Release Tour: Shifter's University by KR Thompson

Title: Shifter's University

Author: KR Thompson

Series: Shifter's University #1

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Paranormal Romance

Release Date: November 7, 2017

Summary:

Dragons, wolves, magic, and more...

Welcome to Shifter’s University!

Claire Pratten has a secret—one that she’s never shared with a soul. Whenever she is frightened, her “other” self comes out. Normally she has no problem hiding what she is, but lately life at her foster home has gotten harder and keeping her secret is getting tougher.

Logan Fairmont is a dragon shifter and more than accustomed to looking out for himself—and others. In fact, he is one of the few Imperium University students tasked with spending weekends in the city, searching for young shapeshifters on the edge of revealing their magic to the human race. When he finds Claire, Logan knows she will need the help of the University and its teachers to blend into society.

He thinks he knows what she is.

But magic is never quite so simple

The wind caught beneath my wings, pushing me higher into the air. I readjusted slightly, feeling the slight tinge of magic as it raced along my scales. The shields were still intact. For that, I was more than grateful.

Otherwise, the non-magical humans who lived in the city below would be getting an eyeful.

I snorted and a small puff of smoke blew out my dragon’s nostrils. An eyeful, indeed. It would be pure chaos if the people of Roanoke realized a scaly monster flew above them on a regular basis each weekend, searching for other shapeshifters.

No doubt about it, they’d be bringing out the pitchforks. Nope. Scratch that, they’d be bringing out the guns, missiles, and who knows what else in an effort to shoot me down.

If they only knew how much magic surrounded them—in the air and on the ground.

Another gust of wind came and I spread my wings further, changing direction until I soared over Roanoke’s sister city, Salem.

Yep, Salem, just like the witchy town of Salem, Massachusetts, only this one is in Virginia and is every bit as witchy.

Another minute passed, and I was at my destination. I glanced down to the vacant lot beside of a small white house, dipping one wing experimentally to test the shields as I descended. They were still strong, so I dropped down to the ground, taking care not to let my wings wander outside of the magic that kept me invisible.

I shifted to human, my scales disappearing in a rush of blue flame that licked along my body, then walked toward the house.

The porch light was on.

I was expected.

I didn’t even have to knock. The door swung open to reveal a petite blonde girl who looked a good deal younger than I was, though I knew for a fact she was older than I. A year older to be exact. She was nineteen.

The light from the kitchen illuminated her, making her look ethereal.

“Hadley,” I acknowledged with a nod of my head. My hair swung toward my eyes with the movement and I brushed it away. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes, hurry up and get in here,” she replied, waving her hand at me impatiently. “You haven’t got all night, you know.”

You, I noticed. Not we. You haven’t got all night. I walked through the open door, then stood in the kitchen, arms crossed over my chest.

Whatever Hadley Rose had in mind for me this evening, it would likely involve a lot of work. Rarely ever did the youngest of Salem’s witch coven request my presence, but when she did, it was serious business.

“Is it the shields?” I asked, when she didn’t say anything right away, my brain automatically searching for the worst possible outcome. A breach in the shields would most certainly be that. The coven kept Imperium University’s magic hidden from human eyes with a collection of spelled crystals placed strategically throughout the city and within the school’s grounds.

“No, no, the shields are fine,” she replied, handing me a multi-faceted crystal the color of an evening sky. “Bronwyn, Aunt Sally, and I strengthened them earlier today to be sure. This stone is for the east wing in the school’s main house. Everyone in and around Imperium will be safe enough, as well as the forest behind it and the skies above the city. But that isn’t why I sent for you…”

“Then what is it?”

Hadley bit her lip, as if thinking of the best way to say what was on her mind.

“Just spit it out. What do you need me to do, Hadley? You’ve already told me I haven’t got all night.” And I’d rather not spend it all here with you, trying to figure out what you want.

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. I have a friend that I need you to help. She left here a little while ago, so she should be home in a few minutes.” Hadley thrust a piece of paper into my hands. “Here’s her address.”

I looked at the scrap of paper, quickly mapping out the city’s streets in my head. “She doesn’t live in a great neighborhood. Mind telling me what I’m supposed to be helping her with?”

