was quite beautiful in a quiet way. Light brown eyes, flecked with gold and framed by naturally long eyelashes. A lovely face. Chestnut hair, braided in a kind of updo that would have been too soft and romantic for the HR trio in the conference room.

Diana Harrison, Prime and the Head of House Harrison. She changed her hair color. It suited her better. Her usual blonde always felt soulless somehow. Too cold.

Diana tilted her head. “May I offer you a ride?”

“Do we know each other?”

She smiled without parting her lips. “Not closely, but it’s about to rain and your office is at least twenty minutes away.”

Oh. She knew. How?

There was no point in playing coy. “In that case, thank you. I’ll join you.”

A driver emerged, took the box, and opened the passenger door on the other side. Getting in took only a moment. A large red Doberman sat on the front passenger seat, strapped in by some strange seatbelt contraption, its gaze alert and watchful.

The dog could’ve picked up the scent and alerted, but not through a closed window. How did she know?

The car slid back into traffic.

Letting go was like a light, imaginary stretch. A brief effort, followed by a slight lightening of the load.

Gone was the olive skin, the short dark bob, the blouse, and the utilitarian black slacks. He was tall again, his regular persona firmly in place, familiar like an old glove. His true self still remained hidden, yet the new illusion was a tweak rather than an entirely new disguise. Like taking off a sweater but keeping the T-shirt on.

He stretched for real this time, working a kink out of his shoulders. The hunched posture had taken a bit of a toll.

He didn’t need to hunch, strictly speaking, but he always found that his illusions flowed better when he allowed himself to fully submerge into his assumed identity. After that barrage, most people in Maria’s place would either storm out defiantly or brace themselves, as if expecting to be punched. Storming out wouldn’t have achieved his goals.

Diana watched him with genuine fascination. He’d seen that reaction so many times, he should’ve been used to it by now, but coming from her it felt refreshing.

“A moment?”

Diana nodded.

He pulled his cell phone out of his Zegna suit and selected his second-in-command from the contact list. Zachary answered instantly.

“Here.”

“Dump FINERGY.”

“Understood.”

He ended the call, tossed one long leg over the other, and smiled.

“I believe I will dump FINERGY as well,” Diana said.

“I highly recommend it. They are engaged in cybersecurity fraud. The latest crop of drones they brought to the market and sold to multiple law enforcement agencies has severe software issues.”

“How severe?”

“A child with a LeapFrog tablet could hack one. They just fired the specialist who brought the problem to their attention two months ago.”

“You assumed her identity?”

He nodded. The scale of the fraud was massive enough that the real Maria’s safety was a concern. He’d spent the last week dutifully going to the office in her place. Normally, he would’ve sent one of his subordinates, but his House’s investment in FINERGY was considerable, and he wanted to assess the state of things for himself.

Diana tapped her phone.

Tomorrow one of the biggest law firms in Houston would file the qui tam lawsuit against FINERGY, alleging violations of the False Claims Act, and Maria would become one of the most famous whistleblowers on record. If the government chose to join the suit, she would be entitled to about twenty percent of recovered damages. Considering the extent of FINERGY’s transgressions, she wouldn’t have to worry about finding a new job for some time.

Diana finished and put her phone down. “Now I’m in your debt, Prime Montgomery.”

“Not at all.” He slid his glasses a little higher on his nose. “Please, call me Augustine. Now then, what can MII do for House Harrison?”

Diana hesitated. It was very brief, but he’d been trained to observe people carefully, noting minute changes in expression.

“I want to hire you.”

“Me specifically or MII in general?”

“Both.”

Intriguing. “In what capacity?”

Another slight hesitation. There was something deceptively delicate about Diana. She was a small woman, short and petite. The contours of her face were soft, her features classically attractive: large, light brown eyes flecked with gold and green, a small, slightly upturned nose, a full mouth with a bare hint of pink lipstick. She looked as if she was teetering on the edge, torn between wanting to keep her secret and asking for help. She could’ve played a princess in a medieval drama, the kind of princess who had suffered an injustice and needed a strong ally and who would inspire the audience to root for her.

