Here is the first chapter of
Must Love Humans (When Linus Met Deirdre)
by Monica Marier

This sample is free to read and share as long as Monica Marier and Tangent Artists is credited and is not for republication or resale. Any inquiries can be directed to tangentartists@gmail.com.

Chapter One: An Inauspicious Start

Linus slowly sat up in bed, completely unable to tell where he was, how he got there, or in fact who he was.

The latter came to him after a few minutes, after he willed his brain to retrieve the information, but the former two weren't as cooperative. Linus wasn't particularly worried about this. Waking up in a strange bed was nothing new to him, neither was an occasional lapse of memory and a splitting headache. He was also used to waking up naked, which he was at the moment. No, what stood out here, like a fish in a flower vase, was that this was definitely a hospital bed. It was itchy, harder than marble, and extremely narrow. With grunts and groans, he shifted his weight towards the headboard until he was more or less sitting upright.

So, he was in hospital. It wasn't much of an explanation, but it did explain why he felt nauseated and achy all over—more than usual anyway. He was hemmed in by two curtains woven in a "jolly" pattern of noxious greens and yellows. The wall behind him was the only actual wall where his flimsy headboard kept knocking the whitewash into powder. The other beds were tidy and done with clean linens. The walls were spotless and unadorned save for a protective ingot of iron over the door and a small window which stood open letting in a cool breeze. The floor was finished wood planks, scrubbed and sanded with the odd herb or root lodged in the floor cracks. He spied a hanging thurible burning incense and herbs, to keep out miasmas. Linus nodded in approval. That meant he was probably in a good hospital that might actually know something about medicine. The last hospital Linus had been in, was dark, fetid, blood-spattered and the dirt floors had sigils drawn on them in cow dung to keep the "evil spirits" away. The prospect of any hospital, however, was distressing to Linus, who believed illness only happened to stupid people.

More distressing was the girl. Again, this was nothing new except rather than lying next to him, (either begging him not to leave or screaming at him to get out before a family member came home) she was seated in a chair next to the bed and watching him. Not looking at him, not looking after him; watching him, like a cat watches a mouse hole. She was a pretty thing—he amended that— she was gorgeous and of a much higher quality than his usual pull.

She had masses of wavy red hair. When people say "redhead" what they usually mean is orange. For “mystery girl”, this was not the case. She had hair the deep, vibrant red of holly berries, and poppy flowers, and signs advising you not to enter. Tendrils of red framed a heart-shaped face, with full lips, high cheekbones, and large intelligent eyes. The eyes matched her hair, in that they too were red—again not in the usual way. They weren’t bloodshot, like someone who had stayed up crying, but instead her irises were the color of a candle flame viewed through a glass of dark wine. It was…well, it was weird, but Linus was seldom fussed about weird.

Most men at this point would be composing a lousy poem about her rare beauty. Not Linus. The first thought to pop into Linus's brain was, “did we do it?” followed by, “did I enjoy it?”. Observing that the girl was fully clothed, and was not currently asking him to stay, insisting that he go, nor threatening to cut his tonker off, he gradually concluded that the answer was “no” on all counts.

Putting two and two together (girl plus hospital) he decided that she must be a nurse. She wasn't dressed like a nurse. She wore a filmy gown of sea-green fashioned in a material and style utterly unfamiliar to Linus, who tended to notice fashions if only because there were usually naked women under them. It was very obvious that there was a naked woman under hers and Linus had trouble not staring.

Maybe I'm in some temple hospital where the nuns wear that get-up, like the Sisterhood of the Vulpine Virgins, that sort of thing,’ he thought. ‘If so, sign me up for collection duty next service,’ he added with a leer. He decided to cut to the chase and get some answers in his usual, direct manner.

"Hey, sweetheart. Where in hell am I?" he asked, scratching his chest.
The girl relaxed her intense focus as she sat back and listened. She made no answer, however. Linus figured he must have mumbled his speech too much. People were always telling him he mumbled, which was unfair. Technically it was “slurring.”
"Oi," he said annunciating. "Can you tell me where I am?"
The woman continued to stare at him, giving no indication whether she heard him or not.
"Are you deaf?" he asked hotly.
The girl only blinked. Linus wondered if it had something to do with how rude he was being. Rather than have it out with her (at least until he found a pair of pants) he decided to polish his language a little.
"Nurse? Is that how I address you? Hello. Excuse me. I'm feeling a little vulnerable now and I'm wondering if you could possibly tell me where I am, and how I got here—oh—and where my pants are?"