Hadley didn’t waste any time with her next words. “I need you to get her out of there.”

“What? Like move out? Do I look like a rent-a-dragon service?”

Hadley’s blue eyes narrowed to slits as if she was contemplating to zap me with a spell that would turn me into an entirely different reptile…a croaking one that preferred to eat flies. “Smart ass. She’s a shifter and her foster father has been beating her. She needs to get into Imperium and away from him.”

“What kind of shifter?” I asked, finding myself suddenly curious. As Roanoke and Salem were in the mountain regions of Virginia, the majority of the shapeshifters I encountered were woodland. There was a pack of wolves, several bear, and even a few smaller shifters—the smallest, thus far, having the ability to shift into a small, blue butterfly. Imperium School was full of woodlands to the point the headmistress wouldn’t let just anyone in. It would be nice to have another dragon, though.

“She’s a fox…I think,” Hadley said, scrunching up her nose, as if she wasn’t entirely sure.

“You think? Magda won’t let her in if she’s just a woodland shifter. She’ll have to…”

Hadley cut me off. “To have problems fitting in with the human world,” she finished my sentence with a nod of her head. “Yes, I know that. I’m telling you, if you go right now, you’ll see the problems she has. If anyone has ever needed into Imperium, it’s Claire.”

Author Bio:

K.R. Thompson writes paranormal stories with a bite and fairytales with a twist. An avid reader and firm believer in the magic of books, she spends her nights either reading an adventure or writing one.

She still watches for evidence of Bigfoot in the mud of Wolf Creek.

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Saturday's Series Spotlight: The Untold Stories of Neverland by KR Thompson

Series: The Untold Stories of Neverland #1-4

Author: KR Thompson

Genre: Fairytale/Fantasy

***Content Warning: Suitable for ages 13 and up. This is a darker series, showing how the characters in Neverland came to be. This isn’t your Disney variety of Neverland, it is more like the television series Once Upon a Time.***

Pan #1
Summary:
Neverland has always been their sanctuary—until now.

Magic is dying in Neverland. Only one pixie is brave enough to search the human world for someone to believe. Tink finds a desolate boy flying in the night, peering in windows, searching for the life he once knew. But can she convince him to abandon his quest and save Neverland?

Discover the untold story of the boy destined to become Peter Pan.

***This is a short story depicting Pan's arrival in Neverland. As Peter is a main character, his adventures continue on throughout the rest of the series.***

Hook #2
Summary:

Sitting in the dark corners of the print shop, Archie Jameson dreams of adventure, never imagining it will find him.

A twist of fate lands him beneath unfamiliar stars with a small pixie to guide his way. What new adventures lie in Neverland?

Discover the untold story of the man destined to become Captain Hook.

Nerida #3

Summary:

Thespa, queen of the water sprites, has brought her own Lost Ones to Neverland. As the mermaids and mermen arrive, the magic returns once again to the Never Sea.

But with these newest inhabitants, something darker and more dangerous than the crocodile lies in wait below the surface.

Discover the untold story of the mermaid destined to become Neverland's sea witch.

Jack #4

Summary:

Memories are fading as the pirates forget the life they once knew. Only one has managed to remember his life before Pan whisked him away to Neverland--and he's determined to find a way to escape in spite of Hook's need for revenge.

Seeking a way to restore the memories of the Jolig Roger's crew, Jack crosses paths with a mermaid searching for her own answers to Neverland's secrets.

Discover the untold story of the Lost Boy who was destined to grow up and the mermaid who will steal his heart.

Pan #1
THE TINY PIXIE flew over the dark rooftops to the crumbling tower in the center of the town. Zipping to the top, she chose her usual spot and greeted the gargoyle perched on the edge of the roof. Taking one final look to make sure she had the best view, she plopped down on the tip of the monster’s nose and settled in to watch the boy fly from house to house.

Back and forth, from one window to the next he flew, staying at each only long enough to peer through the panes of glass…searching…

At least he was taking his task seriously, she decided, watching him raise up on his toes in an effort to gain a better look inside one darkened, upstairs room. Some guardians were lazy, but this one was not, which was just as well, she noted, as the small, shadowy figure of a child exited through the window and joined him. A few seconds later, the two flew off into the night sky. The children of humans could be a handful—the ghosts of them even more so, especially when they realized they were no longer among the living. It only made sense to appoint another child to deal with their sorrow and accompany their spirits to the other side.

