Symphony of Ruin Christina Lay
Publication date: July 25th 2017
Genres: Dark Fantasy, Fantasy
Synopsis
Death is stalking The City. From out of the catacombs, a deadly monster has arisen. Unfortunately for alchemist’s apprentice Remy the Rat Boy, his master is away and it’s up to Remy to discover the nature of the monster and put an end to its killing rampage. His search for answers takes him high into the elegant chambers of the city’s elite, and down into long forgotten ruins, into depths untraveled and unimagined for centuries. Lost in the ancient ruins with only ghosts and creatures of the darkness for companionship, Remy must use every ounce of wit and conjure every scrap of magic at his disposal in order to survive the labyrinth and save The City from its shadow self.
A magical and thrilling journey by award-winning author Christina Lay, inspired by the game and artwork of Dungeon Solitaire: Labyrinth of Souls. For more information on the Labyrinth of Souls fiction project, visit shadowspinnerspress.com
Death made its nightly rounds of the old quarter. Skeletal toes scraped the cobblestones and bones rattled in the keening wind blowing down from the steppes. The scythe of oblivion spared no one; man, woman or child might be snatched. This alone was reason enough to raid Master Marek’s pantry and Remy could think of several others as he cleared a space on the long table against the wall. He placed one knee on the well-worn surface and tested its strength. The table wobbled only slightly on uneven legs.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” his friend Glyn asked from behind him.
“Not only is it good, it is excellent. Top notch. One of the best I’ve ever had.” Remy grabbed at the row of shelves to steady himself as he climbed up. The collection of bottles and jars rattled alarmingly. He paused as they settled. Nothing fell except a tuft of what looked like dried moss.
When he’d first moved in, Remy would have needed to use a footstool to reach the tabletop and he’d have to stand on the rickety table to reach Marek’s stash of quality liquor. Now if he stretched full length, he could finger the row of colored glass bottles on the top shelf while still on his knees.
Some of the bottles were filled with dyed water. He knew this because he was the one who’d drained and refilled them. His master never noticed because Marek rarely partook of the odd offerings of beet brandy, moss wine, crabapple cider and so on that his clients sometimes paid him with. No, Marek reserved his imbibing for the good stuff in the cut crystal decanter, an amber brandy he shared with Remy on Winter’s solstice, and then only by the wee thimble full.
Remy remembered its heat coating his throat, the flavors of caramel, loam and wealth, and the comforting affect a mere sip had on his state of mind. That was what he needed now—comfort. Glyn had just brought him the news of their mate Abernath’s death. Abernath, a robust young man of seventeen years—the same age as Remy and Glyn—had been found dead in an alley the night before without a fresh mark on him.
Remy’s long fingers tweezed the decanter toward the edge of the shelf. Glyn took an audible breath, sucking air out of the room in the process, braced to flee at the first hint of disaster. Glyn would rather face death than Master Marek in a rage.
“Marek is in the Giant Mountains,” Remy assured him, voice a little pinched from the effort of stretching to his full length and a tiny bit beyond. “I’ve had no word from him for weeks. He’s not about to pop up in the middle of the night with no notice. He likes his fire to be lit and his supper warm when he returns from a long trip.” The decanter tipped forward and Remy caught it with his other hand. As he eased back his sleeve caught on a jutting handle and brought a little pot thudding to the tabletop. The pottery cracked. Something black and viscous oozed out.
“Ox balls,” Remy muttered, and clambered down from the table.
“What is that?” Glyn backed up as if a jinn might spring forth from the ooze.
“Nothing to worry about,” Remy said. He gave the scratch marks on the lid a closer look. Ox balls and a pig’s poker to boot. “Nothing to worry about immediately anyway. Come on. Where’s your cup?”
Author Christina Lay
Christina Lay is primarily a writer of fantastical fiction, with frequent forays into mystery and mainstream. Many of her short stories have been published in anthologies, magazines and online. She’s won five awards for her short fiction, including second place in the Writers’ Digest Short Fiction competition in 2003. Her novels have also won
awards, including first place in the Rupert Hughes Writing Competition at the Maui Writers Conference, First Place in the Journey Conference Novel competition, and she was a finalist in the Pacific Northwest Writers Association competition. Death is a Star, her first novel to be published, was released in February 2013.
Christina was born in Eugene, Oregon and graduated from the University of Oregon in 1988 with a degree in Sociology and a minor in Political Science. She’s worked a wide variety of jobs, from pastry shop clerk to computer software support to cost accounting and bookkeeping for nonprofits. Her favorite job so far has been administrative assistant in a Victorian House Museum. The goal is always to spend as much time as possible writing. For fun she likes to study languages through poetry, take way too many pictures with digital cameras, and be herded by her border collie, Lazlo.
•Share two (2) “teaser” sentences from somewhere on that page
• BE CAREFUL NOT TO INCLUDE SPOILERS! (make sure that what you share doesn’t give too much away! You don’t want to ruin the book for others!)
• Share the title & author, too, so that other TT participants can add the book to their TBR Lists if they like your teasers!
My Teaser for this week is from
Black Beauty
Everleaf #0.5
by Constance Burris
Genre: Horror / Dark Fantasy / Series
My teaser from7 % in the eBook.
“I’m going crazy,” she thought. This time she did laugh, and the snakes, which were the same rusty brown color as her dreads, returned her smile.
I had no idea what this book was about. I just couldn’t resist that title and cover. It takes right off and gets dark fast. Having fun!
~~~~~
Read on if you want to know more.
Synopsis
At Vista Apartment Complex, life drastically changes for a few of its residents when they decide to do business with Crazy Jade—the supposed voodoo witch that can grant your wish, for a price.
Shemeya wants the confidence to stand up against the girls bullying her at school, but she soon has to choose between keeping her dreadlocs or living a normal life. After catching her boyfriend cheating, Latreece just wants to have the same curves as all the other girls. Ashley will do whatever she can to have “White Girl Flow”, but takes her pursuit too far when she steals from Crazy Jade.
