Handling a bad review

   So, I got my first bad review today, Well it's been there a month, but I only just saw it today. It was disheartening at first, yet the flaw had nothing to do with the story I told. The flaw, which I know is there, is with the grammar. I know my grammar is bad, always has been. That is why I did not rely on myself to edit my book. To this particular reviewer it was so bad that they found it difficult to read and was unable get into the book.
  Now, this could be one extreme grammar Nazi, I've known a few of those in my day or it could be the honest truth. I am the first to admit every author needs a editor. Still, what is a self- publishing author to do when they can not afford the 500 to several thousand dollars for an edit on a book they may or may not  see a return on. I don't know about you, but I have bills. Maybe I should have just submitted and waited for the rejection letters...
  Needless to say this did not help with the lull in writing I'm currently experiencing. That is about it, hopefully The Muse will return soon.


Progress Report:
MFLI: The Machine- 10589
Violet Eclipse Part 2- 1512
Two Thrones- 7014

Tracking down the words

Welcome back folks. I'm a sorry it's been so silent over the last month. I have truely been lost for words. My mother used to say "If you have nothing good to say, don't say anything at all." I'm finding that being a Self-Publish author obviously means being a salesman again and a socialite. Frankly, though I was decent at it, I hated being a salesman and I'm the type of person that friends make not the other way around. So the reason  for the recent silence is that I just could not find the words.

This is not only in reference to this blog , my facebook page or twitter(a concept i don't completely get), this is my writing in general. I had planned to have book 2 of the MFLI series written by now, however I am just over 10,000 words into it. I have the Two Thrones short story that I haven't even looked at. The Violet Eclispe part 2 still in the first chapter. The words have been fleeting. I don't call it writer's block, that is to say I don't know where I want to go. I know where I'm going, It's telling the reader how I'm getting there.

The plan now is to rekindle my effort both as a writer and a promoter. To start here is a unedited MFLI flash fiction "The Ship"

MOORE FOR LESS INVESTIGATIONS: THE SHIP

 I wasn't always uneasy about heights. Hell, in the heat of the moment I forget that I have and aversion to heights not confined by sturdy walls or solid glass. Still heights and I do not get along for one very simple reason; I'm prone to fall from them. A few years of military service and a few more as an officer of the Luimere Police force and I had managed to never step foot onto an airship. And there I was free falling in open air, the beautiful city of Luimere below; hurtling toward me faster than an airship soaring across the sky.

Captain Ovur Brassbeard was an old friend from the war. He used to talk about flying one day and he had spent his life savings on “The Sun Bird”. 'The Sun Bird” was a modest frigate class ship coveted for air travel. She was fit for carry cargo and people alike. Ovur was as far as anyone knew, the first dwarf to captain an Airship.

From what I gathered, many of the other captains did not take like the idea. A length of rope lashed in front of me. I stretch out and grappled onto the flailing line for dear life. The pain of the intense burning sensation that followed flared up my arms. I could feel the skin tear and a good length of the rope became red with my blood.

I clinched my teeth and grit through the sensation. I looked up to see “The Sun Bird” and “The Maiden's Wish” dancing a slow aerial waltz bound together by gang planks and ropes. I could hear the sounds of battle high in the clouds. Blades clashed, guns flared and occasionally some unfortunate soul fell from the sky. I heaved myself up the rope, my accelerated healing went to work replacing my rope burned flesh. How did I get here you ask?

A few days ago after her maiden voyage, “The Sun Bird” found herself displaced. Ovur was rudely awaken to his ship overrun by pirates. Most of his men were killed and he was left to fend for himself in the Scarred Lands. A ruined bit of land torn asunder by the war. Ovur and his remaining men managed to return to the city.

A dwarf on a mission, Ovur found his way to my office door. I'm a private detective and finding a stolen airship in a city of one million people was not as difficult as one might have thought. It was a matter of asking the right questions to the right people in the right places. Having a few sovereigns to pass around did not hurt either. I'm a firm believer if you want to catch a thief, then logically you should ask a thief.

It did not take log to discover there was an abandon shipyard in Lower City Luimere, that had recently been very occupied. I did my due diligence and broken into said shipyard to discover “The Sun bird as it had been described to me, undergoing several cosmetic changes. I discovered that the leader of the pirates was a human named Captain Brikland.

I continued my progression up the rather long length of rope. Another man fell from one of the ships above. I swore as I narrowly avoided colliding with the pirate. His brief scream echoed through my mind like the sound of a passing train's whistle. I increased my pace tapping into the power of my beast. This situation had gotten out of hand.

