D.D. Ward is Writing

A werewolf can kill you with a single scratch.  Nine of every ten people wounded by a werewolf will contract lycanthropy. Of those, all but one in one hundred people infected will die of it rather than become a werewolf. Lycanthropy gestates in the body for roughly four weeks, give or take. Then symptoms manifest. It’s like rabies with extra teeth.  Amber stared at the claw wounds on her calf and her forearm. Ugly red gashes across pale flesh, open and leaking blood. Then she stared at the dead werewolf ten feet to her right. Smoke drifted from a cavernous wound in its chest. Her bodyguard had unloaded silver grapeshot into the beast. The wound should hurt. Instead she felt numb. Twenty eight days, give or take, and then she would know if she would live or die. Then she would know if she was going to howl at the moon or curl up into a ball of pain as her body stopped working.  She looked at what remained of the carriage and the castle guards assigned to go with her. The r...

“It’s rare that I get you all to myself these days,” Amy said. We walked down Caliburn street arm in arm. “I’m going to have to thank Fiona thoroughly when we get home.” “Thoroughly?” I said, raising an eyebrow. Amy kissed the air, “Head to toes, I think.” I shivered, “I could do with that thank you myself,” I said. “I could show you my thanks here.” Amy whispered. I looked around, “Here? In public?” “That would be part of the thrill,” Amy said. “Have you never had a tryst in public before?” “Have you?” I asked. Amy brought a finger to her lips and smiled.  “Amy!” I said. “What? I was a naughty little wench when I was a teen.”  “I can’t square that with how demure you are now.” I said. “You’ve only ever seen me among nobility. I’m still finding my footing there. Ah, here.” She said looking down an alleyway. “What?” I asked. “This alley has proper cover for what I've planned.” “You were serious?” I gasped.  “I was. You would be stunned at how much more sensitive you become...

I didn't spend much time alone these days. That comes with the territory, what with having two fiancées and all. I shared my bedroom with Amy and Fiona. I shared my study with my teacher Brianna. I shared my home with all of the members of House Myrddhin. It was crowded. Not that I wasn't used to sharing a space. I had lived in the girl's academic dormitory before I entered the world of Moonlight Hearts.  I stood on the balcony staring out at the pre-dawn light. In the room behind me, Fiona and Amy slept in our bed. The breeze chilled me as I stared out at the Boro Sea. This was my home now. Forget college and studying fashion design. Forget my broken toxic family history. Forget everything about my old life. This was my home now. This was my life now.  Since Lynn and I had arrived, we had forged lives for ourselves in this fantasy video game world. It occurred to me, though, that we hadn't made any attempt to find our way back to our own world. I didn't even think ...

“Should we have fridges? Or is that the designers being lazy again?” Lynn whispered. She removed the cream and poured some into two old fashioned glasses. “You said that you saw a coffee liquor?” The grandfather clock in the other room read eleven past midnight. The party had wound down, and as usual, Lynn and I were the last ladies standing. I passed her the liquor. “Well Ben Franklin did his kite thing in the seventeen hundreds. So electricity wouldn’t be impossible. But this feels like they’re stretching things. Still. Still, this is such a relief. I hadn’t been in the kitchen before today. I guess that’s the luxury of being a lady. Where do they keep the vodka?” “You have gin. I have vodka.” Lynn produced a flask from her bodice. “Don’t you have a bodice dagger?” I asked as she added the liquor and the vodka to each glass.  “No. I consider it a show of faith in my bodyguard. Here we go, two white Russians.” “There’s no Russia here. I say we call it a Thulean Winter.” I said. “T...