Tuesday, March 19, 2019

INTERVIEW WITH KELLIE M DAVIES (Mabon)


 

We're finally hitting double digit weather here in Vancouver. The kind of weather where you begin to think of hitting the beach with a good book to get some fresh air. With that in mind, author Kellie M. Davies dropped in to say hello and tell us about her book MABON.
SC: Tell me a little bit about your main character of this book.
KMD: We enter the story on Lucy DeBane’s sixteenth birthday. Not particularly auspicious for our protagonist as it’s also the day her father died sixteen years prior. Understandably, this day makes Lucy irritable, but add in that she’s on the verge of an ancestral truth, and she’s kinda falling to pieces! Lucy is the younger sister to twins Mathilda and Abigail - blonde bombshells who’ve attained their witchy powers. It’s clear the twins are their mother’s daughters but Lucy, petite with volumes of burnished red locks and brilliant turquoise eyes, is of her father’s lineage. Does Lucy also share in her paternal linage’s Black Majik as well?

SC: I'm sure Lucy has a few tricks up her sleeve as well. Do you believe in the paranormal and if so, do you have an experience you can share?
KMD: Ooh … I love this question … I’m a skeptic but have had several ‘odd’ experiences that I couldn’t quite explain. Back when I was around fifteen, on holiday with my family, I can vividly recall the words my brother spoke while dreaming early one morning and although these words have no weight on this story, it was the vision I had during my brief sleep after being woken by my brother’s rant.

A large spider sitting square on a white background.
I woke telling my mother of the strange vision, I thought it was odd as it had jump-cut itself into a dream I had already been having.

Our day went on and when we arrived at our dinner table, with white table cloth, I began to feel a sense of de-ja-vu. Within minutes a large brown spider made its way onto our table and sat directly in front of me as if it had something to say.
At times now I wished it hadn’t been swiftly whisked from the table by the steward. I often wonder exactly what it had needed so desperately to elucidate.

SC: I have visions of Charlotte's Web running through my mind now. What titles are you working on now that you can tell us about?
KMD: ‘Yule’ which is the second book in my series ‘The Clandestine Chronicles’. I’m finalising an ancestral witchcraft card game that involves an intricate mix of cards, ancestors of the families of the sun and moon, and selected objects that either enhance the game in the players favor or make it a lethal mix!

Follow along with the series’ development at :

Www.kelliemdavies.com

Instagram: kelliemdavies

Twitter: @kelliemdavies

SC: Thanks for stopping in to chat with us today! Let's take a look at your novel now.

 
Mabon
The Clandestine Chronicles
Book One
Kellie M Davies

Genre: Paranormal Romance

Publisher: Aurora House Publishing

Date of Publication: September 2018

ISBN: 978-0-6481851-7-8
ASIN: B07HF18BY5

Number of pages: 227

Cover Artist: Simon Critchell

Tagline: Let the Magick in.

Book Description:

Magick or Love.

If both ran deep in your blood, which would you choose?

On her sixteenth birthday, introvert Lucy DeBane can’t shake the memory of her father’s death, or the possibility that by day’s end a life altering ancestral truth will blow apart the world she knows. Lucy is sure of one thing, her feelings for Gil ... tall, dark and hot ... her first real love.

So when she hears the chiming of ancient bells and her family’s secret is revealed, Lucy must make a decision ... become a DeBane witch, or walk away from family for love.

Is there a way she can have both?

‘Davies weaves together a complex tale of magic and romance in this sweeping adventure.’ ~ Fiona Horne


Teaser Excerpt:

All three witches took their places. Dana stood in the north quarter in front of the alter stretching her hands out for the twins to take in theirs. She pressed on their hands and they all smiled at each other. Abi winked in my direction and my pulse quickened.


The ritual, my initiation ritual, was about to begin.


About the Author:

Kellie M Davies was born and lives in Sydney, Australia with her husband and two children. After University and a long period away from writing, she began to dabble with words again. Stories flowed and from the mess of manuscripts that cluttered her computer files, Lucy’s story rose.




