by R. J. Blain
“Maybe you should become a therapist, because that is something my therapist would say.”
“Why do you have a therapist?”
I laughed. “Well, apparently, all police chiefs get therapists, because we have a tough job. I had no idea Sam was seeing one, but he only gets a session once a month. I get a session once a week. Apparently, I really do have more self-esteem issues than an entire ward can readily handle, so my therapist is trying to undo the harm from my idiot parents. Rabies the Wonder Wolf comes to my sessions, and he’s basically a police wolf in training and a therapy animal. Sunny is also a police wolf in training, but she’s learning how to be a bomb wolf among other things, so she’s learning different skills. My husband will mostly handle Sunny while I get Rabies the Wonder Wolf.”
“I’m amazed you have time to deal with someone like me.”
“Someone like you? Please. Your nephew is my boss, and nothing is more annoying that watching my damned boss get mopey because of a cold case he can’t pester us about no matter how badly he wants to come into my office daily and ask me to use the damned magic I already used to close that damned case. I have plenty of time to ‘deal with you’ because you’re nice, you deserve to have your life back, and you have a family who loves you. And for once in my life, I get to say helping people like you is my job, and I really like that.” I dragged Jeffrey to the damned rental SUV we kept around because the convertible couldn’t fit everybody, I didn’t want to keep two cop cars in our driveway, and we needed to be able to cart our entire menagerie around. “Hey, Lucy. This is Jeffrey.”
The Devil played nice, smiled, and shook hands with the commissioner’s uncle. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Please forgive my niece. Pregnancy plus nerves means her mouth surely runneth over.”
“She’s been wonderful.”
“Well, that’s her default. She’s just really weird about it. Get on in, and I’ll fill you in on everything you need to know to get through today without taking one of those anxiety pills you have in your pocket. Bailey, I’ll make sure he has a good time, so try not to worry. If there are any problems, it’s not as if you don’t have an entire hotel full of those who can fix it if you ask. And unfortunately for all of us, we have learned you are not afraid to ask.”
I laughed at that. “Blame Sam. It’s his fault. He taught me nobody is going to hate me if I can’t do everything myself. It turns out life’s a lot better when you aren’t constantly sabotaging yourself.”
“That it is,” the Devil agreed.
I considered hiding in the lobby, but after I gathered the flock of pets and my purse, the valet made off with my keys to park my husband’s new baby in the safety of the parking garage. I heaved a sigh, went inside, and waited for the Devil to escort Jeffrey inside.
Even from the lobby, I could hear evidence of a family feud in progress somewhere deeper in the hotel. I gulped, heading to the lobby desk. “Please tell me the Quinn party isn’t destroying the hotel.”
The woman nearest to me grinned. “They aren’t destroying the hotel, Chief Quinn. They’re doing a demonstration. It seems your family has decided to test their skills against your husband’s family, and they’re doing spars. This has resulted in everyone having quite the good time, although it is noisy. None of the guests are complaining, as they have been invited to watch. This kind of entertainment can’t be bought.”
Well, that was something. At least our families were keeping themselves amused before dinner. “And lunch and dinner preparations?”
“The lunch spreads are being prepared right now, and all is going well. Dinner plans are on schedule. The caterers are checking in with us every hour as you asked. There was one issue, but it turns out there is excess food rather than insufficient food.”
“What we don’t eat should be delivered to the nearby soup kitchens.”
“They are expecting to have so much they will overflow. It seems the estimated amount of food was accidentally tripled.”
I frowned. The regular order of food had been deliberately designed to provide meals for the homeless, with various dinners prepackaged to be taken out. At triple the volume, we could feed the homeless in the entire city with extra to spare. “Let me get back to you about that problem in an hour. Just instruct them to package the excess for shelters and the homeless, and I’ll worry about distribution.”
The Devil had minions, and the heavens had its fair share of angels. Given twenty minutes, I bet I could set up a competition for who could get the most food passed around to those in need.
“Excellent. I’ll let them know. Chief Quinn was looking for you earlier. It seems he noticed you had staged an escape.”
Damn it. “I swear. He gets worse separation anxiety than Rabies the Wonder Wolf.”
“Yes, I do,” my husband said from behind me. “I see you’ve been causing mayhem again.
Busted. I turned around and wielded my best smile like a weapon. “Oh, it’s the best husband in the entire world. How are you doing?”
“I’m wondering why my wife ran away.”
“The Devil made me do it!”
“I really did not,” my uncle complained. “Why are you blaming me? I helped you because you’re holding visitation rights over my head.”
“Well, you are the Devil, and as I like my soul where it’s at, and I have what you want. I will ruthlessly use what I have to get what I want. But thank you for cooperating with minimum complaint. I had a good time.”
“You’re teaching her to be extra feisty, Sam,” the Devil muttered.
“Honestly, I’m really pleased with the results. Ah.” My husband chuckled and went to Jeffrey, holding out his hand. “I understand now. It seems my wife has hoodwinked me again.”
“She seems to be quite talented at that,” the commissioner’s uncle replied with a smile. “I really appreciate everything you’ve done.”