Honestly, I should not have been there. Hang from a rope some twenty feet below the two floating vessels. I had returned to Ovur and explained all that I had seen. I tried to break it to my friend that she was lost. A foolish mistake on my part. I had forgotten that I was dealing with a dwarf, an eccentric one, yes, but a stubborn dwarf nonetheless. I could not let him and a few good flyboys go into battle alone. It was against my nature and Ovur knew it.

So here we were, having it out in the open sky above the grandest city the world. A rag tag group of flyboys and private detective against a gang of sky pirates. I cursed myself for not agreeing to were the mechanical wings Lucy had crafted. I heaved myself over the rail to “The Sun Bird's” deck and narrowly rolled out of the arc of a slashing cutlass. I swept the legs from the man and with a smooth motion drew Lucy from her holster and fired.

I have very little reservation for killing. In fact I have, but one rule “Self- Defense.” I holstered Lucy and picked up the dead-man's cutlass. The balance was awful, but I had less chance of hitting an ally with the sword, than my gun. I parried an incoming strike and cut down another pirate while surveying the two ships.

Ovur was at the rear or aft, I am not familiar with nautical terms. I ducked under another swing and effortlessly toss my assailant off the ship. I made my way toward Ovur who was crossing blades with Brikland. The old dwarf had not lost a step with his double edge battle axe. Cannon fire rocked the ship sending splintered wood and soon to be corpses skyward. I held on tightly to the banister with no desire to attempt wingless flight again. I heard a shot fire from behind me. The bullet tore through my right shoulder blade and out through my chest.

I roared in rage as I fell to one knee, blood spilled from the wound covering the wood planks. I turn and with merely a seconds glance hurled the cutlass at the gunman. The bladed turned end over end before planting itself firmly in the man's chest pinning him to the center mast. The hole left from the bullet slowly closed, The shattered bone knitted itself back together, the flesh healed shut, the bleeding stopped but my rage, my rage did not subside. Leagues in the air among so many, was not the place to let my rage get the best of me.

I withdrew Lucy and emptied her wheel on to the deck. I reached for the spell infused bullets on my belt. I grabbed the one I knew contained the frost spell. Not my bullet of choice, but firing a ball of fire on a ship made of wood being held aloft by a mass tank full of hydrogen was not the most logical course of action. I grabbed a second containing an acid spell, while tripping a passing pirate.

I knocked another pirate sternly across the head with the butt of my pistol and took aim at Captain Brikland. I gave no warning, no preamble, no question. The two tiny vials of green liquid bubbled like boiling hot water. The elvish runes etched into the barrel and on the wheel took on chilled blue glow. I pulled the trigger, the gun fired to the sound of shattering ice. A cloud of frost filled mist rocketed forward in a light blue jet stream.

The cloud struck the unsuspecting pirate Captain freezing him in place mid swing instantaneously. Everything went quiet as the crew of three ships paused in astonishment. Everyone at the fearful captain that had become a statue of wind blown ice. I walked over to frozen captain coolly and pointed the pistol at his head. I turned to the onlookers and shouted over the wind.

“Good Day to you all. I am Marcus Moore nd as you can see, I have disabled your captain. At the moment he is not dead, though for how much longer depend on his capacity to hold his breath. That, however is not his pressing issue. The first shot from this pistol was a tier two ice spell; currently in the chamber is a tier one acid spell.” I said waving Lucy, then pointed her back at Captain Brikland's head.

“So, gents. Do your Captain a favor and put down you weapons or we will all have the pleasure of witnessing your captain's face melt off.” They stood there in disbelief.

With the pummel of my pistol I shattered the ice around Captain Brikland's mouth. He gasped for air in big gulps through purple lips.

“What say you Captain?” I asked in a completely uncaring manner.

He grumbled through chattering teeth. “Do ask he says, you scurvy dogs.”

A chorus of steel on wood planks rang through the air. Hands went up to reveal pirates free of weapons.

“Captain Horus?” I shouted.

“Yes, Marcus?” The human Captain of the “Maiden's Wish” answered.

“Do you have a brig on the Maiden Wish?” I inquired.

“That I do.”

“Very well, then lets get these boys rounded up. There is a sizable bounty for this lot. There is sure be more than enough to cover the damages and expenses.” I said with a smile.

“Sound good to me, old chum.” Captain Horus agreed. Horus was another old war-buddy and worked the same company as Ovur and I.

I felt a pat on my lower back as the crew of “The Maiden's Wish” marshaled the pirates.

“You done it, lad” Ovur said with a smile.

“No, we did it. I just helped a bit.”

“Still a modest lout, Marcus. Take the damn compliment and thank ye for getting me ship back.”

I shrugged my shoulders “It is what you hired me to do.”

We clasped hands, “Now, Ovur if you don't mind could you land this ship? I'd really like to get off now.”

