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Monday, August 3, 2015

GUEST POST: Justis Fearsson Character Interview by David B. Coe


DBC: Today, we are fortunate to have with us Mister Justis Fearsson, a private detective here in Phoenix. Mister Fearsson served for six years on the Phoenix police force before going into business for himself. He is here to speak with us about a few of his recent cases, and also, perhaps more intriguingly, about his magical abilities. Mister Fearsson, welcome.

JF: Thank you. And you can call me Jay.

DBC: All right. Jay it is. You’re a weremyste, aren’t you, Jay? Can you tell us what that means?

JF: [Shifting in his chair.] I suppose. Weremystes are sorcerers -- wizards, if you will, though that’s a term few of us use. I guess you could say that the magic comes from the “myste” part of the word. The “were” part refers to the phasings. Every month, on the night of the full moon, and the nights immediately before and after, we . . . well, we go a little crazy. And our magic gets stronger.

DBC: I see. And by crazy, you mean . . .

JF: Just that. Delusions, hallucinations, only the vaguest sense of who and what we are. We basically go temporarily insane.

DBC: That sounds terrible.

JF: It’s no picnic.

DBC: But it’s temporary.

JF: Yes . . . But not surprisingly, putting our minds in a cosmic blender every month has long-term consequences as well. Almost all weremystes wind up permanently nuts.

DBC: Like your father.

JF: [Bristling.] I’m not talking about my father. And I’ll thank you not to either.

DBC: I meant no offense. But he was a weremyste, wasn’t he? And now--

JF: First of all, he’s still a weremyste. Second, yes, he has psychological problems now. Just like I probably will when I’m his age. And that’s all I’m going to say about him.

DBC: Very well. Tell me about the magic you do.

JF: What about it?

DBC: What kind of spells can you cast?

JF: How much time do you have? I can craft all sorts of spells. I can heal wounds, move things and even people from one place to another. I can throw a punch with a thought and catch glimpses of the future. I could light your hair on fire or tip over that chair you’re sitting in. Namid would tell you that the number of spells available to a skilled runecrafter is limited only by his or her imagination.


DBC: Namid?

JF: Namid’skemu. He’s a runemyste, the spiritual reincarnation of an ancient runecrafter, who, along with the rest of his kind, helps to protect our world from practitioners of dark magic. He was once a shaman of the K’ya’na-Kwe clan, the water people of the Zuni nation.

DBC: The water people are extinct. Their line died out centuries ago.

JF: Yeah, go figure.

DBC: [After a brief pause] Okay. What is dark magic?

JF: I cast spells using whatever power I carry within me, and I tend to try to do good with my spells, helping people in need, solving and stopping crimes, that sort of thing. But some other weremystes are more concerned with helping themselves, even if their good fortune carries costs for other people. And a few of them use blood, their own, blood from animals, sometimes even blood taken from innocent people, to enhance their magic, make it stronger. Those of us who follow the teachings of the Runeclave, oppose them. And Namid helps us with that, by teaching us, training us.

DBC: you ever done dark magic?

JF: I haven’t. Until recently, I haven’t been as diligent as I should be in learning the rudiments of runecrafting. I’m learning, thanks to Namid, and I’m getting stronger all the time. But I’ve stayed away from the dark stuff, not only because it’s wrong, but also because it always seemed to be more than I could handle. I suppose I could see myself using it in an emergency, if I ever found myself up against a dark conjurer I couldn’t defeat any other way. But I hope that never happens.

DBC: Let’s talk a bit about your history. Why did you quit the police force?

JF: It’s not something I like to talk about really. The truth is, I had to quit. The phasings were taking a toll on me, keeping me from doing my job effectively. My old partner on the force, Kona Shaw, who’s a great cop -- she tried to protect me, to cover for me. But there was only so much she could so. And some of the higher-ups on the force remembered my father, and figured I must be just like him. I suppose they were right to a degree. Anyway, in the end I had no real choice. Either I could quit, or they would fire me. My resignation seemed like the best thing for all concerned.

DBC: Do you miss being a detective?

JF: Every day. But Kona still comes to me when cases crop up that involved magic and spells, which is more often than you might think.

DBC: Can you tell us about those cases?

JF: Well, there was the Blind Angel serial murder case, which you might have read about. And more recently a case involving a possible terrorist plot and some ritual killings here in Phoenix. We’re still working that one, so I can’t say much about it. But perhaps before long you’ll be able to read about those events, too . . .

DBC: Wait, that’s all you’re going to tell us?

JF: I’m afraid so. [Standing] It’s time I got back to work. As I say, if you’re curious, read about the cases.

DBC: Well, there you have it, readers. Justis Fearsson, weremyste and private detective. If you wish to know more, it seems you’ll need to read about the man on your own.

*---------------*---------------*---------------*


Official D. B. Jackson Author Website
Official David B. Coe Author Website
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Order The Case Files Of Justis Fearsson HERE

GUEST AUTHOR INFORMATION: David B. Coe/D.B. Jackson is the award-winning author of eighteen fantasy novels. Under the name D.B. Jackson, he writes the Thieftaker Chronicles, a historical urban fantasy from Tor Books that includes Thieftaker, Thieves’ Quarry, A Plunder of Souls, and, the newest volume, Dead Man’s Reach, which will be released on July 21. Under his own name, he writes The Case Files of Justis Fearsson, a contemporary urban fantasy from Baen Books. The first volume, Spell Blind, debuted in January 2015. The newest book in the series, His Father’s Eyes, comes out on August 4.

He lives on the Cumberland Plateau with his wife and two daughters. They’re all smarter and prettier than he is, but they keep him around because he makes a mean vegetarian fajita. When he’s not writing he likes to hike, play guitar, and stalk the perfect image with his camera.

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