Victoria DeLuis's Blog, page 4

The Silure Tribe of South East Wales

I was on twitter the other day and someone posted the question – “do writers need to research of should they just write?” I have seen this come up time and time again, and I always find it surprising that people doubt the need for writers to complete research. What I find even more surprising is that you often find comments from other writers saying that they do but they write non-fiction.

I thought I would clarify once and for that fiction writers carry out an unbelievable amount of research for their work.

I have already made a brief post on the Ogham Alphabet and the runes and trees I used as a basis for Summer’s magic in the Rune Witch Mysteries – I wouldn’t have been able to base Summer’s magic system on this without research

Till Death

I am busy working on A Grave Death, the first full length novel in my Independent Necromancers’ Bureau series (scheduled for release in May), and thought it might be nice to share the short stories I wrote a few years back with you.

The first of which is titled, Till Death.

*

 

Caim

A protective spirit (Wales)

Boys name meaning amddifynydd, protector (Welsh)

(n.) lit. “sanctuary”; an invisible circle of protection, drawn around the body with the hand, that reminds you that you are safe and loved, even in the darkest times (Scottish/Gaelic)

 

 

 

 

Working as an agent for the Independent Necromancers’ Bureau had its perks, but spending the night in a haunted house, miles away from civilisation, wasn’t my idea of one. Easy job, Thomas had said. Yeah, sounded great until you considered the angry shade screeching and snarling in my face. I’d rather face a horde of zombies.

At least, enclosed within my circle of protection, no harm could befall me. I might cook—I could swear the temperature in the room was so high, I started to smell like bacon—but the spirit couldn’t touch me.

My brow furrowed and my head pounded. The throbbing echoed through my bones, and I wanted nothing more than to call it a night, head home, and curl up in bed with the cat. I wanted to, but I didn’t. Instead, I set my shoulders and kept my focus on the link Jim Maybin’s spirit still had with his remains.

With the realisation that his tactics of fear and intimidation were failing, Jim attempted a new trick. Images of a young man and woman, too young to comprehend the future that awaited them, bombarded my mind. They stood on a balcony, as close as two people could be. The couple smiled and laughed underneath a purple dusk sky, wrapped up in the moment, storing every detail within their minds, and etching it into their souls. The memory was so complete, I felt the slight breeze that caressed their skin and brought with it the sweet scent of lavender. Crickets chirped, and the wind rustled through the leaves of a great oak, standing as a testament to the perseverance and resilience of life.

The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a box before dropping to one knee and presenting the ring. ‘Rachel,’ he said as her hand flew to her face in shock. ‘I have loved you from the second I laid my eyes on you. You are my whole life and I can’t imagine spending a second of it without you by my side. Will you marry me?’

Jim shared with me one of the happiest moments of his life. His memory burned with emotion and tears streamed down my face, a mirror of those that flowed from Rachel’s eyes. Sure, having your heart ripped out of your chest and fed to you on a platter along with some cheese and pineapple was emotionally draining, but this wasn’t my first day on the job. No way would I buckle. My determination strengthened. With each breath, I drew the shade closer to his cremated body. The thread that linked Jim’s spirit to his ashes grew stronger, drawing him in and containing him within his remains.

I opened my eyes and looked at the man before me. He wore the khaki brown battledress he had died in. A remnant of the war that robbed him of his life.

‘This is the way it needs to be,’ I said to Jim. ‘You can’t stay here any longer. Rachel needs to know you are gone, so she can follow.’ With those final words, I allowed the intricacies of his existence to flow through my mind, and then severed the thread connecting Jim to his mortal body and the world of the living. His spirit left instantly, free to go to whatever afterlife awaited him.

I felt the blood drain from my face in exhaustion as I dropped my circle of protection and opened my eyes to the real world. ‘He’s gone,’ I said to the frail old woman propped upright in the bed. Long, white hair spilled over her shoulders. It was hard to reconcile this Rachel with the vibrant young woman from Jim’s memory.  Her son perched next to her, holding her hand with tender care. She beckoned me forward.

When I reached the bed, she clasped my hand with a light grip that bespoke her fragility. ‘Thank you,’ she said, her voice no more than a whisper. ‘After all this time, Jim can finally be at peace.’

Jim Maybin Junior stood and motioned to the door. ‘Thank you, Miss Dune,’ he said. ‘You have lifted a great burden from my mother. Now if you will excuse us, she needs her rest.’

‘Yes, of course.’ I gathered my bag and moved to leave. Goosebumps rose on my arms as I turned for one last look upon Rachel. The old woman had a few days to live, if that. My gaze travelled to the bedside table, where a black and white picture showed Rachel and Jim standing on the steps of a church. Rachel wore a flowing white gown and Jim, his army uniform. With all my heart, I wished that when the time came, Rachel would truly be reunited with Jim.

*

‘Thank goodness.’ DI Luke Baron rushed towards me as I walked through the office door. ‘Where the hell have you been?’ he asked.

I dropped my bag to the floor and rubbed the back of my neck. Great, if the police were looking for me, my planned trip to bed was sure as hell off the cards. ‘On a job,’ I said. ‘Why?’

‘I’ve been trying to reach you for ages. I called your last job. Mr Maybin said you left almost an hour ago.’

‘Uh, yeah, and considering it’s over forty miles away, I think I made great time getting back.’ I pulled my mobile out of my pocket and switched it on, only to be greeted by the chime of nine missed calls.

‘Seriously, Cassie. Haven’t you seen the news?’

I declined to answer, as I thought it was pretty safe for him to assume I hadn’t. Luke glanced at the TV hanging on the wall and I followed his gaze. The sound was off but the screen displayed the view from a helicopter circling the 17th century Morgan family mansion. A spotlight streaked over party-goers as they fled the house and rushed through the surrounding parkland. The red banner beneath the image flashed with the breaking news of a zombie attack.

Damn it. The term was reanimated. Zombie was a loaded word and they knew it.

For the first time, I noticed the chaos in the surrounding office. Footsteps pounded as secretaries rushed about and phones rang unanswered in their cradles. I didn’t need my spidey senses to tell me something big was going down. Even I could spot trouble when it hit me over the head with a sledgehammer. ‘What the hell is going on?’ I asked.

‘We need you. Every other agent is already in the field.’ Luke grabbed my arm and led me back out the door towards the elevator. ‘The mansion was booked tonight to host a wedding party. At around midnight, the reanimated arrived en masse. No fatalities that we know of, but we have reports of at least twenty-two injured. For now, it seems the remaining guests are barricaded in the attic, but God knows how long that will last.’

The elevator pinged and the doors opened. Mumbling to myself, I lamented my empty bed and then asked Luke if there was any chance of a coffee.

In the privacy of the lift, Luke embraced me and kissed my forehead. A comforting touch that sent warmth radiating through my chest. ‘Tough case at the Maybin house?’ he asked.