The dwarf captain laugh a hearty and went about taking us home.

Progress Report:

MFLI: The Machine- 10589

Violet Eclipse Part 2- 1512

Two Thrones- 7014

 

Thoughts and plans

  Tonight, I begin recording Moore For Less Investigations: The Kid. The recording will be in serial format and I'm looking for them to be about thirty minutes long. I'm following the Podiobooks guidelines and will be releasing the book on their site as well as my own. This will be an interesting part of my journey in a attempt to make a career out of my passion to tell stories.
  I also believe it will help me regain focus and get back into writing mode. Sadly, this means I also have to stop listening to audio books during my two hours driving back and forth from work. Like many others, my writing style tends to be influenced by the authors I'm listening to. MFLI written by Terry Pratchett would definitely be different than MFLI written by Jim Butcher or Cherie Priest. Though my voice is my own, we all in every medium are inspired and influence by someone.
  Book one, I can say was heavily influenced by Jim Butcher, though not so much that it was not a Marcel Alexander book. I wish to keep that feeling and develop more as an individual with book two. Book two is off to a promising start and like the Dungeons and Dragons games I run, has already veered off the beaten path. The core is to explore more of the city, its history, its people and continue plot-lines left unresolved in book one.
 Which means it's time to find the right music and immerse myself into my world. Luimere lives and breaths and changes in my head. I have the bullet points of the story I wish to tell. Its just the matter of connecting the dots and staying clear of the distractions.
  Hopefully soon I will be releasing Violet Eclipse: A Time In Shadow-Part 1. I'm currently waiting to hear back from fellow writer ,Jesse Kulla, who is proofreading/editing it for me. That is all for now.

Progress Report-
MFLI: The Machine- 7822 word count
The Violet Eclipse: A Time In Shadow-part 2 - 1512 word count

How about another sample from Book 2?

We both entered my Athena and after a few moment of allowing the steam to build in its engine we were off. Highland park was not to far away from my home and with the street nearly empty of steam powered cars or horse drawn carriages. We made the trip in under ten minutes. I knew we were at the right spot when the patrol airship came into view quietly hovering over the scene like a watchful owl.

I pulled the car over to the side of the road and we hiked the rest of the way on foot. I showed the officer guarding the alleyway my consultants badge and he allowed us through. The Luimere Police force had come to summoning this ex-cop for grunt work when clues ran dry. They were unaware of my heritage, but joked about me being a hound that never lost a trail.

The smell of the body reached my nostrils at the moment we reached the alley. It had not been dead long and there was the distinct smell of something acidic. Though knowing what I knew that smell was not from acid touching bare flesh. We ventured further into the alley. From the corner of my eye, I could tell Cristabella was surveying the surrounding.

Jarred was standing over the body at the end of the alley. Jarred Belgum was the product of a chocolate-skinned mother and orcish father. He stood just under seven feet tall and was built like a prize fighter. Even now in his late forties he was a force to be reckoned with. He was dress in a brown and tan suit and a bow-tie, his wife's doing, she had at thing for bow-ties.

“Jarred, what is that thing growing on you face?” I asked pointing out his mustache that had merged with his muttonchops forming a large mass of black hair on his face.

“You are one to talk with that tie, pretty boy”

I looked down for the first time realizing I had put on the unreasonable bright red tie with gold imprints. I shook my head.

Jarrad looked over at Cristabella who was surveying the alleyway. I saw a small smile touch the corners of his mouth.

“Seriously Marcus, You brought your date to a crime scene.”

I let of a small laugh. “Cristabella is not my date. She is a distant relative and my assistant.”

She looked over at us, the light of the mechanical torches dancing off the reflective surface of her amber colored eyes.

“Right... a wood elf relative.” He said rolling his dark eyes.

“I did say distant,” I said with a smile. “All pleasantries aside. What do we have here?” I asked looking down at the naked corpse.

“The victim was shot and stabbed but looks like he was in a brawl before that. He is bloated and puffy about his face and there is something not right about the wounds. The strange thing is that who ever killed him took the time to strip him naked and dug the bullet out.”

I looked over the body and sniffed the air. The wounds were swollen and by the smell of it filled with pus. Symptoms commonly seen from severe allergic reactions. I tapped a small button on my goggles and pulled a small vial and tweezers for my jacket pocket. The tapped cause the tiny gears within the goggles to go into motion and change the enchanted lenses. The goggles were another gift form Lucy.

The lenses changed to the set of adjustable magnifiers. I knelt over the body and focused on the blade wound. With the modified sight in addition to my all ready impressive vison, I scanned the wound. I hoped I would find a tiny sliver of what I believed the murder weapon was made of. After a moment I found what I was looking for a tiny spec of silver. I removed the piece of metal and put it into the vial.

