{"id":3837,"date":"2019-02-24T16:36:15","date_gmt":"2019-02-25T00:36:15","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/annaabner.com\/?p=3837"},"modified":"2019-02-24T16:36:25","modified_gmt":"2019-02-25T00:36:25","slug":"spell-of-shattering-dark-caster-4","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/annaabner.com\/?p=3837","title":{"rendered":"Spell of Shattering (Dark Caster #4)"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Written by Anna Abner<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

Copyright 2015 by Anna Abner<\/h3>\n\n\n\n
\"SoSh<\/a><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n

Cover Blurb:<\/em><\/h4>\n\n\n\n

Dive into the heart-pounding final chapter of the Dark Caster series! <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

If the Chaos Gate opens\u2026 <\/em>
Demons will infest the world. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

When the charismatic mayor of Auburn hires junior agent Jessa McAvoy to acquire him a very specific property, she hopes this is her big break. She\u2019ll do anything to make her first real estate client happy, but the one favor he asks of her is impossible\u2014convince her former friend Derek Walker to come out of hiding. Doing so will not only bring her into the orbit of dangerous casters, but force her to confront long-buried feelings for her missing friend. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

After failing his tasks for the Dark Caster, necromancer Derek Walker is hiding in Alaska from his humiliating defeats as a card-carrying member of an evil dark cabal. But when his old boss begins opening the Chaos Gate, there is nowhere on earth Derek can hide. With no other options, he must return to the last place he wants to go\u2014home. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

When Derek Walker joins forces with Jessa and the entire Raleigh coven, the dark cabal\u2019s biggest disappointment may be the only thing standing between earth and total destruction.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Chapter One<\/h1>\n\n\n\n