‘I’ll be fine,’ I said as I clung to his tall, robust body. We’d had the opportunity to work together on a number of cases over the last few years. Although our relationship had developed into more than just colleagues of late, I still wasn’t sure about my feelings for Luke. He was great. He really was, I just never thought I’d end up dating a cop. In truth, there weren’t many officers who found it easy to work with the Independent Necromancers’ Bureau. Hell, not many people found it easy to work with the INB, full stop. It might have something to do with the traditional image of sinewy old men, shrouded in black capes, cackling at the moon, and raising the dead for nefarious deeds. Either that, or it creeps them out that we talk to ghosts and have power over the dead.

This new development at the Morgan Mansion wasn’t going to be great for public relations. People see one dead guy walking around and the finger of blame starts pointing towards every necromancer on the planet, whether they’re the good guys or not. Make no mistake, INB are the good guys, we put down the angry hordes, not raise them. Right now, bad PR aside, it seemed there was a legion of reanimated to handle. Not to mention a rogue necromancer controlling them.

*

While Luke searched for somewhere to park, I hopped out of his car and checked my watch. It was almost quarter past two—the reanimated had rampaged for over two hours. Dreading to think what mess we would find, I shook my head and raced through the cluster of patrol cars. Their red and blue flashing lights combined with the light drizzle of rain to create a macabre atmosphere.

Set around a one mile perimeter, a circle of protection surrounded the house and pulsed with energy. At least none of the reanimated would be able to leave the area, which was something to be thankful for when you considered how close we were to the city centre. Luke’s debrief told me that the surrounding houses had been evacuated, and pushing my way through the bystanders to reach the police cordon, I knew where they had gone.

‘Who’s the agent in charge?’ I asked the officer standing hunched in his high-visibility raincoat, a constable, judging by the lack of stripes on his insignia.

He sauntered over, a leering smile on his pudgy face. ‘And you are?’ he said.

‘Cassie Dune. I’m with INB.’ I flashed my badge to confirm my position.

His smile turned to a sneer. So, he didn’t like necromancers. Just another cop to point the finger of blame for tonight’s antics at the shoulders of INB. The constable was about to say something when Luke arrived behind me. Maybe I should have played nice, but the mood didn’t strike me. So, when Luke placed a guiding hand on my back, dismissed the officer, and lifted the police tape to usher me through, I gave the officer a smug sneer that said, ‘Yeah, that’s right. More important than you, Mr lowly constable man.’

Even a mile from the house, I could sense the power directed at the mansion from the make-shift tent housing the command team. But there was something else. An energy hidden beneath all the others. One that caused a tingling sensation to course through my caim, a Celtic symbol of protection tattooed on my shoulder.

When Luke and I entered the tent, Assistant Director Thomas Albert, my boss at the INB, and Chief Constable Rhys Dawson were mid-discussion. Five INB agents sat in protective circles on the floor. Their faces were glazed in concentration and sweat beaded on their brows.

‘You need to get this situation under control,’ Dawson was saying to Thomas.

‘Look, Dawson. We’re doing everything we can.’ Thomas paced the small space in front of his seated agents. He rubbed the back of his neck and gave them a weary glance. ‘I have more than twenty agents battling the reanimated, but they’re experiencing difficulties. A block of some sort. Not to mention that every time they get close, they’re set upon. We need to find out who’s controlling them, and as you can see—’ He gestured to the agents on the floor.­ ‘—we’re having no luck on that front.’

‘It’s in the house,’ I said.

‘What?’ said Dawson as all eyes turned to me.

‘The source of the problem,’ I said. ‘It’s in the house.’

A look of scepticism swept over Dawson’s face. ‘And you would know this how, exactly?’

‘It stands to reason.’ I shrugged. ‘Plus, I can feel it.’

‘Well, that’s just grea—’

‘No, wait, Dawson. If Cassie says the problem is in the house, then the problem is in the house.’ Thomas put his hand on my shoulder. ‘But you said source, not person.’

‘Yes. I don’t think this is the work of a rogue necromancer. There’s an artefact in that house calling to the reanimated. I can’t say why, but I just know it.’

‘Great,’ said Thomas. ‘What do you need?’

‘For starters, I need a coffee,’ I said, desperate for a caffeine fix. ‘Then, I need to get to that house.’

*

‘Duck,’ Luke said as he swung a metal bar in my direction. With a yelp, I ducked and watched it fly over my head to collide with the forehead of the reanimated behind me. A shower of blood flew from the impact, but did little to stop the walking corpse. ‘See, I told you I’d be handy to have around.’ Luke continued to pound his target. ‘Any chance of a helping hand?’ he asked.

With zombies, the hard work of containing the spirit within its remains has already been completed. You reach for the thread holding it there and focus your power to sever the soul’s connection to the moral realm. I went through the motions, found the thread and cut, but before the break was complete, some outside force knitted it back together. Thomas had mentioned a block, but this was active opposition. I focused again, drew on all my magic, and slashed at the barrier with a powerful blast of energy. Finally, with the soul free, the vacant remains dropped to the ground.

With the back of my hand, I rubbed at the sweat on my forehead. A spot of blood smeared with the contact. ‘Yuck,’ I said, wiping it on Luke’s jacket. ‘And I told you, men make my life…messy.’

‘Ha-ha. So what do you want to do next?’

‘I wasn’t expecting to run into anyone this far away from the house,’ I said. ‘Whatever’s controlling them is either doing a poor job, or it’s set them on attack mode. Either way, we have to get closer without drawing the entire horde down on our heads.’

Luke glanced around. The view consisted of the car park and outbuildings surrounding the mansion. The scent of damp grass overrode that of wet stone. Spotlights flashed through the misty rain, interrupting the peace of the night. The frightful grunts coming from the direction of the house aided in exuding that ominous horror movie ambience. His eyes alighted on the visitor centre. A small bungalow at the entrance to the grounds. ‘How about we go up?’ he said.

‘Up?’

‘Yeah.’ He pointed at the building. ‘The visitor centre connects to the lower barns. If I remember correctly, the lower barns connect to the Great Barn, and from there it’s only a short distance to the house.’

I sucked in a breath and dashed towards the centre. ‘Come on,’ I called to Luke. ‘We haven’t got all night.’

Getting on the roof had been easy. I moved a waste bin and used it to stand on before hoisting myself up. Luke pulled himself up to join me. Strange shuffling noises came from within and the stench of decay was unmistakable, but we moved over the lower barns uninterrupted. The Great Barn was a different matter. It was a monster of a building, too tall to gain easy access to the roof, and with no upper windows for entry. A throng of disgruntled-sounding monsters teemed inside, spilling into the adjoining courtyard and leading up to the house.

‘Any possibility you could take them down?’ Luke asked.

‘No, there’s too many.’

‘Make a run for it,’ he suggested. ‘Although, one scratch and I’m toast, right?’

‘This isn’t a cheesy horror movie. One scratch and you’ll be fine. But if they decide to rip your head off…then you’re toast.’