“What's that?” Jarred asked.

“A clue for this personal case, I've been working on.”

“So it's evidence. You honestly think I'm going to let you walk out of here with that?”

“Jarred, it not evidence if one knows to look for it. I'm just putting some pieces together. Like I said it's personal.”

“So you and the lass here are working on a serial murder case and don't think to get the actual authorities involved. This is not the first body like this I've seen over the years, Marcus.”

New Opportunities

On Sunday I had a pleasant conversation with Gaiter Tee the Head man over at a growing comicbook studio https://www.facebook.com/pages/Rotten-Apple-Studios/121211237902991. He's been whispering in my ear of both doing a comic version of MFLI:The Husband and revitalizing The Misfits. The Misfits was my online webcomic featuring an all female team with major superpowers. Those who have read my work know that I write visually as I started with comic book scripts. So I pose the question to my readers and friends. Would you like to see MFLI: The Husband as a comic written and pencils by Me? Would you be interested in seeing The Misfits completed? For those of you who have not seen the misfits www.themisfits.thecomicseries.com 

Progress report.

MFLI: The Machine - Word count: 7019
The Violet Eclipse part 2- 1448

I've been a bit of a lazy the last few weeks, not that i have been uninspired, more that I've been distracted. It is getting closer to con season and I need to start thinking like a merchant instead of a artist. Time to start looking into cons and establishments for book readings and booths. As the old saying goes you have to spend money to make money. I understand now why writer get agents.

The Silence

No, that is not a Doctor Who? refernce, though kudos to those who came to that conclusion. In this instance I am referring to my recent silence on my blog. Admittedly I have been a bit of a block in all forms of writing. This usually means that one of my other talents is fully operational. Maybe I should work on the cover for book 2?

As of today we have seen a few sales mostly friends and family. Thank you all for your love and support. I've been told that the book had been passed around to friends of friends as one would hope. I am looking into other means to promote my work that will not break the bank as well as becoming more involved in social networks.

We should have the release of my high fantasy novella "The Violet Eclipse: A Time In Shadow part 1"  here soon. Currently, it's going through a second round of editing.

Additionally, Moore For Less Investigations has a theme song created by my pal Clifton Derrell https://soundcloud.com/madfazemusic/mad-noir Enjoy.

No much of a post this week. Here's rough sample from book 2 MFLI: The Machine

Chapter 1

Sleep. Sleep is a wonderful thing, a thing many take for granted. I never thought I would one day miss sleep, nor did I think that day would be this very day. It was early one Saturday morning. Now when I say early, I mean to say I was pleasantly sleeping, when I was awakened by the chime of my portable scrying mirror going off.

I grunted in disapproval opening one eye to spy the clock on the wall. Two thirty-three it read. I swore and rolled to my left to reach it. I nearly jumped out of my skin with a sudden start as I bumped into Cristabella, once again sleeping in my bed. I'd told her dozens of times not to do that, not that she wasn't a pleasant sight to be held. In her elven form, she was over six feet tall, lean muscle with the skin the color of a light copper. She was also a four hundred year old werewolf.

I reached over the naked she-wolf and grabbed my portable. The hand-held scrying mirror whispered the name Jarrad Belgum. I turn the nob on the mirror accepting the summons. After a moment Jarred's face appeared on the silvered surface.

“Jarred, I'd be lying if I said I was happy to see your face.” I grumbled.

“Aww.. did I interrupt your beauty sleep, pretty boy?” He said with a wide half-orc smile.

“Well inspector, what can I do for you this fine morning?”

“It's more of what I’m doing for you. We got one of them bodies you asked me to look out fer.”

I swore again and ran my hand through my bed rough hair.

“Where?”

“Middle city, alley just off of Highland Park.”

“OK, I'll be right over.” I told him and closed the connection.

I turned over to the bed and gave Cristabella a nudge. She rolled over revealing her luscious bare form with a seductive smile on her face.

“You have your own bed.” I said without speaking.

“I'm a wolf, Marcus, we sleep better in groups.” Her words came clearly to my mind bypassing her lips and my ears.

I had discovered last year upon meeting Cristabella that others like our kind could communicate this way and made it a point to practice. Oh, that's right I am a werewolf as well.

“Funny, I don't seem to see you sleeping in Tobias's bed.”

“Not the right alpha, I'm afraid.” She thought with a smile and rose from the comforts of my warm bed.

I shook my head with a deep sigh. “We have to go, there is another body.”

“That is the fifth one this year” She spoke aloud with true concern in her voice.

“I know.” I said pulling on a shirt.

