Bewitching Book Tours: Now On Tour Urbantasm: The Spring Storm by Connor Coyne + Exclusive Excerpt #MagicalRealism #Urbantasm #TeenNoir #ExclusiveExcerpt

Urbantasm: The Spring Storm is the fourth and final book in the magical teen noir serial novel inspired by the author’s experiences growing up in and around Flint, Michigan.

The stage has been set. The chessboard awaits. Against a background of love and friendship, of hard-won grades and groundbreaking plays, John and his friends are ready to claim their lives, their futures, and their city. They have identified their adversary: a mysterious man who calls himself “God” and manipulates the Chalks street gang through the influence of his children. John has also unlocked the secret of O-Sugar, an otherwordly drug with the ability to distort space. But God wields a powerful influence throughout the city of Akawe, and nobody seems to understand his true motives or intentions.

As the ice and frost of a long and unrelenting winter finally crack under cold, torrential rains, frozen things begin to stir again. The brutal murder of one of John’s friends and the abrupt disappearance of another signals that the moment of action has arrived. Who will survive this dying city, and how will the experience change the survivors? Akawe has been unstable for decades. A bit of lift and heat and moisture is all it needs to build a spring storm.

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URBANTASM, BOOK FOUR: THE SPRING STORM

BEWITCHING EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT

When Ruth woke the next morning, she was lying on the narrow bank of a silver stream with tall trees rising all around her. She resolved to find a happy ending, and so she smoothed out the wrinkles of her faded gown and set off upon her way.

            Eventually, she came upon an old Witchy Woman with a wart upon her bent nose sitting upon a brightly-painted green carnival horse. The woman was playing with a golden cherry.

            “Hey,” said Ruth. “Do you know anything about a Beautiful Prince or a Dog Man who is supposed to marry an urbantasm with eyes of stars and a belly as empty as the infinite abyss?”

            “How do you know about that?” asked the Witchy Woman.

            “I was supposed to marry him,” said Ruth, “but I did not keep my word.”

            “He is being kept in his stepmother’s house, which is beyond the moon and through the center of the sun. He is being kept in an urbantasm at the heart of everything and stretched out thin along the outer edge of the universe! I don’t think this story will have a happy ending, or maybe you think that it will, but you will be surprised in the end. At any rate, I want to help you out. I will lend you my green carnival horse, and you can ride it to see my neighbor, the Craggy Queen. Send my horse back to me when you get to her. Keep my golden cherry.”

            So Ruth took the golden cherry and mounted the green carnival horse and rode for hours, days, and weeks, and finally came to the Craggy Queen who was painting a new coat of purple paint upon her bright-painted carnival horse with a paint brush made of pure gold. Ruth got off the green horse and sent it back to the Witchy Woman and asked the Craggy Queen about her prince.

            “I don’t know much about it,” said the Craggy Queen. “Just that he is being kept in his stepmother’s house, which is beyond the moon and through the center of the sun, in an urbantasm at the heart of everything, stretched out thin along the outer edge of the universe. This will end badly. Mark my words. Still, I will help you if I can. I’ll lend you my purple carnival horse, and you can ride it to see my neighbor, the Vanilla Girl. Send my horse back when you get to her. Take my golden paint brush.”

            So Ruth took the golden paint brush and mounted the purple carnival horse and rode for hours, days, weeks, and months, and finally came to the Vanilla Girl weaving on a golden loom next to her blue horse. Ruth got off the purple horse and sent it back to the Craggy Queen and asked the Vanilla Girl about her prince.

            “You look familiar to me,” said the Vanilla Girl. “I don’t know much about it, just that he is being kept in his stepmother’s house, which is beyond the moon and through the center of the sun, in an urbantasm at the heart of everything, stretched out thin along the outer edge of the universe. I get a sick feeling in my stomach when I think about what will happen to you, but I’ll give you any help that I can. I’ll lend you my blue carnival horse, and you can ride it to see my friend Eurus. Send my horse back when you get to him. Take my loom.”

            So Ruth took the golden loom and mounted the blue horse and rode for hours, days, weeks, months, and years, and finally came to Eurus. Ruth got off the blue horse and sent it back to the Vanilla Girl and asked gentle Eurus if he knew where she could find the prince in the urbantasm at the heart of everything and stretched out thin along the outer edge of the universe.

