Cynthia Diamond's Blog - Posts Tagged "live"
An Impractical Guide to Satyr Charming IS LIVE!
It's finally here! WOO HOO! You can snag An Impractical Guide to satyr charming on Amazon, Nook, iBooks, and Kobo right now!
And here's a peek at Chapter 1! Hope you all enjoy!
Chapter 1
Ivy’s back hit the wall, almost knocking the wind out of her. Her pulse pounded as she gawked at the shattered remains of the chandelier. She’d barely had enough time to scream and roll out of the way before impact. Just seconds ago, she was mentally commenting on how ugly the damn thing was; a giant monstrosity comprised of dusty antlers that she was dreading cleaning.
Ancient lantern oil pooled at her feet and stung her nostrils with its musty scent. She rubbed the back of her neck, hands shaking as a tiny whimper squeaked from her clenched lips. Her couch was reduced to a pile of springs and stuffing.
Dammit, I loved that couch. Fuck the damn couch. That could have been her impaled by antlers. Her throat thickened, palms growing sweaty as thoughts raced at breakneck speed. This was a mistake. This will never work. This is hopeless! You’re going to fade away. You’re going to die and… Oh My Gods, Ivy! Stop!
She imagined a huge stop sign before her. The ruminating slowed. Ivy sucked in the stale air, searching for three sights to ground her; the huge stone fireplace in need of a good clean out, her beloved comfy chair that Auntie Dahlia proclaimed an eyesore, and the wall of boxes containing her spellbooks.
“I am safe. I am grounded,” she murmured to herself, barely believing the words.
She counted her breaths, staring at the shattered pile of antlers. Sure, her cottage witchery had been strong before her “incident” but not anymore. Magic no longer surged through her veins. Her stomach twisted. Gods, breathing life back into this cabin would be like a root canal.
If you could even call it a cabin.
Mansion in the woods was more like it.
And it’s your last hope if you want to live past the spring. Why couldn’t she perform her ritual with a tiny bungalow? At least she’d stand a chance of saving herself with a smaller space. A surge of panic bubbled bile up her throat. She gulped it down, reaching into her purse. The reassuring rattle of her pill bottle made her heart slow. Oh yeah, her rescue drug was in order after that shock. Don’t fail me now, Atarax.
Ivy flicked the lid off and popped the little white pill, swallowing it dry. The bitter metallic taste made her eyes water. She stood as still as a statue, concentrating on the cold air flowing in and out of her lungs. After a few minutes, her mind calmed, rationality returning.
This was a fluke, not an omen. It had to be. The most logical explanation for an old chandelier was that the rope holding it up was probably rotted, not that this abandoned cabin in the woods was overrun with demons. She stepped forward, toeing the debris that haloed the couch. Yeah, it was just a fluke. Nothing more than…
Eyes were upon her.
Ivy spun. Nothing was there. Her skin prickled, growing taut as the invisible stare grew stronger. Closer. Her lizard brain told her to run, to get the hell out, but her stupid feet remained glued to the floor as she called out, “Hello?”
She winced. This is what dumbasses do in horror films, Ives. And yet she called out again, her voice bouncing off the high ceiling. “Hello? Is someone here?”
A gentle clack-clack-clack whispered through the huge room. The hair on the back of her neck prickled. Movement flickered at the top of the grand staircase, rippling the atmosphere like heat on asphalt. The entity was tall, broad, air wavering around what could be horns. Ivy’s brow creased.
Horns? Ghosts don’t usually have horns.
And this didn’t feel like a spirit. Ivy had encountered enough in her youth to know the cold empty touch of death. No. This was something corporal. Alive.
And unfortunately, invisible.
Curiosity overtook her fear and she stepped forward. The blur flinched, clacking as it moved back. What the hell, was it wearing tap shoes?
Ivy wet her lips. “So, hey.” She pointed at the chandelier mess. “Was this…you?”
A growl bounced off the rafters and the blur flew down the stairs at breakneck speed. Ivy screamed, throwing out her hand to cast a shield on reflex. But no magic came from her fingertips.
“Shit!”
Ivy ran, the furious clacking gaining on her. The thing grabbed her shoulder, its claws tearing through her sweater. Oh God, it had claws. Razor sharp claws that pricked her flesh with warm tips.
“Shit shit shit!”