The source of her attention currently gone, the pixie idly kicked into the open air. Small bits of dust sprinkled each time her feet touched the open mouth of the monster she’d been making a seat of. She glanced down, noticing his bottom teeth now sparkled like gold in the moonlight, giving him an even more ferocious look.

The poor thing looked dreadful, with long curling teeth and bulging eyes—nothing at all like her own pretty, golden self. She gave him a bright smile. Likely, that was the only kindness ever given the monster forever stuck up here on the edge of this roof, so she reached down and gave his hard cheek an affectionate pat before turning her attention back to the sprawling town below. After all, she hadn’t come to save this monster. She’d come for the boy and soon he would need her—but not nearly as much as she needed him.

Hook #2

AN ETERNITY PASSED before Big Ben tolled five bells. They were heavenly peals to Archibald Jameson, who began to wonder if time had somehow gotten stuck or if the gigantic clock across the square was broken. Stretching out his long legs, he stood up from the desk and scooted around the corner, taking care not to bump the towering mountain of paper at the edge. Naturally, it was the largest stack in the entire room—the work that he had yet to finish. If he was even a fraction as meticulous a man as his father—the very man who left him the shop—he would have stayed, locked the front door, and remained into the wee hours to finish the work, however long it should take.

But he was not his father, and he had no intention of pretending to be so. While he was very good at running the print shop, it wasn’t something he enjoyed. It was only what he must do to ensure his survival. Remaining any longer than necessary just wasn’t going to happen as far as Archie was concerned. His inheritance should have been a blessing since he was the youngest of four sons. Without the steady work the shop provided, he might as well have lived out on the street, begging for what scraps could be found. To him, the feel of the paper and smell of ink felt like a prison where he was trapped day in and out. His only release came in daydreams. As he pondered another life or another world, the work piled up before him. He spent hours upon hours each day, dreaming of adventure, of places and people that always made those in his life seem dull in comparison. Those daydreams made his life bearable.

But even the daydreams wouldn’t hold him there once Big Ben chimed its fifth peal. He never stayed a second longer than required.

He blew out lamps and turned over the sign in the window, then pulled on his frayed, black frock. He took one last glance around, then slapped on his hat and stepped outside. Chilly air greeted him as he pulled the door shut, listening to the muted sounds of the doorbell. He turned the key in the lock and jiggled the knob.

Odd, he thought. The tinkling sounds he heard earlier sounded nothing at all like the brass bell on the frame of that door. Odd, indeed. Perhaps it was the remnants of his latest daydream, for the door had never sounded that way before. Still pondering the bell, he turned and rammed directly into a young boy, who let out an audible oof, as he landed on the side of the street.

“I do beg your pardon,” Archie said, offering both his apologies and his hand to help the boy up. The lad flashed a smile, showing a unique set of small, pearly white teeth, before he took Archie’s proffered hand and replied, “Quite alright.” Without waiting for Archie to say anything more, the boy took off, disappearing around the bend.

Hunching over against the cold wind that sent leaves dancing about his legs, Archie shoved his hands deep into his pockets, and made his way down the bricked street, no longer in the rush he was in moments before.

“Mary, I don’t see how we can afford to keep her.” The booming voice was startling. Archie glanced up at a window, which was open in spite of the chill. “Let’s see, two pounds nineteen…”

“George, dear…”

“Now, Mary, hold on a moment. I have the tally right here. Do you think we might try it for half a year on say, five five three? Only half the year, mind you. Oh, drat, I forgot to figure in colic.”

The voice of the man and his wife argued back and forth as Archibald stood, rooted in place, wondering at their strange conversation. As this was his normal route home, he walked by No. 27 every evening. He half-hoped this financial dispute might possibly involve their dog. If it did, he would be more than willing to step up and offer to solve their financial dilemma. He lived alone and the thought of the trim Newfoundland he had seen carrying in bottles of milk from the front steps bolstered his spirits.

The talk of colic, however, kept him from knocking on the front door.