Everyone who comes into contact with Crazy Jade soon learns the true price of her magic—and how horribly wrong it can go.
BLACK BEAUTY takes the reader on a journey through the point of view of five residents of Vista Apartment Complex, and how each of their horrors crash together in ways they could never have expected.
Scarred Beauty (A Wylder Tale, #2) by Jennifer Silverwood
YA Dark Fantasy
ebook, 209 Pages
December 1st 2016
Vynasha has become prisoner with the other wyld beasts of the castle, but she is not alone. In the howling darkness her majikal bond with the Dungeon Master, Grendall grows, awakening the dormant power in her blood.
Yet as she discovers the true nature of the other beasts, she learns she must embrace madness in order to free them all. Vynasha is willing to do anything to end the curse, even if that means transforming into a monster.
Burried secrets come to light in this seductive sequel to Craving Beauty, the Gothic retelling of the classic fairy tale of Beauty and the Beast, where nothing is exactly as it seems and the heroine must be her own hero.
Jennifer is offering extra entries on her tour giveaway and a special giveaway
during the Twitter Chat to one lucky artist! Post your fanart and share with
Jennifer on social media (@JennSilverwood on Twitter and Tumblr and
silverwoodj on Facebook). Look for inspiration and see her posts on Tumblr.
.
Enjoy the excerpt
Deep in the enchanted forest by the Silver River which flows through the Wylder Mountains, is a village of the Forgotten. Before Soraya the Enchantress cursed the land, the King declared war against all majikal peoples. Clans and villages scattered throughout the Wylderlands banded together to fight a losing battle against the King’s superior forces. Until only a single village was left, a remnant of the Forgotten and displaced. The King’s former wolfmen warriors chose to abandon their liege and named themselves the Forgotten Protectors of the land.
Soraya cast her curse, a final effort to rid them of her husband’s evil. Her majik succeeded in protecting the people so long oppressed, but then twisted as time passed. Young women were lured to the Lost City by Soraya’s majik, women of the old bloodlines, but none were the foreseen curse breaker.
An age later, the Forgotten Village survives. The leader of the pack of Protectors is Baalor Iceveins and while he tracks the last humans in the mountains, the curse breaker draws near. Little does he know his daughter, Erythea will be the one to meet her first.
~***~
Some were born with ice in their veins, so it had been told to her, so she knew it be true. Father would never lie to her. Anything he thought her too young to know, he simply refused to speak of. Instead he would smile, ruffle her curls and absently say, “Let it lie, little love.”
Grandmother whispered the secrets Father refused to tell, on nights he was away. Like how her mother was a truly wyld witch, of human kind rather than Wolv or one of the forgotten peoples.
“Aren’t humans evil, Grandmother? Is this why the pack hunts them?”
Grandmother’s black eyes sparkled in the candlelight. “The villagers will tell you that majik is evil, but what do you believe, lass?”
Erythea held up her fingers and watched the shadows cast on the wall beside her bed as she considered. “Everyone says they are cruel and evil. But in the old stories you told me, majik wasn’t always bad, was it?”
Grandmother hummed in the back of her throat and returned to her knitting. The click of her wooden needles filled the silence and Erythea knew she was waiting for the thought to turn.
“I think,” Erythea said, “maybe majik wasn’t always bad, like the humans weren’t always evil.”
“Why must the pack hunt the last humans, then, do you suppose?”
She scrunched her nose, amused by Grandmother’s question. “You already know…”
The clacking of needles paused, so only the tapering flame filled her ears, and then after a pause, “Of course, little one, but I am asking you.”
Erythea huffed and dropped her hands onto her fur covers. She ran her fingers over the soft surface and wondered if Father’s wolf coat was this soft, wondered for the umpteenth time what his other shape looked like.
Grandmother cleared her throat, resuming the click of her needles as though to say, well?
“I think the humans must have done something very bad once. Like how Mother did something bad to Father and that is why he never speaks of her.”
Grandmother cackled with delight. “Trust the candor of a child. Yes, my love, the humans were bad, just as the curse is bad. Fear can turn people into monsters. And something that was not meant to be evil can be twisted by fear.”
Though Erythea longed to understand her grandmother’s words, the full meaning of them slipped to the back of her mind, a package to be opened another day.
~***~
The following morning, she raced downstairs, hoping to find a head full of silver hair hung over broad shoulders beside the hearth fire. Instead Grandmother’s long white braid greeted her, followed by her black sparkling eyes as she turned her head to greet her.
“Good morning dearie. Come eat your porridge while it is hot.”
Erythea tried to swallow her disappointment. “Where is Father?”
Grandmother sniffed. “Chasing humans, no doubt. But you never mind that. I want you to do your chores as soon as you finish breaking fast. No mooning about today, little pup.”
“Yes, Grandmother.” Erythea swallowed another mouthful and then sighed. “Why is Father so worried?”
“He thinks he has need to worry so you don’t need to worry, and there’s an end to it.”
Erythea recognized the hard set of Grandmother’s shoulders and knew better than to push further. Better to snoop about the village later and see if she could hear anything. Maybe she could ask Liir later. He always told her things. The other kind were a lot more talkative than Wolvs, she had learned.
With this in mind, she rushed through cleaning house and was on her way to checking her traps in the nearby thicket. She tried not to worry after Father and failed, as usual. Why he hunted humans when her mother had been human was a mystery to her. Humans were a cruel and evil race, everyone claimed. So many times she begged her father to forget the humans and stay close to the village, but he only ever ruffled her hair and kissed her brow till it smoothed.
Erythea felt a frown furrowing her brow now as she checked her second empty trap and sighed as she walked further from the Iceveins cottage and deeper into the forest. She wished her nose was as sharp as Father’s. The familial Wolv traits had yet to manifest after her eleventh birthday, however. Which is why she didn’t hear the approach of the other children until they appeared suddenly across from her in the clearing.