She slapped the invisible hand and the thing yelped, sounding more annoyed than hurt. It's hold released. Ivy dove out the front door, dashing down the porch stairs and stumbling to the rocky drive. She slapped her hands on the hood of her SUV as if it were home base, drawing a line in the dirt with her boot.
“No harm will cross this line! No harm! No harm!” she chanted, bending down to scribble runes beneath her barrier with a finger.
This won’t keep it away, that terrifyed voice in her head moaned. You have no magic to charge this ward. You think the symbols alone will hold it back? It has claws!
“No fucking harm will cross, dammit!” Ivy whimpered.
The front door slammed.
Ivy dared a look over her shoulder. The cabin stared back, its wooden façade grayed with age, each board creaking as the biting autumn wind picked up. Its tall windows were boarded, but that didn’t stop the feeling that it was watching her. Or maybe the invisible creature inside studied her. Either way, both were laughing at her; she could feel it. Mocking her. Finding her as pathetic as she felt.
You can’t do this, her doubt whispered.
Ivy’s hands shook. She wanted to get in her car and drive away, wanted to pretend she didn’t have this idea in the first place. Just quietly die tucked away in her aunts’ little guest house in downtown Big Bear. But she couldn’t. She had to live. For Rowan. For Auntie Rosemary and Auntie Dahlia.
For Aster.
You let your sister down. Maybe this is the fate you deserve.
Tears burned her eyes, fury gathering tight under her ribs. She had to focus. Had to get angry, not scared.
Give up. Walk away. Try dying with dignity like a good little witch. Only fools try to fight the inevitable.
She picked up a rock and threw it at the cabin. Its harmless bounce off the porch wasn’t enough to satisfy her so she threw a second, ricocheting the stone off the front door. She threw another, then another, hitting the porch swing with a loud crack, pinging the railings, and battering the window frames.
“Fuck you!” she screamed. “I’m coming back! Consider this a warning!”
Her knees went weak as the adrenaline rush faded. She fell back against her SUV, rubbing her spinning head. Her tantrum calmed her somewhat, even if it was embarrassing as hell. Thank the Gods her brother Rowan wasn’t there to see it.
She glared at the house and whatever was inside it. This wasn’t over. Oh, she was claiming that house. And even an invisible horned monster wasn’t going to stop her.
She had no choice.
And here's a peek at Chapter 1! Hope you all enjoy!
Chapter 1
Ivy’s back hit the wall, almost knocking the wind out of her. Her pulse pounded as she gawked at the shattered remains of the chandelier. She’d barely had enough time to scream and roll out of the way before impact. Just seconds ago, she was mentally commenting on how ugly the damn thing was; a giant monstrosity comprised of dusty antlers that she was dreading cleaning.
Ancient lantern oil pooled at her feet and stung her nostrils with its musty scent. She rubbed the back of her neck, hands shaking as a tiny whimper squeaked from her clenched lips. Her couch was reduced to a pile of springs and stuffing.
Dammit, I loved that couch. Fuck the damn couch. That could have been her impaled by antlers. Her throat thickened, palms growing sweaty as thoughts raced at breakneck speed. This was a mistake. This will never work. This is hopeless! You’re going to fade away. You’re going to die and… Oh My Gods, Ivy! Stop!
She imagined a huge stop sign before her. The ruminating slowed. Ivy sucked in the stale air, searching for three sights to ground her; the huge stone fireplace in need of a good clean out, her beloved comfy chair that Auntie Dahlia proclaimed an eyesore, and the wall of boxes containing her spellbooks.
“I am safe. I am grounded,” she murmured to herself, barely believing the words.
She counted her breaths, staring at the shattered pile of antlers. Sure, her cottage witchery had been strong before her “incident” but not anymore. Magic no longer surged through her veins. Her stomach twisted. Gods, breathing life back into this cabin would be like a root canal.
If you could even call it a cabin.
Mansion in the woods was more like it.
And it’s your last hope if you want to live past the spring. Why couldn’t she perform her ritual with a tiny bungalow? At least she’d stand a chance of saving herself with a smaller space. A surge of panic bubbled bile up her throat. She gulped it down, reaching into her purse. The reassuring rattle of her pill bottle made her heart slow. Oh yeah, her rescue drug was in order after that shock. Don’t fail me now, Atarax.