With a little pressure, Derek Walker punched his boning knife through the throat of a dead Silver Salmon. Working the knife like a saw, he removed the head and tossed it into the trash, and then got to work gutting the unlucky creature. Bright fish blood swirled in the lake below, creating an abstract waterscape.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Bo\u2019s voice carried over the sound of the lapping tide. \u201cIce is the strongest element there is,\u201d he shouted at Stubby.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They were certainly surrounded by the stuff. Bits of frost clumped in Bo\u2019s scraggly beard, heavy snow clung to drooping tree limbs, and gray clouds swept across the sky ready to shower ice upon their heads at any moment. Derek hoped the storm would hold off a little while longer, though, at least until the men finished fishing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBullshit.\u201d Bo\u2019s friend Stubby dug through the nearby cooler but came up empty. The six-pack was long gone, and it wasn\u2019t even ten a.m. Frustrated, Stubby spit brown tobacco juice into the mud. \u201cFire\u2019s stronger than ice.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Derek shifted weight from one foot to the other and skidded in the mud, catching himself on a rock. It may be August in Alaska, but the wet ground around Bear Lake at first light was cold and seeped through his sneakers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo it ain\u2019t,\u201d Bo argued. \u201cGlaciers carved up the earth, you dummy. A few drops of frozen water will break boulders.\u201d He waved Stubby off. \u201cYou don\u2019t know what you\u2019re talking about.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Stubby seemed to take the argument personally. \u201cFire melts ice. End of story.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Derek prayed it was, but of course, it wasn\u2019t. Bo and Stubby could argue for hours over the most accurate brand of deer rifle, the stoutest superhero, or the most potent tequila. This latest debate could rage on for days.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Derek sliced up two beautiful fish fillets and wrapped them in paper for his boss\u2019s dinner. Most likely, Derek would sear them on the grill with some peppers and serve them up tonight to a small house party of world-class belchers and bearded survivalists on Bo\u2019s deck.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It surprised Derek he could even wield a knife or a BBQ grill in his condition. The memory spell Holden Clark had hit him with four months ago had devastated his mind. Literally. He may as well have dropped him headfirst from a forty-story building onto broken glass and concrete. Holden had stolen every single memory, skill, and instinct Derek possessed, leaving him alive but hollow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Waking in a hospital bed blank and vulnerable had been the most terrifying moment of his life. He picked up the second fish and attacked it with the knife.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Generally, the work he did as Bo\u2019s assistant was exhausting, which suited Derek just fine. He didn\u2019t need the money. He needed the distraction.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Actually, it wasn\u2019t that much different from the work he\u2019d done in Auburn as Rebecca Powell\u2019s assistant. Then, he\u2019d redecorated houses, delivered paperwork, sometimes picked up coffee and her dry cleaning, and most of the time surfed on his computer or chatted with Jessa McAvoy, the adorable junior agent working as Rebecca\u2019s prot\u00e9g\u00e9. Here, he bought groceries, cooked rudimentary meals, lugged trash to the dump, and drove Bo home when he drank too much.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Whether it was good living or not didn\u2019t enter his mind. It was just living.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAll done, boss,\u201d Derek said with effort, throwing the last of the slimy scraps into the trash and tucking the fillets into the cooler. It was a constant struggle to form words and transfer them to his tongue. He was getting better, but he feared he would never be whole again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnything else?\u201d Derek asked, rinsing his bloody hands in the icy lake.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYeah, run into town and get another twelve pack, will ya\u2019?\u201d Bo asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSure.\u201d He ambled for Bo\u2019s pickup, jingling a ring of keys as he went.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re putting too much weight on your bobber again,\u201d Stubby accused. \u201cYou\u2019ll never catch anything that way.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t know what you\u2019re yammering about,\u201d Bo shot back. \u201cI\u2019ve caught twice as many fish as you have, and that\u2019s just today!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Derek climbed into the truck before he caught Stubby\u2019s reply.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He didn\u2019t care. He didn\u2019t care about much anymore. Even after the memory-destroying spell had been reversed, he still wasn\u2019t the same. Like tying shoelaces. He just couldn\u2019t get it. No matter how many YouTube videos he watched, he couldn\u2019t make the bunny go round the tree or the fox go in the hole or whatever nonsense he was supposed to do with ease. It worried him how much he didn\u2019t remember. What else was gone, never to return?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kissing, for one. Surely, he must have kissed a woman at some point\u2014he was a grown man\u2014but he couldn\u2019t recall specifics. Or even gather the desire to try it again. It seemed silly to him. That and sex. Bizarre, pointless endeavors when he had other much more important stuff to worry about.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Like how he was\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201c\u2026A huge fucking disappointment,\u201d the spirit spat at him. \u201cA total waste of good space. You think you deserve a second chance? What have you ever done\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A grizzly of a dead man with a full beard and hunters cap hovered beside Bo\u2019s truck, a gleeful smile on his pudgy face. For the past four months, the ghost had been his unwanted but constant companion.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Derek tuned out the ranting. It was getting a little easier. Night was the hardest. Trying to sleep while a nasty ghost screamed obscenities and curse words at him from the ceiling was challenging. Ear plugs only muffled the noise. They didn\u2019t erase it completely.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The irony was, Derek was especially good at shield spells. With a spirit\u2019s assistance, he could produce an invisible barrier impenetrable to both magic and spirit chatter. With a spirit of his own, Derek could cast banishing spells on all the ghosts the Dark Caster sent to torment his every waking moment. But Derek didn\u2019t have a spirit companion anymore. Robert had been destroyed back in Auburn, North Carolina in the magical fiasco that had stolen Derek\u2019s memories. And a necromancer without a spirit was just a man.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Almost the way a stray, foul-mouthed ghost couldn\u2019t do any real damage without a necromancer to channel his spirit power.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He and the taunting soul were in the same boat\u2014stuck with each other and frustrated.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It didn\u2019t make listening to his insults any easier.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGo away,\u201d Derek murmured.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s that, you miserable piece of crap?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Clenching his jaw, Derek glared through the mud-streaked windshield at his new boss reclining in his favorite camp chair.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLost your voice?\u201d the spirit taunted. \u201cLoser,\u201d he chanted. \u201cImbecile. Idiot.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Alaska seemed far enough away to be safe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So far, the worst the Dark Caster had managed since Derek\u2019s escape was the big-mouthed ghost clinging to the inside of the truck.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Derek cranked the engine and steered away from the lake at a leisurely five miles an hour. Driving was something he had only re-learned since he\u2019d been in Alaska. With the way Bo drank, it was a necessity.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Derek drove slow. Probably too slow. He remembered, vaguely, driving his former sports car fast on long, lonely stretches of highway, taking turns at warp speed and weaving recklessly through freeway traffic. Not anymore. Now, he was worse than an old woman. He didn\u2019t drive the speed limit. He drove under it. When Bo teased him about it, which Bo loved to do at all times about all things, Derek blamed it on the rain and snow, but it honestly had little to do with weather conditions.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Just one more thing Holden Clark had stolen from him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He parked in front of the town\u2019s shopping center, bypassing a hardware store, a smoke-filled tavern, and the post office to pull open the heavy glass doors of a grocery store. Derek selected a twelve-pack of cheap, cold beer from the refrigerator case in the rear of the shop, and when he spun around, he came face-to-face with the eighteen-year-old checkout girl.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHi, Derek,\u201d she said, grinning brightly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was too cold, too quiet, and too depressing to be so happy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHello,\u201d he returned, veering around her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGoing fishing again?\u201d she asked, trailing him down the baked-goods aisle.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBo is.\u201d Derek didn\u2019t fish. He\u2019d never learned and didn\u2019t see the point.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI love to fish,\u201d she exclaimed, scampering behind the register as he set the beer on the counter. \u201cI\u2019ll teach you how. I mean, if you don\u2019t know how. Do you know how?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