INTERVIEW with THOMAS S. FLOWERS (Palace of Ghosts)



 
Look who's dropped in again to talk about his latest! We're welcoming back Thomas S. Flowers today.
SC: Tell me a little bit about your main character of this book.
TF:  I’d say there are five main characters in Palace of Ghosts, 6 if you count the house. Samantha Green is a friendless former Army K-9 handler looking for a way to put the loss of her dog Hercules behind her. She’s somewhat of a recluse in her personal life now that she’s out of the military. Her parents are struggling to understand why she will not let the past go.
Brad Myers is a lighthearted former Military Police Officer who was severally wounded in war wanting nothing more than a good night’s sleep. He has troubling dreams of his time in Iraq. Of not just his own personal wounds but wounds he caused others.
Andy Lovejoy is an overweight light spoken drone operator who once watched the war from above now questions who he has become. His parents are what you’d call “modern hippies” and raised Andy to be a pacifist. He joined the service because he wanted to serve his country. He never thought he’d participate in hurting people, especially innocent people.
Marcus Pangborn is a headstrong Marine who desperately wants a dead friend’s forgiveness. He’s what I’d call a “man’s man,” super “tough guy” who drives Harley’s and listens to some badass music. His father and grandfather were both Marines and when 9/11 happened, he felt it was his duty to enlist. After the Second Battle of Fallujah, he was never the same.
The group joins Doctor Frederick Peters, he is an experimental psychologist looking to prove his exposure theory hypothesis. He doesn’t necessarily believe in the supernatural, but he hopes his patients will. To him, Amon Palace is the perfect testing grounds for his theory that long-term exposure and aggressive paranoia in a stressful environment will force his patients to face their repressed traumas. Unbeknownst to him, Amon Palace is very real and the ghosts it conjures are not psychosomatic.
SC: So the good doctor isn't sure about the supernatural. Hmm. Do you believe in the paranormal and if so, do you have an experience you can share?
TF: Though I’ve never personally seen a specter or ghost (other than the symbolistic manifestation of my own traumas, typically conjured in dreams), I do not discredit the paranormal or supernatural. Part of the reason is due to my strict religious upbringing. If I am to believe in an ultimate good, I therefore must believe in an ultimate evil. As for the run of the mill ghost, I’d probably lean towards Dr. Lionel Barrett’s theory from Richard Matheson’s 1971 novel, Hell House. That what we think of as “ghosts” are lingering “echoes” from the past, of some event leave traces of itself behind, and not necessarily the remnants of someone’s soul or spirit. But again, that is just my opinion. There are many things that occur in this world that I cannot explain.
SC: What titles are you working on now that you can tell us about?
TF: Now that Palace of Ghosts is out in the wild, I’ve started work on my next book titled Detective Carter And the Cult of the Feared Ones. While readers may recognize the character Detective Carter from Palace of Ghosts, it is not a direct sequel, simply a continuation of the character himself. This story will have a Lovecraft meets Sherlock vibe, but told in modern times. Carter should be a very familiar name for fans of H.P. Lovecraft. The story follows the main protagonist, Detective Carter and his partner Warren, as they investigate a series of brutal murders on Galveston Island.
After the Detective Carter story, I’ll be working on the 3rd book in my Planet of the Dead series, titled Escape from the Planet of the Dead.
SC: Well we can't wait to have you back again to tell us all about them! Thanks for stopping by. Let's take a look at Palace of Ghosts.



Palace of Ghosts
Thomas S. Flowers

Genre: Paranormal Thriller

Publisher: Shadow Work Publishing

Date of Publication: March 5, 2019

ISBN: 978-1-988819-14-3
ASIN: B07NTQWWQG

Number of pages: 275
Word Count: 62K

Cover Artist: Luke Spooner

Tagline: Evil resides in Amon Palace. Something worse came to visit.