“Shall we say one pound? Yes, that is what I’ll put down. But what of mumps? I’ve heard that can be quite taxing. I daresay that should be twenty shillings there. Don’t give me that look, Mary.”

It was at this point a sharp cry of an infant pierced their conversation and Archibald was quite certain that Nana the Newfoundland was most assuredly not the topic of money, colic, mumps, and their current distraught state. He shook his head, wondering about the sanity of the Darlings in No. 27 as the silhouette of a woman he presumed to be Mary shut the window and the voices muted.

Poor Nana, Archibald thought, to be stuck with people such as that.

He didn’t even want to think about the child whose fate rested on the odds of her contracting whooping-cough and so he openly wished the inhabitants of No. 27 would not be so lucky as to have any additional offspring. He voiced exactly that, and in that same instant, heard that funny peal of bells again. This time it sounded suspiciously like laughter.

Nerida #3

THESPA, QUEEN OF the water sprites, and ruler of all the Never Sea, returned to the human world with a profound sense of dread. As the leader of the watery half of Neverland, not much worried her.

At least, it hadn’t until the humans began forgetting about magic and the sprites began dying.

This trip back to the human world wasn’t one she had made out of choice—necessity brought her here. She’d come to find someone to believe in her, possibly several someones, depending upon how successful her quest proved to be. Then, she’d bring them back with her as a sort of insurance so she’d never have to come to this wretched place again.

Fish won’t do, she decided, staring at the wide-set eyes of one particularly ugly pufferfish. She stood on a wide piece of coral, deep beneath the waves of this warm human ocean, and looked around. More unintelligent fish, crabs, and other sea creatures milled about, none looking particularly pleased or excited to see her. The only ones who showed any interest in her at all were the ones who stopped just long enough to see if she was a small, sparkly bit of food.

This could take forever. Her wings dipped down in dejection. I wonder how long it took the pixie to find that flying Peter-boy?

One of the golden pixies, Tink, had been the first to bring someone to Neverland. When that proved successful, she’d brought a handful more. Her Lost Ones, the pixie had named them. They were, Tink explained, the ones the human world wouldn’t miss.

Thespa crinkled her nose in disgust. As a creature of the sea, she didn’t care for humans. Though they resembled water sprites and had legs to walk about on, they lacked a graceful set of wings that could take them through both water and air. And they most certainly didn’t have any magic. Humans were meant to be above the sea, not below it. Still, the idea of taking someone or something to Neverland that wouldn’t be missed did appeal to Thespa. She sighed, wondering again how long it took Tink to find her Lost Ones.

She started to fly from her perch and try a new place when something stopped her. Literally.

Thespa looked down and scowled, kicking the errant strand of seaweed that had twisted itself around her foot. The bit of green plant gave way at her vicious kick, but left a long green streak of slime down the length of her leg as a parting gift. This, of course, did absolutely nothing to improve her mood.

She was so aggravated that something extremely important had escaped her notice—the gaping jaws of an eel headed directly at her. Her anger disappeared in a fleeting second, but it was too late to move.

Then, a hand wrapped around her an instant before the monster’s teeth snapped.

Nonplussed at missing its small, sparkly appetizer, the eel swam off in search of another easy, unsuspecting meal.

Once the hand opened, Thespa let out an uneasy breath and looked up into a pair of wide, silver eyes, framed by long locks of blond hair.

At first, she thought she’d been saved by a human, but then she spotted his long tail and realized he was as much a creature of the sea as she—and he was exactly who she’d been searching for.

Jack #4

It was doubtful the mermaid who had saved him the day before was going to be there to guide him again today, but the unexpected thought of her made him want to peer into the water in hopes of seeing her beautiful face.

He shook his head. It wouldn’t do to get preoccupied with her now. He glanced over his shoulder and spotted a crooked wooden sign hung precariously on one jutting rock at his left. Shallows. Ye be warned, it told him. Each time the pirates had a mishap, they’d gone to making some sort of sign to warn others in the crew. Being as the pirates were a suspicious sort, there were such signs scattered across the island. Jack had seen many of them. Some of them were legitimate, while others were a matter of opinion. Once he’d seen a sign at the bottom of a tree, an arrow pointed up at the branches where a honeybee’s nest sat.

