Join the growing buzz around Keeper of the Bees by Meg Kassel, a tale of dark magic, everyday trials, and beasts that hide marvelous beauty.
In the second, stand-alone installment in the Black Bird of the Gallows series, Meg Kassel introduces Dresden and Essie, two protagonists with quite a bit to hide, though their usual defenses don’t work quite as well with one another.
“Dresden, who narrates this chapter, is a boy who was once cursed by centuries-old magic, and now exists as an immortal monster, basically,” Kassel tells us. “He’s a Beekeeper, whose chest houses a hive of bees whose sting inflicts a psychosis-inducing toxin and whose face is an ever-changing array of all those who have died with his venom in their veins. All in all, he’s held onto elements of his humanity.
“[Dresden] meets Essie accidentally, after a long journey, when his bees mistake her as a target. They still want to sting her, but the fact that she sees his shifting face, and not the bland mask that everyone else sees, intrigues him. He doesn’t want to sting her, and this is the first conscious choice he’s made in centuries.”
In this exclusive excerpt from Keeper of the Bees, dark magic meets the mundane realities of talking to girls when you happen to be a monster.
“This scene takes place after our star-crossed couple has already met once, and in it, Dresden is discovering how awful he’s become at socializing, also, that his interest in her isn’t going away,” Kassel says. Later, he’ll discover that his and Essie’s connection causes a disruption which draws the attention of a powerful and malevolent creature with motivations of its own.
“One of the exciting things about writing this book was alternating between Dresden and Essie’s point of views, which I didn’t do in Black Bird of the Gallows. Showing how each sees the other — and themselves — was interesting to write and this scene, where Dresden bungles this conversation by trying so hard not to be “scary,” was entertaining to write.”
Exclusive excerpt from ‘Keeper of the Bees’ by Meg Kassel:
It’s her. Across the street. Sitting in a folding chair. Eating from a takeout box on her lap. She’s wearing a soft, cream-colored dress. The bees perk up. My legs move without my making a conscious choice about it. The first floats of the parade are slowly tracking down the street. A marching band breaks into their rendition of “Eye of the Tiger.” I cut through the crowds and cross the street ahead of the parade. She looks up. Her gaze shifts, locks on me.
There is no fuzzy teasing in her eyes this time. Her fingers pause midair in the process of delivering food to her mouth — a mouth that is currently as round as her eyes. There’s fear in the stark white of her face. She knows now that I’m not a delusion. I told her I was going to hurt her. Now, she believes it.
I approach her slowly. Settle down! I firmly think to the bees, and surprisingly, they do. Only because they’re satiated. A dampness coats my palms. My belly quivers. I’m… nervous.The girl — Essie — stays in her seat, staring up at me, as I stop next to her. I have to nudge some people aside to gain a spot in the tightly-packed crowd. I’m acutely aware of how close I am to her. About a foot of space separates me from her chair. It’s far too close for either of our comfort.
The bees buzz an erratic pattern in my throat and mouth. They’re confused. Frankly, so am I. There is no logical reason for me to be here, nervous, struggling to come up with something non-threatening to say to a human girl. A target, no less.
“Hello Essie.” I dip my head. “Are you afraid of me now?” Good God. Nearly a millennium’s existence with humans and I open with the most inappropriate line ever.
She frowns up at me. “That depends on your intentions.”
Intentions? I close my eyes and try to figure out what they are. I’m surprised to realize my only wish is to have a conversation. With her.
“I do not intend to harm you.” I say it softly, with all the sincerity my harsh, bee-droning voice allows. “Not right now, anyway.”
Her eyes widen. Is she angry or frightened? I can’t tell.
“So maybe later?” she asks in a hissed whisper.
“Maybe.” Damn. “I don’t know. I’d rather not ever, to be honest.” My faces are changing rapidly now. I must look frightful. I turn to the street in case she starts panicking. The parade is almost upon us. The band is now butchering an old U2 song. From the corner of my eye, I see Essie fumble for a napkin, wipe her fingers on it, and close the lid of her takeout container.
I’ve ruined her appetite, apparently.
“What do you want, Dresden?” Her voice trembles. “Excuse me. I mean, why are you here?”
She’s trying not to be rude. Sweet, but unnecessary. “I don’t know,” I say again, truthfully. I can hear the bafflement underlying my words. “I saw you and wanted to say hello.”
Her mouth is surprised. “Really?”
I smile, just with my lips. I don’t dare open my mouth, not with bees pinging off the backs of my teeth. “Really.”
She smiles back, and it’s not polite or forced. It’s just a smile. For me.
“Okay.” She says it just like that, and I’m rendered speechless. Her simple acceptance is more than I expected. Certainly more than a doomed creature like me deserves.
A woman shoulders through the crowd to join the man standing next to me. I move over, and the distance between myself and Essie reduces to nothing. I gaze down at the top of her head. A crooked part runs through the center of her hair. The strands are lit golden by the afternoon light. I feel a strange peace from standing next to this girl. She bends down, places her food container on the ground. The ridge of her spine presses a curving line of bumps through the thin fabric of her dress. So fragile. She sits up and smiles at me again, and I get a little lost in it. In all those white teeth.
She points at my mouth and giggles. “Oh, I like that mouth, right there. Can you keep that one on?”
I blink down at her, then realize I had forgotten how my face is a mess of changing features. For a few precious moments, I was just here with her. Not a monster. Not a killer. Just a boy enjoying the company of a girl.
“I can’t control the faces.” I turn back to the parade. A pickup truck creeps up the street, pulling a giant soybean float. Three girls with green-painted faces wave from holes cut in the sides.
“I didn’t mean to upset you.” She leans toward me and says quietly, “I still think you’re pretty, by the way.”
I swallow hard, sending about a dozen bees to the back of my throat. Twice she’s said this, and both times I’ve been rendered speechless. Not by the compliment, such that it is, but by her easy acceptance. It twists my gut in a way that hurts. I don’t dislike it.
“I know now that you’re real,” she says. “But how come no one is staring at you? Am I the only one who can see…” She circles a finger toward my face. “All them.”
Everything about this interaction is so bizarre, I just stare at her for a moment. If she’s not squeamish talking about my legion of interchangeable features, I won’t be. No reason why I can’t answer a few simple questions about myself. “Most human minds turn away from my face. They don’t see it. You do, for some reason.”
Keeper of the Bees by Meg Kassel will be released on Sept. 4 and is available for pre-order now from Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and your local independent bookseller.
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