Dread coiled in the pit of her stomach. Wolv children, and not just any but the three who liked her least.
“What do you want, Aelon?” She eyed the tallest and took a cautious step back, slipping her hand behind her cloak to grasp her knife by its hilt. She didn’t have claws like them yet, but she did have steel.
Aelon sneered down at her and took a prowling step forward. “You know what we want.” He lifted his hands to the Ironteeth siblings at his sides and flashed her a sharp toothed grin. “Show us your claws.”
Erythea squashed her rising fear, knowing they could smell it on her. “I don’t have to show you anything.”
He snarled at her. “That’s because you don’t have any claws, isn’t it? You’re a witch, not a Wolv and everyone knows it!”
Despite her best efforts, fear covered her like a second skin with his words. This wasn’t the first time the children teased her for being half human. But she had always clung to the hope she would take after her father’s Wolv side. Maybe then they would accept her. Deep down she knew better.
Aelon sniffed and stalked around her, the Ironteeth siblings at his heels. “I can smell your fear, witch. Why don’t you show us what you really are?”
Erythea pulled out her small dagger and slashed air. “Stay away!”
Aelon grinned. “Say please.” Before she could stop him, Aelon knocked her steel aside. She gasped as he pounced, forcing her into the snow and his fist collided with her cheek. “Show us!”
Erythea tried to throw her hands up but the Ironteeth siblings grabbed her hands. Her fear grew and with it the majik she tried so hard to keep hidden.
Please…oh please…
And then the snow began to tremble around them. A blue light filled the air and Aelon opened his mouth only for a ball of snow to fly into it. The children stumbled back as the snow around them rose from the earth and pounded their flesh. Erythea laughed as the light faded around them.
Some were born with ice in their veins, she thought with glee.
Aelon growled his fury at her as he rushed forward.
Erythea shrieked as his fist came down again.
“You are a freak, just like your mother! You think ’cause your father is pack master you can get away with it?”
This time she could see he meant it. He would kill her if she didn’t move. Pack matters like this meant no adults could interfere. It was how they learned who would run with the alpha once they grew up. No one suspected Erythea took after her human mother, at least not in public. But the children knew because their parents told them, whispering of their pack master’s treacherous human wife.
Please…
She feared the pressure building inside, growing as the Ironteeth twins tried to pull Aelon away in vain. And then a growl ripped through the small clearing, unlike anything they knew, more wyldcat than wolf. The children barely had time to look up for the source of such a monstrous sound, when Aelon was thrown up into the air by a fur garbed figure with long curling hair.
After the strange creature crouched over Erythea and snarled at the other children until they scrambled off in fear. Once they were alone, the creature twisted around to look over her with the fierce golden eyes of a wyldcat set in a strange, but beautiful foreign face.
It was the woman from the other night…Wanderer’s sister…the stranger the village elders were so frightened of. The woman had tackled Erythea’s father to the ground the night before. Yet here she was, this stranger willing to protect her when no one else would.
Maybe she could be the one… she thought with growing hope. Aloud, she said, “Aelon’s mother won’t forget what you did.”
The woman grimaced, her golden eyes glinting in the winter light. “He should be punished for what he did to you.”
“I won’t forget what you did, either,” Erythea was quick to say.
“I’m the one who threatened your village this morning.”
“I know. You are Wanderer’s sister. They say you’re a witch.”
A strange look crossed the woman’s face as she replied, “I guess I am.”
“My mother was a witch, too. That is why they hate me so much. My name is Erythea of the Iceveins clan.”
“Vynasha.”
Other Books in the Series
Craving Beauty (A Wylder Tale, #1) by Jennifer Silverwood
YA Dark Fantasy
Paperback & ebook, 239 pages
October 31st 2015
Vynasha has spent the last four years tending her mother’s roses and looking after her nephew. The fire that killed their family has left her scarred and put Wyll on the brink of death. Soon the first frost will come down from the mountains and she knows this winter will be his last.
Until a strange beggar appears on the road, telling her of the majikal Source that can heal her Wyll. With nothing left to lose, Vynasha braves the forbidden Wylder Mountains to seek out a cure and her fate.
A lost kingdom is uncovered by an equally lost girl, but the castle is not abandoned as she believes. Shadows cloaking unseen eyes watch. Tapestries whisper from the hidden corners, wondering if the one to break their curse has come. And a hungry beast waits, ready to devour her soul.
Wolfsbane’s Daughter (A Wylder Tale Novella) by Jennifer Silverwood
YA Dark Fantasy
ebook, 52 Pages
February 25th 2016
Wolfsbane and his daughter Resha are on a never ending quest in the Wylder Mountains, to wipe out the wolves who destroyed their village. Before their enemies stole everything she loved, Resha cared for little beyond learning how to be a hunter. After, she learned a hunter must be prepared to fight as well as flee. Now she cares for nothing but revenge.
Until she discovers two majikal humans half frozen in the forest. Resha has a choice, to follow her instincts and leave the strangers to the wolves, or save them. Yet the enemy is on the prowl and there is little time for Wolfsbane’s daughter to find safe haven before they are discovered.
Jennifer Silverwoodwas raised deep in the heart of Texas and has been spinning yarns a mile high since childhood. In her spare time she reads and writes and tries to sustain her wanderlust, whether it’s the Carpathian Mountains in Transylvania, the highlands of Ecuador or a road trip to the next town. Always on the lookout for her next adventure, in print or reality, she dreams of one day proving to the masses that everything really is better in Texas. She is the author of the Heaven’s Edge series, Stay and Silver Hollow.
3 winners to receive ebooks of all three books in A Wylder Tales:Craving Beauty,Wolfsbane’s Daughter, andScarred Beauty (extra swag to US winners)
Open internationally
Ends December 12th
I swear, every time I finish another book in this series, I think it can’t get any better. These newest episodes prove me wrong, again.
There’s no way I can relate what happens in this book without spoiling it for you. You just have to take me at my word when I say it’ll have you biting your nails, begging for the next revealing chapter. It’s so damned good.