‘Gotcha. I’ll try and avoid losing my head.’

Despite the warnings and debrief I’d been given, the reanimated were more numerous than I had expected. Some looked as though they’d crawled their way out of the grave. Though I guessed that shouldn’t be a surprise, as they probably had. I strained to listen for any sign of trouble or movement within the mansion. Apart from the gleaming lights and the music playing somewhere inside, all stood still. Something wasn’t quite right. Something that went beyond the worry of a hundred walking corpses. If only I could put my finger on it. ‘It’s strange,’ I said after a moment.

‘You can say that again.’

‘I mean…they’re drawn to the house, but beyond that, they seem to lack purpose.’ I watched as the bodies milled about. Mindless beasts drawn by some unexplained impulse. Maybe zombie was the correct term to use after all. ‘There must be in excess of thirty windows on the ground floor alone. If they wanted in, they’d be in,’ I said.

‘Maybe that’ll work in our favour.’

‘Maybe.’ The tingling in my caim tattoo had increased in intensity. In an effort not to itch at the mark, I turned away and manoeuvred over the roof, scanned our surroundings through the blackness of the night and considered our next move. ‘There,’ I said, spotting a likely route. ‘If we drop down from the other side of the barn, we can use the cover of the ornamental hedge before making a dash across the field to the stables. We can gain entry to the house from there.’

‘Some cover,’ Luke said. ‘That hedge can’t be more than two feet high.’

‘You got a better idea?’

‘Nope, but one thing before we go.’ Luke swept me into his embrace. His shirt, damp from the rain, clung to his firm chest. He kissed me without reservation before pulling back and staring into my eyes. ‘You’re a special lady, Cassie Dune.’

He wanted to say more, the words shone out of his face. I understood, but held up a hand to stop him. Now wasn’t the time. We needed a cool head and emotions would only be a distraction, for both of us.

I pulled out of his arms and moved to the side of the barn away from the courtyard. With the stables in sight, and Luke by my side, I dropped from the roof and crouched in the shadows.

Luke looked in all directions before signalling me to make my move. Coiled and ready, I sprinted to the gardens and then flung myself flat on the ground to avoid detection. Luke followed a few seconds later.

I gulped in a breath and raised my head above the greenery. ‘We’re good,’ I said, noting that the mob hadn’t spotted us. We moved together, crawling through the mud military-style, groping alongside the hedgerow, through the dark, and towards the open field beyond. A nagging thought kept surfacing in the back of my mind. The way my caim burned. The creeping sensation of power that hummed through my being, I’d felt it before. If only I could remember where.

When we reached the edge of the gardens, Luke rose to a crouch. ‘All clear,’ he said before sprinting across the open field.

I made a grab for his foot, but missed. My mouth opened to yell for him to come back, but I couldn’t risk the sound. Instead I ran after him and reached for my power. Luke was almost to the stable when one of the reanimated barrelled into him from the side. He fell down in a bundle on the floor, but had the sense to roll, narrowly avoiding a tearing grasp aimed at his throat.

I blasted my gift to release the trapped soul and pulled Luke to his feet. The body tumbled to the ground behind us, lifeless once more. Arriving at the stable, Luke kicked open the door. Once we were both safe inside, he wedged his metal bar through the handles as a barricade.

‘Thanks for that,’ he said, bending over, and coughing in an effort to catch his breath.

‘No problem. I owed you one.’ I listened for sound outside. ‘I think we’re safe for now. I didn’t see any more following.’

The stable contained empty stalls, a bunch of old tools, and some bundles of fresh hay. Considering the fact that no horses had been kept here for decades, the equipment was for display purposes only. I spotted the entrance to the tunnel in the far corner. ‘It’s this way,’ I said.

The stables led to a deserted kitchen. Pots and pans shimmered silver in the light, food lined the units, and the mouth-watering smell of slow-braised pork and apple wafted through the room. Tempting, and although my stomach grumbled in protest at the lack of food, I considered my mud-caked skin and clothing, and stayed my hand. Instead of reaching for a canapé, I picked up a towel and cleaned myself as best I could.

‘Any idea where we look for this artefact of yours?’ Luke asked after he finished clearing the dirt from his own clothes.

I closed my eyes, blocked out distractions, and centred my energy on the pulse of magic embedded beneath all others. A frosty shiver ran through me as I traced the source to the top of the house. ‘Up,’ I said and opened my eyes.

‘Up.’ Luke nodded in resignation. ‘Always up.’

Fully alert and on the lookout for danger, we moved through the house.  In the Great Hall, music played and light danced over panelled walls, creating new dimensions to the intricate carvings. In a state of disarray, chairs were left knocked over and a puddle of red wine pooled at my feet.

A small step closer to the window told me that the mansion stood surrounded. The horde of reanimated gathered outside, spilling over the confines of the courtyard on to the lush field beyond. I’d first visited the manor as a wedding guest myself. The contrast between that warm summer afternoon and this frigid March night couldn’t have been more pronounced. A wedding should signify life. The hope of a fresh start. An extended family welcoming new members with vibrant colours and loving friends. But death prevailed here. No joyful footsteps pounded the oak flooring, no guests laughed as they sat at the beautiful tables, laid with flickering candles and rustic centrepieces. Instead, an eerie feeling of abandonment blighted the room.

Luke stopped the music, allowing the groans to echo through the house.  ‘Have you ever heard of the Pair Dadeni?’ I asked, now understanding the nagging thought surfacing from the back of my brain.

‘The Black Cauldron. The one that creates an invincible army of undead warriors.’ Luke shrugged. ‘I’ve seen the film.’

I smiled. ‘You get too much of your information from movies. Pair Dadeni, the Cauldron of Rebirth, fabled to have the power to revive the dead.’ I rubbed my burning shoulder and sucked at the corner of my lip.

‘When I was sixteen,’ I said after a few moments, ‘my nain, my grandmother, gave me a tattoo of a caim. Told me it would aid with my gift. Protect me, and help me control the undead. She also said that the ink used was laced with a scraping of metal from the Pair Dadeni. I always thought it a story, but that’s what I’m feeling here. I know it.’

‘But in the story, wasn’t the cauldron destroyed?’

‘Not destroyed. Broken.’ I looked into Luke’s worried eyes. ‘Broken into four pieces.’

‘And you think one of those pieces is here, calling to the reanimated?’

‘I do, although maybe not a full piece,’ I said, eyeing the dead outside. ‘Maybe just a fragment. I can feel it in the attic.’

‘Then we’d better get to the attic.’ Luke grabbed my hand, leading the way through the house and up the stairs.

The weather outside had deteriorated during our time inside. Rain lashed against the windows and the wind howled through the halls. From the house above came the incoherent mumble of voices. I listened hard, but couldn’t make out the words nor the number of people speaking.