“I’ll take the Dowry family to one of the smaller meeting rooms, Bailey. Some things don’t need to be public, so we’ll make the delivery and go watch your father and Anubis pick fights with each other while everybody make bets and laughs. Your mother’s already here, though she won’t be able to manifest until later in the afternoon, so you’ll get to see both of your parents at the same time. Please try not to cry.”
I’d learned one thing: pregnancy hormones meant I was going to cry. Early, often, and without remorse. “That’s not happening, Sam.”
My husband sighed. “A man can dream.”
“Yes, you can. Go get his family gathered.”
“I’ll go with him,” Jeffrey offered. “It’s not as though anyone will recognize me anyway. Time has done its work. I can’t even recognize myself.”
“No,” my husband disagreed, giving the commissioner’s uncle a pat on the shoulder. “Trust me on this one. They’ll see you, and they’ll know. They’ve been waiting for this moment for years. Stay with Bailey until I text her phone, and then we’ll send you in. Your family needs this as much as you do.”
I gave it ten minutes before he managed to herd everyone, as my husband had a talent for making people do what he wanted. “Excited?” I asked.
“Terrified,” he admitted.
I understood that. “Well, do your best. They’re good people, and they’ve been looking for you for a long time.”
“That’s why I’m terrified.”
My husband tossed me to the wolves, chickening out on delivering Jeffrey to his family. After shooting him a glare promising retribution in some part, I decided I’d get my revenge in one simple way.
I asked Jeffrey to wait in the hall with my husband, went into the conference room, and took a piece of paper, a map of New York, a piece of chalk, and some ink with me. I left the door open behind me, as I expected the family would be following a pink, shimmering path soon enough.
Commissioner Dowry raised a brow. “When Sam said there was something we needed to see, I wasn’t expecting you with some paper. Is that chalk?”
“It�
��s a map, a sheet of paper, some chalk, and ink. Honestly, I don’t really need all of this stuff, but it works when I do it this way, and that’s that. Sam gave me your case.”
The entire family stilled, and I took the moment to look over the gathering, which consisted of Commissioner Dowry, his wife, six older people I could only presume were parents or grandparents, and several men and women around Dowry’s age, likely siblings or cousins judging from the similarities in appearance along with their wives. All in all, twenty-three people filled the room, all waiting for what I had to show them.
“I see.”
“I’m a wayfinder, Commissioner Dowry, and this is what I need to find where you need to go.” I frowned, eyeing the paper and the rest of my supplies. “Honestly, I’m just being an ass and could tell you where you need to go, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“You know what happened to my uncle?” Dowry asked.
“Yes.”
I gave the family a chance to process my single word, and a myriad of emotions played across their faces, ranging from hope to grief.
“The wayfinders we spoke to all said the same thing. It cost more than we could afford to do what we needed,” he said, his brows furrowing. “Why are you different?”
“I wanted it bad enough, as do you. Sam seems to think my magic is directly tied to need. The more need I have for it to work, the more likely it is to work. That’s his theory, at least. Was it easy finding your uncle? Not precisely. I had to throw a bit of a fit to make my magic work, but that’s fine. It worked. Are you ready?”
The Dowry family exchanged glances, and after a long time, the commissioner nodded.
“Severe fast onset Alzheimer’s resulted in your uncle’s disappearance. One day, he was fine. The next, he couldn’t remember anything, and because he’s an Alzheimer’s patient rather than suffering from standard amnesia, the missing person’s databases didn’t align when the NYPD searched.”
“Alzheimer’s?” the commissioner blurted.
“You would have to ask an angel what induced it. I can’t tell you that.”
“What happened to him?”
Poor Commissioner Dowry. His tone led me to believe he expected the disease had finished its wretched work. “I established a trail, and on our way home from our honeymoon, we visited a mental hospital in Delaware, which is a long-stay facility run by the state. We identified him, and the state began treatments. He was released this morning and is waiting with Sam to see you. Sam, however, seems to be a chickenshit today, and he’s making me come in here and tell you all about this.”
“I’m not a chickenshit, Bailey. I’m just not the one who found him, so I shouldn’t steal your thunder. You did the hard work. I just drove the rental.” My husband poked his head into the door. “Please don’t stir the ire of the tiny terrors starting a path that leads right around the corner.”
Damn. I threw my hands in the air, gathered up my supplies, and faked a sniff. “You’re mean, Samuel Quinn.”
“I’m sure I’ll find some way to make it up to you later. Your father is looking sad and lonely down the hallway. Apparently, he hasn’t gotten a hug yet today.”
For fuck’s sake. I loved my father, but sometimes, he drove me to the end of my rope and gave a few tugs to see how crazy he could make me. “I hugged him yesterday. Numerous times.”
“Yes, but that was yesterday. That’s not today. I’m siding with him, my beautiful. It’s a sad day without a hug from our cindercorn. Now that you’ve done your part, I’ll go do mine. Go enjoy some time with your family and try not to cause more trouble than you can handle.”