This time the woman smiled but still gave no answer nor any indication that she understood him. After a long pause Linus decided she was either foreign, an idiot, or both.
"You speak-ee Tereander?" he asked, testing her. The woman's grin only widened.
Frustrated and not in the mood for this, Linus decided to ignore her and seek help from other sentient beings, hopefully ones that talked.

"HULLO!" he shouted. It was only a few seconds before a portly man in a black doctor's coat peered through the curtain. He looked like a fat little duckling, all waddles, roundness, and a mop of golden fuzz around his beaky face and black button eyes. Under his arm he held several books, and his other hand gripped the horn handle of a black bag that sent chills down Linus’s spine. Like most Tereanders who grew up in the so-called “great age of enlightenment for sciences and magicks,” he too had often been on the wrong end of that bag.

"Yes, hello. What's all that shouting?" asked the man. He seemed in a good humor but his raised eyebrows and clipped tones indicated that this could be a short-lived phenomenon.
"Um..." went Linus, unsure of where to start. He flinched as the man set his bag down with an ominous “jingle” to consult the slate hung on Linus's footboard. He opened one of the leather-bound folios, labeled “Case Book, 1522-1523” (plus a few acronyms Linus couldn’t decipher) and leafed through the pages until he found what he was looking for. He took up a pencil and, thankfully, took the reins of the conversation.
"Ah-hah! Our 'Mr. Blank' is awake at last, eh?" he said in a jolly voice, tempered specifically for dealing with ill people. "And how are we feeling?"
"Um...very confused," answered Linus truthfully.
“Naturally, and I will do my best to elucidate, only I have some questions that need answering first like, ‘what is your name?’” he asked, pencil poised.
“Linus Weedwhacker,” Linus recited.
“How’s that spelled?” asked the Doctor, mid-scribble.
“Usual way,” answered Linus evasively.
“Date of Birth?”
“January 21st, 1478,” Linus chanted automatically.
“Which reign was that again?”
“Rex Tyrannus Ipsolore.”
The Doctor consulted one of the star charts and tables posted on the wall. “Ah, yes. Ane Dei Squalo Purulento. And January twenty-first is under the sign of…?”
“The big cow—er—Tonkus?” he said, uncertainly.
“Tancras the Bull…Twenty-first is a cusp date—let’s see… yes, it’s shared with Gosward the Swan. You have some impudent influences, don’t you. What’s your Temperament, dear boy?”
“Choleric,” sighed Linus. “Here we go,” he thought.
The doctor tutted, “I thought so—spotted it a mile away.”
“How?”
“Because you’re as yellow as a lemon, my boy.”
Linus glanced at his dry skin. Now that he thought of it, his body did look like he’d just taken a bath in turmeric tea.
The doctor threw back the curtains around the bed and hastened towards the headboard where he grabbed Linus’s jaw by his stubbly cheeks. The doctor’s chubby, babyish hand gripped him like blacksmiths tongs as he swiveled Linus’s head towards the sunlit windowpanes. Linus heard a distressing “crack” from his neck and skull.

The doctor held up a quizzing glass and examined his head holes. Linus could see his eyes in the doctor’s spectacles and wondered if the golden sunlight was making them look so yellow. With a wrench, the doctor’s hands pried his mouth open and mumbled. Linus felt a pair of tongs yanking on his coated tongue and a grunt of disgust from the doctor.

“When have you last seen a barber, boy? Your teeth are terrible,” he cried.
“Been, meaning to get to it,” said Linus, as well as he could in the doctor’s clutches.

Without warning, the doctor released his face and thrust his head against Linus’s chest. Linus flinched; he hated this part. He stared at the ceiling and tried not to inhale the odor of red mercury, chloroform, and camphor wafting off the head that was knocking his teeth into his tongue. While the doctor shifted position, and rapped and thumped, Linus happened to glance over at the strange redheaded woman, who was watching raptly and grinning like she was enjoying a theatrical comedy. Her mouth twitched in mute laughter but, as always, she remained silent, save for the genteel snorts escaping her pert nose. He pulled a face at her in retaliation and returned to his examinations of the ceiling.