As we get closer to the conclusion, more secrets are revealed, the past and present draw closer together, and more questions are answered. And you get more and more creepiness and suspense. The theme music from Jaws echoed in my head while I was reading this. You know something is about to happen, just not what or when. With only a few more books to go. I’m itching to find out what happens.
This is such a great series. I sure hope you give it a go. If you do, make sure you start at the beginning. It’s the only way to read it. And it’ll be worth every penny.
5 Stars
Synopsis
Welcome Back to the World of Onyx Webb! This is Book Seven. (Episodes 19, 20 & 21) Haven’t Gotten Entangled Yet? Please Start with Book One.
More questions get answered in Book Seven and the timelines are narrowing much closer.
Onyx Webb is a complex multi-genre mash-up that combines elements of supernatural suspense, crime, horror, romance, and more. The Onyx Webb series follows the unusual life of Onyx Webb along with a central group of characters in various locations and times.
The billionaire Mulvaney family, piano prodigy Juniper Cole and her brother Quinn, paranormal show hosts Cryer and Fudge, and a few others make up the core of the series. Written like a book version of your favorite tv series (think: supernatural soap opera like American Horror Story) each character’s story moves forward with most every episode. It may appear that the characters are entirely unrelated and yet episode by episode, the connections will become clearer. Like being an inch away from a spider web, with each book, the web will move further and further away revealing the full story of every character and most importantly, the stunning conclusion for Onyx Webb herself.
In Book Seven: Juniper’s brother Quinn visits Koda and will finally see his sister. Stan Lee gets revenge against Mika Flagler. Onyx Webb deals with the crazy film festival and life alone… for now.
It’s so hard to review books this far into the series. You can’t say much or you’ll be spoiling it.
I love a good haunting and what’s better than a haunted hotel. The Lathrop Grand Hotel has been around for a long time. Many ghosts haunt it’s halls. People come in large numbers and book a room, hoping they’ll have a ghostly encounter. They get much more than a brush with a spectre as the haunts become violent.
It’s up to Ellie and Stacey to find out why the ghosts are so threatening. If they don’t do a bit of ghost trapping, guests could be harmed, or worse, killed.
I swear I was a ghost myself as I followed these gals through the halls, down the stairs, and into secret passages. The atmosphere in this book gave me the shivers.
And I’ve become even more of a fan of the character’s. All of them are adapting to the many changes in their lives. Stacey is stepping up her game as she works with Ellie. And Ellie is becoming more confident and comfortable in her own skin.
This is another winner in the series and I’m now on to the next book, curious to see what these character’s get into next.
5 Stars
Synopsis
The luxurious Lathrop Grand Hotel is a Savannah institution that has entertained guests for more than a century and a half, offering some of the finest accommodations in the city. Famously haunted, the hotel draws tourists from around the world eager to encounter its numerous ghosts. The hotel is also known for being honeycombed with hidden doors and secret passages, enabling staff to appear and disappear quickly as they attend to the hotel’s guests.
Now some of the spirits in the Lathrop Grand have turned violent, even murderous. Ellie and Stacey must determine which ghost has become dangerous and remove it from the hotel before it can claim any more lives. They soon learn the hotel has secrets even darker than the notorious string of nineteenth-century murders that made it famous, and the powerful entities inhabiting it don’t intend to leave without a fight.
What a great story. I love horses and just had to see what this was all about.
The water horses are a race of beings that live in the water, emerging to feed on flesh or drag you to a watery death. The thought makes me shiver.
Every year, riders mount these monstrous beasts for the Scorpio Races. It’s hard enough to win a regular horse race. In this race, you have to worry about surviving as much as winning.
The character’s are numerous and very genuine. Puck is a young lass willing to risk her life in the races. She lost her parents to the water horses, and now her older brother is leaving her and her younger brother Finn to fend for themselves. The money from the race would help save their home.
Sean and his stallion, Corr, are four time winners of the races. He’ll ride again this year, but the stakes are much higher.
Puck and Sean have a growing attraction for each other. But both must win the race.
I so loved this world and the character’s that galloped through the pages, human and other. I wanted this one to win. And that one to win. This one to stay. That one to stay. I feared the worst and hoped for the best.
This story is so much more than a race. I struggle to even tell you about it. There’s desperation and hope, bravery and honor, magic and danger. And I couldn’t have asked for a better final scene.
5 Stars
~~~~~
Synopsis
Some race to win. Others race to survive.
It happens at the start of every November: the Scorpio Races. Riders attempt to keep hold of their water horses long enough to make it to the finish line.
Some riders live.
Others die.
At age nineteen, Sean Kendrick is the returning champion. He is a young man of few words, and if he has any fears, he keeps them buried deep, where no one else can see them.
Puck Connolly is different. She never meant to ride in the Scorpio Races. But fate hasn’t given her much of a choice. So she enters the competition – the first girl ever to do so. She is in no way prepared for what is going to happen.
As she did in her bestselling Shiver trilogy, author Maggie Stiefvater takes us to the breaking point, where both love and life meet their greatest obstacles, and only the strong of heart can survive. The Scorpio Races is an unforgettable reading experience.
Vynasha has become prisoner with the other wyld beasts of the castle, but she is not alone. In the howling darkness her majikal bond with the Dungeon Master, Grendall grows, awakening the dormant power in her blood.
Yet as she discovers the true nature of the other beasts, she learns she must embrace madness in order to free them all. Vynasha is willing to do anything to end the curse, even if that means transforming into a monster.
Burried secrets come to light in this seductive sequel to Craving Beauty, the Gothic retelling of the classic fairy tale of Beauty and the Beast, where nothing is exactly as it seems and the heroine must be her own hero.
Craving Beauty (A Wylder Tale, #1) by Jennifer Silverwood
YA Dark Fantasy
Paperback & ebook, 239 pages
October 31st 2015
Vynasha has spent the last four years tending her mother’s roses and looking after her nephew. The fire that killed their family has left her scarred and put Wyll on the brink of death. Soon the first frost will come down from the mountains and she knows this winter will be his last.