Book Description:

Four veterans of the Iraq War seeking a cure for Post-Traumatic-Stress Disorder arrive at a notoriously haunted house in the bogs of Galveston Island called Amon Palace.

Samantha Green, a friendless former Army K-9 handler looking for a way to put her loss behind her.

Brad Myers, a lighthearted former Military Police Officer severally wounded in war wanting nothing more than a good night’s sleep.

Andy Lovejoy, an overweight light spoken drone operator who once watched the war from above now questions who he has become.

Marcus Pangborn, a headstrong Marine who desperately wants a dead friend’s forgiveness.

The group joins Doctor Frederick Peters, an experimental psychologist looking to prove his exposure theory hypothesis, and his two assistants, Tiffany Burgess and Dexter Reid.

At first, their stay seems to conjure nothing more than spooky encounters with inexplicable phenomena. But Amon Palace is gathering its powers—and soon it will reveal that these veterans are not who they seem.


Palace of Ghosts
By Thomas S. Flowers
Chapter 1
        Missing Persons

Detective Carter studied the man across the table through the smoky haze of stale cigarettes. He paid close attention to any clue that could give away some other reasonable explanation than the insanity that had just been confessed. Manila envelopes and folders spread out before him, containing recent photographs and reports of what remained of the old mansion out in the bogs on Galveston Island by Boddeker Road. The fire was substantial to say the least, leaving only skeletal remnants of charred stone and soot of what was once a magnificent estate. And among the destruction spread out on the table in interrogation room 2B, six separate missing persons reports. Reaching down, he switched off the recorder, flipped the tape and resumed the interview. 
“Maybe we should throw you back in holding for another twenty-four hours—see if that gets you to start talking reasonably,” Carter’s partner, Detective Harley Warren, growled. He walked around the room and stood behind the suspect. He leaned close to his ear and whispered, “What you’re giving us, Doc—well, we ain’t buying it. I think maybe you’re a shit liar and can’t come up with a more realistic story. You want to know what I think? I think maybe you did something to your patients. Maybe you lost your temper and—" he made a slicing motion with his thumb across his neck. 
Squinting against the harsh fluorescent light above them, Carter focused on the suspect’s reaction. But all he saw was more of the same.
The suspect propped his head up with his elbows on the table, rubbing his temples, eyes closed. “I’ve told you what happened, I know its hard to believe, but—”
“Hard to believe? I’d say this was all a waste of our time.” Warren stood but remained behind the suspect. “There are six people missing—six, don’t you think their families deserve closure? Just tell us where the bodies are and then we’ll let you go see the wizard, get your own personal padded cell.”
The suspect scoffed. “Missing? They aren’t missing—they were taken, but long before coming to Amon Palace. Whatever happened to them happened in Iraq.”
Warren made a face. “Again with this crazy bullshit.”
“Its not bullshit—I’m telling you what happened, you simply don’t want to listen. The suspect glanced behind him, speaking to Warren directly.
Warren waved him off. “Fancy talk, Doc. But where does it leave us? I’ll tell you, I think you just scored a free ride to the insane asylum. Three hots and a cot, you’ll be living like a king while the parents of the people you killed suffer. All because you’re too chicken shit to tell us what really happened.”
The suspect looked into his palms and said, mostly to himself, “Insane? Maybe I am insane—God, I wish I was.”
