W. R Gingell
What is a maiden to do when her prince is not a prince, her hair won't stop growing, and someone has cursed her to sleep for 300 years?
In Polyhymnia's case, it seems expedient to get up with the help of a kiss or two, trailing her hair behind her, and find out who did it. Nothing quite works out as planned, however. Poly can't be sure if that's because she never seems to be able to remember things like the mysterious spindle that keeps showing
G'day. I'm Pet. Not, not Pet—I am a pet.
Well, I was a pet: I used to belong to two fae and a stroppy vampire. Now I'm homeless. I mean, I was always technically homeless, but this time it's different.
I just got used to having some kind of family, and now we're back to everyone wanting to kill each other—and guess who the weak link is?
I'll give you a hint: it's not the vampire, and it's sure as heck not the fae.
G'day. I'm Pet. Heirling. Biter of fae lords. Trouble.
I have a lot of names these days—including my own, real name. Unfortunately for me, someone else knows that name too; not to mention the names of my other heirling friends. Now those heirling friends have disappeared, stolen by the current King Behind for a fight to the death where only one contender to the throne remains.
The rules say there's no way in and only one way out of
When someone tries to threaten me by telling me they know my name, I take that personally.
G'day. I'm not really a pet anymore, but you might as well keep calling me Pet. It's not like I'm gunna tell you my name anyway. And if I sound stroppy, well, I am. First, I was threatened. Now, someone has cut off my house from the human world and left my emotional support vampire on the human side. On the inside, it's just me and an emotionally compromised
I'm not supposed to push through the boundaries of reality without supervision. I'm definitely not meant to drag a cop Between with me.
But stuff happens, you know?
Hi. I'm Pet. Well, not Pet, exactly. I am a pet.
Nothing too hard; I just cook and clean for the Behindkind who took over my house. Easy. But now one of my owners has gone missing. He's fae, so it shouldn't worry me, but if there's something out there that can kidnap fae, I
G'day. I'm still here. Still Pet.
Well, I'm only two thirds of a Pet these days, but you might as well call me Pet anyway. Everyone does: everyone but the vampire, that is.
Life is more unbalanced these days—cases are cutting closer to home than usual. I thought I was the only one, but there are others like me: kids whose parents were murdered just like mine. Stuff that never fit into place before is beginning fall into place.
And
What happened to the tie frog? What is the best way of disposing of vampiric watermelon? Exactly how do you get rid of goblins in the spare room?
Friends and foes, Between and Behind—all the little pieces and curiosities that make up Pet's new world—are here to be seen and delighted in, and put on the shelf beside books 1-10.
Featuring Cloudy with a Chance of Dropbears, All the Different Shades of Blue, and every other Short Thing
8) Between jobs
Don't get too close to humans.
That's rule number one. Well, it is if you're an emotionally constipated fae lord. As far as I'm concerned, the vampire could do a better job of keeping his distance, but he's never been that good at following the rules.
G'day. I'm Pet. Schrödinger's Pet, these days; depends who's asking.
I'm human, but when you hang around with enough Behindkind, it starts getting dangerous for the other humans around
10) Between Shifts
There's a body beneath the skip bins. Fae on the forklift. A vampire in the manager's office. And there's definitely something skeevy going on in the locker rooms.
Hi. I'm Pet. Well, not exactly Pet. I am a pet.
I was meant to stay out of it, but somebody's gotta do something when humans are being killed by Behindkind creatures. Luckily for me, my owners are just as dangerous and inhuman as the bad guys...
...maybe more.
11) Between Frames
Two fae is company, but a company of fae is trouble.
Which is exactly what we've got. Trouble, I mean. Well, and fae. Lots of fae. Something or someone is stalking and killing high-level fae around Hobart—tearing out hearts and leaving a trail of bloody bodies behind. Fae don't like it when they're the ones getting killed, so of course they came to hire my owners.
Owners, you ask?
Hi. I'm Pet. No, that's not my name. I am a pet.
My
Life is complicated.
I mean, life has always been complicated, but there's a difference between monsters-are-trying-to-kill-you complications and monsters-are-in-love-with-you complications. I'm still not sure which is more dangerous.
G'day. I'm Pet. Two-thirds of a pet, anyway: the vampire isn't claiming ownership these days, but he's definitely encroaching. On the list of other encroaching complications is the threat of heirling trials,