Until a strange beggar appears on the road, telling her of the majikal Source that can heal her Wyll. With nothing left to lose, Vynasha braves the forbidden Wylder Mountains to seek out a cure and her fate.
A lost kingdom is uncovered by an equally lost girl, but the castle is not abandoned as she believes. Shadows cloaking unseen eyes watch. Tapestries whisper from the hidden corners, wondering if the one to break their curse has come. And a hungry beast waits, ready to devour her soul.
Wolfsbane’s Daughter (A Wylder Tale Novella) by Jennifer Silverwood
YA Dark Fantasy
ebook, 52 Pages
February 25th 2016
Wolfsbane and his daughter Resha are on a never ending quest in the Wylder Mountains, to wipe out the wolves who destroyed their village. Before their enemies stole everything she loved, Resha cared for little beyond learning how to be a hunter. After, she learned a hunter must be prepared to fight as well as flee. Now she cares for nothing but revenge.
Until she discovers two majikal humans half frozen in the forest. Resha has a choice, to follow her instincts and leave the strangers to the wolves, or save them. Yet the enemy is on the prowl and there is little time for Wolfsbane’s daughter to find safe haven before they are discovered.
Jennifer Silverwood was raised deep in the heart of Texas and has been spinning yarns a mile high since childhood. In her spare time she reads and writes and tries to sustain her wanderlust, whether it’s the Carpathian Mountains in Transylvania, the highlands of Ecuador or a road trip to the next town. Always on the lookout for her next adventure, in print or reality, she dreams of one day proving to the masses that everything really is better in Texas. She is the author of the Heaven’s Edge series, Stay and Silver Hollow.
Before I get started I just want to let you know that this is the second book in the series so there may be some spoilers if you haven’t read the first book.
I haven’t read the first book, so it was a bit confusing in the beginning. As I got further into the book the author filled me in on past events. She did it without slowing down the story and I was soon swept into the book.
You’ll be taken back and forth from Ava’s past to current time as she battles The Walking Man once again. She thought she’d sent him to Hell but he’s back and making more Zompires.
Zompires are a nasty piece of work. They’re vampires that act like zombies, and if Ava doesn’t stop The Walking Man, they’ll spread like a plague.
In the previous book, Ava was chained to a nasty reaper. After breaking free of him, she’s now masterless, kind of. Uriel is now pulling her strings.
Uriel is an angel. For those who think angels are cute little cupids, you couldn’t be more wrong. As he so eloquently puts it, “Angels aren’t nice. Haven’t you even read a single page of the Bible? We are judgemental, and avenging and occasionally we destroy the earth with floods, but we’re not nice.”
After the slow start while I got caught up on previous events, I flew threw this book. I really liked Ava. She was tough, got a raw deal, yet she never became whiny, felt sorry for herself. She did what she had to do, yet she had a conscience and a strong loyalty to the few friends she had.
For those of you who enjoy your urban fantasy on the darker side, this would be a good one for ya. I plan to go back and read the first book now. Got me curious how it all began. And you can bet I’ll be reading the next one if the author continues this series.
4 Stars
~~~~~
Synopsis
In this thrilling sequel to Black Dog—the first volume of award-winning Caitlin Kittredge’s dark urban fantasy series, Hellhound Chronicles—a soul catcher must stop demonic monsters from her past from infecting the world.
After winning her freedom from a reaper and facing off against a fearsome demon boss, Ava is now a masterless hellhound. Her friend, Leo, has found a new life after death: He’s returned as the Grim Reaper—the first in centuries. As both try to adjust to their new circumstances, Ava’s dark past comes back to wreak havoc on her . . . and the entire world.
A breed of monsters as smart as vampires—but who behave like zombies—has been sighted in Kansas. Ava can’t believe these “zompires” are back. She thought she’d kicked their asses for good when she first battled them in a Nazi death camp. Now, they’re spreading their infection across America’s heartland thanks to a nasty piece of business named Cain.
Free at last after being locked up in Hell for millennia, Cain has some scores to settle. To stop him, Ava must form an unholy alliance with some old foes . . . a bargain that will lead her to uncover deeply buried truths about her past—and Leo’s future.
Meet Author Caitlin Kittredge
Caitlin started writing novels at age 13. Her first was a Star Wars tie-in. Fortunately, she branched out from there and after a few years trying to be a screenwriter, a comic book writer and the author of copious amounts of fanfiction, she tried to write a novel again. Her epic dark fantasy (thankfully) never saw the light of day but while she was struggling with elves and sorcerers she got the idea of writing a story about a werewolf who fought crime.
Two years and many, many drafts later, she pitched Night Life to a bevy of agents and one of them, Rachel Vater, sold the series to St. Martin’s.
Caitlin collects comic books, print books, vintage clothes, and bad habits. She loves tea, loud music, the color black (especially mixed with the color pink) and ghost stories. She can drive a stick shift, play the violin and knows more English curses than American ones.
Read the exclusive excerpt and enter the giveaway below…
Wolfbane’s Daughter (A Wylder Tale Novella) by Jennifer Silverwood
YA Dark Fantasy
ebook, 52 Pages
February 25th 2016
Wolfsbane and his daughter Resha are on a never ending quest in the Wylder Mountains, to wipe out the wolves who destroyed their village. Before their enemies stole everything she loved, Resha cared for little beyond learning how to be a hunter. After, she learned a hunter must be prepared to fight as well as flee. Now she cares for nothing but revenge.
Until she discovers two majikal humans half frozen in the forest. Resha has a choice, to follow her instincts and leave the strangers to the wolves, or save them. Yet the enemy is on the prowl and there is little time for Wolfsbane’s daughter to find safe haven before they are discovered.
There was a time when she did not hate her father, when her only concern was checking her traps and learning knives from Grandfather. But this was before their village on the ridge of Mount Grimm was attacked and destroyed by their enemies. After that she learned a hunter’s claws must be longer and much sharper. A hunter must always be prepared to fight as well as flee, Father said.