No worth it. Ye be warned. The maker of that particular sign had been Bob Murphy, who had fallen out of said tree and suffered a broken finger.

The thought of Murphy made Jack turn his attention back to Patch and Beetles. In a few more strokes, they would be at the shore, and were clear of all signs of the rocks. The taller boy seemed lost in thought, oblivious to everything around him. Beetles, on the other hand, was staring directly at Jack. “The one Pan brought isn’t right,” he said finally.

The boy startled Jack so badly he nearly dropped an oar. “Beg your pardon?”

“The mother Pan brought today. She isn’t right,” the boy said again. He crossed his arms and hugged his middle, as if he had suddenly gotten cold. “I remember my mother…” He stopped and glanced over at Patch. “…and he does too. Our mothers didn’t look like her.” His gaze locked onto Jack’s. Knowledge and understanding gleamed in his eyes. “We remember who we were when he found us. We know why Neverlings don’t grow up.”

Patch’s voice cut in, quiet yet accusing. “And we know why you did.”

Author Bio:
K.R. Thompson writes paranormal stories with a bite and fairytales with a twist. An avid reader and firm believer in the magic of books, she spends her nights either reading an adventure or writing one.

She still watches for evidence of Bigfoot in the mud of Wolf Creek.

Be the first to know about new releases! Join my VIP mailing list for the latest in my stories, exclusive excerpts, giveaways, contests, and more!

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Pan #1

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Hook #2

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Nerida #3

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Jack #4

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Nerida by KR Thompson

Title: Nerida

Author: KR Thompson

Series: The Untold Stories of Neverland #3

Genre: Fairytale

\Release Date: December 26, 2015

Cover Design: Alchemy Book Covers

Summary:
Thespa, queen of the water sprites, has brought her own Lost Ones to Neverland. As the mermaids and mermen arrive, the magic returns once again to the Never Sea.

But with these newest inhabitants, something darker and more dangerous than the crocodile lies in wait below the surface.

Discover the untold story of the mermaid destined to become Neverland's sea witch.

THESPA, QUEEN OF the water sprites, and ruler of all the Never Sea, returned to the human world with a profound sense of dread. As the leader of the watery half of Neverland, not much worried her.

At least, it hadn’t until the humans began forgetting about magic and the sprites began dying.

This trip back to the human world wasn’t one she had made out of choice—necessity brought her here. She’d come to find someone to believe in her, possibly several someones, depending upon how successful her quest proved to be. Then, she’d bring them back with her as a sort of insurance so she’d never have to come to this wretched place again.

Fish won’t do, she decided, staring at the wide-set eyes of one particularly ugly pufferfish. She stood on a wide piece of coral, deep beneath the waves of this warm human ocean, and looked around. More unintelligent fish, crabs, and other sea creatures milled about, none looking particularly pleased or excited to see her. The only ones who showed any interest in her at all were the ones who stopped just long enough to see if she was a small, sparkly bit of food.

This could take forever. Her wings dipped down in dejection. I wonder how long it took the pixie to find that flying Peter-boy?

One of the golden pixies, Tink, had been the first to bring someone to Neverland. When that proved successful, she’d brought a handful more. Her Lost Ones, the pixie had named them. They were, Tink explained, the ones the human world wouldn’t miss.

Thespa crinkled her nose in disgust. As a creature of the sea, she didn’t care for humans. Though they resembled water sprites and had legs to walk about on, they lacked a graceful set of wings that could take them through both water and air. And they most certainly didn’t have any magic. Humans were meant to be above the sea, not below it. Still, the idea of taking someone or something to Neverland that wouldn’t be missed did appeal to Thespa. She sighed, wondering how long it took Tink to find her Lost Ones.

She started to fly from her perch and try a new place when something stopped her. Literally.

Thespa looked down and scowled, kicking the errant strand of seaweed that had twisted itself around her foot. The bit of green plant gave way at her vicious kick, but left a long green streak of slime down the length of her leg as a parting gift. This, of course, did absolutely nothing to improve her mood.

She was so aggravated that something extremely important had escaped her notice—the gaping jaws of an eel headed directly at her. Her anger disappeared in a fleeting second, but it was too late to move.

A hand wrapped around her an instant before the monster’s teeth snapped.