After a few moments, we found the entrance to the attic. We tried the door but it was locked. We knocked. No answer. The voices were clearer now and mingled with the muffled sound of crying, but there was no sign of movement towards the door.

Now, I was not suggesting it would have been a good idea to start pounding on a door barricaded by helpless civilians, who more than likely believed we were zombies come to eat their flesh. The possibility of one of those civilians having a heart attack was quite high, as was the likelihood of me being whacked in the face by a frying pan. Neither of which were good options. Although, I knew which one my superiors would prefer. But after standing at the door and yelling for five minutes, I gave one last warning shout and then let Luke ram it with his shoulder. It didn’t budge.

‘Let’s try together,’ he said. ‘Okay, one, two, three…’

We barged the door. Ignoring the pain that flared through my arm, I gritted my teeth and said, ‘Again. One, two, three…’

After the third try, the lock broke under the impact. The door shifted a few inches but came to a stop when it hit a furniture barricade. The voices inside stilled. Through the opening, I saw a narrow flight of stairs, highlighted by a single bare bulb, which led to a darkened room. ‘There’s no need for concern,’ I called through the crack. ‘This is Cassie Dune, I’m with the INB. I’m here with Detective Inspector Luke Baron. We need you to move the barricade.’

‘How do we know you’re not one of those monsters?’ a deep voice queried. Whispers could be heard behind the man, urging him to stay quiet.

Because I’m talking to you and not trying to rip your head off, was what I didn’t say. Instead, I opted for a more diplomatic approach. ‘Look,’ I said. ‘I understand that you’re frightened, but if we’re going to help, you need to let us in.’

A figure moved forward out of the shadows at the top of the stairs. He shrugged off a staying hand and moved into the light. Standing a little over six feet tall and wearing a light grey wedding tuxedo, he fiddled with the ring on his finger. ‘Can you get us out of here?’ he asked.

‘I’m going to try,’ I replied.

*

By that point, the storm outside was raging, and the noise as the rain pounded the roof was so deafening I could barely hear the words of the groom as he led us inside the garret. The stench of vomit, sweat, and alcohol turned my stomach. An indication that David had been holed up in the room with his new wife, Bethan, and their guests for over three hours.

Bethan jumped from her seat as soon as we entered. ‘Can you stop the monsters?’ she asked. As evidence to her tears, her carefully applied make-up smeared her face, and she looked more like the Joker than a blushing bride.

‘Are you getting us out?’ another voice said.

Neither Luke nor I responded. Instead, we peered around. I thought my night had been bad, but the wedding guests looked like they’d been hung out to dry in a snow storm. A soft glow cast their dispirited faces in a morose light as they sat huddled in groups. The men had sacrificed their suit jackets to keep the ladies warm. Windows rattled and the lace curtains swayed as wind seeped in through the ancient frames. The chill air raised fog from everyone’s breath. The bridal bouquet lay discarded and forgotten on the floor.

‘It could be anything,’ Luke said as he scanned the room. ‘Can you get a read on anything?’

I noted all the different metals in the form of jewellery, furniture adornments, and decorations. ‘Not yet,’ I said. The groom distracted my gaze. He stood next to his bride and once again turned the ring on his finger. ‘Is that bothering you?’ I nodded towards the wedding band.

‘It’s new.’ David placed his hand on Bethan’s shoulder and gave her a half-smile. ‘Will take some getting used to, I guess.’

She smiled back at him and looked at her own ring. ‘Mine too. I worried I might be allergic. It’s been itching for hours. I’m probably just not used to wearing one.’

A look of worry crossed David’s face. ‘Does it kind of burn?’ he asked.

‘So, it’s two rings to rule them all,’ Luke interrupted, a slight smirk on his face.

It sure as hell looked that way. To confirm the obvious, I opened myself to my gift. The feeling that lightning sang under my skin flooded me, and I perceived the tendrils of power coming from the rings. ‘Where did you get them?’ I asked. ‘Can you take them off?’

‘Look,’ David said. ‘I don’t see—’

‘Just take them off.’ I crouched down on my knees, grabbed Bethan’s hand, and tried to remove the ring. The metal turned on her finger, but no matter how hard I pulled, it wouldn’t move past Bethan’s knuckle.

Bethan became frantic. She yanked her hand out of my grasp and tugged on the ring until her finger bled, but it wouldn’t move. By this time, David had attempted to remove his own ring without success, but when he saw Bethan’s pain, he reached out and clasped her hands.

‘What does it mean?’ he asked.

I raised my voice and ignored the question. ‘Who made them? Where did you get the metal?’

‘I made them.’ He sat down and sighed, then wrapped his arm around Bethan’s shoulders, pulling her into a side hug. ‘The metal came from an old trinket box belonging to Bethan’s grandmother.’

‘We thought it would be romantic,’ Bethan said. ‘Gran used to say the box brought luck. That it bound two hearts together for all eternity.’ For a long breathless moment, Bethan’s eyes locked with David’s. A touch of tears formed in their corners. ‘Before she died, she said there was no fear to be held in death. That she never felt the loss of Grandad, as she knew that if she held the box tight and wished, he would be there with her.’

The room fell silent for a few moments. The only sound was the incessant pounding of the rain and bellowing of the wind.

‘This is what I know,’ I said carefully. ‘Your wedding bands are drawing the reanimated to the mansion. Though why they have stopped outside, I cannot say for certain.’ I stood, paced the small space available, and tried to make sense of my thoughts. ‘I suspect whatever urgency activated the rings has passed, and without focused commands from their masters, they have just milled around.’

‘Their masters,’ David said, jumping up. ‘So can’t we just get their masters to send them away?’

‘I wish it were that simple.’ I looked at the groom in his smart tuxedo, and the bride in her vintage-inspired lace dress. Resisting the urge to say Beetlejuice three times, I considered how young they seemed. Too young to be married, let alone carry the burden I now had to place on their shoulders.

*

We left the attic with David and Bethan and went down the stairs to the Great Hall to begin our preparations. The reanimated were visible through the windows, ignorant of the gusting wind and rain that pelted their bodies and plastered the tattered remains of clothing to their skin. Luke helped me clear the floor, while David comforted an ashen Bethan.

I crossed the room to the couple, intruding on their whispered words. ‘It’s time,’ I said, motioning them to stand up.

We gathered in the centre of the room, while Luke stood guard at the doorway. Despite his prowess, he was unable to help further with the magical proceedings. As Bethan stumbled over her dress, I gripped her arm and supported her until she successfully lowered herself to the floor. The beautiful gown crumpled in a heap beneath her legs. Joining his hand with hers, David sat next to her.

‘Are you ready to destroy an army?’ I said before folding myself to the ground and taking their free hands within my own. I collected my powers and created a circle of protection around us.

David’s eyes flickered to Bethan and he squeezed her hand. She gave him a faint smile. When she looked at me, she took a deep breath and nodded firmly. ‘We’re ready,’ she said.