“Stay close, Resha!” her father hissed, drawing her attention to their bleak present.
They had been on the run ever since the attack on Mount Grimm. An entire moon had passed since half the village was murdered, including her brother Vilhelm. If any others survived they were hiding deep in the mountains. The beasts had always been a threat to them. But recent attacks alluded to a new hunger, to wipe out the last humans living in the Wylder Mountains. Some in the village had blamed Wolfsbane and his quest to avenge Grandfather’s death. Those who might still have blamed her family were dead.
Now all that was left to them was this hunt, her first true hunt. Before this she had been little more than a trapper, practicing her knife on the small creatures she found in the woods near their village. Every time she ended a hare or tripe’s life, she felt nothing of the thrill the other children did.
“Sometimes I wonder if you are too soft to be a predator after all.”
Truly, Father’s words resonated with her far more deeply than she wanted them to. A part of her was so much a child. She had never plunged her knife into the heart of a true beast. It was her greatest fear she would fail in a task Vilhelm would have fulfilled without flinching. Now the legacy of vengeance was left to her hands and the dagger Grandfather made for her last moon day.
Resha took a deep breath and watched it hover in the freezing air. The territory they hunted in was new, closer to the lost city than most of their kind had ever dared to trail. Her father, Wolfsbane, said they were searching for signs of man and beast. She watched the way Father crouched and inspected every curve of the path the tracks had made. When she looked down it was difficult to see anything but shadow and snow. Yet she could almost feel the faintest traces of their prey’s footfalls. It was the smell and the warmth Wolfsbane was following now.
Her attention was diverted by a bright splash of red along the roots of a nearby tree trunk. Her stomach clenched at the thought of the berries hanging from those thin branches. Mother told her to forage whenever they came across nuts and rare plant life. Just because they were hunting, didn’t mean she couldn’t savor a morsel. And there might even be a chance she could snatch enough to save for when they made camp. She glanced up, hopeful Wolfsbane would not notice.
She poked through the fur wrappings keeping her palms and wrists warm, making quick work of the winter berries. Meanwhile, she kept her eye on the glow of torchlight up ahead and slipped the rest into the satchel attached to her belt. The juice stained her fingers a faint purplish hue and she licked them, hoping to hide the evidence. Her eyes shut involuntarily as she drank in the sweet taste. A hand grasped her wrist roughly and pulled so she was forced to face Wolfsbane’s grizzled visage.
“Foolish pup!” he growled. “This land is cursed and you are a fool to touch it! Do you wish to fall asleep forever in these woods?” With every word he squeezed her wrist tighter, drawing tears from her eyes.
“Wolfsbane!” her mother interrupted, gripping his arm tightly with her free hand. “You will not harm our last remaining child. She is hungry and we have not stopped for three days. Leave her be.”
They stood together against the torch, the light illuminating the sickly rage in Father’s eyes and the fear in Mother’s. Resha tried not to give into that same fear. Father would only see it as a weakness. He was too deep into the hunt, and addled by grief to know better.
So she lifted her chin and willed her tears to stop. To say anything would only spark his fury again. Instead she kept her eyes locked with his. Mother’s fingers crept higher, resting over both her wrist and her father’s tense grip. His anger faded, and for a moment, Resha saw the love her father had for her. He opened his mouth to speak and hope bloomed in her chest.
That was the moment a chorus of howls rose together like a nightmare in the woods around them. The cries began ahead of them, further up the valley. Often she had heard them in the distance as a small child within their cottage. Never had she heard them so close and so far away from all she knew.
Her breath came in short, violent gasps as her heart pounded in her ears. These were the beasts who stole everything from them, the ones they had been hunting ever since. For the first time, Resha felt the stirring of the hunt in her blood.
The First Book in the Series
Craving Beauty (A Wylder Tale #1) by Jennifer Silverwood
YA Dark Fantasy
Paperback & ebook, 239 pages
October 31st 2015
Vynasha has spent the last four years tending her mother’s roses and looking after her nephew. The fire that killed their family has left her scarred and put Wyll on the brink of death. Soon the first frost will come down from the mountains and she knows this winter will be his last.
Until a strange beggar appears on the road, telling her of the majikal Source that can heal her Wyll. With nothing left to lose, Vynasha braves the forbidden Wylder Mountains to seek out a cure and her fate.
A lost kingdom is uncovered by an equally lost girl, but the castle is not abandoned as she believes. Shadows cloaking unseen eyes watch. Tapestries whisper from the hidden corners, wondering if the one to break their curse has come. And a hungry beast waits, ready to devour her soul.
Jennifer Silverwood was raised deep in the heart of Texas and has been spinning yarns a mile high since childhood. In her spare time she reads and writes and tries to sustain her wanderlust, whether it’s the Carpathian Mountains in Transylvania, the highlands of Ecuador or a road trip to the next town. Always on the lookout for her next adventure, in print or reality, she dreams of one day proving to the masses that everything really is better in Texas. She is the author of the Heaven’s Edge series, Stay and Silver Hollow.
The small wooden box is dirty, the size of a human fist, and sealed with wax. When Corbin takes it upon herself to clean it and break the seal, a voice she has tried to ignore gathers strength. Shadows play on the walls at night, and with a family history of mental illness, Corbin fears the worst. But the voice tells her it is real. That its name is Six and it will prove it in time.
Drawn to this mysterious entity, Corbin isn’t sure what to believe and the line between reality and her imagination blurs more every day.
Some doors should not be opened; can this one be closed?
A tap on the window. Something that was too much like a tree branch to really draw any attention. Then it got louder. I shoved the pillow over my head, sinking its weight into the cool fabric and throwing the covers over my head for extra good measure. I almost forgot where I was until I felt the rough fabric of the blanket that wasn’t mine. I tried to open my eyes, but I didn’t care enough to exert the amount of energy it took. Instead, I rolled over, sinking deeper into the darkness surrounding me.
