A Trilogy's Fourth Book

Prologue - Through the Manhole Cover

Claire stared numbly at her laptop screen, facing the brutal Writers Block. Her editor wanted her to continue the absurd (and somewhat profitable) series, but she had wrapped up the intended trilogy neatly in the last book. There were always the inevitable loose ends, but none that seemed strong enough for a fourth book. She brushed her long pink-streaked silver-blond hair back, idly rubbing the shaved side of her head with her right fingertips.

"I'll take a quick walk," she mumbled to herself-maybe some people-watching would give some inspiration. She stood up and left her studio for the dimly-lit street. A heavy rattle shattered the evening quiet. She turned to see one of those large, heavy, circular manhole covers shifting precariously before being shoved to the side with a loud clang.

A pale, long-fingered hand shot out and gripped the street. The body of a man followed, dressed to the nines in...court finery? Claire mused, dissociating a little bit from the odd site. His expression not match the gaiety of his outfit. He glanced around, angry eyes coming to rest on her.

"Are you C.R. Wilkes?"

"Who's asking?" Claire replied, nervously backing up a step. This man has the craziest luck. Or is an almost admirable stalker.

"I am Prince Vander, the person whose life you RUINED!" He shouted, shaking his fist at her.

Awesome, an unhinged fan.

"Look guy, it's just a story. None of it's real." Claire slid her phone out of her back pocket, trying to dial 911. She tried to back up farther, but he lunged forward and grabbed the collar of her shirt. She clawed viciously at his arm, and opened her mouth to scream.

"Bring my little sister back, witch!"

Sister? Claire paused. She'd never published that, hadn't even mentioned it on any of her social media pages. It was a side plot that had gotten trashed by her editor Marissa-she'd never written the villain's sister Ashley into the final version of the story. Her editor Theresa hadn't wanted the villain to be a sympathetic character - YA requires a clear antagonist, and humanizing him would potentially harm the sales.

"Please," he released her shirt and rested his hands on her shoulders, head hung in dejection.

Brown hair, the exact shade she had always envisioned, was greasy with sweat. He looked back up at her, emerald eyes shining with grief and unshed tears. His clothes, while high-quality, were loose and wrinkled with wear.

She didn't believe it-couldn't believe it-but this was her villain come to life. From the color of his hair, to the cut of his clothes, to the shine of his boots, it was undeniable. This is crazy. I shouldn't do this. I'll be institutionalized.

"OK. I'll try to bring your sister back. But I'm going to need to grab a few things first."

***

Claire felt the hostile gaze of Prince Vander on her back as she led him back to her apartment. His vulnerable moment had passed as quickly as it had come. The darkness helped to hide the out-of-time clothing of her erstwhile villain, but they had to move quickly through the bright hallways of her complex so she wouldn't have to answer any awkward questions from other tenants. Swinging the door open to her tiny studio - her books had only been modestly successful - she grabbed her fully-charged tablet, a back-up battery, a notebook and pen, some toiletries, almost every pair of underwear she owned, and a good portion of clothes, and threw them all haphazardly into a large travel backpack.

Prince Vander was finally focusing on something else, taking in the tiny but tidy living space. A small smirk was touching the corners of his lips. She tamped down a flash of anger - it wasn't her fault she wasn't born into royalty.

Maybe his anger will cool a little when he sees my humble circumstances. He may be a villainous prince, but he has a castle (albeit a crumbling one in the cold North for exile). I never wrote him to be cruel to his peasants.

"Do you know how to return to your home?" She asked. She hadn't gotten a good look at the manhole to see how exactly he had climbed through.

"Yes, the local witch gave me a charm."

"You allow witches in your kingdom?"

"If they haven't been caught breaking the law, just like anyone else"

Another oddity. She hadn't written that fact into any of the books either. She'd only mostly used witches and otherkin as vague spooky inhabitants of the Wild Woods, with only one or two exceptions. Even her most lawful good character, Prince Edwin, had a ban on witches. Her stories had taken on a life of there own. Damn, I have to get over there! I want to see! She may not like the person getting her there, but to see her fantasy world made real! Any author would commit murder to for that.

She slung the bag on her back, trying to hide her excitement. No need to piss him off even more.

"Alright! I'm ready to go"

"You speak very informally. Please correct that when addressing me."

He whirled his cloak - rather theatrically, Clair thought - and strode purposefully out the door. Claire shut off the lights to follow him on the adventure, hiding her wide smile.