The advent of digital self-publishing as a viable book release strategy has changed lives and made careers, making household names out of authors like Andy Weir (The Martian, which was a self-published word-of-mouth success before it was a Matt Damon movie). It’s a phenomenon that has certainly grabbed the attention of traditional publishers, who are more than happy to place big bets—specifically, physical distribution—on authors who have already proven they know how to captivate readers. Today, we’re announcing another self-publishing-to-traditional-publishing success story: Annie Bellet’s fantasy series The Twenty-Sided Sorceress, a USA Today ebook bestseller, coming to print via Saga Press.
The series follows Jade Crow, owner of a comic book and gaming shop in small town Idaho—and a ex-sorceress, in hiding from evil ex-boyfriend Samir, a wizard who wants to kill her and take her powers. When her friends’ lives are threatened by dark magic, Jade has no choice but to use her latent abilities to save them—even if it means Samir will soon show up on her doorstep, out for her blood (or, more accurately, her heart…literally). Originally published in seven installments, The Twenty-Sided Sorceress is being collected into two omnibus editions for the Saga Press release: Level Grind, due this October, and Boss Fight, out in January 2017. Bellet will continue to self-distribute the ebook editions.
“I came across Annie Bellet’s work after 2015’s Hugo controversy and read the first book, Justice Calling. I was hooked!” said Joe Monti, editorial director of Saga Press. “The roleplaying geekery alongside the fantasy action and intriguing romance are in perfect balance. I kept reading, and knew I wanted to publish the series in print.What really makes these books stand out for me in a crowded category is the joy Bellet brings to the page: from the cliffhanger endings to the gamer fun, these books are a critical hit with a +5 vorpal sword. The great thing is that the entire first arc—all seven books—will be available in two volumes. Binge reading is encouraged!”
“If there ever really was a culture war, us nerds won it. Writing The Twenty-Sided Sorceress is a celebration of that win, and of all the things I love,” Bellet said. “I’m excited to share this series in the most retro and nerdiest of formats: ink and paper.”
Below, check out the full cover art for both Level Grind and Boss Fight, with art by Chris McGrath, and then keep reading for an exclusive excerpt from the first book.
Here’s an excerpt from the beginning of Level Grind, originally published as Justice Calling.
Life-changing moments are sneaky little bastards. Often, we don’t even know that nothing will ever be the same until long after, and only in hindsight can we look and say, “There! That was it! That changed every thing.”
Well, at least we could, if we’re alive to do it.
For me, it was just another Thursday evening on a blustery spring day. I was finishing up a JapanesetoEnglish translation job and only somewhat pretending to mind the register in my comic and game shop. That’s the benefit of being the owner, I suppose. No one was going to tell me to be cheerful and pay attention to customers.
There weren’t any, anyway. Thursday nights are game night and we close early. I hadn’t flipped the sign yet as I was waiting on Harper, my best friend of the last four years, to stop swearing at her game of StarCraft.
“No amount of Banelings in the world are going to save you here,” I said, glancing over at her screen.
“Marines are overpowered,” she growled.
“Sure,” I said, trying not to laugh. It was an old gripe. Whatever race her opponent played in the game was always OP, according to the logic of Harper. “Maybe you should play with a mouse instead of just your trackpad?”
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“I’m practicing my hotkeying,” she said. “Shut up; you’re distracting me.” The string of bells on the door tinkled and I turned away from my laptop to face the front of the store, figuring it was either a college student or a harried mother looking for Pokémon or Magic: The Gathering cards. Those types, beyond my regulars, are about all that trickle into my store on weekdays.
The man who came in was no college student, and he definitely wasn’t a soccer mom. He walked through the door and paused, his head turning and his eyes wide from the change between daylight and the strategically placed lamps I keep in my shop. He took in the front display of the latest adventure releases and the wall rack of newrelease comics, then stepped farther in, head turning as though searching for some thing or someone.
His uncertainty gave me a moment to look him over. He looked roughly thirty years old and somewhat like a Hollywood version of a Norse god. About six foot six with shaggy whiteblond hair, features that a romance novel would call chiseled, and more lean muscle than a CrossFit junkie. He was also packing a handgun, mostly hidden beneath his custom fitted leather jacket.
So, you know, not your average comic book or tabletop gaming enthusiast.
There was also the part where my wards hummed for moment, a sound only I could hear. Which meant he wasn’t human, either.
