Guardian Lovers

Guardian Lovers: Four short tales set in Mary Jo Putney's Guardian world

Mary Jo here, and I don't think I ever turned down an invitation to contribute a fantasy short story to an anthology because I love fantasy and science fiction and jump at the opportunity to write in that genre. Some of the stories I wrote were novella length and I've published them as standalone releases.

But most of my fantasy stories are shorter, so I decided to publish them in two collections. This first collection, Guardian Lovers, is set in my Guardian world which features people and families that have special magical gifts. Guardians are sworn to use their abilities to help others—but they have the normal human desire for love.

The second collection, Magical Lovers, will contain short stories in a variety of settings and it will be released soon.

In Guardian Lovers:

* The Alchemical Marriage: A stubborn Scottish weather mage and a rare wild talent woman descended from Spanish Marranos unite to save Britain from the Spanish Armada.

* Tuesday Night at the Deli: An exhausted medical student finds unexpected danger and an even more unexpected enchantress when he makes a late night visit to his local New York deli.

* The Demon Dancer: A fierce Guardian hunter who works as a New York police detective joins with a female Guardian to stop a murderous succubus.

* Toasted: A Christmas Story: A Guardian neurologist on a Christmas holiday is enlisted to help rescue imperiled children.

In all four stories, magically talented men and women risk their lives to do the right thing, and in the process find a love for all ages.

Books in The Guardian World

Here's an excerpt from one of the stories, Tuesday Night at the Deli:

It was just after 2:00 a. m. on a warm Tuesday morning when I stumbled into the corner deli and croaked, “Gimme a triple espresso mocha latte and make it fast!”

My pal and classmate Rajiv, who was minding the store for his grandparents, glanced up from his textbook. At this hour, he could get almost as much studying done in the deli as he would at home. “It might be malpractice to give you a triple when you already look like nine miles of bad road. Maybe you should try gettin’ some sleep?”

Even after years of being friends, I smiled at the contrast between Rajiv’s East Indian face and his Texas accent. He’d saved my bacon when I returned to school after a couple of years of bumming around. I’d lost the habit of study, and it was Rajiv who helped whip my brain into academic shape again. “I’ll sleep when finals are over.”

He set aside his book and crossed to an espresso machine so big and fancy that it seemed like it should do more than just make coffee. “Don’t worry, Charlie, you’ll ace the exams. You always do.”

“Only because I study so much I have no life.” I waited impatiently until he gave me the tall, foaming cup. After slurping some whipped cream off the top, I started chugging the latte. Two swallows and I started to feel alive again. “Fat, chocolate, and triple caffeine,” I said contentedly. “What more can a desperate student want?”

Rajiv pulled a couple of hot samosas out of the warming case and handed them to me. “Some protein would be good. And then maybe a scone or three.”

I thanked him through a mouthful of samosa. He made a cappuccino for himself—only a single shot, the wimp—and I decided I would survive this last exam after all. While I chewed, I surveyed the empty deli.

Spotlessly clean, the small place was jam-packed with corner store staples, the espresso bar, and a small but excellent selection of fresh edibles. This being New York City, there was everything from pastrami to burritos to stuffed grape leaves. The Guptas’ deli had kept me from starving for years. “Sure is quiet tonight.”

“It’s Tuesday night. Nothing ever happens on Tuesday nights,” Rajiv said authoritatively. “They’re great for studying.”

A chime rang as the door opened. I glanced over, then stopped in mid-bite. “That is the hottest chick I’ve ever seen,” I said softly, speaking under my breath so she wouldn’t come over and deck me for the sexist comment.

Rajiv studied her. “Nice looking, but not spectacular. Unless she has the keys to your DNA, and judging by your expression, she does.” I could hear the grin in his voice.

She was tallish, with a nice figure, dark hair pulled back simply at her nape, a reserved expression, and a profile that belonged on an ancient coin. I couldn’t see her eyes since she was frowning at the rack of packaged cookies. Technically, Rajiv was right. She looked damned good in jeans and a tweed blazer, but she wasn’t a raging beauty. Nonetheless, she made me want to roll on my back and wave my paws in the air.