Moore For Less Investigations: The Kid Debuts!!!

February 20th marks the day I released my debut novel "Moore For Less Investigations: The Kid" to the world. http://www.amazon.com/Moore-Less-Investigations-Kid-ebook/dp/B00BI6DISG/ref=sr_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1361379936&sr=1-3

All my hard work has payoff to this moment. From this point on, I can say I completed phase one of my plan to write a bestseller. I wrote it and only time will tell if it will succeed or fail. Either way it is but the beginning. Stay tuned!

PS. http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00B623PCQ is free today and tomorrow so got get your self a copy!

Finding your voice/ New Chapter one

In the last few weeks since publishing MFLI:The Husband. I have spent a lot of time surfing different forum and attempting to engage in conversations. Honestly I hate forums I am the kind of person that in reality would go into a room  and just stand in the corner. Eventually someone would take notice and before long I am engaged in a lengthy conversation of some sort. So the whole jump in a random conversation doesn't work so well for me. By the by in one of the writers forums in www.thesteampunkempire.com the question came up whether or not a story needed to be dark and gritty to be engaging and entertaining. This question arrose from the writer noticing that all the other students in her creative writing class wrote in this manner.

My answer was "no"

To point of fact I expressed that at the end of the day as a writer it is more important to find your own voice.   In my journey as a new writer (I don't use the word "aspiring." You can not aspire to be what you already are.) I struggle with how I was telling my stories. They were solid ideas and carried contenace, but did not feel right when i read them out loud. I wasn't until I started writing MFLI that I discovered myself as a writer.

In that forum post I aslo pointed out that it was quite possible to tell and light-hearted even comical story within a dark gritty setting. I used the example of The Colour of Magic by Terry Pratchett. The setting is dark bleak filled with thieves, assassin, vile merchants, and crazy wizards. At the same time you have the comical magicless Wizzard Rincewind , the naive Twoflower and the hilarious Death (That's right Death).

I expressed that as a writer it is a matter of  you telling your story in a way that is you own.

I know everyone has been waiting for the release of MFLI: The Kid. Trust me I've been waiting to release it myself. I want to put as much polish on it as I can. That is not to say I've been adding to it or rewriting anything. Proofreading lots of proofreading. I'm sure I'm still going to miss something. A special treat I'll leave you all with the revamped first chapter.




  Chapter 1


I was falling, not figuratively, but literally. This sensation pretty well summed up the next few days in my life. So I feel it is important to start there, with the falling. I had been chasing a rapist for the past few days and had managed to track him down to an airship. “The Duchess” was a long travel vessel docked in the Luimere Airship landings. We had had a scuffle about the ship as it flew over the grand city and the bastard got the best of me.
So I fell! You never really know how long thirty seconds feels, until you are falling thirty or so stories in open air. I don't remember the impact with the rooftop of the low building, but when I came to, my body screamed with the force of a banshee in protest. It took several minutes for my accelerated healing to mend my shattered bones. All I could do was wait. After what seemed like hours of intense pain, my legs were healed enough for me to stand. As I struggled to my feet, I said a small prayer to my long dead parents thanking them for my gifts.

“Guess I won't be getting paid for this one” I grumbled.