Not that this was weird for the town of Wylde, Idaho. Most of the noncollegestudent population isn’t wholly human. We’re the shape shifter capital of the West. Harper herself is a fox shifter; two of the other three in my game group are a wolverine and a coyote. Guy who owns the pawnshop next to me is a bona fide leprechaun, and the woman who runs the bakery on the other side is some kind of witch or maybe a druid.
The thick ley lines that run through the River of No Return Wilderness at the edge of town draw all kinds of supernaturals to the area.
It was what had drawn me here. I’d always heard the best place to hide a leaf is in a forest.
I was immediately on my guard. Wards aren’t really my strong suit, so I didn’t know what flavor of preternatural this giant was, but the gun didn’t bode well. Nor did the way he looked at me like he recognized me, or the way he came over to the counter, moving with preternatural grace around the comic book displays. I gathered my power inside myself, pre paring to send a bolt of pure energy into his chest if needed. I hadn’t cast a real spell like that in years, but I figured I could get a single one off without knocking myself unconscious with the effort. Probably.
“Can I help you?” I asked, glad the counter was between us, even if the glass case full of dice and card boxes would be little more than a stutter step to clear for a shifter.
“Who are you?” he said. His voice was deep, with a slight accent. Russian, maybe. His eyes were the blue of glacier ice and his expression about as welcoming.
“Jade Crow,” I said, teeth grinding with the effort of speaking and keeping control of my magic. “Who are you?”
“Hi, handsome,” Harper said, climbing out of the overstuffed chair next to me that she’d been gaming in. She snapped her laptop shut and gave the newcomer a dazzling smile. She was angular and punky, with spiky brown hair and a way of making men forget what they were going to say when she smiled.
Then she stopped smiling and her eyes got huge, focusing in on the silver feather strung around his neck. “Oh, shit. Justice. Forgive me.” And she bowed her head like she was addressing some kind of royalty.
“Justice? Like one of the shifter peacekeepers, right?” I said, my voice shaking a little with the effort of holding on to my powers for this long without letting loose. “The fuck is going on?” I glanced at Harper and then back at the intruder, keeping my eyes on the feather talisman. Yeah, it was better to look at his neck. Or his chin. His lips were way too kissable.
I shoved that thought away for later. Much, much later.
“I am Aleksei Kirov, a Justice of the Council of Nine. And you,” he said, gesturing at me, “are a murderer.”
“What?” Harper and I said at the same time. We shared a baffled glance.
I hadn’t killed anyone in my life, though not for lack of trying once. But still.
Behind the Justice, and invisible at the moment to anyone but myself, my spirit wolf guardian stirred, rising from where she’d been sleeping. Wolf didn’t growl, though, just cocked her head and stared at Aleksei, ready for trouble but clearly not expecting it quite yet.
“I haven’t killed anyone. Ever.” I let go of the magic inside me before I accidentally lost control and unleashed. Wiping the sweat from my fore head, I ran my shaky hands over my hair and tugged my waistlength ponytail over my shoulder.
Aleksei relaxed as a confused look came over his face. “You tell the truth,” he said. “But I saw you in a vision. The Nine sent me here. There are shifters in danger and you were at the center, at the crossroads between their lives and their deaths.”
I opened my mouth. Closed it. A small chill went through me. The only way I could see shifters dying because of me was if he had found me. My psycho exmentor and exlover. I started to mentally pray to the powers of the Universe that that hadn’t happened, or we were all in deep, deep shit.
“Nobody is in danger that we know of,” Harper said. “Uh, Justice,” she added, still trying to look respectful.
What I knew of the Council of Nine was practically legend, the shifter version of gods. They had Justices, powerful shifters appointed to keep the peace among shifter populations and to keep the secret of shifter existence from most of the human world. They were judge, jury, and executioner all in one. Shifters didn’t get up to much crime, but if they did, the sentence was almost always death. Pretty good deterrent, I suppose.
“Besides, I’m not a shifter,” I pointed out. “So, you have no power over me.”
“Unless you pose a danger to shifters. What are you?” Aleksei asked, his icechip eyes narrowing. Subtlety was apparently not one of his charms.
“She’s a hedge witch,” Harper answered for me. I was glad, since this Justice guy seemed to have the ability to detect lies. Harper wasn’t lying, because as far as she knew, that’s what I was. She was just wrong.
Even though she was my best friend, I couldn’t tell her the truth. I couldn’t tell anyone that I was a sorceress. Because they’d all try to kill me or at least drive me away. Nobody likes sorcerers. Probably because most of us are assholes who kill and eat the hearts of supernatural beings for their power.