            Eurus murmured, “I’ve heard whispers about this place, but it’s much farther than I’ve ever been. Ride on my back, and I will take you to my brother Zephyrus, who is older and stronger than me. Maybe he’ll know where it is.”

            So Ruth climbed onto Eurus’ back, and they rode for days, weeks, months, and years, and finally came to Zephyrus. Ruth climbed off Eurus and asked steady Zephyrus if he knew where she could find the prince in the urbantasm that is at the heart of everything and stretched out thin along the outer edge of the universe.

            Zephyrus said, “I’ve heard stories about this place, but it’s much farther than I’ve ever been. Ride on my back, and I will take you to my brother Notus, who is older and stronger than me. Maybe he’ll know where it is.”

            So Ruth climbed onto Zephyrus’ back, and they rode for days, weeks, months, and years, and finally came to Notus. Ruth climbed off Zephyrus and asked angry Notus if he knew where she could find the prince in the urbantasm that is at the heart of everything and stretched out thin along the outer edge of the universe.

            Notus growled, “I believe that this place exists, but it’s much farther than I’ve ever been. Ride on my back, and I will take you to my brother Boreas, the oldest and strongest of us all. If anyone can find it, it is he.”

            So Ruth climbed onto Notus’ back, and they rode for days, weeks, months, and years, and finally came to the cave of Boreas. Ruth climbed off Notus and asked howling Boreas if he knew where she could find the prince in the urbantasm that is at the heart of everything stretched out thin along the outer edge of the universe.

            “Yes,” wailed Boreas. “I know where that is. I carried a single leaf there and was so tired from the effort that the airs didn’t stir above the earth for a long time afterward. If you are certain that you want to go, climb onto my back, and I will try to take you there. But hold tight because I am very cold and move very quickly, and if your fingers get numb and you let go, you will fall into the ocean or shatter upon the rocks.”

            Ruth slept through the night in preparation for their journey. In the morning, when Boreas woke her, he was as dark and cold as the emptiest patches of the night sky and just as terrifyingly huge. But she climbed upon his back and netted her fingers tightly about his shimmering shawl, and they set off into the world. The storm that passed in their wake wrenched up houses, leveled farms, flattened factories, and yet they blew on and on, for days, weeks, months, years, and centuries. Eventually, Boreas grew tired, and then more tired, and then so exhausted that the tips of his toes were dragging in the ocean swell beneath him.

“Are you afraid?” asked Boreas.

            “No,” said Ruth. “I’ve seen horrors you cannot imagine. This does not frighten me.”

When they finally arrived, Boreas had only enough strength left to hurl her onto the windswept beach of a sandy island. On the margins of the island stood a crystalline palace with ice-clear walls, spires and turrets, and stairs made of seashells and sand dollars, beyond the moon and through the center of the sun, in an urbantasm at the heart of everything, stretched out thin along the outer edge of the universe.

            Ruth was so weary that she fell asleep right there on the beach. But the sounds of a distant carnival wakened her. The whistle and whir of the carousel. The humming of the Ferris Wheel. Bells ringing at the top of hammer drops. Calliopes and crowds and cheering and celebrant thunderstorms. Ruth sat up in the sand and, to lift her spirits, she admired the golden cherry that the Witchy Woman had given her. Then, an urbantasm princess came down from the castle, and she had eyes of stars and a belly as empty as the infinite abyss.

            “I gitty filthy rich I is,” said the princess, “and I wisht your golden cherry. How much you want?”

            “There is no amount of money you can give me that would make me sell my golden cherry,” said Ruth.

            “I’ll give it and I’ll give ... just said me what you want.”

            “Okay. Let me spend the night with the Prince who is here.”

            “Sure thing,” said the princess.

            But that night, the princess poured a drop of an enchanted green poison into the prince’s crystal goblet so that he fell into a deep sleep. Later, when Ruth was left alone with him, she shook him, she whispered in his ear, she shouted and beat her fists upon his chest. He did not wake.

            When the sun rose again, the princess returned and drove Ruth from the palace. Frustrated, she sat down in the sand and started tracing patterns in it with her golden paint brush. The princess returned again, and the whole conversation repeated itself. Ruth offered to exchange the paint brush for a night with the prince in the castle. But the princess poured a drop of an enchanted purple poison into the prince’s crystal goblet so that he fell into a deep sleep. And once again, when Ruth was left alone with him, she shook him, whispered into his ear, and shouted, and beat her fists upon his chest, but he kept on sleeping.