I knew somehow that I had slept through all the daily activities, through group therapy and arts and crafts and TV hour. I knew it was past lights out and I found myself not caring that it would all be monitored. I could stay in this room, in this bed forever. Somewhere between sleeping and waking, between my body and muddy, thick mind, I heard the voice. I couldn’t understand what it said, but it was a gentle, almost cooing sound, like one a mother would use on a child who had woken in the middle of the night from a bad dream. But they were down the hall and too far away to offer me anything.
The blanket shifted and I couldn’t see because my eyes were closed; the blankets and pillow still covered my head. A moment of quiet, then the mattress dipped in next to me, in front of me. My heart pounded in my head, my throat. A second later, the pillow slid from my head, but I couldn’t tell if it was my own doing. My head was too heavy; my thoughts were too clogged to get one solitary explanation through.
Hush now, the voice whispered. It was right next to my ear, right next to me. I’ll show you.
Yes. Show me. Show me how to be insane. Show me how to be just like my mother. I kept my eyes completely closed.
Corbin, said the voice. As much as I hated to admit it, I liked the sound of my name in its tone. I liked how it hit me deep. It was the sound of sand being blown by the sea on a windy day. It was the feeling of fingers in your hair as you fell asleep, tangled limbs after a closely spent night. Softness and hardness of an intimate touch, one that couldn’t have possibly been delivered by anyone or anything else.
“Yes?” I hadn’t realized I said the word out loud until my hot breath was bouncing back at me against the covers. I was afraid my roommate would hear, but her heavy snoring reassured me.
So you are with me, it whispered. Each word caressed my face, sent warm shivers through my skin and into the bone.
I opened my mouth to say something else, but I couldn’t think of anything; I doubted I would even be able to get the words past my teeth.
Hushhhhhh, said the voice. I felt something slightly cold, yet not completely solid against my waist. It wasn’t enough to make me shiver. It wasn’t anything that woke me further from the drugs. My shirt slipped upward, past my belly button before it stopped.
I inhaled sharply and turned over onto my back, convinced that I was half-dreaming and if I switched positions, the dream would change just as easily.
A few moments of silence. A few moments of the tapping on the glass, the rustle of the wind outside as the rain pelted the roof. It lulled me back into comfort, back into darkness.
My little crow, crooned the voice. Again, right in my ear, right in front of my face. It made the blackness behind my eyelids shake, sprout leaves and take root. My precious petal.
I was almost unaware of the sheet moving off of me, the blankets shifting until I heard them rumple into a careless pile on the floor. My face became warm, the smell of damp dirt in my nostrils, the sound of static electricity zipping through my brain, setting off synapses to synapses.
“What are you doing?” I whispered. But my voice sounded so far away, like I was standing on top of a very high tower and trying to make my words heard to people down below.
I felt my hair being moved from my forehead, then a small, sweet amount of pressure applied there. Kissing you, my love.
I liked the gesture. It overrode any logic, any sense of self I could bring forth from the darkness.
“Why do you only kiss me at night?” I whispered.
Another small peck, warm and then cool against my cheek. I am strongest at this hour. The words slithered around my skin, crawled to the back of my skull like some creature that had suddenly sprouted legs. And you are most open to me.
“Open?” I asked, my head swimming with medication, my eyes glued shut, my body heavy with sleep that had yet to come.
I felt the slight breath of an amused, silent laugh. Yessssss, the voice whispered. Open, my crow.
I opened my eyes, but I was only met with darkness. I knew that it was all in my head as the dim room spun around me, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to think about it or what it meant. It was easier to pretend. If I was the only one who knew, I was the only one who knew the truth. I couldn’t be losing my mind if I was so in control of it.
~~~~~
About the Author:
Nikki Rae is an independent author who lives in New Jersey. She explores human nature through fiction, concentrating on making the imaginary as real as possible. Her genres of choice are mainly dark, scary, romantic tales, but she’ll try anything once. When she is not writing, reading, or thinking, you can find her spending time with animals, drawing in a quiet corner, or studying people. Closely.
In a world in which children are exploited, monsters are saviors, and dark magic is constantly at play, a little girl will go to any lengths to be reunited with her lost ones.
After the disappearance of her parents, a heartbroken child is sold to the Doll-Maker who promises to revive them. In return, she is to travel from cemetery to cemetery, unearthing graves and collecting skulls.
While doing so, she must avoid the Violinist and his crows, who are determined to steal the skulls she has painstakingly gathered.
As she travels across the province, with her life in constant peril from vengeful policemen to furious villagers to strange creatures, the little girl must use her wits to succeed in her macabre mission.
~~~~~
Chapter One
Our story begins in the cradle of a little girl’s anguish and despair, without which there would be no tale to recount.
On a dark, stormy night, like on many others, we find her wailing inconsolably under the warming caress of a street light by the side of a nameless, muddy road. She cries, for her parents mysteriously vanished not a week ago, leaving her utterly, miserably alone.
As was the way of things in the quiet province she inhabited, should one disappear without first declaring it to the town hall, by way of application, one’s entire estate and contents would legally pass to the proper authorities. This instance being no different, the little girl’s home had been seized immediately and locked three times by its new owners. Alone in the world, the little girl had looked to the police sergeant for help.
“What is it?” he had barked.
Fighting to hold back her tears, the little girl had mustered nothing more than, “…Please, sir,” as she’d clutched dearly to the only possession she had left: a stuffed bear once given to her by her mother on her birthday.
The police sergeant had watched her briefly then, with softening eyes and a wry smile peering through his bushy moustache, he’d said, “I have a girl about your age.”
He’d knelt down beside her and patted the damp hair on her shivering head a little too hard.
Times being harsh for most and kindness deemed an ugly myth, there was no room for noble gestures or acts of compassion. This instance being no different, the police sergeant had suddenly snatched the little girl’s teddy bear from her freezing fingers.
