Thursday, 29 September 2011

Scottish Sci-Fi. Sort of...

Well, it's Friday, the last day of our Sci-Fi Party! But look on the bright side, the very wonderful Zoe Archer will be joining us shortly! Until then, I've got two pieces of Scottish science fiction to entertain you with.

Firstly from a Scottish comedy sketch show called Chewin' the Fat, meet the Taysiders in Space. Not exactly Star Trek :).

And the second is from the first science fiction I ever wrote: Magic Man. Set in a very different Edinburgh to the one you may know, after a deadly virus has decimated the population of the UK and isolated the city.

Available Now from The Wilder Rose Press
Ebook and Print 

A future world, devastated by a deadly virus…a dangerous attraction that defies the laws of segregation.

In the forbidden zone of Edinburgh’s old town, Catriona Whithorn, a privileged lawyer escaping her dull life and a depressing divorce, becomes Cat, a blues singer in a sleazy bar. When she encounters Magic, a mysterious and sexy street magician, Catriona is drawn deeper into his world, where living for the moment leads to uninhibited pleasure--and a deadly struggle for freedom. For nothing is as it seems.

No stranger to illusion, Magic’s carefree exterior hides a man ruthless enough to do whatever it takes to protect the only family he knows—the people of the old town. When Cat enlists his help to find her missing ex-husband, Magic takes her into his care and into his bed. But he isn't fool enough to believe she wants more than a rough tumble and won't soon return to the comfort and security of the safe zone.

Yet as they uncover layers of abuse, corruption and an undeniable conspiracy of oppression--with Cat's own family at its core--she and Magic must face impossible choices that threaten to divide them forever.


    “Make it two, George,” the Magician said, and George poured another. Rather to her surprise, the Magician stood back and let her pay. Then he carried both glasses to an empty table at the back of the room and sat down, shoving a third stool away with his feet, no doubt to discourage company.

    Catriona sat down opposite him and grabbed the glass he pushed toward her. She sipped from it while she tried to re-gather her thoughts, to remember why it was she had been looking for him in the first place.

    The Magician let her drink, watching her unblinkingly as she lowered the glass from her lips and regarded him wide-eyed.

    “Talisker Scotch whisky,” she observed in clear astonishment. Hardly a common Old Town beverage.

    The Magician only smiled, twitching one eyebrow and stretching the tattooed fish. She took another sip, savoring it. “I think he under-charged me.”

    “No. He didn’t pay for it either.”

    “Did you?” she asked frowning.

    The Magician smiled. “No.”

    So it was stolen. And the Magician no doubt the thief. Which brought something else to mind. “They were afraid of you.”

    “Who were?” the Magician asked without interest. His gaze shifted around the bar.

    “The lads who attacked me. Did you really have three knives?”

    “Four.” He brought his gaze back to her. His eyes were as hard as when she had first met him, his face veiled and cold. Though it detracted nothing from his lean beauty, it forced her to realize afresh the huge gulf between them. Her heart beat and beat, and despite everything, she was still fighting the memory of last night’s dance.

    “Would you have used them?” she asked.

    “No point in having them otherwise.”

    “Is that why they were afraid?”

    “In my profession, I have to be fast and accurate. To survive around here, a reputation helps.” He sounded impatient. His words sent shivers of ice down her privileged spine, and as if sensing it, he negligently raised the glass in front of him to his lips and drank.

    But Catriona, not a lawyer for nothing, refused to let it lie. “A reputation has to be earned.”

    “Has it? Shall we talk about yours?”

    Her eyes widened. “Do I have one?”

    “You tell me.” He put the glass down and sat back so that his face was in the shadows. “Why were you looking for me?”

    She swallowed, again trying to gather the right words. “D-Dot thought you might be able to help me. H-how did you find me?”

    His lips twisted. “Cat, you leave a trail as clear as a warning bell. I trust you never have to hide from anyone. How could I possibly help you?”
    Licking her dry lips, she twisted the glass between her fingers, staring into the smoky liquor. “I—I need to find somebody who’s missing.”


    She lifted her eyes to his shadowed face. “My husband.”

Don't panic - he's really an ex-husband :).