Shelli Rosewarne

Hi all,

Hope your week’s going well. Must admit am feeling a little subdued today, such sad news from Brussels yesterday, you have to wonder what the world is coming to sometimes. Still, have to try and think that for every evil extremist out there, there are so many more good people. Just seeing the outpouring of support for Belgium shows that.

Anyway, trying to stay on a positive note, it’s Wednesday so I’m sharing an excerpt from my current WIP. This was only started a few days ago, so it’s not very far in yet but am enjoying it so far – so hope you enjoy this! Please excuse any mistakes as obviously hasn’t been edited yet.

Venn stared at the little cottage with some trepidation. It was just so… cutesy. Warm red brick with a neat little garden, shadowed in the growing darkness, leaden-paned windows and a sloping roof. He wouldn’t be surprised to see deer and little bunnies frolicking through the grass. Urgh. This did not look like the home of a powerful witch. Maybe it was a kind of camouflage? Let’s face it he didn’t have a great deal of options. Everyone else had turned him away. If this witch couldn’t help he was pretty much screwed.

He glided through the night to the painted front door. There was a neat, hand-printed sign.

For enquiries, come to back door.

Great. Like a servant, or a delivery person. Gritting his teeth he made his way round to the back and knocked sharply on the door. It flung open, spilling out warm light and framing the form of a small woman. He blinked at her a moment. Short, curvy, brown, slightly frizzy hair pulled back in a messy up-do and thick glasses that gave her the look of a blinking owl. This – this was his last hope?

“Can I help you?”

Her voice was surprisingly rich and smooth. Fine, he was here now, though he wasn’t feeling optimistic.

“I hope so. You are the witch in residence here?”

Maybe she was an assistant or something? There could be someone inside who reeked of power. Her eyes narrowed as though she sensed his thoughts.

“The one and only. I am Elizabeth Garrett Morrigan. And I need a good reason to want to help a vampire.”

He sighed. At least she had enough power to know what he was, that was surely a start.

“My name is Venn Draconius. I was told that you can be sympathetic to those who others shun. I am badly in need of help. I am under a curse.”

Her brow furrowed. “What kind of curse?”

“Could we perhaps discuss inside?”

A male voice came from inside the house. “Libby, don’t you dare invite a vampire in here.”

Venn raised an eyebrow. “I assure you no harm will come to anyone in this house on my account.” His lips twisted cynically. “I give you my word on that. Even if I had the inclination, the execution is no longer possible for me.”

The woman stared at him for a long moment, almost as if she was taking his measure. He was surprised to notice that her eyes behind those huge lenses were actually quite beautiful, a deep forest green with tiny flecks of gold around the iris. Odd, he hadn’t noticed a woman’s eyes in probably a century.

She suddenly stepped, gesturing him in. “I invite you into my home.”

He gave her a brief bow, before stepping past her into a warm and homely kitchen. Curious, he glanced around for the source of the male voice. Perhaps she felt safe because she wasn’t alone.

“I honestly cannot believe you, Libby.” The voice sounded again, close, like it was in the room, but Venn couldn’t see any sign of anyone. “If we’re all killed in our sleep I swear I will never let you live it down.”

Libby gave a brief smile and gestured to an odd shape on the wall. “This is Huwie. Don’t mind him.”

“Don’t mind me? Don’t mind me! That’s gratitude for you.”

“Is that a starfish?”

Venn stared in bewilderment as one of the tiny creature’s arms flapped around, obviously in time with his distress.

She sniffed. “That is Huwie, he is my friend and my familiar and if you expect me to even consider helping you then you’ll be nice to him.”

Be nice to a talking starfish? Obviously this witch was crazier than he’d thought, but he needed to keep her on side.

“Erm, nice to meet you?”

Was he supposed to shake hands as well, and which of those arm/limb things were classed as hands. He felt the strangest urge to laugh. Again something that hadn’t occurred to him in more years then he cared to remember.

“Take a seat,” the little witch gestured him to one of the wooden chairs at the table, “and tell me about this curse.”