While he rearranged possible responses in his mind, he studied the girl. Lea, read her nametag. She was young and dewy, and he envied the ease with which she spit out words, but something was missing. There was no light in her. An overabundance of enthusiasm, but no inner glow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The thought of touching her in any way, let alone kissing her, made him slightly queasy. Definitely uncomfortable. And not in a good way.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, thanks,\u201d he said, the same as every other time Lea had invited him somewhere.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her face fell. \u201cOh. Yeah. Some other time.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He paid for the beer with Bo\u2019s credit card and turned to leave.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re gay, right?\u201d Lea called after him. \u201cThat\u2019s it. You only like boys?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He lowered his eyes and exited fast, tossing the beer in the cab of the pick-up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Derek had been called worse in his life. It hardly bothered him anymore. He knew what kind of person attracted him. At least, he used to know. Since Holden\u2019s spell, it was hard to say what turned him on anymore because nothing did.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He just wasn\u2019t interested in being tangled up in someone else\u2019s life. Or worse, someone tangling up in his. Because his was a twisted disaster of epic proportions.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

To prove it, as if Derek held any doubts, his least favorite ghost appeared in the seat beside him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWorthless,\u201d he repeated, making his voice purposefully ominous. \u201cWorthless\u2026worthless\u2026worthless\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Arriving at the lake a bit distracted, Derek stomped around thick-trunked trees toward Bo and Stubby\u2019s camp chairs and silently arranged the twelve-pack in their cooler.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThanks, my friend,\u201d Bo exclaimed. \u201cCome pick us up later.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI will.\u201d Until then, Derek would be working on his cabin. Struggling, he finally spit out, \u201cText me if you need anything.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Once Bo and Stubby started drinking, though, they\u2019d be arguing good-naturedly and downing cold beers for hours. Derek would have the rest of the day to himself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201c\u2026just kill yourself already\u2026you spineless worm\u2026\u201d<\/em> The Dark Caster\u2019s spirit trailed him toward the truck. \u201c\u2026cut your own throat, and I\u2019ll laugh while you die\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Or maybe not.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

* * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jessa McAvoy glanced from the weather report on her computer monitor to the beautifully embossed, rose-colored invitation in her lap.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mr. Holden Clark and Ms. Rebecca Powell request the pleasure of your company\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rebecca was getting married\u2014Jessa double-checked the date\u2014in almost three weeks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She wasn\u2019t sure how she felt about it. Conflicted, definitely. She was happy for Rebecca, but at the same time it made Jessa feel like she was stuck in neutral while everyone around her raced off to new and exciting destinations.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Though there was one bright spot on her horizon. Two days earlier Carly Pritcher had hired her, verbally, to be her real estate agent. So long as her boss allowed it, Jessa was on the verge of cutting the apron strings.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cJessa?\u201d Speak of the devil<\/em>. Ryan Rohmer emerged from his office.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes?\u201d She crammed the invitation back into its drawer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPull up the phase-two forms and personalize them. Here\u2019s the info.\u201d He slapped a pink post-it to the door beside his head. \u201cAnd I smell coffee. Can you bring me an extra large? Two sugars. Thanks.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The sticky note lost its purchase and fluttered to the carpet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jessa exhaled weakly as the note swooped through the air. This wasn\u2019t her dream. Not by a long shot. As she crossed the room to collect the slip of paper, she knew she couldn\u2019t stay with Ryan for much longer or risk being his junior agent forever.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jessa hated her job. No, hate wasn\u2019t a strong enough word. Loathed maybe. She\u2019d spent a long time as Rebecca Powell\u2019s junior agent. When Rebecca quit the real estate game, Jessa had taken a new job with Ryan Rohmer, assuming she\u2019d be an agent of her own. But no. She was still a junior agent, just for a different person. She hated it. Loathed<\/em> it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jessa was a good Realtor. She should have her own business, run her own shop, be master of her own destiny. Instead, she was fetching coffee, delivering paperwork to clients, and answering Ryan\u2019s email as if she were his assistant, not his partner. Like she was Derek Walker, Rebecca\u2019s former assistant.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There was someone Jessa worried about a lot. She hadn\u2019t heard from in him months, not since he had up and disappeared. Hadn\u2019t even said good-bye.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know why you\u2019re sighing all dramatically,\u201d Karen snarked from her nearby cubicle. \u201cI work my ass off day and night for leads and you and I make the same paycheck.\u201d She curled her upper lip. \u201cI\u2019d count my blessings is all I\u2019m saying.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not about the money,\u201d Jessa retorted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But Karen ducked her head over her keyboard as if she hadn\u2019t heard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The money made no difference at all. Yes, Ryan paid Jessa a percentage of every commission he earned while she assisted him, but she didn\u2019t want to be an agent for the money. The chase excited Jessa. Schmoozing clients. Running down leads. Closing deals. That\u2019s what she craved. The thrill of the hunt.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Not filling out forms and pouring coffee.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She emptied two sugar packets into an oversized mug.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHere you go, Ryan,\u201d she said, handing him the steaming drink through his office door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMmm.\u201d He accepted it, smiling gratefully. \u201cJust what I needed. Thank you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He sipped, nodded, and returned to his computer monitor, essentially dismissing her. But she had something to tell him, and if she didn\u2019t spit it out soon she may never say it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Having an actual client in her back pocket gave her courage. \u201cI didn\u2019t get my Realtor license,\u201d she began, \u201cto be a junior agent my whole life.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ryan\u2019s fingers stilled on the keyboard. \u201cAre you unhappy with your job here?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yes<\/em>. \u201cI want to close my own deals, and every lead I\u2019ve had in the past few months you\u2019ve taken out from under me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His eyebrows collided. \u201cThat\u2019s the contract you signed. You assist me in finding clients, you help me keep those clients happy, and if I close a deal you earn twenty percent of my commission. There are lots of people who would love to do what you\u2019re doing.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI guess I\u2019m not lots of people,\u201d she said. But when he gave her a wounded frown, she rushed to add, \u201cI\u2019m thankful for my job. All I\u2019m asking for is a couple clients of my own.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAre you ready to be cut loose?\u201d he returned. \u201cBecause I can\u2019t use you if you\u2019re distracted with your own clients. I need you available to me twenty-four seven. So, this is what we\u2019ll do.\u201d He steepled his arms on the desk and stared disdainfully at her. \u201cYou continue working as my junior agent, but if you actually find a serious client and close the deal, I\u2019ll let you out of your current employment contract and then you can be a free agent in my office.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jessa exhaled. \u201cThank you. I\u2019ll take it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOkay.\u201d He refocused on his monitor. \u201cBut until then, I need those phase-two forms and then track down someone\u2014anyone\u2014who\u2019ll approve the Jones\u2019 for a half a million dollar home loan. Thanks.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She returned to her cubicle and scrolled through her business contacts list. In the past month, she\u2019d either left voicemails or spoken personally to each and every person, hoping to sniff out leads. Sometimes finding a client was about being in front of them at the right time. Today, she was beginning callbacks. Just to check in and chat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She dialed her former neighbor, Carly Pritcher, but the call went to voicemail. \u201cHi, Carly,\u201d she greeted brightly. \u201cI hope you\u2019re doing well. Did those tomatoes ever come in the way you wanted? If so, let me know. I\u2019d love to swing by the old neighborhood and buy a couple. And while I\u2019m there, we can talk about properties.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She said good-bye, and her hand hovered over her phone to dial a different number when it buzzed with an incoming call.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGood morning. Jessa McAvoy with Ryan Rohmer Real Estate. How can I help you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThis is Anastasia,\u201d greeted a brusque female. \u201cPlease hold for the mayor.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Download the full novel from Amazon HERE<\/a>.<\/h3>\n\n\n\n
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<3 Anna<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Written by Anna Abner Copyright 2015 by Anna Abner Cover Blurb: Dive into the heart-pounding final chapter of the Dark Caster series! If the Chaos Gate opens\u2026 Demons will infest the world. When the charismatic mayor of Auburn hires junior agent Jessa McAvoy to acquire him a very specific property, she hopes this is her […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":2261,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_feature_clip_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"Free Chapter of Spell of Shattering (Dark Caster #4)!","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2},"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[832,459],"tags":[418,823,182,381,45,461],"class_list":["post-3837","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-dark-caster-series","category-spell-of-shattering","tag-kindle","tag-kobo","tag-magic","tag-necromancer","tag-necromancy","tag-paranormal-romance"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/annaabner.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/05\/SoSh-600x900.jpg","views":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p2Wkl2-ZT","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/annaabner.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3837","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/annaabner.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/annaabner.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/annaabner.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/annaabner.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=3837"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/annaabner.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3837\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3838,"href":"https:\/\/annaabner.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3837\/revisions\/3838"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/annaabner.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/2261"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/annaabner.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=3837"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/annaabner.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=3837"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/annaabner.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=3837"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}