“I like that you’re acknowledging I’m going to cause trouble.”
“I love you, but you are the Calamity Queen. Where you go, trouble surely follows.”
That I was, and yes it did. “Whatever you say, Trouble.”
Dear Reader,
In 2016, Bailey tumbled to life as a NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) project, written because a close friend (Diana Pharaoh Francis, and she writes some of my favorite books!) was having a hard time in her life and needed some laughter. So, while I wrote Playing with Fire, I shared it with her, hiccups and all.
She laughed. So did I.
The Flame Game is the last Bailey & Quinn novel, although they will show up here and there as side characters in other stories set in this world. They may also make short appearances in future Magical Romantic Comedy anthologies of short stories and novels.
All things must come to an end, and I hope you enjoyed their books. No, no matter how much you beg and plead, there won’t be a fourth Bailey & Quinn novel. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not sorry for making that decision.
They have the happily ever after they deserve.
But since I’m here, I’d like to answer a question about the Magical Romantic Comedy (with a body count) series.
This ‘series’ won’t last forever. While I enjoy writing them, I am tired of being typecast against a series that represents approximately a quarter of what I actually write.
I’m tired of people leaving nasty, low-star reviews because my other books “aren’t Magical Romantic Comedies (with a body count.)” Or that “This isn’t funny!” Or that “I was here for fluff!”
Please stop it.
If you think the Mag Rom Coms are fluff, you haven’t been paying attention to what you’re reading.
Fluff means ‘lacking in value or substance.’ If you are missing the substance of these books, you are not paying attention. It’s there. It’s dressed up in humor to make you laugh and enjoy yourself, but there is substance.
Something being funny does not mean it lacks substance.
Leaving unhappy reviews because the majority of my books aren’t Mag Rom Coms accomplishes one thing and only one thing: It makes me want to cease writing Mag Rom Coms.
There comes a point where the only person who isn’t laughing is me, the author. I want to write exciting, fun, adventurous, and somewhat dark books. I also want to write exciting, fun, adventurous, and somewhat hilarious books.
It’s okay to like only one series.
It’s not okay to sabotage other series because you want more of something else.
So please. Stop doing that. All you’re doing is sabotaging the series you like.
I want to keep writing Mag Rom Coms as cleansers between my darker and more serious fare, so please respect that I’m not a one-trick pony.
I enjoy writing (and reading) a variety of books, and the Mag Rom Com series is only one facet of what I like to write.
I’m not going to quit writing the other series because people are leaving unhappy reviews the books ‘aren’t Mag Rom Coms’ or ‘they aren’t funny like the Mag Rom Coms!’
I will quit writing the Mag Rom Coms first, so please keep that in mind when you want to vent in reviews my other books aren’t just like them.
Next year, there are only two Mag Rom Coms scheduled. I want to get caught up on other series, and I need a break from trying to be funny all the time. Sorry.
Writing comedy is hard. Please do me a solid and don’t make it harder, as I really do want to keep writing it.
Stay safe, stay well, and happy reading.
~R.J. Blain
If you like darker books with some hints of humor, you can try Outfoxed (The Fox Witch Book 1), Booked for Murder (Vigilante Magical Librarians Book 1), or the Witch & Wolf Series. (Get the completed series set, as that will save you money.)
I also write as Susan Copperfield, and those books are darker while still having some humor.
Just don’t expect them to be Mag Rom Coms, because they aren’t.
About R.J. Blain
Want to hear from the author when a new book releases? You can sign up at her website (thesneakykittycritic.com). Please note this newsletter is operated by the Furred & Frond Management. Expect to be sassed by a cat. (With guest features of other animals, including dogs.)
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> A complete list of books written by RJ and her various pen names is available at https://books2read.com/rl/The-Fantasy-Worlds-of-RJ-Blain.
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RJ Blain suffers from a Moleskine journal obsession, a pen fixation, and a terrible tendency to pun without warning.
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When she isn't playing pretend, she likes to think she's a cartographer and a sumi-e painter.
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In her spare time, she daydreams about being a spy. Should that fail, her contingency plan involves tying her best of enemies to spinning wheels and quoting James Bond villains until she is satisfied.
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RJ also writes as Susan Copperfield and Bernadette Franklin. Visit RJ and her pets (the Management) at thesneakykittycritic.com.
Follow RJ & her alter egos on Bookbub:
RJ Blain
Susan Copperfield
Bernadette Franklin
Upcoming R.J. Blain releases
License to Kill: Balancing the Scales Book 2, releases on December 22, 2020.
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Murder Mittens: a Magical Romantic Comedy (with a body count) releases on December 25, 2020.
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Dirty Deeds: an Urban Fantasy Collection (featuring a Magical Romantic Comedy (with a body count) novella, releases on January 12, 2021.
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Wild Wolf, the second novel of the Wolf Hunt trilogy, releases on January 19, 2021. (Moved from December 22, 2020 to preserve the author’s flagging sanity.)
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Catnapped: a Magical Romantic Comedy (with a body count) releases on May 11, 2021.