romance.”
“Are those still being written?” Kiralee was flagging a waiter down. “I thought vampires were dead.”
Coleman grunted. “They’re exceedingly hard to kill.”
They ordered—Manhattans for Coleman and Oscar, a gin and tonic for Kiralee, and Darcy asked for a Guinness. She found herself glad for the interruption, which gave her time to marshal an argument.
Once the waiter was gone, she spoke, her voice only trembling a little. “I think paranormals will always be around. You can tell a million different stories about love. Especially when it’s love with someone who’s different.”
“You mean a monster?” Coleman said.
“Well, that’s what you think at first. But it’s like, um, Beauty and the Beast . When you find out that the monster is actually . . . nice.”
Darcy swallowed. She’d had this conversation a hundred times with Carla, and had never once resorted to the word “nice” before.
“But doesn’t real love work the other way round?” Kiraleeasked. “You start by thinking someone’s fabulous, and by the end of the piece you realize he’s a monster!”
“Or that you’re the monster yourself,” Oscar said.
Darcy just stared at the pockmarked table. She had fewer opinions about real-life love than she did about the paranormal kind.
“So what’s the love interest in Afterworlds ?” Coleman asked. “Not a vampire, I trust.”
“Maybe a werewolf?” Kiralee was smiling. “Or a ninja, or some sort of werewolf-ninja?”
Darcy shook her head, relieved that Yamaraj wasn’t a vampire, werewolf, or ninja of any kind. “I don’t think anyone’s done this before, exactly. He’s a—”
“Wait!” Kiralee grabbed her arm. “I’m keen to guess. Is he a golem?”
Darcy laughed, dazzled all over again that Kiralee Taylor was sitting close enough to touch her. “No. Golems are too muddy.”
“What about a selkie?” Coleman suggested. “YA hasn’t had any male selkies.”
“What the hell is a selkie?” Oscar asked. He wrote realistic fiction: coming of age and drunken mothers, no monsters at all. Moxie had wanted a blurb from him to give Afterworlds what she called “a literary sheen.”
“It’s a magicked seal you fall in love with,” Darcy explained.
“Just think of it as a portmanteau,” Coleman said. “Combining ‘seal’ and ‘sexy.’ ”
Oscar raised an eyebrow. “I don’t see the appeal.”
“In any case,” Darcy said, not wanting the conversation to stray too far, “my hottie’s not a selkie.”
“A basilisk, then?” Coleman asked.
Darcy shook her head.
“Best to avoid horny lizards as love interests,” Kiralee said. “And stick with something more cuddly. Is it a drop bear?”
Darcy wondered for a moment if this was a test. Perhaps if she proved her knowledge of mythical beasts, they would take her through a hidden velvet curtain to the real YA Drinks Night.
“Aren’t drop bears more your territory?” she said to Kiralee.
“Indeed.” Kiralee smiled, and Darcy knew she’d gotten a gold star on that one. Or perhaps a gold koala bear sticker. The drinks arrived, and Kiralee paid for them. “A troll? No one’s done them yet.”
“Too many on the internet,” Coleman said. “Maybe a garuda?”
Darcy frowned. A garuda was half eagle and half something else, but what?
“Be nice, you two,” said Oscar.
Darcy looked at him, wondering what he meant, exactly. Were Kiralee and Coleman gently mocking her, or all paranormal romances? But the Sword Singer books were full of romance. Maybe Oscar was simply bored with the mythical bestiary game.
“Darcy’s love interest is really quite original,” he said. “He’s a sort of a . . . psychopomp. Is that the right word?”
“More or less,” Darcy said. “But in the Vedas, the Hindu scriptures I was using for inspiration, Yamaraj is the god of death.”
“Emo girls love death gods.” Kiralee took a long drink. “License to print money!”
“How do you
“Are those still being written?” Kiralee was flagging a waiter down. “I thought vampires were dead.”
Coleman grunted. “They’re exceedingly hard to kill.”
They ordered—Manhattans for Coleman and Oscar, a gin and tonic for Kiralee, and Darcy asked for a Guinness. She found herself glad for the interruption, which gave her time to marshal an argument.
Once the waiter was gone, she spoke, her voice only trembling a little. “I think paranormals will always be around. You can tell a million different stories about love. Especially when it’s love with someone who’s different.”
“You mean a monster?” Coleman said.
“Well, that’s what you think at first. But it’s like, um, Beauty and the Beast . When you find out that the monster is actually . . . nice.”
Darcy swallowed. She’d had this conversation a hundred times with Carla, and had never once resorted to the word “nice” before.
“But doesn’t real love work the other way round?” Kiraleeasked. “You start by thinking someone’s fabulous, and by the end of the piece you realize he’s a monster!”
“Or that you’re the monster yourself,” Oscar said.
Darcy just stared at the pockmarked table. She had fewer opinions about real-life love than she did about the paranormal kind.
“So what’s the love interest in Afterworlds ?” Coleman asked. “Not a vampire, I trust.”
“Maybe a werewolf?” Kiralee was smiling. “Or a ninja, or some sort of werewolf-ninja?”
Darcy shook her head, relieved that Yamaraj wasn’t a vampire, werewolf, or ninja of any kind. “I don’t think anyone’s done this before, exactly. He’s a—”
“Wait!” Kiralee grabbed her arm. “I’m keen to guess. Is he a golem?”
Darcy laughed, dazzled all over again that Kiralee Taylor was sitting close enough to touch her. “No. Golems are too muddy.”
“What about a selkie?” Coleman suggested. “YA hasn’t had any male selkies.”
“What the hell is a selkie?” Oscar asked. He wrote realistic fiction: coming of age and drunken mothers, no monsters at all. Moxie had wanted a blurb from him to give Afterworlds what she called “a literary sheen.”
“It’s a magicked seal you fall in love with,” Darcy explained.
“Just think of it as a portmanteau,” Coleman said. “Combining ‘seal’ and ‘sexy.’ ”
Oscar raised an eyebrow. “I don’t see the appeal.”
“In any case,” Darcy said, not wanting the conversation to stray too far, “my hottie’s not a selkie.”
“A basilisk, then?” Coleman asked.
Darcy shook her head.
“Best to avoid horny lizards as love interests,” Kiralee said. “And stick with something more cuddly. Is it a drop bear?”
Darcy wondered for a moment if this was a test. Perhaps if she proved her knowledge of mythical beasts, they would take her through a hidden velvet curtain to the real YA Drinks Night.
“Aren’t drop bears more your territory?” she said to Kiralee.
“Indeed.” Kiralee smiled, and Darcy knew she’d gotten a gold star on that one. Or perhaps a gold koala bear sticker. The drinks arrived, and Kiralee paid for them. “A troll? No one’s done them yet.”
“Too many on the internet,” Coleman said. “Maybe a garuda?”
Darcy frowned. A garuda was half eagle and half something else, but what?
“Be nice, you two,” said Oscar.
Darcy looked at him, wondering what he meant, exactly. Were Kiralee and Coleman gently mocking her, or all paranormal romances? But the Sword Singer books were full of romance. Maybe Oscar was simply bored with the mythical bestiary game.
“Darcy’s love interest is really quite original,” he said. “He’s a sort of a . . . psychopomp. Is that the right word?”
“More or less,” Darcy said. “But in the Vedas, the Hindu scriptures I was using for inspiration, Yamaraj is the god of death.”
“Emo girls love death gods.” Kiralee took a long drink. “License to print money!”
“How do you
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