I dusted myself off and cleaned up what blood I could, then made my way down from the roof. The building that had broken my fall had been a four story apartment. I passed several confused tenants as I limped down the stairs.
I imagine I looked horrible in tattered bloodstained clothes. I'm not sure if it was my near golden, amber colored eyes or the gun on my hip, but they all shied away as I passed. When I exited the front door I took in my surroundings. I was still in middle city, not too far of a walk from my office. I began walking through the streets of Luimere.
Luimere is a home to every race in the known world. A proverbial melting pot if you will. Anywhere on these streets you are likely to bump in those of orc, human, dwarf, elf, gnome, goblin or any mix of the aforementioned. There are the occasional giants and ogres that have acclimated to the urban lifestyle.
The city, however, does not only breathe with life of its people. We are at the peak of what many call the age of steam. There is not a place where gears cannot be seen turning and winding, generating power. Tufts of white steam and black smoke filled the air making the clouds above ever so heavy with rain.
The city of Luimere is also an industrial mecca. All manner of industry can be found here. Steammobiles, airships, ships, weapons, textiles, produce, livestock, you name it; it can be found. Everywhere you look you can see steam pipes providing power to the many high rises and factories. These pipes, filled with copper wiring, are like the veins of the very city providing it's life blood. The massive power plant in the city's center, luminescent at all hours, is its massive heart.
The city stretches north to south alongside the Black Sea and is broken into four primary parts. Upper city is home to the upper middle class and the insanely rich. The Middle city is where you would find the bulk of the population, as well as much of the mom and pop shops, small factories and my office.
The Lower city is where much of the large industrial factories are located. Many of the poorer citizens of Luimere call Lower city home and scrape to get by on what work or hustle they can. Lower city is also littered with ruthless street gangs. The final section of Luimere is that of Downtown. Downtown is home to the Skyrises that stretch hundreds of feet in the air. Downtown is filled with shops, corporations, museums, various collages of all manner of talents.
You cannot walk five feet without hearing the release of pressure. The streets are littered with grime, moss and all other manner of filth. You find, like in any city, the poor, the homeless, the drunkard and the lost. You see the well to do, the honest and the crook.
The ache of my body lessened as I made my way, and by the time I reached the door to my building, it was a dull memory. I made my way up the three flights of stairs and down the hall to my office door. On the frosted window within it read Moore For Less Investigations. I pulled out my key, unlocked the door and stepped inside.
I stripped off my cloak and hung it on the rack next to the door. I removed my enchanted goggles that had hung loosely around my neck and placed them on the rack as well. I frowned as I had realized I had lost yet another hat. I pulled off my gun belt, placing Lucy on the desk, and went over to the small table off to the side of the room and poured myself a bourbon. After surviving a thirty story drop I figured I deserved a drink. Never mind the fact it was only ten in the morning.
I sat down in my office chair and pressed a small button underneath the desk. Steam hissed as pressure released from the bottom drawer. I slid open the drawer which contained the recharging unit for my pistol “Lucy”. Lucy was special, like the girl that made her and the two of them shared a name.
Lucy is a one of a kind handgun designed to fire arcane bullets. The gun was designed and constructed by Lucille Ravens. Like the gun, Lucy is one of those rarities. Her father was an elf and her mother a gnome. The girl was gifted with a mind that understood machines and magic better than most, and how they can work together better than anyone. She isn’t sore on the eyes either, though she tends to be as blunt as a sledge hammer.
I locked the pistol in place and the two tiny vials of green liquid began to bubble. I closed the drawer and turned my attention to the papers in front of me and the glass of dark brown alcohol. I was not thrilled with the idea of telling my client I had botched the case. I tapped the scrying mirror on my desk and made the request for my client. Mr. Felmorn answered after the first chime. I retold the incident in full detail, minus the falling part, and gave him the projected location of where the man was heading.
He was upset, but understanding, and surprisingly still agreed to pay me. We closed the connection and I filled in the notes for my personal records. Afterward, I stood and just stared out of the window for a little while. I took a drink from my glass of bourbon as I watched the steam powered cars pass by on the street below. It reminded me I needed to take my Athena for a tune up.
The smell of her perfume hit me before she could rap on the door. A combination of honey and wildflowers drifted under my door and worked its way to my keen nostrils. I quickly stripped off my tattered jacket and put on the spare which was hanging off the back of my chair. I checked myself in the mirror. The rain it seemed, had washed away the blood on my face from the fall. I tidied myself up and waited for the knock. A few moments later her shadow appeared and was followed by a soft knock.
“Come in.”

The door opened to a radiant woman, human I could see. She wore a dark gray pinstriped dress with a black bodice over a cream colored blouse and a brown canvas overcoat that was dotted with droplets of rain. Her skin was fair in color with a hint of red to it.
Her hair was a fiery red and pulled back into a small bun. She had a button nose and her lips were painted the color of candied apples. She possessed green blue eyes like the color of the sea on a sunny day. Yet they were filled with worry and distress.
Distress is every man’s weakness. Well, it sure was mine anyway. She sat her umbrella in the rack just outside my office door and came inside.

“Are you Mr. Moore?” she asked timidly.

“Yes Ma’am, Marcus Moore.” I told her as I walked over to the door and escorted her in.

I assisted the lady with her coat and escorted her to the chair, then walked around the desk to sit in my own. She appeared very worried and a bit distracted.

“And you are?”
“Oh I’m sorry,” she said with a start. “I am Arlena Silverstein. I’m the daughter of Augustus Silverstein, the airship mogul.”

“Yes, I am familiar with your father and Silverstein Air. What can I do for you ma’am?”

“Well, you see, I have a problem. My son..,” She stammered. She began to shiver uncontrollably.

“It’s OK.” I told her. “Tell me everything and I’ll see what I can do to help.”

She took a deep breath and regained her composure. She pulled a handkerchief from her waist pouch and dotted away the tears that threatened to ruin her make up.

“Three days ago, my nanny took my son, Braylen, to the Middle city park. No one has seen either since. The police said that they believe nanny just ran off with my son.”