Ivy flicked the lid off and popped the little white pill, swallowing it dry. The bitter metallic taste made her eyes water. She stood as still as a statue, concentrating on the cold air flowing in and out of her lungs. After a few minutes, her mind calmed, rationality returning.
This was a fluke, not an omen. It had to be. The most logical explanation for an old chandelier was that the rope holding it up was probably rotted, not that this abandoned cabin in the woods was overrun with demons. She stepped forward, toeing the debris that haloed the couch. Yeah, it was just a fluke. Nothing more than…
Eyes were upon her.
Ivy spun. Nothing was there. Her skin prickled, growing taut as the invisible stare grew stronger. Closer. Her lizard brain told her to run, to get the hell out, but her stupid feet remained glued to the floor as she called out, “Hello?”
She winced. This is what dumbasses do in horror films, Ives. And yet she called out again, her voice bouncing off the high ceiling. “Hello? Is someone here?”
A gentle clack-clack-clack whispered through the huge room. The hair on the back of her neck prickled. Movement flickered at the top of the grand staircase, rippling the atmosphere like heat on asphalt. The entity was tall, broad, air wavering around what could be horns. Ivy’s brow creased.
Horns? Ghosts don’t usually have horns.
And this didn’t feel like a spirit. Ivy had encountered enough in her youth to know the cold empty touch of death. No. This was something corporal. Alive.
And unfortunately, invisible.
Curiosity overtook her fear and she stepped forward. The blur flinched, clacking as it moved back. What the hell, was it wearing tap shoes?
Ivy wet her lips. “So, hey.” She pointed at the chandelier mess. “Was this…you?”
A growl bounced off the rafters and the blur flew down the stairs at breakneck speed. Ivy screamed, throwing out her hand to cast a shield on reflex. But no magic came from her fingertips.
“Shit!”
Ivy ran, the furious clacking gaining on her. The thing grabbed her shoulder, its claws tearing through her sweater. Oh God, it had claws. Razor sharp claws that pricked her flesh with warm tips.
“Shit shit shit!”
She slapped the invisible hand and the thing yelped, sounding more annoyed than hurt. It's hold released. Ivy dove out the front door, dashing down the porch stairs and stumbling to the rocky drive. She slapped her hands on the hood of her SUV as if it were home base, drawing a line in the dirt with her boot.
“No harm will cross this line! No harm! No harm!” she chanted, bending down to scribble runes beneath her barrier with a finger.
This won’t keep it away, that terrifyed voice in her head moaned. You have no magic to charge this ward. You think the symbols alone will hold it back? It has claws!
“No fucking harm will cross, dammit!” Ivy whimpered.
The front door slammed.
Ivy dared a look over her shoulder. The cabin stared back, its wooden façade grayed with age, each board creaking as the biting autumn wind picked up. Its tall windows were boarded, but that didn’t stop the feeling that it was watching her. Or maybe the invisible creature inside studied her. Either way, both were laughing at her; she could feel it. Mocking her. Finding her as pathetic as she felt.
You can’t do this, her doubt whispered.
Ivy’s hands shook. She wanted to get in her car and drive away, wanted to pretend she didn’t have this idea in the first place. Just quietly die tucked away in her aunts’ little guest house in downtown Big Bear. But she couldn’t. She had to live. For Rowan. For Auntie Rosemary and Auntie Dahlia.
For Aster.
You let your sister down. Maybe this is the fate you deserve.
Tears burned her eyes, fury gathering tight under her ribs. She had to focus. Had to get angry, not scared.
Give up. Walk away. Try dying with dignity like a good little witch. Only fools try to fight the inevitable.
She picked up a rock and threw it at the cabin. Its harmless bounce off the porch wasn’t enough to satisfy her so she threw a second, ricocheting the stone off the front door. She threw another, then another, hitting the porch swing with a loud crack, pinging the railings, and battering the window frames.
“Fuck you!” she screamed. “I’m coming back! Consider this a warning!”
Her knees went weak as the adrenaline rush faded. She fell back against her SUV, rubbing her spinning head. Her tantrum calmed her somewhat, even if it was embarrassing as hell. Thank the Gods her brother Rowan wasn’t there to see it.
She glared at the house and whatever was inside it. This wasn’t over. Oh, she was claiming that house. And even an invisible horned monster wasn’t going to stop her.
She had no choice.