Carter cleared his throat. “Okay, Doctor Peters, let’s take it slow. Let’s see if we got this straight. What you’re telling us is that you put together this group from patients you were treating at the VA hospital, right?
“Correct,” Peters nodded. “An experiment in exposure therapy.”
“Jesus Christ, don’t you think these vets have gone through enough without you playing around with their heads?” Warren barked.
“I was trying to help them!” Peters cried.
“Sure you were—sounds like you were trying to help your own career, if you ask me,” Warren quipped.
Carter held up a hand, glancing up at Warren, gesturing for him to ease off.
Warren rolled his eyes but said nothing else.
“Okay, Doctor. So, you put together this group for a week at Amon Palace?” Carter asked.
Rubbing his temples again, Peters said, “I’ve told you all of this already. Yes, I acquired special permission from Mrs. Driscoll. She allowed me use of her estate to conduct the week-long experiment.”
“Mrs. Driscoll? As in Elizabeth Driscoll, daughter of John Driscoll?”
“Yes, and niece of Sir Christopher Driscoll.”
Carter glanced up at Warren.
Noticing the exchanged expression, Peters asked, “Why?”
Carter shifted in his seat and looked Peters straight in the face, bracing for the reaction that would come. “Elizabeth Driscoll has been dead now for over thirty years. The estate passed on to another member of the family who had never bothered to do anything with it. Amon Palace has been abandoned since the 1980s.”
As if on cue, Peters’s hand dropped to the table. His eyes shot wide. “What?” he whispered.
Carter nodded, “Whoever you talked with—if anyone, it wasn’t Elizabeth Driscoll.”
 “That can’t be possible,” Peters stammered.
“Let’s assume for now that whoever it was you spoke with, you believed it to be Elizabeth Driscoll,” Carter said, scribbling gibberish in his notebook, a trick he’d used a dozen times with perps. They see him writing something down after getting the rug swept under them and get nervous. And with jittery nerves come mistakes.
“Can’t be—I spoke with her…” Peters went on, glancing at the notebook, whispering to himself. He looked up suddenly, “What about the Andersons?”
Carter frowned. “Who?”
“Marge and John Anderson.”
“Are you saying there were others?”
“There should be—they were the caretakers hired by Miss Driscoll.”
Exhaling, Carter said, “Amon Palace has no caretakers—at least none on record.” He flipped through some of the folders on the table. “And there have been no bodies recovered as of yet at the crime scene.”
Peters resumed rubbing his temples. “They have to be there, she hired them to take care of the estate. I spoke with both on more than one occasion. And I saw them both on the night of the fire…they were in the house.”
Warren stepped forward and slammed his fist on the table beside Peters, filling the room with a loud pang as he shouted, “Don’t you understand what we’re saying? The woman you supposedly talked with doesn’t exist and there were no caretakers! Which means your story is total fucking bullshit!”
Peters flinched.
“Okay, Doctor,” Carter prodded on, “you brought this group in for an experiment. And then what, spooky encounters start happening—are you telling us that Amon Palace is haunted?”
Warren scoffed. He stood back now, leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his barrel chest.
Smiling, Peters said, “Go ahead and laugh, I understand. I didn’t believe either, not at first. Haunted by some specter or specters or demonically possessed? That would be the real question. Those familiar with parapsychology—of which I am not; I’m paraphrasing here from what I’ve read—almost all cases with reports of hauntings, psychic invasions, and the like, all bear a strong parallel to our experiences within Amon Palace. Cold spots, slamming of doors or banging on walls by some unknown; unseen force, retrocognition—and yet, according to documents published by the Vatican, hauntings such as these sometimes serve as the first manifestation of an entity ultimately bent on demonic possession. According to said article, odors of human excrement or rotting eggs, sulfur can be a characteristic clue of demonic infestation.”
