I don't recall if I mentioned it here or not, but I've got a story coming out in one of the two The New Hero anthologies that Stone Skin Press is putting out. Between these two anthos and their Shotguns v. Cthulhu book they've got a great line-up of writers, including but not limited to Ekaterina Sedia, Tobias Buckell, Ed Greenwood, Adam Marek, Alex Bledsoe, Richard Dansky, Monte Cook, Matt Forbeck, Julia Bond Ellingboe, Jonny Nexus, and Kyla Ward. Flattered to be in such great company, and many thanks to Robin Laws, the editor, for taking my contribution, which is all about this guy right here:
I've wanted to do something featuring Arthur "Weegee" Fellig ever since receiving a copy of his Naked City from my friend Trevor years and years ago, and when an anthology about "a new wave of iconic characters capable of standing toe to toe with such classic luminaries as Sherlock Holmes, Robin Hood, and Abraham von Helsing" came down the pike I saw my chance. In my story "Saturday's Children" I team him up with a Harlem voodoo practitioner named Mrs. Claire Simons and pit them both against...something.
I'll do another post about him a little closer to publication, but for now here's an excerpt from the story:
Rolling up Lenox that night, I felt about as comfortable as sand in your socks. I didn’t have my Speed Graphic, which put me off, and I did have a .38, which put me even further off…I hadn’t got iron bullets for it because they didn’t make no iron bullets for it, and wasn’t I a cowboy for thinking they did? What put me off most of all was I’d had to leave the SG as collateral with Jovino, who runs the gunshop under my apartment. He just laughed when I told him I needed a piece and had fifteen bucks on it, and that’s me out of my baby, at least for the night…but who am I fooling, that wasn’t what put me off most of all. What done that was knowing a bunch of kids were missing and it was up to me and Mrs. Simons to sort it all out.
Kameela was just leaving as I pulled up but she was with a couple of girlfriends and didn’t stop to chat, just waved and hoofed it down the sidewalk. Going was about as nice as coming with Kameela Simons, and watching her melt down Lenox I thought of my buddy Pat over at the Gazette, does Cheese Cakes…he could do her justice, but no way I could…even if I had my Speed Graphic with me instead of that damn piece weighing down my pocket like a bottle of cheap hooch, kind of weight to your jacket that lets you know life ain’t going the right direction at present.
The house was dark but I let myself in, locking up behind me. When the lock clicked Claire’s door opened in the back, giving me some light. I picked my way through Kameela’s office with all its Conjure Woman props…the candles out, the cards stowed, the table with my namesake board on it pushed to the side so I don’t bang my shin on it like usual…nice of her to clean up for me.
“Shut the door, Arthur,” Mrs. Simons told me. I just stared at her like some bumpkin getting his first look at the city. It weren’t what she wore so much as who was going to be wearing her, something I could tell at a glance…it wasn’t the suit she got on, that could be for any one of them, it was the stovepipe hat on the table, and the tinted glasses like the lifeguards wear down at Coney.
“That’s, uh, he, uh,” I stammered…she had warned me if I ever seen her in specs like that to book it away from her, and if the hat was on to book it double-time…bitter as he likely is on her, he’s got even more cause to do me some mischief.
“It’s got to be him,” she said, and didn’t look any happier than I was about the prospect. “I’ve had a busy day, Arthur.”
More a little further down the line!