Chapter 1
The Part Where I Died
What a fucking mess.
There are very obvious and important reasons introverts don’t have a lot of friends, and among those reasons is that it can get you killed.
Not that I thought my friends would kill me.
Or even intended for me to die.
But, well…that was what happened.
So, before we even begin, let me just put a warning out there to any of my fellow authors and scribblers who might read this: Don’t leave the house. Really. Don’t do it.
I was behind on my latest book. Weeks behind. And that was not a good thing when I was supposed to be releasing new chapters every day as part of an online serial called Betrayal of the Elf Prince . The only thing keeping me sane was that I had worked ahead of my daily release schedule. That way, if I wanted to take a night off or caught a cold, I’d be able to take a break without skipping a posting day.
But now I was posting new chapters the same day I wrote them, and there was zero wiggle room for me to take a day off without risking the ire of my voracious readers. These people were paying my bills, and they were depending on me to deliver their daily dose of adrenaline and dopamine. What kind of dealer would I be if I didn’t deliver on time?
Of course, Betrayal of the Elf Prince started out strong, with Prince Xeran getting tangled up in court intrigue, killing his twin brother, and going on a long quest that would result in him gaining an enormous harem as he climbed back from his exile to take the throne.
Except I wasn’t smart enough to plot anything out ahead of time. I was writing this book by the seat of my pants. My writing muse had possessed me as words flew from my fingertips and the keyboard clattered in my one-bedroom apartment. I was existing on ramen, coffee, and snack cakes. None of that mattered because the book was surging out of me.
The only problem was that the river of words had eventually dried up.
Where the hell was I going with this book? Sure, Prince Xeran was the “hero” of the book, but was he a good guy? Or was I plotting to put a villain on the throne? Who had really killed his twin brother? And who was at the core of this tangled plot I’d created? Another sibling? A rival kingdom? Someone in his harem playing the long con?
I had no fucking clue.
So, the words stopped cold.
And the longer the words stayed frozen in my brain, the greater my panic became.
I reached out to my friend Georgie to bitch and moan about the mess I’d created. Of course, Georgie cackled at me, being the loving, supportive friend that she was.
It might also have been because I’d run my mouth a few months earlier, saying that she had it easier because she was a romance author, and how hard could it be to write sex?
Yeah, we won’t be talking about how my first sex scene of this grand harem adventure story I was writing sounded like assembly instructions for an Ikea bookshelf.
I’d since eaten crow, apologized for being a pompous ass, and graciously accepted some brutal critiques from her on how to write sex properly.
In the meantime, Georgie’s answer to all my problems was to get out of the house.
Georgie: Go outside.
Me: Ewwwww…
Georgie: Fresh air and a walk will get your brain working again. Staring at your computer screen isn’t fixing shit.
Me: But…but…outside is messy and there are people out there. That’s also going to require me to shower and locate pants.
Georgie: OUTSIDE
Me: You’re mean.
Georgie: You need to remember how to human.
Me: But people, Georgie. PEOPLE.
Georgie: Time to put on your big boy pants, Adam.
Georgie: Wanna meet Jack and me for lunch? We’ll protect you from the people and you can eat something that has a vitamin or two. We’ll even help you brainstorm your plot.
Me: …but pants…
Georgie: Yes, you’ll have to shower and put on pants, but you’ll get fresh air and a fixed plot. That’s a fair trade.
As much as I hated the idea of going outside among the masses, she was right. I needed to fix this mess, and glaring at the computer wasn’t doing it any longer. As it was, I would have to tell my readers I was going to miss a posting day. If Georgie and Jack could help me fix this mess, I’d risk only losing one writing day.
So, after a little more coaxing—because I was that big of a baby—I agreed to meet her downtown for lunch at a cute restaurant with outdoor patio seating. She wasn’t letting this “fresh air” thing go.
The shower worked a few small miracles, and I located some clothes that made me appear to be a well-adjusted, normal human being. I caught a ride-share downtown and stopped off at a bookstore ahead of the agreed time and browsed the shelves.
When I hit the sidewalk and walked toward the restaurant, the worst of the dark clouds that had been hovering over my head had dissipated and the warm, late-spring sun was shining on the city. Blue skies above, a soothing breeze, and some new books in my backpack. Now I was off to meet up with friends to have proper food. If I were lucky, I’d get a few good suggestions to fix my book and all would be right in my world again. It was as though the gods were smiling down on me at last.
To reach the restaurant a couple of blocks away, I had to cross a bridge that stretched over an old canal that wound through the city. The water was usually a calm stream with a few tiny rapids and adorable waterfalls. However, this spring had brought endless rains, and the stream had swollen so that it gushed like an untamed river under the arched stone bridge.
As I crossed, something gold and shiny glinted from a clot of leaves in the gutter. I bent and fished out a coin. It was about the size of a persimmon, with a dragon on one side and a raven on the other. My eyebrows lifted as I flipped it over. The quality was exquisite, but there was no fucking way I’d found a real gold coin in the gutter. If I’d lost this much gold, I would have spent the rest of my life searching for it.
With my thumb, I rubbed away the bit of dirt that clung to the details minted into the coin, but there were no words on it. Nothing to indicate who had made the coin or what it was related to. The thing looked brand-new, as if someone had made it that afternoon. Other than possibly being gold, this wasn’t actual fungible currency.
However, that didn’t stop it from being gorgeous.
Maybe my luck was turning around. This was the start of a great day.
Whistling to myself, I flipped the coin into the air. The gold winked and reflected the brilliant sunlight as it spun. It was as though laughter had become a solid, tangible thing to be held in your hand. I caught the coin in my right and squeezed it, preparing to slap it on my left hand just to see what creature would appear, when crunching metal and squealing tires jerked my head up.
The world exploded into chaos in the blink of an eye. A giant black SUV had plowed through a smaller red sedan and was racing straight at me, its massive engine roaring like a dragon. My heart leaped into my throat, and all thought screeched to a halt. Panic and terror powered my legs, sending them backpedaling as fast as I could move. The heels of my sneakers slipped and gripped the uneven pavement.
With a bump and a trip, I tumbled over the stone railing of the bridge. My feet went over my head once, and then I was falling toward the rushing stream.
If I didn’t bash my head on the rocks, I was going to get sucked under by the racing waters.
Fuck.
This is why I should never have left my house.