More laughing from Warren.
“As I said, laugh if it makes you feel better. But what would you find more incredible, that Amon Palace is; was indeed possessed, or at the very least haunted, or that we all somehow shared the same hallucinations and grotesque misinterpretations of fact?”
Carter leaned back in his chair, pondering the possibility.
Warren jabbed Peters with a finger. “If what you’re saying is even true—we only have your statement to go off of. Convenient, wouldn’t you say, Doctor?”  
Peters shook his head, “Certainly not convenient for Samantha Green, Brad Myers, Marcus Pangborn, Tiffany Burgess, or Dexter Reid.”
Warren wound up as if he was about to punch Peters.
“Okay, okay,” Carter offered his hands again, urging his partner to cool down. “You bring your experimental exposure group to Amon Palace and everyone starts seeing things—but didn’t you say you wanted them to see this weird stuff? Triggers, you called them, right?”
“The idea—the experiment,” Peters exhaled, glancing sideways at Warren, “was for them to spend a week unplugged from the rest of the world. No phones. No TV. No internet. Completely isolated in an unfamiliar and potentially stressful environment that could possibly trigger certain responses. At the time, I did not believe Amon Palace was truly haunted. Exposure therapy works by triggering patients, forcing them to confront buried trauma. But this was supposed to be a place where I could safely monitor their conditions. There have been cases before, therapeutic exposure experiments that have gone awry. I’m sure you have heard of the former Navy Seal whose post-service time was spent helping veterans with PTSD. He would take them to gun ranges, a known trigger for many soldiers returning from war. The idea is the same—to help patients with PTSD face trauma in order to heal. On one occasion, he had taken a veteran out who had been struggling significantly. The veteran snapped. And in the end, he shot and killed his would-be therapist and his friend. He was sentenced to life in prison without parole. A horrible tragedy with three ruined lives. At Amon Palace I wanted my patients to be able to face the memory of their trauma without the fear of hurting loved ones or themselves. As they began to react to the suggested belief that Amon Palace was in fact haunted, I would guide them toward projecting what they feared the most—their own unique traumas.” 
“Jesus Christ,” Warren quipped again.
Carter silenced his partner with a hand. “So, the experiment was designed for them to react to being locked up in a creepy mansion under the pretense that the house was haunted, and it worked?”
Peters nodded, tears brimming his eyes. “And I confess, I pushed them—more than I should have.”
Carter leaned forward, he could sense they were finally getting somewhere. “What do you mean, pushed?”
Looking up, tears now trickling down his face, he said, “Hypnosis.”
“Hypnotherapy? You put them in a suggestive state when they were already under duress?”
“Under duress? No—they volunteered!”
“Only because you promised a cure—didn’t you?”
“And it would have worked too…but they weren’t who I thought they were—they changed into something horrible.”
Carter sneered, tired of this interrogation, tired of the lies and wild fantasies. “And why didn’t it work, Doctor? Did your little hypothesis backfire? Did you have visions of your career burning so you decided to burn everything else? Did you kill them?”  
“NO!”
“THAN WHAT HAPPENED?”
“THEY WERE TAKEN!”
Carter shook his head, the feeling of defeat sinking in and the weariness of this prolonged interrogation taking a toll. “Taken? Where, Doctor—and by whom?”