‘Concentrate on me.’ I glanced from David to Bethan, steeling them with my gaze. ‘No matter what you see, never break your concentration. Focus on me and we can end this.’

It’s hard to explain to someone who has never experienced magic, how it feels to open yourself to the energy of life and death. How to view the world as a webbed frenzy of interconnected threads. So, I didn’t bother. Instead, with a final nod and my best attempt at a reassuring smile, I took a deep breath and allowed my power to roar within me.

Bethan cried out and drew a shuddering breath. ‘How can you stand it?’ she said as swirling currents and whirlpools of power tugged at our minds.

‘Focus on me,’ I said into the maelstrom. ‘You can do this.’

To our sight, as we sat connected within the circle, tendrils of power snaked out of my chest and wove a path to join the magical link emanating from the two rings. Despite the searing pain that burned my caim like a raging fire, I forced myself to work slowly, weaving an unbreakable bond into the structure of the metal at the atomic level. A clammy sweat formed on my brow as I fought to gain entry. The force within the rings struggled against my intrusion.

I drew deeply, accessing reservoirs of power I never knew I possessed and forcing my will upon the magic. For a brief second, I glimpsed the evil used in creating the Cauldron of Rebirth. The malevolent force that sacrificed thousands upon thousands of lives to its making. The horror and agony suffered by so many damaged souls rushed over me in waves, turning my stomach and making me want to cry out in agony. I attempted to shield David and Bethan from the worst of the pain, but from the tightening of their grip upon my hands, I knew some had seeped through.

When, at last, I became one with the rings, I blasted a severing command to the horde of reanimated. Two hundred and thirty-four spirits fled their remains and moved on. A loud thud reverberated through the building as their bodies tumbled to the ground in perfect unison. The pitiful cries of ninety more souls, released as the rings on David and Bethan’s fingers fractured and broke, tore at my heart and cursed me with grief. Souls that had been trapped within the fragmented pieces of the cauldron for millennia. Now, finally free.

I relinquished the connection to my power, released the hands of the bride and groom, and pulled myself onto unsteady feet. Luke rushed forward to support me, and I choked back a sobbing cry. So many souls, so much anguish. If just one small piece of metal could imprison so many, then how many lent their power to my caim tattoo, and why couldn’t I feel them? How many more lay trapped within the remaining pieces, and where could I find them? So many questions. Questions I didn’t have the strength to answer.

In my despair, I spared a glance towards David and Bethan. I hoped their marriage would survive this day, but somehow, I doubted it could.

Luke called in to report our situation, although I was sure they already knew. I had sat down to consider the questions bombarding my head when my phone rang.

‘Miss Dune,’ a voice said when I answered.

‘Yes.’

‘I’m sorry to bother you at this hour. It’s Jim Maybin. I wondered if it would be possible for you to return to the house.’ His words came out in a croak. ‘My mother has passed. I mean…she hasn’t. But she should have. She’s worried that Dad isn’t really gone and that she’d be leaving him.’

‘I’ll be there in an hour,’ I said to Mr Maybin.

Just enough time to change my clothes, grab a coffee, and travel the forty miles to the house.

***

I hope you liked it. I’ll be publishing the second short story, A Matter of Death in a couple of weeks. So check back then

Rune Witch Mysteries – The Complete Series

I’m Summer Daniels. Friend to few. Foe to many. And one angry witch…

There’s no rest for the wicked, or, at least, that’s what they say. From a murdered house fairy, to heartless goblins, and untrustworthy fairy folk, I sure have my work cut out for me.

As soon as one case is solved another lands on my doorstep. But the biggest mystery of all is that of my family curse.

I’ll fight to the end to discover the truth, but what do I do when the man I love wants to fight for me? What do I do when he’s threatened?

The cards are stacked against me, but I’m Summer Daniels, Rune Witch of the Ogham Faith, and Hell hath no fury like an angry Witch.

 

Get the Complete Series in one book, available on Amazon Kindle now for only 99c!

Set includes all four books in the Rune Witch Mysteries: Taken, Hidden, Forgotten, and Unbroken (also available as individual titles)

Unbroken ~ Snippet

Unbroken, the fourth and final book in the Rune Witch Mysteries is now available on Amazon Kindle

Check out a small snippet of chapter one below.

***

Unbroken

There are times when life sucks.

It’s amazing to meet someone, fall in love, and plan to spend the rest of your life with them, but what happens when they are ripped away from you and it feels as though your soul has been shredded. Too many times I had seen Thomas fight for me, risk his life… for me. But he was the one constant I never thought I’d lose. Dad was never around — of course, I knew now that was because of the curse that trapped him in the land of the Tylwyth Teg — Nana died when I was so very young, and Mam all but left me at the same time. And now, just as she’s becoming whole again, I’m broken. Thomas was my forever.

Is my forever, I reminded myself.

Then there was Gwen. The only person in my life who had truly been with me forever. As Nana’s best friend, she’d been there from the moment I was born. A constant visitor to the cottage, a voice on the end of the phone. I’d taken her presence for granted.

As I sat on the edge of the bed and held her impossibly fragile hand, I wondered at her courage. Not many people would take on the burden of a death curse to save others. But Gwen was family. She wasn’t just Nana’s best friend, she wasn’t simply the little old lady who owned the magic shop, she was a part of us. There wasn’t a memory I had that didn’t have Gwen on the fringes of it.

Mam had given her a week at best, but as I looked at her head resting on a pillow that matched the whiteness of her hair and heightened the paleness of her skin, I wondered how true that was. I’d sat next to her for at least twenty minutes, and if it wasn’t for the laboured rise of her chest, I wouldn’t be hard-pressed to imagine her already gone.

I sighed. What do we know? Mam had asked. Not a lot, was the honest answer. But one thing was certain, we needed to move fast.

A surge of anger flared within me and I resisted the need to pace for fear of disturbing Gwen.

Dureth. God damn, Dureth! How could I have been so stupid, so wrong? I clenched my fists as I pictured his face and how much I wanted to punch it. I’d been too focused on what the curse could do to me, I hadn’t stopped to think what it would do to everyone else.

I’d been such a fool.

Dureth had sent Thomas and Dad to the ‘the land of my people,’ wherever the hell that was. I could only hope to find a way to break the curse once and for all before he also sent Gwen to heaven.

I sucked in a breath as realisation struck.

Heaven. Annwfn. The Otherworld.

“You are a superstar,” I said to Gwen. “I will break the curse, but you have to keep fighting. The one thing I still need you to give me is time.”

I lay a gentle kiss on her forehead and ran downstairs to see Mam and Trystan.

“The way I see it,” I said as I burst through the kitchen door. “It’s no longer about what we know, but rather what we must do, and that’s find Thomas and Dad, save Gwen, and destroy Dureth. To do all of that, I need to go to Annwfn.”

Myth and legend placed the fair folk as living by rivers, in woodland, and caves. Dureth had lived in a manor house bespelled to cast it outside of human reality, but the true land of the Tylwyth Teg was Annwfn, the province of their king.