Nonplussed at missing its small, sparkly appetizer, the eel swam off in search of another easy, unsuspecting meal.

Once the hand opened, Thespa let out an uneasy breath and looked up into a pair of wide, silver eyes, framed by long locks of blond hair.

At first, she thought she’d been saved by a human, but then she spotted his long tail and realized he was as much a creature of the sea as she—and he was exactly who she’d been searching for.

Author Bio:
K.R. Thompson writes paranormal stories with a bite and fairytales with a twist. An avid reader and firm believer in the magic of books, she spends her nights either reading an adventure or writing one.

She still watches for evidence of Bigfoot in the mud of Wolf Creek.

FACEBOOK  /  TWITTER

WEBSITE  /  NEWSLETTER  /  GOOGLE+

AMAZON  /  GOODREADS

AMAZON US  /  AMAZON UK

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Cover Reveal: Nerida by KR Thompson

Title: Nerida

Author: KR Thompson

Series: The Untold Stories of Neverland #3

Genre: Fairytale

Expected Release Date: January 2016

Cover Design: Alchemy Book Covers

Summary:
Thespa, queen of the water sprites, has brought her own Lost Ones to Neverland. As the mermaids and mermen arrive, the magic returns once again to the Never Sea.

But with these newest inhabitants, something darker and more dangerous than the crocodile lies in wait below the surface.

Discover the untold story of the mermaid destined to become Neverland's sea witch.

Author Bio:
K.R. Thompson writes paranormal stories with a bite and fairytales with a twist. An avid reader and firm believer in the magic of books, she spends her nights either reading an adventure or writing one.

She still watches for evidence of Bigfoot in the mud of Wolf Creek.

FACEBOOK  /  TWITTER

WEBSITE  /  NEWSLETTER  /  GOOGLE+

AMAZON  /  GOODREADS

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Pan & Hook by KR Thompson

Titles: Pan & Hook

Author: KR Thompson

Series: Untold Stories of Neverland

Genre: Fantasy/Fairytale/Short Story

Release Date: Pan: August 10, 2015

Hook: January 1, 2015

Cover Design: Alchemy Book Covers

***AGE 15+ DUE TO MILD LANGUAGE &  VIOLENCE***

Pan
Summary:
Neverland has always been their sanctuary—until now.

Magic is dying in Neverland. Only one pixie is brave enough to search the human world for someone to believe. Tink finds a desolate boy flying in the night, peering in windows, searching for the life he once knew. But can she convince him to abandon his quest and save Neverland?

Discover the untold story of the boy destined to become Peter Pan.

Hook
Summary:
Archie Jameson sat in the dark corners of the print shop, dreaming of adventure.

Today, it found him.

Caught in a chilly October storm, he ducked into a tavern, hoping to escape the rain. What he found, was a room teeming with pirates. Shanghaied by the most elderly of the lot, Archie found himself serving on a ship captained by the fiercest pirate ever to sail the seven seas—the man known as Blackbeard.

Through a series of thrilling twists, Archie finds himself captain of another of Blackbeard’s ships, the Jolig Roger. In an attempt to flee danger, his ship becomes lost under stars never before seen.

Determined to save both his crew and the woman he loves, Archie will make decisions that will forever seal his fate.

Discover the untold story of the man who became Captain Hook.

Pan
THE TINY PIXIE flew over the dark rooftops to the crumbling tower in the center of the town. Zipping to the top, she chose her usual spot and greeted the gargoyle perched on the edge of the roof. Taking one final look to make sure she had the best view, she plopped down on the tip of the monster’s nose and settled in to watch the boy fly from house to house.

Back and forth, from one window to the next he flew, staying at each only long enough to peer through the panes of glass…searching…

At least he was taking his task seriously, she decided, watching him raise up on his toes in an effort to gain a better look inside one darkened, upstairs room. Some guardians were lazy, but this one was not, which was just as well, she noted, as the small, shadowy figure of a child exited through the window and joined him. A few seconds later, the two flew off into the night sky. The children of humans could be a handful—the ghosts of them even more so, especially when they realized they were no longer among the living. It only made sense to appoint another child to deal with their sorrow and accompany their spirits to the other side.