            When the sun rose again, the princess returned and drove Ruth from the palace. In a frenzy of despair, Ruth kicked up mounds of sand, and screamed out over that celestial ocean, then sat down in the sand and started weaving with her golden loom. The princess returned, and the whole earlier conversation repeated itself. Ruth offered to exchange the loom for a night with the prince in the castle. Laughing, the princess agreed and returned to the palace with the loom.

            That day, Ruth prayed to God for help. And God appeared as a gentle breeze that whirled Ruth’s hair about her and then passed into the castle, where a handmaid was bringing the prince a blue-hued crystal chalice perched upon a golden tray. And that breeze upset the tray so that the chalice fell to the floor and shattered into a million glittering pieces.

            “Shall I ask the princess to fetch you another?” asked the handmaid.

            “No, she’ll scour us if she finds out,” said the prince, and he drank a cup of water instead.

            When Ruth came into the prince’s room that night, she easily woke him.

            “You are here just in time!” the prince said. “Tomorrow is my marriage to the urbantasm princess. Now I know that you are faithful and will help me escape no matter what the cost is to yourself. I have decided how we can trick her. I will tell her that I will only marry her if she can wash my shirt. And I will give her the shirt that got the wax droppings on it. Because that wax is the symbol of your deceit and betrayal, it will never come out, but since she is evil, there is no way that she will know that.”

            And Ruth and the Beautiful Prince slept in each other’s arms that night.

            The next morning, the prince told his stepmother that “I have one shirt I will wear for my wedding, but it has a wax spot upon it, and I would like your daughter to wash it for me. I won’t marry anyone who cannot wash this shirt.”

            The urbantasm princess began to wash the shirt, but the longer she washed, the more she scrubbed and rubbed at the spot, the larger and thicker the spot became.

“You don’t know how to wash a shirt!” cried the urbantasm stepmother, and she seized the shirt from her daughter and began scrubbing herself, but it got worse and worse, the waxy mark spreading across the whole shirt even as the fabric started to stretch and fray. And all of the stepmother’s evil family came down from the carnival and tried scrubbing the shirt until it completely fell apart in their hands.

            “Oh no!” cried the Beautiful Prince. “You’ve failed. You’ve totally fucked up. There’s a beggar girl outside the window. I’ll bet she can fix my shirt. Hey, if she can do that, maybe I’ll marry her instead!”

            The stepmother looked at the ragged mass of stained and scrambled threads before them.

            “Nobody can clean this shirt,” she said. “Nobody will ever wear this shirt again! But she is free to try, and if she proves me wrong, then you can marry her instead!”

            They took the messy shirt out to Ruth along with the bucket of suds. Ruth dipped the shirt in the suds and lifted it out. When the garment emerged dripping from the water, it was whole and clean and perfect.

            Then the urbantasm stepmother screamed so loud and hard that her horrible voice sounded throughout the universe, and she exploded herself like a massive sun, and the urbantasm princess and their whole urbantasm family screamed and sounded and incinerated themselves as well.

            Ruth Lang and God Ostyn consummated their marriage right then and there, and he gave her a beautiful gold-green one-piece swimsuit as a wedding gift, and they lived happily together in the crystalline palace with the ice-clear walls, the sharp spires and turrets, and stairs made of seashells and sand dollars, beyond the moon and through the center of the sun, in an urbantasm at the heart of everything, stretched out thin along the outer edge of the universe, for a very, very, very long time. Maybe even a million years times a million years, and that a million times over.

            But even that long is not forever, and the Witchy Woman, and the Craggy Queen, and the Vanilla Girl brooded, anxious, worried, because they knew that this must all come to an end.

            Eventually, everything comes to an end.

            Even endings.

About the Author:

Connor Coyne is a writer living and working in Flint, Michigan.

He’s published several novels and a short story collection, and his short work has been featured in Vox.com, Belt Magazine, and elsewhere. He lives with his wife, two daughters, and an adopted rabbit in Flint’s College Cultural Neighborhood (aka the East Village), less than a mile from the house where he grew up.

Learn more about Connor’s writing at:

Author Website: http://ConnorCoyne.com

Series Website: http://urbantasm.com

Blog: http://connorcoyne.com/blog

Author website: http://connorcoyne.com

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Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4218298.Connor_Coyne