As she spoke I pulled out my small notepad from my desk and jotted down notes. She continued,

“Well yesterday, I received this letter. The letter said, that if I didn't bring them the new blueprint for the drive cores my father’s company was designing, in forty-eight hours, I would never see my son again.” She broke down in full sobs at this point.

As I said earlier, I’m a sucker for distressed women in need of saving. I rose from my chair, walked over and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. I knelt before her, staring right into her eyes. She shied away after a moment. Most do, some say the golden hue makes them difficult to look directly at.

“It’ll be OK, ma’am,” I told her. “I’m really good at finding people. You could say it’s my specialty. Did you bring the letter? I will need you to send me something of both the nanny and your son, also provide me with the nanny’s address.”

She reached within her pouch and produced the letter. It had been typed, not handwritten as I had hoped. I held on to it anyway. I quickly sniffed the paper without her noticing. There was something there but her perfume had soaked into the parchment.

“What of your son's father? Is he still in the picture? If so, is he aware of the situation? If he is not, would he be involved?” I asked her cautiously.

“His father is away on business. He is a scientist and is currently working on some big project up north.”

“My fee is twenty-five sovereign a day in addition to operations fees. Will that work for you, Mrs. Silverstein?”

“It’s Ms.” She corrected me. “Yes, that will do just fine.”

“Very well, I’ll send a runner over with the contract. Just jot down an address they can reach you at on this pad.” I handed her the pad. “Also write down a brief description of both your son and the nanny.”
She scribbled an address and description on the pad and placed it on my desk, along with a twenty and a five sovereign note. She rose from the chair and walked to the door. I aided her as she pulled her coat on once more. She exited my office and retrieved her umbrella from the rack.
I bid her farewell and returned to my desk. Looking back, something felt off about the job, but a job was a job. I did find it interesting that something this high profile was being kept so well under wraps.
I sat at my desk and finished my bourbon as I read over the letter again. It seemed very specific and rather unusual. Most kidnappings involve obscene amounts of money. Asking for blueprints for a gadget? It would have been easier to have someone steal it.
I'd have to see if I could track down who delivered the letter. I highly doubted it was sent through the postal service. I decided I would ask the clerk at the messenger’s office if the message came from there. Or, if it had any other delivery service's signature.
I walked over to my file cabinet and opened the bottom drawer where I kept a spare shirt and vest. I took off the jacket and stripped off the soiled clothes. I put on the light blue shirt and deep green vest, my black tie had managed to remain relatively unmarred so I put it back on. I checked myself in the mirror once more.
A ruggedly handsome fellow, or so I've been told, standing at around six feet tall. My brown hair falling to just above my eyebrows was in need of a trim. I quickly parted it down the center and looked over my close beard. Satisfied that I was once again presentable, I retrieved Lucy from its charging station.
I ejected the wheel of the Six Shooter and gave it a spin. I checked the fluid in the two glass vials just above the hammer. From the drawer I took out two speed loaders. One with standard ammunition, and the other with inferno rounds, you know just in case, and put them in my pocket. On the belt were another twelve rounds, each contained a different spell. I buckled Lucy to my hip and then walked over to my coat rack. I threw on my black cloak, goggles and spare top hat. I exited the office, locking it behind me, and made my way back down to the street.
I decided it would be quicker to walk to the messenger’s office as it was mid-day and the streets were busy with steammobiles and horse drawn carriages whizzing about. Airships flew silently overhead, most of which are converted sea vessels. Big ships fitted with massive helium filled balloons and propelled by steam engines. I popped into the messenger’s office and ordered to have my contract to be sent to the address of Arlena Silverstein. Christopher, the proprietor, waved me over to his desk.

“Marcus, good to see you.”

“Good to see you as well, old friend. How is the back?”

“It could be worse. My wife doesn't hound me about housework anymore.” He laughed wholeheartedly. I laughed along with him.

“Still, I’m glad you came in today. I'm in need of your services,” he said it in a low conspiratorial voice.
“I am on another case at the moment, but I can’t really get started until I get this package back. So Christopher, you know my rates. What is the job?”

“It's nothing too big. Just a little spying. One of my guys has been taking longer than expected with his deliveries. I have gotten rave reviews from the receivers. But as you know, time is money, and the time and the amount of money earned per delivery he's making, is not adding up.”

“Okay, I'll verify that he's not moonlighting some other job at the same time. What's his name and where is he now?”

Christopher pointed to the tall human with chocolate colored skin and hazel brown eyes. His black hair was trimmed close and he wore a gallant style mustache that curled nicely at the tips. He wore a nice auburn colored vest over an egg shell colored shirt and tan colored bowtie.

“His name is Anton” Christopher told me.

“When's his next delivery?”

“He'll be heading out just after you pay for yours.”