It was a front. Augustine was absolutely sure of it. If he became an enemy, Diana Harrison would kill him without a moment’s hesitation. She was trying to entice him to help her and make her request a priority, and she was very subtle about it.

Common wisdom held that animal mages didn’t understand human emotions. Interacting with Cornelius, Diana’s brother, had convinced Augustine that there were exceptions to that rule. Apparently Diana was cut from the same cloth.

He knew a great deal about her, and at the same time very little. They’d met on three occasions prior to today, and his longest interaction with Diana happened when they signed the pact of friendship between their two Houses. The alliance was initiated by Cornelius, who had become convinced that having powerful connections was the best way to keep his daughter safe. As the Head of her House, Diana was the only one with the authority to sign off on it, so they had met to negotiate.

Entering a pact of friendship was a no-brainer. While most Houses viewed animal mages as having limited power with few practical applications, to an illusion House there was no greater threat. He’d been delighted to neutralize it. His people had done a deep dive into House Harrison and found nothing of concern. On all three occasions he’d interacted with Diana, her demeanor was neutral, pleasant, and opaque. She had negotiated in good faith. This manipulation was delightfully new.

“Whether or not we come to an agreement, anything you tell me is confidential,” he said.

“Something has been stolen from us,” she said.

“And you need me to find the culprit and recover it?”

Diana nodded.

“Why MII? Pardon me for stating the obvious, but you have access to House Baylor through your brother.”

“The Baylors can’t be involved in this matter,” she said.

Curiouser and curiouser.

His own relationship with House Baylor was complicated. At one point, before the Baylors became a House and were just a small PI agency, he owned the mortgage on their business. Back then their relationship was almost purely adversarial. Later they came to regard each other as allies, especially once Connor Rogan, the closest thing he had to a friend, married Nevada Baylor. The Baylors kept their word, and as long as he kept his, their loyalty and support were assured.

Either way, he had to draw the line now. As much as he valued the Harrisons, his House’s relationship with the Rogans mattered more. It wasn’t an alliance he was willing to endanger.

“Are the Baylors suspects?”

“No. They had nothing to do with this theft.”

“And they don’t know anything about it?”

Diana shook her head.

He saw it now. She baited the hook, offering him just enough information to ignite his curiosity, and waited for him to bite. Diana Harrison, a patient and careful fisherwoman.

In strict terms, their friendship pact was a non-aggression alliance, meaning that both Houses agreed to refrain from acting against each other. Mutual favors were not included but were customary in such arrangements. The disparity in their wealth, connections, and resources was significant, and yet House Harrison appealed to his help only once, when they needed him to pick up Matilda, Cornelius’ daughter, and secure her safety until Diana came to retrieve her.

Very well. Why not? He could play a knight in shining armor, if the compensation was significant enough, and Diana had offered payment in the right kind of currency. Most investigative work was profitable and boring. This promised to be interesting. He liked knowing secrets, and any secret hidden from the Baylors was worth knowing.

“Shall we speak in my office?” he asked.

She offered him a beautiful smile.

The post Augustine Snippet: Maria first appeared on ILONA ANDREWS.

I have a Klaus snippet for you today, the long-awaited reveal of what he needed to tell Maud when he came to her at end of Sweep of the Blade.

It’s also an incentive for us. Remember that bit about the Barsas in Sweep of the Heart?

“The Barsas stopped in front of us. Their leader, an old white-haired male, stepped forward and raised his arms.
Here we go.
“Barsa! Barsa, barsa, barsa. Barsa.” Each word was accompanied by arm-waving and finger-pointing.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sean said. “Is that all they say?” “Yep. Hush, I’m trying to concentrate.”
“Barsa. Barsa, barsa.”
The leader nodded sagely.”

Andrews, Ilona. Sweep of the Heart, The Innkeeper Chronicles 5. NYLA 2022. Kindle edition, page 401

There’s a certain Barsa-esque (Barsumial?) tendency sometimes with the Book Devouring Horde, where we can get a bit fixated on “when’s the next book, next book, next book, next book”. Klaus is here to placate us away from that, as only an Arbitrator can.