Trystan smiled and walked over to the window. He stared out at the surrounding forest. “We need to go,” he said without turning to look at me.

“This isn’t your fight.” A surge of blame churned my stomach and brought a bad taste to my mouth. Too many people had been hurt on my behalf. I wouldn’t risk another.

“Yes, it is.” Trystan walked back to the table and sat in one of the surrounding chairs.

“But—”

“No buts. This is not open for discussion.”

I stared into his eyes and saw his resolve, then turned to Mam for back-up, but she just shrugged her shoulders. We both knew he wouldn’t be swayed. Despite having met him a short time ago, and despite our initial meeting being somewhat strained, he’d become part of our close-knit group. He’d been steadfast in his desire to help Rhys, and given how close Trystan and Thomas had gotten, I’d be fighting a losing battle to try and stop him from coming with me to rescue him.

“Fine, but I’m in charge,” I almost growled.

The dragon-man had to be one of the most bull-headed men I’d ever met, and trust me, I’d met quite a few who could fit into that category. I suppressed the lump forming in my throat, knowing Thomas would interject and point out that I might be a little bull-headed myself, and stomped over to the kitchen table, where I plonked in the chair next to Mam’s. The delicious scent of beef stew hung in the air and I held my stomach tightly lest it undermine my overdramatic gesture with a rumble. I almost felt a little ashamed at acting like a petulant child, but if you can’t act like that in front of your Mam and a two-thousand-year-old being, who probably considers everyone immature, then who can you?

“We need to stop wasting time,” I added.

“Agreed. Before Thomas was taken, I contacted him to say that I had found something that may be able to help,” Trystan said.

The well of hope slowly building inside me along with my resolve hit a new spring. With everything that had happened, I’d forgotten that while Thomas and I worked to rescue Rhys, Trystan had been seeking the aid of creatures who could help us break the curse.

“It’s not going to be easy,” he continued.

“It never is.” I stood and started pacing.

“No, it’s not, and it will be even harder if you don’t sit down. I can’t think with your constant movement.”

I bristled but stilled.

Trystan closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Much better,” he said when he opened them again.

Mam chortled. “She was always the same. Even as a child, she couldn’t sit still for more than two minutes.”

I took a deep breath myself and held my tongue. The quicker Trystan told me how to get to Thomas, the quicker I’d be on my way. We’d be on our way.

“Well?” I prompted him to continue.

“My visit to Sdwd yr Eira,” he said, referring to the waterfall on the Hepste river in the Brecon Beacons, “was not productive in the way I’d hoped, but the Ceffyl Dŵr were able to provide me with information that can help.”

My heart sank. The Ceffyl Dŵr were notorious tricksters. The winged steeds with translucent wings that shimmered and sparkled like the water they inhabited held no malice at their core, but they loved nothing more than to see the fun in things, even if there was no fun to be had by others. Tales of them offering rides to weary travellers, only to fly them way beyond their intended destination before evaporating into mist and dropping them to the ground had spread throughout Wales for centuries.

Sensing my despair, Mam reached over and grabbed my hand. “What makes you think you can trust them?” she asked Trystan. “They’re not exactly known to be helpful.”

“Nonsense,” Trystan said. “You just have to know how to handle them. They confirmed the only way to break the curse was to travel to Annwfn.”

“Can they take us?”

“The gates to the Otherworld are open wide in winter time. If we needed to go then, they could take us. But as our journey has a more pressing timeframe, they taught me an invocation we can use to appeal for safe passage.”

“Do you really think it will work?” I asked.

“I think it’s worth trying.”

“It’ll work,” Mam said before smiling and squeezing my hand. “I know it.”

Despite myself, I smiled at her optimism. “It’ll work,” I echoed, and decided to leave that it had to unsaid.

Trystan ran through the invocation while we all enjoyed a bowl of steaming stew. It involved appealing to Gwyn ap Nudd, the King of the Tylwyth Teg. When we reached the Otherworld, we could travel to the castles of the fair folk. None of us doubted that we would find Thomas and Dylan there.

The main problem was whether Gwyn would grant us entry. When I’d visited the devilish coraniaid at Raglan Castle, I’d told them that breaking the curse would see the power of Gwyn ap Nudd diminished. Of course, I’d been exaggerating and gambling on their desire for revenge to tip their judgment in my favour, but even so, I couldn’t see the king of the fair folk helping me in any way.

I swallowed a carrot slice and peered into the depths of my bowl. I couldn’t allow myself to dwell on such thoughts. Whether he would aid me or not was yet to be seen. The only way to find out for certain would be to try.

 

***

Only a snippet, but I hope you like it nonetheless

Exile: The Silure Dragon

I will be publishing Unbroken, the final story in the Rune Witch Mysteries soon, and at the same time, I’ll publish Exile. This story features, Trystan, my favourite dragon-man from the Rune Witch series, and even has a guest appearance by Summer and Thomas.

Here’s Chapter One:

I’m not one for dramatics, but my mind raced towards full out panic, and my emotions darted between joy and blazing fury when a dragon landed in the field adjacent to my house.

Her scales gleamed in the sunlight, reflecting a brilliant shade of silver that matched the steely look in her eyes. Her wings stretched like those of a bat. She shook a head crowned with a neck frill and six large spikes, sending a great chuff of air through her nostrils.   

Eighty years! Eighty years since I’d last laid eyes another dragon.

I flicked off the incessant beeping of the proximity alarm and watched the monitor as Megan changed into human form and dressed.

I remembered every fibre of her being, her perfect face, the intoxicating scent of her skin.

Rose-tinted memories surfaced forefront in my mind. I scowled and pushed them aside.  So much had changed. I had Maybe, just maybe, Megan had too.

Yeah, right!

I slapped my face to bring me back to reality and moved from the screen to the large sash window. Who knew, maybe it was just a dream. Although, nightmare may be a more appropriate term.

Sure enough, there she stood, flesh and blood. Untouched by time, as though stepping from a memory. Megan trudged through the grass towards my house, framed by a backdrop of sandstone hills shrouded in grass and heather. The cool touch of the wind blew a few strands of long chocolate-brown hair around her face. The rest hung in a loose braid over one shoulder, contrasting against the whiteness of her shirt. Her hair, face, and clothes; even the jacket hooked around her waist, and the stonewash jeans looked familiar. Only the change in style depicted the passage of time.

I listened at the front door for her footsteps. They crunched on the gravel, leading closer and closer.

I opened the door before she had time to knock.

“It’s good to see you, Trystan,” she said, while I remained silent.

I faced her, arms crossed, as she looked me up and down. Her gaze lingered on my abdomen before flickering lower. Heat soared in her eyes.

Damn it! She always had a way of making me feel like a piece of meat. I cleared my throat.

“What do you want?” Wariness crept into my voice. I shivered and told myself the blame rested on the chill mountain air.