The source of her attention currently gone, the pixie idly kicked into the open air. Small bits of dust sprinkled each time her feet touched the open mouth of the monster she’d been making a seat of. She glanced down, noticing his bottom teeth now sparkled like gold in the moonlight, giving him an even more ferocious look.

The poor thing looked dreadful, with long curling teeth and bulging eyes—nothing at all like her own pretty, golden self. She gave him a bright smile. Likely, that was the only kindness ever given the monster forever stuck up here on the edge of this roof, so she reached down and gave his hard cheek an affectionate pat before turning her attention back to the sprawling town below. After all, she hadn’t come to save this monster. She’d come for the boy and soon he would need her—but not nearly as much as she needed him.

Hook

AN ETERNITY PASSED before Big Ben tolled five bells. They were heavenly peals to Archibald Jameson, who began to wonder if time had somehow gotten stuck or if the gigantic clock across the square was broken. Stretching out his long legs, he stood up from the desk and scooted around the corner, taking care not to bump the towering mountain of paper at the edge. Naturally, it was the largest stack in the entire room—the work that he had yet to finish. If he was even a fraction as meticulous a man as his father—the very man who left him the shop—he would have stayed, locked the front door, and remained into the wee hours to finish the work, however long it should take.

But he was not his father, and he had no intention of pretending to be so. While he was very good at running the print shop, it wasn’t something he enjoyed. It was only what he must do to ensure his survival. Remaining any longer than necessary just wasn’t going to happen as far as Archie was concerned. His inheritance should have been a blessing since he was the youngest of four sons. Without the steady work the shop provided, he might as well have lived out on the street, begging for what scraps could be found. To him, the feel of the paper and smell of ink felt like a prison where he was trapped day in and out. His only release came in daydreams. As he pondered another life or another world, the work piled up before him. He spent hours upon hours each day, dreaming of adventure, of places and people that always made those in his life seem dull in comparison. Those daydreams made his life bearable.

But even the daydreams wouldn’t hold him there once Big Ben chimed its fifth peal. He never stayed a second longer than required.

He blew out lamps and turned over the sign in the window, then pulled on his frayed, black frock. He took one last glance around, then slapped on his hat and stepped outside. Chilly air greeted him as he pulled the door shut, listening to the muted sounds of the doorbell. He turned the key in the lock and jiggled the knob.

Odd, he thought. The tinkling sounds he heard earlier sounded nothing at all like the brass bell on the frame of that door. Odd, indeed. Perhaps it was the remnants of his latest daydream, for the door had never sounded that way before. Still pondering the bell, he turned and rammed directly into a young boy, who let out an audible oof, as he landed on the side of the street.

“I do beg your pardon,” Archie said, offering both his apologies and his hand to help the boy up. The lad flashed a smile, showing a unique set of small, pearly white teeth, before he took Archie’s proffered hand and replied, “Quite alright.” Without waiting for Archie to say anything more, the boy took off, disappearing around the bend.

Hunching over against the cold wind that sent leaves dancing about his legs, Archie shoved his hands deep into his pockets, and made his way down the bricked street, no longer in the rush he was in moments before.

“Mary, I don’t see how we can afford to keep her.” The booming voice was startling. Archie glanced up at a window, which was open in spite of the chill. “Let’s see, two pounds nineteen…”

“George, dear…”

“Now, Mary, hold on a moment. I have the tally right here. Do you think we might try it for half a year on say, five five three? Only half the year, mind you. Oh, drat, I forgot to figure in colic.”

The voice of the man and his wife argued back and forth as Archibald stood, rooted in place, wondering at their strange conversation. As this was his normal route home, he walked by No. 27 every evening. He half-hoped this financial dispute might possibly involve their dog. If it did, he would be more than willing to step up and offer to solve their financial dilemma. He lived alone and the thought of the trim Newfoundland he had seen carrying in bottles of milk from the front steps bolstered his spirits.

The talk of colic, however, kept him from knocking on the front door.

“Shall we say one pound? Yes, that is what I’ll put down. But what of mumps? I’ve heard that can be quite taxing. I daresay that should be twenty shillings there. Don’t give me that look, Mary.”