Let’s be fluffy, not Barsumials!

We’ve had an Innkeeper book just a year ago. The next one is not yet on the schedule, so there are no official dates or updates, but there will be a continuation to the series, we will find out what happened to their parents, see Helen, witness Ripper Cushions—the whole Orro banquet.

House Andrews are hard at work on projects; we’re currently getting Roman chapters every Friday; the Sweep of the Heart release from Graphic Audio is coming to us this week and I’ll have an exclusive sample just for the Horde tomorrow. We are beloved. We just have to be a bit p*tient and chill our bosoms.

“I will explain everything,” Klaus said.  “But right now we have more pressing matters to discuss.”

Oh no, you don’t. “What could be more pressing than you becoming an Arbitrator?” Maud crossed her arms on her chest. “Have you told Dina? She thinks you might be dead.”

“I have perfectly valid reasons for how I’ve handled things.”

“Valid?”

Arland gently touched her shoulder. “Perhaps we can hear the reason behind this unexpected visit?”

Argh. She waved her hand. “Go ahead.”

Klaus leaned against the table, half-perching on it. The memory punched Maud, knocking her mentally off balance. He used to sit just like this, when they were both teenagers, in their parents’ inn. It was at once nostalgic because here he was, alive and well; sad because Mom and dad were still missing; and infuriating because right now, on Earth, Dina was worried sick about him.

“Thank you,” Arland said.

“Have you set a date?”

“Three months from now,” she told him. “It will be a small, family affair.”

“I suggest you postpone it,” Klaus said.

“Why?  For how long?” she asked.

“A few years?” Klaus said. “A decade would be best.”

“And why would we do that?”

“You’ve made enemies,” he said.

“Be more specific,” she snapped.

“Do you remember a monster, a long time ago, at the inn? He chased you when you were a toddler?”

“Mukama.” Arland bared his fangs.

“You told him? Good. This will make things simpler. I can’t explain the details right now, but things are connected. You, Dina, the corrupted ad-hal, and the mukama. All of it is part of one complicated whole. Should you have your wedding now, it will be invaded. There are forces out there that wish to prevent your union. The safest, most prudent thing, is to wait until all of the preparations are complete. If you give me a decade…”

“Let me understand this,” Arland said, his face dark. “You are saying that if we were to have our wedding, the remnants of the mukama may invade the planet to stop it?”

“In essence, yes,” Klaus said.

A predatory light sparked in Arland’s eyes.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” she asked.

Arland nodded. “We do have to postpone.”

“I’m glad you see the wisdom—” Klaus started.

“We need to go bigger,” she said.

“Oh yes.” Arland grinned, displaying his fangs. “Much bigger. We’ll need to invite everyone. We should be ready in 10 months or so.”

Klaus stared at them.

“We should tell your mother about the invasion,” Maud said. “Lady Ilemina would love this.”

“Oh, she will be overjoyed.” Arland clapped his massive hand on Klaus’ shoulder. “Thank you for this delightful news, my future in-law. You bring the best tidings. We shall have the grandest wedding in Krahr’s history. We will invite everyone.”

Maud grinned and swiped a quick kiss on Arland’s lips. “I can’t wait.”

The post I Will Explain Everything first appeared on ILONA ANDREWS.

Once in a while, there will be a successful writer who will come out with “My child wrote a book!” and they will use their platform to promote their child’s book. Full power to them. When you have a platform, why not help your child out?

That probably won’t be us. At least in the beginning.

Now don’t get me wrong, we’ll help with advice, we’ll allocate money for ads, and we will use whatever knowledge we have to help her write a good query and sign with a good agent. We are very proud of her.

But people are mean. They will call her a nepo baby, they will say that we wrote the books for her, and they will compare her work to our work, and on and on. Yes, advertising her work here would likely give her a big jump in sales, but at what cost? It is far better for her to launch without the baggage of Ilona Andrews attached.

Thank you so much for your interest. She was very touched that many of you asked, and she sent over a small snippet of an older work, not connected to anything, as a thank you. She says, “This is what I put mom and dad through while in school.”

