Now that I have basic character profiles and a basic plot, my main focus is to get the story written. The profiles and plot will be adjusted as I write and things change, but they provide me with a starting point.
I’ve been getting a bit behind with the editing so the Free Stories section of the website isn’t up-to-date. I’ll get to it as soon as I can.
Let’s continue the story.
Andrew’s father and brothers were experts at getting out of places they weren’t supposed to be able to. The only place his father couldn’t escape from was the jail and that was because the magic that locked it was so ancient, it predated even his family. Andrew was reluctant to attach the word Fae to his family because that would bring all sorts of trouble down on them, but there was nothing else that would allow them the power they had. Some of them. Andrew had never shown any magical ability whatsoever. All he could do was bake.
“That might be it,” he murmured, his mind racing. There had to be a way out of there. His father’s blood ran in his veins; there had to be something of it that Andrew could use. Perhaps he could only get it to manifest through his baking. He got up and walked over to the Aga.
“What might be it?” asked Thomas as he turned in his seat to keep Andrew in view.
“Where did this come from?” Andrew asked.
“It’s a stove. It came with the house.” Thomas stood and joined Andrew in staring at the black cooktop. “What might be it? Might be what?” He jammed his fists on his hips and turned to glare at Andrew.
The Aga was hot, the radiant heat warming the entire house. Andrew had moved the bacon pan off the boiling plate when he’d made the sandwiches but hadn’t lowered the lid to preserve the heat. He did that now, then opened each of the ovens, bending to put his face close to check the heat in them. “Perfect,” he murmured.
Thomas grabbed Andrew’s shoulder so he had to look at him. “I want answers, and I want them now. You appeared in my house bearing one of my spells, take over my kitchen and tell me nothing.” Thomas shook Andrew a little. “You ate my bacon! Now tell me what you are talking about.”
“The gremlins visit regularly, don’t they?” Thomas nodded so Andrew continued. “gremlins love gingerbread.” Andrew grinned. “They love gingerbread so much that they’ll keep eating it until they fall over in a gingerbread coma.”
“Everyone knows that. That’s how Mistress xx coerced them into working for her. She gives them gingerbread rations.”
Andrew clapped his hands together. “That means they’re used to getting gingerbread regularly, but not as much as they want.” He eyed the Aga again with glee. “Do you know what else they say about gingerbread and gremlins?”
Thomas crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. “My studies didn’t include anything but the basics on gremlin sociology.”
Andrew twirled once then settled. Now wasn’t the time to be excited about baking and working out quantities and times. He turned back to Thomas, knowing his grin would look slightly manic. “If a gremlin eats too much gingerbread they literally go into a gingerbread coma. While they’re in the coma, their magic is weakened. I don’t know if it would be weak enough for us to escape, but we’d certainly be able to contain them and make them release us.”
Wild hope bloomed on Thomas’s face.