“Hrm,” said the doctor shaking his head. “Your heart’s thrumming like a rabbit being chased by a dog.
Have you any headache? Nausea? Blurry vision? Trembling? Anxiety?"
"Yes,” answered Linus.
"To which?"
"All of 'em.”
"I see," said the doctor, scrutinizing Linus over the rim of his spectacles.
"Look, doc, how did I get here? Last thing I remember I was on assignment in the Mountains.”
"You tell me," said the man. "We had to syphon over a quart of 170 T.E. proof spirits from your gut, if that’s any help."
Linus returned to the cracked ceiling for support. A glimmer of memory flashed on the murky surface of his brain before submerging again.
"Dwarves?" he muttered. "I was with Dwarves. One had a bottle."
"That would do it," said the doctor, nodding. "Dwarven liquor is hazardous to most dwarves. I doubt a human–excuse me, half-elf," corrected the doctor noticing Linus's slightly pointed ears, "...such as yourself would have a constitution up to that kind of punishment…unless...?" The unasked question hung in the air for a moment before Linus shrugged and refused to meet the doctor’s eyes.
"Young man, I suspect this wasn't the first time that drink got the best of you."
Linus shrugged again and mumbled some nonsense under his breath. He was jerked out of his sullenness by the doctor's hand slamming angrily on the footboard.
"Mister Weedkiller!"
"Weedwhacker," corrected Linus with a frown. He hated his name, but he’d make damn well sure this little pompous duck got it right.
"Mister Weedwhacker, you obviously do not appreciate the gravity of your situation! You very nearly died two days ago."
This certainly made Linus sit up and take notice. "Did I?...Wait, two days ago?"
"Yes indeed. Your intoxication was to such a point that it nearly caused a dangerous imbalance in your humours. You actually stopped breathing for seven minutes and we attempted to force the air through your body with a bellows-pump."
Linus glanced at his bare chest, noticing for the first time the greenish bruises that were fading there.
"That's only the start of it," sniffed the doctor. "You currently suffer from dyscrasia due to an excess of yellow bile. If you are to recover, you must refrain from consumption of alcohol, young man."

Linus glared at the doctor; he could feel the anger rising in his throat. It turned out to be vomit and he was granted a brief respite from further lectures. He retched and coughed in agony as a cool white hand smoothed his hair back and held a basin for him. He found the girl’s wine-red eyes looking at him with tenderness while she attended to him. Linus nodded his thanks, afraid to open his mouth again.
"You'll be doing that for another day at least," commented the doctor. "Neither the spirits, nor the charcoal dust we used to absorb them, are very happy down your gullet."
The word 'gullet' got Linus going again and while he was puking his guts out, the doctor scribbled something in his case book while muttering, "jaundice, dehydration, malnourishment of the blood, fluid retention in ankles, possible anorexia nervosa. Visible tremors."
"Tremors?" muttered Linus through the foul taste. "What tremors?"
"Observe your hands, Mr. Weedwhacker," said the doctor.
Linus looked at the long, jaundiced fingers as they twitched violently of their own accord.
"'S'nothing," said Linus. "Muscle tension, that's all."
"When's the last time you had a decent meal?"
Linus shrugged.
"When's the last time you drank some water?"
Linus managed another shrug before doubling over the basin again.
"I'll leave you to yourself, Mr. Weedwhacker, until you're fit to talk. We will continue our conversation then," said the Doctor before turning to leave.
"Oi," gasped Linus in a strained voice. "Can you tell your nurse to stop staring at me?"
The doctor turned around again. "Which nurse?" he asked, glancing around the room.
"This one," said Linus, directing a thumb at the redhead. An expression of confusion and then concern spread over the doctor's face.
"Mr. Weedwhacker, she is not a nurse in our employ."
Linus frowned. "Then who is she?"
"She is the reason you're still alive. She brought you to us two days ago on the precipice of death and has stayed by your bedside since," replied the Doctor, (somewhat theatrically, Linus thought.) "You don't know who she is?"
"No. Does she talk?" asked Linus glancing at the girl, who seemed unaware that the conversation was about her.
"Not that I've heard. I must say, it's distressing that you don't know her."
"Never saw her before!"
“I wouldn’t be surprised if you actually have and simply fail to remember. Men in your condition tend to suffer from occasional memory loss.”
“Memory loss? That’s absurd!” shouted Linus.
“Do you know what principality you’re in?”
“All these towns in the sticks look alike,” spat Linus.
“Do you know today’s date? Even the month? Come now, give me your best answer!” demanded the doctor.
“I don’t keep a calendar out in the wild… It’s summer, isn’t it?”
The doctor shook his head, sadly. “It’s been fall for nearly a month.”
“Notice how none of this is telling me who this girl is?” asked Linus, nodding at Deirdre again.