Yes, she was that bad. Don’t ask me about the time she performed an exorcism.

“Are you mad at me?”

I put my stress ball in my lap and turned to my niece in the chair beside me, staring at her over the brim of my red-tinted shades. “I’m not thrilled.”

She slumped back against her seat, groaning. “Can we just get it out of the way now, please? I hate when you brood.” 

“Okay. First of all,” I started. “I don’t brood.”

“I don’t want to fight. I had a really bad day.”

“Oh no! What happened?”

“Nessie. Don’t tease me.”

“This is the second time this month that I have had to drop what I’m doing, rush here from the Circle, and sit in this chair – awaiting to be informed of what a lousy guardian I am.” I straightened my cloak. “You can suffer my teasing.”

“Everybody’s overreacting! It wasn’t that serious!”

“Mhm.

“Nobody here can take a joke,” she grumbled. “Too bad their rich parents can’t buy the kids at this school a sense of humor.”

“Haley.”

“They’re so soft! I have to walk on eggshells around everyone!”

“Haley,” I tried again.

“And for being one of the ‘top performing Arcane Art academies in the world,’ this place is so behind! All the stuff we’re learning right now, you taught me and Griff when we were in freaking pull-ups!”

“Haley.” My stern voice came out. “You chased the headmasters’ son down the hall, with blood dripping from your hands. Whose blood, frankly, I’m scared to ask.”

“It was ketchup.”

“Well, they all thought it was blood. Probably because you were maniacally laughing and chanting, ‘I am blood mage, the madness calls for blood! I am blood-

I saw the lady at the front desk staring, the warmth draining from her face.

Damn it.

I smiled and waved. “Go Vampire Bats!”

She turned away, shaking her head.

“Great,” I hissed under my breath. “Now the front office at your expensive new school thinks I’m a blood mage. Friday’s PTA meeting is going to be a blast.”

“It was just a joke,” Haley muttered. “Everybody didn’t need to freak out.”

“Kiddo, you were frothing at the mouth.”

She threw her hands up, auburn curls bouncing around her freckled face.

“I already told them- it was soap!”

I blinked. “Soap?”

“Hand soap. The foaming kind, from the dispenser in the girl’s restrooms.”

I dragged a sweaty palm down my chin. “You poured soap in your mouth?”

“Sugar Citrus Breeze- blech.” She made a sour face. “Didn’t taste like sugar.”

“No, I don’t imagine that it would.” I sighed. “And you did this, willingly?”

“Yup,” she replied, popping her lips.

“To make it look like you were unhinged?”

“You’re always saying Dad’s problem is he can never commit to anything.” She looked me dead in the eye. “I committed.”

 “I’ll be committed, if you keep this up. Between this charming, little stunt you pulled here today, and your brother terrorizing his classroom last week with the reanimated corpse of their beloved pet hamster -“

“It was a bunny.”

I rolled my eyes. “Whatever, bunny -“

“Sir Hops-a-lot, Duke of Carrotown.”

I sharply inhaled. “I can’t keep doing it, Haley. The Circle has been falling apart at the seams for weeks, now. You got to help me out.”

She looked away, her upper lip quivering. “… Sorry.”

I stared at the stress ball in my lap. Thin, purple fabric, all faded and torn. Yellow, stiff foam seeping out from decades old cracks. It had taken a lot of abuse in the last two months.

“So why’d you do it? “

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m hormonal. Or I really am crazy.”

“Hormonal? Definitely. Crazy? Eh… too early to say.” I would tackle the topic of not calling people crazy another time.

“But I probably am. It runs in the family.” She frowned. “He started it. He’s always calling me a blood mage. Says I’m gonna turn Corrupt. Like Mom.”

Little bastard.

“You won’t.” I draped my arm over her. “I won’t let you. Either of you.”

She rested her head on my chest. “But if I did… would you still love me?”

I held her tight. “Yes. We’d just put a muzzle on you and carry on. We are Cowls. Like you said, it runs in the family.”

The post It Runs In the Family first appeared on ILONA ANDREWS.