I was saved from having to verbally confirm or deny my witchiness by Ciaran. He pushed through my front door, all four foot nothing of him, his copperandsilver hair neatly combed and his red coat clinging to his plump body. I looked at the clock on my computer monitor and muttered a curse. It was later than I’d thought.
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“Harper,” Ciaran said with a nod and barely a glance at Aleksei. “Jade,” he addressed me in Irish, “I’d really like you to come have that look at my things before I die of old age.”
“For a man who watched Saint Pat drive out the snakes, you’re look ing fine to me,” I said, also in Irish.
That leprechaun neighbor of mine I mentioned? That’s Ciaran. He’d picked up a load of things in an auction the day before, and as always with old things, he liked to have me check for magical auras and any hidden surprises. I didn’t use my talents much out of fear of broadcast ing my location, but minor magic like detection was as easy as breathing for me, so I did the neighborly thing and helped out when he needed.
“So, uh.” I looked at Aleksei. “Since I haven’t killed anyone and am not planning to, maybe you can just go Justice somewhere else? I’m closing shop.”
“I will stay here. We will talk after. My visions are never wrong.” From how rigid he was and how intently he stared at me, I wondered if maybe he had a sword up his ass or something. “Okay, buddy. Just tone down the creepy before I get back. And you’ll wait outside my store. I don’t do strangers.” Whoops. That came out weird. “In my store. I mean, alone. I mean I can’t leave you here alone. So wait outside.” Great. Now I was babbling.
“Fine,” he said, and I swear to the Universe the bastard smirked at me.
Ciaran’s shop is an antiquer’s paradise and a neat freak’s nightmare. Also probably a nightmare if you have allergies. He kept it tidy in its own cluttered way, but trying to keep dust off a few hundred old books, paintings, and curio cabinets full of knives, glassware, art plates, figurines, tools with unknown purpose, guns that last saw use during the Civil War, and other interesting items was a task even an immortal couldn’t manage.
The shop had an almost smoky, magical feel that I loved. Above us, chandeliers of all kinds, from elk antlers to Waterford crystal, lit the place, casting shadows into the shadows until you felt as though you might come around a table piled with swords and find the wardrobe that leads to Narnia. The air wasn’t musty; it was perfumed with orange and clove and some sort of citrus scent from whatever Ciaran used to wipe down the tables. The best part was that sometimes Ciaran really did have a magical item or two, though that was rare and he generally had me destroy them if we couldn’t figure out what they did. Letting normals buy magical things was just asking for later trouble that nobody wanted.
“Hey,” I whispered to Harper as we entered the shop, “what flavor is that Justice, anyway?”
“Flavor?” she whispered back. “Scary with a dollop of sexy?”
“No, like animal flavor,” I said, whacking the back of her head with my palm.
“Oh. Tiger.” She grinned and rubbed her head.
“Figures,” I muttered. “Guess he wouldn’t be, like, a rabbit or some thing.” I’d bet a week of earnings he would be the biggest damn tiger ever. Shifter animals were usually larger than realworld ones anyway, but odds were that cocky bastard would be like the strongest, prettiest tiger ever to live. The universe was just like that.
“Most shifters are predators,” Harper said, ducking in front of me. “Makes sense someone who has to hunt bad shifters and stuff would be a super predator, right?”
“You two done gossiping?” Ciaran called back to us. He was already halfway through the store.
Harper and I wound our way through the tables and cabinets toward the back office, where Ciaran kept any interesting purchases for me to go over, just in case, before putting them out on the floor.
“Was at an auction in Seattle last month,” Ciaran explained, using English for Harper’s benefit. “Just got the goods shipped in today. Some old pieces; might be worth checking out before I put a price on them. Even found some of those silver buttons your mum likes so much, Azalea.”
Harper wrinkled her nose at him. He knew she hated being called by her name and preferred her gamer handle. She was about to reply when she stopped cold in front of me, forcing me to do a little dance sideways to avoid running into her. My arm whacked a cabinet, and it jingled and rocked but settled without breaking anything. Thank the universe. I figure if something ever fell in there, it would domino and the whole place would crash like a bad YouTube video.
“Where . . . How . . . No . . . I . . .” Harper couldn’t get words out. She just pointed at a large stuffed fox that was perched on top of an oriental dresser.
“What about it, love? Are you all right?” Ciaran reached for Harper as she started to sink to the floor with horrible halfmewing, halfgulping cries.
I caught her first, wrapping my arms around her wiry body and finally seeing her face. Tears made her mascara run, and her shoulders shook in my arms.
“That’s Rosie,” she gasped. “That’s my mom!”