“What is he driving?”

“He will be driving the company delivery van, a white painted Hermes with the company logo on the sides.”
“Very well, delay his departure until I have left the building. I'll follow him now and we'll see where he goes. How many deliveries?”

“Including yours, six are along the same route.”

“Quick question for you. Can you tell me anything about this letter?” I handed Christopher the ransom note.

He took the letter from my hand and analyzed it for a moment. Christopher handed it back to me and said.

“This letter did not come from my shop, all of our deliveries come with our company seal. Actually, that's pretty much common practice these days amongst delivery and messaging firms.”

“Hmm. I figured as much. Thanks. Let me set up this delivery and I’ll tail your man.”

“Thank you, Marcus.”

I left Christopher’s office and took my contract to the clerk. He notarized it and placed it into a brown envelope. The clerk then pressed the embossed stamp in some ink in a small tray. He pressed down solidly on the envelope, clearly displaying the company logo. I paid for the delivery and retrieval and made my way back to my steam powered car.
Athena’s are not as regal as a Zeus or Poseidon or as sporty as an Apollo or an Artemis. It sits four comfortably and has modest storage space. And with a little help from Lucy is built like a locomotive. I hopped in and started the engine. I gave the boiler time to heat up then waited for the white Hermes to leave the parking lot.
I followed the van through the streets of Luimere. I was careful to keep two cars between us during the drive. With each stop I made it a point to keep driving and loop back around to continue observation. Nothing out of the ordinary happened during the first two stops.
I started to let my mind drift to the bigger case and the missing kid. Years ago I was a member of the Luimere police force. During that time I dealt with a few kidnappings. Only one of them went well. My client receiving the ransom note so late in the game was a good sign though. I watched the driver pull up to a set of row houses.
Like the others, he withdrew the package from the rear of the vehicle and carried it to the door. He rang the bell and waited for the recipient. An elf female answered the door, bare as the day she was conceived. I had to take a moment to pull my jaw off the dashboard.
She was tall, nearly as tall as the delivery boy, and extremely well fit as most elves were. Her hair was a light green showing her wood elf heritage. Her long pointed ears gleamed with several silver earrings. She wrapped her arms around the dark skinned man's neck and drew him in for a deep and passionate kiss.
She stepped back from the kiss and led the young man into her home. I sat there in the car and waited. While I waited I set my keen ears to listen. Not the, what normal humans consider listening, when I focus, I can hear a heartbeat from fifty feet away.
The noises I did hear made my ears burn. I almost felt like I needed a moist towel. The man definitely had a hidden talent and awe inspiring stamina. And that is saying something coming from me. After about an hour the chocolate skinned delivery boy exited the elf's home. She appeared at the door as he left with a look of complete satisfaction on her beautiful face.
The next two deliveries were much the same, the third being a pair of goblins and the forth being an orc. Each time he spent an hour pleasing his host, with, from what the ladies were referring to, as his amazing manhood. I admit I was impressed and amused at the same time. Being voyeuristic is part of private detective work, but it is rare to come across something this amusing.
I departed after the driver made the final delivery to the location Arlena had provided. I thought it was odd. I knew it would not be her home address. Yet this was not even her father's office either. The sign on the front of the skyscraper read “Devlin Works.”
I drove back to the messenger’s office and met with Christopher in his office.

“So Christopher, you do not have to worry about your driver doing double duty.”

“Well that is a relief. What is he doing then?”

“Have you noticed that he makes deliveries to the same clients?”

“Yes, he has a few regulars?”

“Have you noticed that all the rave reviews have been from female clients.”

“Well...I...uh..My gosh, yes, they have been.”
“Your employee is not working another angle while on the job. He is, however, working some angles while on the job. I reckon you will receive three satisfied customer notices today alone.”

He sat back in his chair and rubbed his balding head. He opened the drawer next to him and withdrew a small stack of sovereigns. He counted out twenty-five of them and slid the stack across the desk toward me. I picked up the money and placed it in my wallet.

“I should warn you. It is likely these females are house wives. If you continue to employ the lad, I'd suggest either having a chat with him or providing him an alternate route.” I told him as I stood up.

“Wise, as always Marcus. Thank you. I'll have your package delivered to your office.”
“Very well, take care of yourself and watch that back.”
I walked out of Christopher's office and headed to the door. The young man walked in just as I reach the door to leave. I tipped my hat and smiled. He did the same and went on about his business. I grinned like a clown and shook my head as I walked back out to the street.
The rain began to drum its beat from the thunderous clouds above. I ducked into my Athena and started up the boiler. The engine rumbled and the steam hissed. I shifted the car into gear and pulled out into the busy streets of Luimere once again.