It was at this point a sharp cry of an infant pierced their conversation and Archibald was quite certain that Nana the Newfoundland was most assuredly not the topic of money, colic, mumps, and their current distraught state. He shook his head, wondering about the sanity of the Darlings in No. 27 as the silhouette of a woman he presumed to be Mary shut the window and the voices muted.

Poor Nana, Archibald thought, to be stuck with people such as that.

He didn’t even want to think about the child whose fate rested on the odds of her contracting whooping-cough and so he openly wished the inhabitants of No. 27 would not be so lucky as to have any additional offspring. He voiced exactly that, and in that same instant, heard that funny peal of bells again. This time it sounded suspiciously like laughter.

He spun around, searching for the source, and saw only a crone of an old woman who stepped out of No. 31. She heard his wish and obviously didn’t agree with his rather bold assessment. Archie was fairly sure she hadn’t laughed a day since she had been born, and moreover, he was absolutely certain that glorious day of her arrival had been at least a century earlier.

“Well,” she puffed up, looking much like a wrinkled, ancient bullfrog before she croaked, “I never!”

“Yes, madam. I should hope for precisely never as it seems the most promising period of time,” he smiled and bent, giving her an elaborately low bow to thank her for her agreement. “For to wish them more mouths to feed, when one seems to be their undoing, would be bad form, indeed.”

The old woman gaped at him, mouth working like a fish out of water. Then, she clamped it shut in a fierce scowl, and proceeded to slam the door with as much vigor as her frail limbs could muster.

Archibald smiled to himself, silently touching the brim of his hat in mock farewell before he spun, leaving the occupants of both No. 27 and No. 31 to their own devices and ignorance. He continued his stroll down the street in much better spirits, knowing that he bested the old woman and possibly even the Darlings without their even knowing it, though he was certain his sentiments would most certainly be relayed by their overly observant neighbor.

Ah, well. They should have known better than to trifle with something such as a child. A small victory, certainly, but victory nonetheless if it caused them to think of someone other than themselves.

The breeze picked up and proceeded to burst insistent, frigid puffs that threatened to dislodge his hat. He clamped one hand on top, squishing it down around his lean face as he resolutely lengthened his stride and marched on, determined to make it home before the storm set in.

He’d almost made it to the corner, to the place where he normally made the left on N. Westburl, and then a right onto 43rd, followed by a various assortment of other long deviations that would get him safely home, when a large crack of thunder shook the air. He decided that just this once he might consider taking the most direct route, albeit dangerous, foreboding, and possibly life-threatening. He stopped right on the bend of the street, uncertain for a fleeting moment, until the next jolting crack of thunder made up his mind for him. He headed straight along Market Street, which followed the length of the Thames River, hoping that the seedy individuals who lurked around the pier were as mindful of the storm as he, and would not cause him trouble on this particular evening, for even though he was quick-witted and could talk himself out of most troubles, sailors tended to be a harder breed of people. They were a sharp and cunning lot, and Archie did not know if he could outsmart anyone else that day, and didn’t wish to press his luck.

He made it past the pier, hesitating just long enough to glance at the small boats tied to the dock. There were obviously people about, and so far he had been lucky enough not to encounter any of them.

But one final ground-shaking crack and the tinkling sound of bells changed it all. The clouds overhead clashed and he ran for the shelter of a nearby tavern, barely escaping the torrent of rain.

Archie had never been in The Captain’s Keg before. He stopped just inside the door and let his eyes adjust to the dark, smoke-filled room. He realized that not only had he run into the very people he wished to avoid, but that he also had a new problem.

These men weren’t just sailors.

He was ready to run back out and take his chances of drowning in the street, when he heard the same tinkling of bells from earlier. This time, it sounded like mocking laughter.

Well. He might very well be losing his mind, but a coward he was not.

He straightened to his full height—all six feet and four inches of it—and removed his crumpled hat with a flourish, tucking it under his arm. He walked proudly down the three steps that led into the heart of the tavern—to a bar, teeming with pirates.

Author Bio:
K.R. Thompson was raised in the mountains of rural Virginia. She resides in Bland County with her husband, son, two cats and an undeterminable amount of chickens. She is an avid reader, firm believer of magic, and still watches for evidence of Bigfoot in the mud of Wolf Creek.

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