“My daughter will love this, she will,” he’d said, as he stood and walked away from her to the police cart. “Let’s go, boys!”
The sound of whipping cracked the air and the horses at once began to gallop, sending a thick spray of mud from the wheels flying all over the little girl.
As tears flowed down her muddy, sodden cheeks, two glowing eyes emerged from the dark stillness of the night. Unblinking, they watched her a while, hanging like tiny, yellow orbs.
A moment later, the eyes began to etch closer and closer, until the shadowy figure of a thin man was revealed. His shabby attire was matched by an old cloth cap he wore on his head, which shrouded all facial features except his somewhat bulbous nose.
“What ‘ave we ‘ere, then?” he enquired. “Why are you crying, lil’ girl? Why all alone?” As he spoke, he seemed unaware that he was rubbing his hands together.
Her parents having taught her not to speak to strangers, the little girl felt hesitant about replying to him. As if reading her mind, the scrawny man said, “Oh, you can talk to me, lil’ girl, I won’t ‘arm ya. I’m just a concerned ci’izen looking to ‘elp ano’ver.”
Wanting to believe in the inherent good in people, the little girl replied, “My…My parents are gone, and I have nowhere to go, sir.” At her final word, the little girl burst into tears once again, as if her statement had somehow made events as cold and real as stone.
“Ooh, there, there,” said the man, drawing slowly closer to her. “Don’t you worry your lil’ ‘ead.
Squidge is ‘ere to ‘elp. I just so ‘appen to know someone who can ‘elp ya, if you’ll follow me.”
The little girl hesitantly considered his words and came to the conclusion she had no other choice but to follow him.
“That’s my girl!” exclaimed the wiry man contently, as he offered her his hand to hold.
As much as the little girl wanted to trust the wiry man, she felt uncomfortable with the idea of holding his hand, especially as the last one she had held had belonged to her mother, and she wanted to keep it that way.
“Suit you’self, Love. Come this way,” he grinned.
He led her into the cold darkness of empty streets to the tenebrous hollow of Midnight Forest,
known throughout the province to contain terrible things beyond the mere imaginings of mortal beings. As such, a certain understanding was said to have been devised in times when magic and myths were created, that, should people refrain from crossing the boundary that led into the forest, no evil within would flow into the land of the living. That was what they believed and seemed to be content with.
“…Isn’t this the forest we are not supposed to go into?” asked the little girl, tentatively. “Oh, this? Nah, they’s just superstitions, they is. Load of cod’s wallop, if you ask me!”
The little girl walked as fast as she could to keep up with the man’s long, bandy legs, each stride of which like four of her own.
“Come on! ‘Is place isn’t far—if you know where you’re goin’, that is. ‘E doesn’t like bein’ disturbed, see?”
Endlessly into the forest they seemed to walk, as wooden pillars, like ever-reaching fingers, twisted in around them at every step and enormous toadstools shielded them from the moon’s gaze. As the little girl struggled to keep up, she tried not to focus on the strange crunching and squelching sounds underfoot, as she sliced her way through a dense sea of lightly blue fog.
The further they walked, the denser the forest appeared to be. Just as the little girl felt as though she would collapse from exhaustion, the man she followed came to a stop and announced,
“’Ere we are!”
Nearly walking straight into the back of his stringy legs, she felt a combination of relief and anxiety at the sight of what stood before her. An old, ramshackle structure appeared to barely stand, as the trees and brush coiled and climbed and covered most of its rusted corrugated walls; its roof was utterly smothered by a blanket of dead and dying leaves. Though the structure appeared dilapidated, it’s windows were whole and clean, a detail the little girl found quite odd. Beyond the windows, a flickering light somewhere within made shadows dance upon the walls and ceiling inside.
The thin, shabby man suddenly turned with a wide grin and gleefully spoke. “This, lil’ girl, is the Doll-Maker’s workshop.”
~~~~~
Play List
Playlist/ Soundtrack for The Skull Collector
Erik Satie—Gnossienne No. 1
BrunuhVille—The Eternal Forest
Adrian Von Ziegler—Night Mist
Hans Zimmer & Joshua Bell—503
Danny Elfman: Castle on the Hill
The Final Confrontation
Farewell…
Danny Elfman: Little Alice
The Cheshire Cat
Sibelius: Violin Concerto
Camille Saint Saëns—Danse Macabre
The Little Girl: Danny Elfman—Ice Dance
The Doll-Maker: Danny Elfman—The Cookie Factory
Sooty: Prokofiev—Peter and the Wolf: The Bird
The Violinist: John Corigliano—Anna’s Theme
About Author Paris Singer:
Paris Singer was born in Brussels, Belgium. He has lived in the U.K. and in various places in Spain, where he currently resides. At university, he studied English law and Spanish law. He didn’t like it. He then studied translation and didn’t like it, either. Currently, he is an English teacher in the south of Spain. He has far too many interests, he’s told, a few of which being sports, playing his old guitar, learning Japanese, painting, reading and cooking. Not a day goes by, however, where he doesn’t write something, be it under a palm tree or on a bench at a bus stop somewhere.
Be sure to enter the giveaway found at the end of the post!
Patient Twenty-nine.
A monster roams the halls of Soothing Hills Asylum. Three girls dead. 29 is endowed with the curse…or gift of perception. She hears messages in music, sees lyrics in paintings. And the corn. A lifetime asylum resident, the orchestral corn music is the only constant in her life.
Mason, a new, kind orderly, sees 29 as a woman, not a lunatic. And as his belief in her grows, so does her self- confidence. That perhaps she might escape, might see the outside world.
But the monster has other plans. The missing girl’s share one common thread…each was twenty-nine’s cell mate.
Will she be next?
Title: The Requiem Red
Publication date: 2016
Publisher: Month9Books, LLC.
Author: Brynn Chapman
Brynn Chapman is published in Historical and Historical Fantasy Romance for adult books. She also writes under R.R. Smythe for Young Adult Historical Fantasy.
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