“She seems to know you," said the doctor with a shrug. "That makes her the only friend you’ve got in this town. Get some sleep. There's a jug of water by your bedside. I expect it to be half-empty before I return."
Linus protested, "How'm I supposed to sleep with a loony, mute stranger next to me?"

The doctor didn't answer as he waddled out of the door. Linus was suddenly fearful of the woman next to him and jumped to his feet.
“Hey wait!” He clutched the blankets to his middle to cover his nakedness and tried to run after the doctor. He didn't expect his legs to give out so it was a surprise to see the floor hurtling towards him. Linus struggled to make his arms lift his body upright, but they seemed to be made of meringue. He felt the cool white hands again as he turned his head and saw the woman kneeling on the floor next to him. Her expression was pitying, which made Linus even more irritated with her, but he allowed her to help him back into bed where he studied her suspiciously.

"Look, you," he growled. "I don't know who you are, but this nonsense has gone on far enough. What do you want from me?"
The girl only blinked.
"Answer me, you!" he barked. The woman flinched but didn't waiver in her focused attention to his every mood. Linus sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
"Do...you....talk?" he asked, trying to come up with hand gestures for each word. 'Do' presented difficulty but he felt the other two were fairly evident. The woman watched him keenly. She was evidently invested in working out what his gestures meant. Linus thought he might have gotten through to her, but shortly she gave him a sad smile, sighed and shrugged.

Linus poured a small glass of water to relieve his corroded throat and wincing at the taste knocked it back quickly. Thinking for a moment, he decided he might try some other languages. Maybe she really was foreign.

"Des thee haef de learnig if Ilfani?" he asked in very good Elven.
No answer.
"Spoeken zie Dwuerga?" he asked in passible Dwarven.
"Tedanu Drossi kal arena he? Cuomo ti Jamas? Choriachigo… o (er—uh)…nadorimazu ta?" he asked in mangled Maradas drow, Maradasi, and barely passible Choriachikese. These each took much longer as he had to mentally construct each sentence first. He wasn't sure if the Maradasi Drow differentiated between the verb “to speak” and “to say” It didn't matter because the woman didn't show even a flicker of understanding for any of his words; a soft smile lit up her heart-shaped face. The smile was completely wasted on Linus.

"You git, that didn't work either," Linus muttered to himself. "She's just gonna sit there and grin. Yes, just like you're doing, sweetheart. You don't understand a fecking word I'm saying, do you?" he said grinning and nodding at her mockingly. She seemed to think she was supposed to do the same because she was now nodding too.
"Yes, that's right...you're an idiot, aren't you?" he said in a sing-song voice. The woman nodded uncomprehendingly.
"I wonder if she's got my pants?" he wondered aloud. The prospect didn't seem as amusing as it had been a few minutes ago. As he looked around trying to find where they had been locked up, he noticed another woman just entering the door. There was no question as to whether this woman was a nurse. The starched apron, the severe haircut, the tendency to 'bustle'; all provided unmitigated proof positive.
"And how are we this morning?" she asked briskly.
"Tired," sighed Linus.
"Well, I'll leave you to your rest, but you must take some food first. The doctor says your tummy's a trifle tender, but let’s see if you can keep something down."
Linus rolled his eyes at the woman's use of the word 'tummy.' As soon as he looked at his plate, however, his 'tummy,' nearly tried to jump ship. Cold congee, cold stewed vegetable marrow, and a cold hard-boiled egg sat unappetizingly on his tray. Under normal circumstances Linus wouldn't eat any of these things, but right now they seemed a form of cruel torture.
"You wouldn't have anything by way of a fry-up, would you?" he asked with an ashen face. “Or a nice curry? I could murder a curry.”
"Sir! You are far too choleric as it is! Doctor’s orders are no meat, no spices, no hot things!" she admonished. "Go on. Tuck in. We have to build up some of that good phlegm." she said eyeing Linus suspiciously and he knew he'd have to force some of it down if he wanted her to leave. Gingerly dipping his spoon into the cold gummy porridge, he scooped up the tiniest amount and raised it delicately to his mouth. He considered himself fortunate that it had no taste. It was all the easier to worry down his sore throat. To his relief it didn't come right back up again either. He had to choke down two more spoonfuls before the horrible woman left and he was alone—well, alone with the mystery girl anyway.