“It’s been a long time,” she said, flashing her eyes at me while stating the obvious. “Can’t an old friend stop by for a visit?”

I toyed with the idea of playing all nicey-nicey, inviting her in for a little chat, a catch up on old times. On the other hand, I possessed a temptation to gouge my eyes out with a spoon. Either option would be just as painful.

I stared at her. She smiled back.

I clenched my teeth and tried to push down my building resentment. Her presence made me feel things long buried. “I’ll ask again. What do you want?”

“Fine.” Megan heaved and over dramatic sigh and pursed her lips. “You take the fun out of everything. The Glain Neidr is missing.”

I scoffed, shook my head, and shut the door in her face before moving to the kitchen. To occupy my hands, I gathered the cloth, wiped down the counter, and moved my morning dishes to the sink. What I wanted, was to punch a hole in the wall.

I didn’t need this crap. Not now. Not when I’d found a modicum of happiness.

I’d been exiled from my clan a human lifetime ago. They’d had decades to reach out to me, pay me a visit, and mend broken bridges. Typical that only a catastrophic event like the disappearance of the serpent’s egg would bring another dragon to my door. Least of all, Megan.

The Glain Neidr, the serpent’s egg. Not much to look at. A simple rock with a hole in the middle. Powerful things were often deceptive in appearance.

The serpent’s egg cured illness and protected against evil. Most damaging to dragon-kind, gazing through the middle of the stone granted the power to see through disguises. Whoever possessed the serpent’s egg possessed the power to look to the skies and see dragons in flight. Their glamour no longer afforded them the protection of secrecy. A human might walk down the street and gaze upon the beasts of myth and legend. With human numbers so great, and dragons so few, dangers plagued such exposure. At least, that’s what the clan believed. Me? Not so much.

I cursed as Megan entered the kitchen behind me. A locked door proved about as useful in keeping Megan out chasing tequila with vinegar.

“Do you suspect I have it?” I asked, unable to keep the scorn from my voice.

Silence greeted my question.

I threw the cloth in the sink. Echoes of the last time I’d seen her circled my mind, standing in the dragon court while others dictated my fate. Dragon-kind had stayed hidden for millennia, always lurking in the background, never taking an interest in human affairs. When Roman globalisation looked set to take over the world, and they’d built the great fortress of Isca Augusta at Caerleon, the Silure Dragons had known their way of life would change. We no longer ruled their small patch of Wales. Almost two thousand years ago we’d retreated from human affairs. To me, our self-imposed isolation needed to end. I’d sat through the First World War forbidden to aid the land of my birth. I lived on the side-lines, watched humans die by the millions, knowing we had the power to help… believing it our duty help. When the Second World War started, my mind burned with the horrors I’d witnessed not thirty years before. I determined to no longer stand idly by and let the world descend into chaos. I wanted to help. Many disagreed with this desire, including Alwyn, the leader of the Silure Dragons, and Megan, who sided with her father. The idea of associating with lesser beings disgusted her and made her a vocal opponent against the worth of human life. Born after our time of separation, she’d spent her whole life cut off from the human world. She’d never experienced the joy and compassion to be found in their friendship.

I turned, and for the first time saw a glimmer of conflict on Megan’s face. “You do suspect I have it,” I said. “After all this time, why would I risk exposing the clan?”

“A human lifetime is not that long to a dragon,” she said.

“Long enough.”

Megan rubbed the back of her neck, and, after a moment, looked awkwardly around the room. She seemed smaller, more unsure than when I’d last seen her.

“Look,” she said after an uneasy minute of silence. “I suspected. Who wouldn’t?”

“But no longer?”

“No.” She took a deep breath as though stealing herself for a hard task. “I need your help to find whoever took the egg and return it.”

I snorted, attempting to suppress an incredulous laugh. A hard task indeed. Everyone needed help once in a while. Sometimes it’s easy to ask, but then there are the other times; the times when you’d rather rip each nail clean off your fingers one by one. From the look in her eyes, Megan experienced something of that feeling now. As leader of the tribal guardians, she commanded others. Asking for help didn’t come naturally.

She moved towards me. I backed away putting the kitchen island between us. I didn’t want her any closer. She’d burned me once. Even I knew better than to touch a hot stove twice.

“I hardly think there’s anything you need from me,” I said.

“Evidence points to human involvement. Your knowledge of their methods and technology can help.”

“I live alone in the middle of nowhere, what makes you think I can solve your case?”

Megan stared at me — giving me a look that confirmed she knew far more of my existence than made me comfortable. She tilted her head and smiled. “I know you can help. The only question is, will you?”

When I’d left the tribe, I knew exactly what I’d wanted to do: save as many lives as possible. Help my country defeat Hitler. I saw it as an obligation to aid humanity. At the time, I’d wanted dragon-kind to come out of hiding. The tribal leader had other ideas. I’d been ordered to stand down, keep out of human wars and troubles. Their problems were not our problems. I needed to abide by tribal rules or leave. I left. It had been the right thing to do. But I’d never given away their secret. My secret.

I’d joined the rapidly expanding security service, MI5. Since then, not wanting to give away my seeming immortality, I’d gone private, helping those in need. Just as I had eighty years ago, I believed that if you could help, you should. I’d based my whole moral code on this principle.

“Are you going to help us or not?” Megan straightened her back and crossed her arm in front of her chest.

I didn’t bother to answer. Fire blazed through my veins as I ran through the options in my head. I craved the rush of adrenaline offered by a case. Damn it! More than that, I lacked the temperament to sit by and let dragon-kind be exposed. Even if I thought it in the best interests of dragons and humans alike, other factors needed to be considered, other supernaturals whose secret lives hung in the balance.

“When was it taken?” I asked.

A slight tension left Megan’s body as she turned to me and smiled. “Five days ago. The security cameras went out at 02:12.”

“The night of the full moon,” I noted, shaking off my surprise that the dragons had invested in cameras. The one night a month when no-one would be at the Silure mansion. “It means they’ve been watching the house, know your routine.”

Megan reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out a flash drive. “I figured as much and searched through the footage of previous nights to see if anything came up.”

I took the drive and moved to my study. Megan followed.

“Anything else taken?” I asked while waiting for my PC to boot.

“Only the stone, and some jewels. Everything else remained untouched.”

I started. My synapse fired trying to make sense of what I’d heard. “Just jewels and the stone, nothing else? That seem strange to you?”

“Of course, it does. The whole situation is a mess.” I watched as her temple twitched, a familiar tell for the anger simmering inside. “My father thinks it a coincidence, that they must have been disturbed, or took the stone by accident.”

“And you?”

Megan sucked in a burst of air. “I think the jewels were taken as a cover for the theft of the stone.”

“Any particular reason?”

“Whoever broke in went directly to the storage room. They knew where to go.”

I nodded, Megan may be a lot of things: stubborn, superior, dismissive, but she’s also thorough, and when it came to protecting the clan, her instincts were usually on point.

