A brief note from the author:
Welcome, readers, to the first book of Jenny/Marcus Wrigley. Before we get started, I want to take a moment to introduce you to the narrator, who never takes the time to introduce herself in this tale, or in her past storytelling efforts. She’s worked as the narrator in Touched, Blood Relations and Shadow Walker, and this will be her last story with Jenny/Marcus before Apollo takes over the role in the next book.
(Yes, there already is a next book, and you’re either going to love the new narrator, or call for my slow burning death.)
But this narrator, objective and distanced, is Shiva, a demigod of death and destruction. In this world, Shiva used to be a male demigod, but he castrated and then transformed himself into a female.
He did this after his followers stoned another demigod to death, Mars. Mars could partially be blamed, since he refused to transubstantiate to avoid physical injury. In effect, his stubborn male pride kept him fighting even after he’d been grievously wounded with a cold iron blade.
Shiva decided that wasn’t how he wanted to go down, and he became a she. Shiva stepped away from the Earth as a physical presence, but she remained behind as an insubstantial observer. She follows people of interest to her, people who lead lives of extreme violence or darkness. You might say that bloody death is her fixation.
This is how she stumbled across Amber, and how she met Jenny. She’ll tell you the story of how Jenny uncovered her genetic heritage and discovered her true calling as a bard. Shiva won’t mention herself, but she is present in every scene. She is omniscient, knowing everything as it happens.
This is her last book with Jenny. So Shiva wanted me to pass along this message to you:
“For the last time, there’s no such thing as head hopping if I know everything! It’s not my fault if you get confused following the thoughts of multiple characters in the same scene. If I’m confusing you, I hear Barney has picture books with little words.”
Uh…Shiva doesn’t get out often.
Sorry about that.
Right, on with the story…
Chapter One
Thursday, February 5, 1998
Amarillo, Texas
If the biggest spell you can cast is water the size of a baseball, you’d better pray for an invasion of sprites. Marcus Wrigley stopped humming to snort at the thought, and with his focus lost, the ball of water floating in front of him dropped.
It splashed on the grass before he could capture it again.
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