She watched as the spoon dropped from his fingers into the bowl and he pushed the tray away from himself. The strange woman leaned forward and took it from him, walking it to the nightstand. She gasped suddenly, and Linus turned to see her staring at his tray.
"What is it, you loony?" he muttered.
"Egg!"
Linus's mouth dropped open. Had she really spoken?
"What did you say?"
"Egg!" she cried holding aloft the hard-boiled egg.
"Yes, egg," he said nodding. "You speak?" he asked.
"Egg!" she repeated.
Linus was nonplussed. "Well of course it's an egg. What'd you think it was, a hat?" was all he could manage.
"Egg!" she cried again and a light dawned for Linus. This was the extent of her Tereander.
"Is that all you can say?" he asked.
She just grinned, holding the egg aloft and looking very pleased with herself.
"So you’re capable of talking, then," Linus mused aloud. "Well, maybe you're teachable. Where to start, though?" he gazed around him. He saw the pitcher of water and pointed to it.
"Water," he said.
The woman nodded and got up from her chair to pour him a glass. She handed it to him silently. He took the cup, but tried again.
"Water," he said pointing to the cup.
The woman regarded him with interest. She seemed to be wondering why he didn't drink.
"Water," he said again, dipping his finger in the cup.
The woman said nothing, but for the first time tried to communicate a question to him. She pantomimed drinking with her hand cupped around an imaginary glass. Linus shook his head, “no.” He pointed to himself then to the cup.
"Water," he said pointedly, then he stretched out his hand to her, inviting her to follow suit.
She looked uncertainly at the hand.
"Gods, you're dense," he muttered. "Water," he repeated, and then opened out his hand to her again.
She looked unsure of herself but then said, "Wawr-tur," her lips trying to imitate the word exactly.
Linus nodded frantically and tried again.
"Water!" he cried.
"Water!" she said louder, looking heartened by his encouragement.
He smiled, but more out of relief than any real regard for her. He could see this was going to take a while, and he had run out of energy for another lesson. Closing his eyes he lay on the brick-like pillow and fell asleep.

End of Chapter One:

MUST LOVE HUMANS
(How Linus Met Deirdre)

Linus keeps hitting rock bottom and life keeps handing him shovels. Imagine his surprise when life finally hands him a mysterious redhead in need of a Ranger. Deirdre is a flighty wildfire who keeps Linus guessing, but she’s guarding some big secrets. Will he unravel the key to Deirdre’s identity or will his prying cause him to lose her forever. It’s all right if Deirdre isn’t exactly human, but then, what is she?

Romance flowers in the stupidest ways, amongst dwarves, witches, and magic. A prequel to Marier’s Linus Saga, learn how Linus met Deirdre, and how a damsel learns to rescue herself from a dragon.

Praise for The Linus Saga

**“…A dungeon crawling adventure with heart and a sense of humor. Five stars all the way.”

**“Linus is what you would get if Terry Pratchett and Jane Austen teamed up to write about John McClane in Middle Earth…a real page-turner!”

**“A fun fantasy romp! With great characters and terrific plot twists, this book was fun, from start to finish.”

**“It's a wonderfully witty book, that pokes fun at growing older, dealing with impudent newbies, and wondering just how good were the 'good ol' days?'”

**“This is a beautifully written story full of truly likable characters.”

**“A fun satire of the classic 2-d fantasy character turned three dimensional… I'd recommend this to any humor/fantasy lover and especially any Pratchett/Discworld fans.”

**“It takes a good sense of humor as well as a stiff upper lip to write like Marier... Highly recommended.” ~ Midwest Book Review

A note from the Author:

Thank you for reading this far and we hope you enjoyed this look into Must Love Humans. If you’re excited to read the rest, watch Tangent Artists on Instagram, Facebook, and Youtube for more updates, or go to tangentartists.com to view our other works. And remember, it’s okay to share this 1st chapter with friends and family (but please, no robots.)

If you liked it, tell your friends! If you didn’t like it, LIE.

~Monica Marier