“What else did you find?” I asked.

“A van, acting suspiciously. It drove past the mansion daily for around three months.”

“Could it have been someone going to and from work?”

Megan rolled her eyes at the question. An all too familiar gesture that made me regret my decision to help.

“The van would slow down as it passed,” she said.

“Anything else?”

“Do you think I’d be here if I had more to work on?”

I laughed. Desperate times certainly did call for desperate measures.

“There was this” Megan reached into her pocket for the second time.

I took the sealed polythene bag from her hand and looked at the hair inside. Human. Blonde. Around three inches long. Not much to look at, but something to work with.

“I found it inside the storage room,” Megan said.

I pocketed the hair before turning and sifting through the abridged CCTV footage on Megan’s flash drive. Suspicious indeed, the van circled the estate three or four times a day, and each time slowed to around five miles per hour. Given the frequency of the visits, I wondered why they hadn’t been spotted prior to the robbery. They’d been scoping the place, it didn’t take a genius to figure it out, and it wouldn’t take a genius to note the property vacated every full moon.

Megan eyed the room, assessing my computer equipment, books, and documents, while I berated myself for giving her further access to my home. With her presence grating more and more on my nerves, I accessed the DVLA database through a back door I’d installed while working the case of a missing person. The van’s plate flagged as stolen, so I moved to the PNC.

“What is that?” Megan asked.

“The Police National Computer. Here,” — I pointed to a date on the screen — “reported stolen four months ago, and found in a ditch Tuesday.”

“The day after the break-in,” Megan said. “Great. Where do we go from here?”  

“I need a list of all the items taken.”

“Done.”

“Now, if that’s all you have, call me tomorrow and see what I’ve turned up.”

From the scowl on her face, I saw Megan had other ideas. Ideas or not, the thought of working with her had me jumping on my toes, and beads of sweat trickling down my back. She liked to give orders not take them. If I thought for a second she’d work well with others, I’d have no problem bringing her along, but she’d disrespect the humans I needed to work with, people I called friends.

“Not a chance,” I said. “You leave everything with me and go home.”

“You work for me.” She scowled, unaccustomed to being dismissed.

“No. I don’t. I’m a free agent. You ceased being my commanding officer a long time ago.” I sighed, not in the mood to spend hours debating the terms of my investigation. “Look,” I said. “I’m working this alone or not at all.”

I shut my PC down and crossed my arms in defiance, unwilling to give an inch. Megan’s gaze bored into mine, her head tilted as though assessing how far she could push me.

I stood firm and met her gaze with an intensity of my own.

“Fine,” she said after a moment. “I need to make a call first.”

“You do that.” I motioned to the house phone, but she shook her head and pulled a mobile from her pocket. “Always good to get daddy’s approval.”

Low blow it might be. One she may or may not have deserved, but I hated working for the clan. I’d taken the case, but more to protect other supernaturals than the Silure Dragons. Hell, if they’d had half a brain and invested in human technology, they wouldn’t need my help. It’s one thing to shut yourself away from human contact, but quite another not to take advantage of the progress they’d made.

***

Exile is not available yet, but you can meet Trystan in the Rune Witch Mysteries. He joins us in Book Three and Four. Book One is available for FREE on Amazon now!

Supernatural Book Fix

Looking for your next supernatural book fix? Then check out this selection of FREE reads on bookfunnel

Exile – Cover Reveal

Check out my new cover for Exile: The Silure Dragon. A story featuring Trystan from the Rune Witch Mysteries – with a guest appearance from Summer and Thomas of course

Virtual FantasyCon

Come experience the magic!




Beginning this Sunday, November 4, fantasy authors from around the book world will come together again for this year’s Virtual FantasyCon.
The Virtual FantasyCon is online convention where you can find all the fantasy books your heart desires right from the comfort of your own home.























Who will be there?

Paranormal Romance authors
Dark/Horror authors
Historical Fantasy authors
YA / Urban Fantasy authors
Fantasy Publishers

And, most importantly, we hope you will be there!





























From November 4 – 10, 2018
At the Reader’s Corner below:



2018 Virtual FantasyCon – Reader’s Corner






















Come for the prizes, stay for the books!

Shadow Walker ~ Shadows & Spellcraft

Shadows and Spellcraft has your copy of Shadow Walker by Tiffany Shand plus over a dozen more reads at the amazing pre-order price of $.99! Order your copy today!
Amazon / iBook / Kobo / Nook

After her enforcer teammates are killed in a bust gone wrong, Denai witch Charlie McCray struggles to carry on working the job without them. Using her gift of communicating with the dead, she’s determined to get justice and find those responsible no matter what. But her only clue to go on is a mysterious orb with a deadly reputation that everyone wants to get their hands on.

The only one who may be able to help her figure out their deaths, and the connection to the orb is the dark and sexy demon from her past. Convinced she’s his life mate, to her denial, Charlie isn’t

happy to see him again. Can they really work together as partners to track down the truth whilst ignoring the ever-growing attraction between them?

Author Bio

Tiffany Shand is a writing mentor, professionally trained copy editor and copy writer who has been writing stories for as long as she can remember. Born in East Anglia, Tiffany still lives in the area, constantly guarding her work space from the two cats which she shares her home with.


She began using her pets as a writing inspiration when she was a child, before moving on to write her first novel after successful completion of a creative writing course. Nowadays, Tiffany writes urban fantasy and paranormal romance, as well as nonfiction books for other writers, all available through Amazon and on her own website.


Tiffany’s favourite quote is ‘writing is an exploration. You start from nothing and learn as you go’ and it is armed with this that she hopes to be able to help, inspire and mentor many more aspiring authors.


When she has time to unwind, Tiffany enjoys photography, reading and watching endless box sets. She also loves to get out and visit the vast number of castles and historic houses that England has to offer.


You can contact Tiffany Shand, or just see what she is writing about at:

VISIT HER WEBSITE

Shadows And Spellcraft
The Ultimate Urban Fantasy Binge Collection

A boxed set with over a dozen amazing reads, that will take you to lost worlds, fall in love with unlikely heroes, and kick some butt with no-nonsense chicks. With a collection that includes New Adult romance, urban fantasy, and Young Adult, there’s something for everyone.

Each story is exclusive to this collection, and includes some shiny new stories from USA Today and New York Times bestselling authors.

If you love to binge on stories that take you away from the ordinary, this boxed set of fifteen books will keep you reading for days. It’s stuffed with vampires, shifters, mages, fae, ghosts and more in everything from modern day Earth to Apocalyptic settings. Bury your nose in this box set now. Order your copy of SHADOWS AND SPELLCRAFT NOW

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Magic & Mayhem

Searching for your next Paranormal Cosy Mystery?

Look no further! These awesome authors have teamed up to offer a delightful selection of cosy mysteries for you to get your teeth into. Available for free for a limited time ~~ Click on the image to take you to Bookfunnel