About the Author:

Thomas S. Flowers is an Operation Iraqi Freedom and Enduring Freedom Army veteran who loves scary movies, BBQ, and coffee. Ever since reading Remarque’s "All Quiet on the Western Front" and Stephen King’s "Salem’s Lot" he has inspired to write deeply disturbing things that relate to war and horror, from the paranormal to his gory zombie infested PLANET of the DEAD series, to even his recent dabbling of vampiric flirtation in The Last Hellfighter readers can expect to find complex characters, rich historical settings, and mind-altering horror. Thomas is also the senior editor at Machine Mean, a horror movie and book review site that hosts contributors in the horror and science fiction genre.

PLANET of the DEAD and The Last Hellfighter are best-sellers on Amazon's Top 100 lists for Apocalyptic Fiction and African American Horror.

You can follow Thomas and get yourself a FREE eBook copy of FEAST by joining his newsletter. Sign up by vising his website at www.ThomasSFlowers.com







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Monday, March 18, 2019

INTERVIEW WITH JUSTIN JOSCHKO (Yellow Locust)



Hopefully everyone survived the St. Patrick's Day celebrations without feeling a little green today. We have author Justin Joschko in the house today to answer a few questions.
SC: Tell me a little bit about your main character of this book.
JJ: Selena Flood is a seventeen-year-old street brawler from New Canaan, a powerful theocracy on the east coast of America-that-was. Her parents were double agents operating in the top echelons of the New Canaan government on behalf of the democratic Republic of California. Before their discovery and capture, they gave Selena a data stick containing vital details on a terrible new weapon to be unleashed upon the Republic, and charged her to carry the data across the country before New Canaan could strike. Stoic, driven, and a talented fighter, Selena chafes against the roles thrust upon her, both as savior to the republic and mother figure to her younger brother Simon, who accompanies her on her journey west.

SC:  Do you believe in the paranormal and if so, do you have an experience you can share?
JJ: This is going to make for a boring answer, but I don’t, sorry. I’m a big fan of James Randi and tend to favor his skeptical attitude towards such things.

Having said that, I do have a personal story that’s always puzzled me a bit. Back when I was living in Toronto, I was mugged by a couple guys on the subway while on my way home from a bar. It was about 1 AM, shortly before the subway closed for the night. 
I managed to get away without them actually stealing anything (they were fairly rubbish muggers, to be honest), but I was pretty shaken up. And had a hard time sleeping. I called my girlfriend the next morning to tell her about it. She was living in France at the time, and so had been up for a while. She told me she’d had a dream about me being mugged the night before. Weirder still, she recalled that it was after she’d woken up a bit and gone back to sleep, so she could place the time at around 7AM—which would be about 1AM Toronto time, right around when the actual mugging occurred.

Bizarre, eh?
SC: Ah, the TTC. I know it well. Thanks for sharing your story, glad you're okay. What titles are you working on now that you can tell us about?

JJ: The second book in the Yellow Locust series, IRON CIRCLE, comes out at the end of the month. Book 3 is also in the works. In the meantime, I’ve finished a horror novel about werewolves, set in my hometown of Niagara Falls, which I hope to get published soon.
SC: I had one of the most supernatural experiences of my life in your home town, go figure. Thanks for stopping by today. Let's take a look at your novel now.


Yellow Locust
Book One
Justin Joschko

Genre: Science Fiction Dystopian

Publisher: Month9Books

Date of Publication: May 8, 2018

ISBN: 978-1-946700-63-6
ASIN: B079828BLX

Number of pages: 306

Cover Artist: Danielle Doolittle

Book Description:

Selena Flood is a fighter of preternatural talent. But not even her quick fists and nimble feet could save her parents from the forces of New Canaan, the most ruthless and powerful of the despotic kingdoms populating America-that-was.

Forced to flee the tyrannical state with her younger brother Simon in tow, Selena is now the last chance for peace in a continent on the verge of complete destruction.

In her pocket is a data stick, the contents of which cost her parents their lives. Selena must now ensure it reaches the Republic of California—a lone beacon of liberty shining across a vast and barren wasteland—before it’s too late.

Between New Canaan and California stretch the Middle Wastes: thousands of desolate miles home to murderers, thieves, and a virulent strain of grass called yellow locust that has made growing food all but impossible. So when Selena and Simon stagger into Fallowfield, an oasis of prosperity amidst the poisoned plains, everything seems too good to be true—including the warm welcome they receive from the town’s leader, a peculiar man known only as The Mayor.

As Selena delves deeper into the sinister secrets of this seemingly harmless refuge, she soon learns there is a much darker side to Fallowfield and the man who runs it. Before long, she must call upon the skills she honed in the fighting pits of New Canaan to ensure not only her own survival, but that of her brother, in whom the Mayor has taken far too keen an interest.

And she’d better act fast, for an all-out war inches ever closer, and New Canaan is never as far away as it seems.



Excerpt:
The grass followed the siblings into town, looming silently along the highway shoulders, lancing up through broken sidewalk slabs, squatting in the cavernous lobbies of derelict skyscrapers. It stalked them all the way to the city center, where a square kilometer of turf and asphalt had been pared away to uncover the silty soil beneath. Stakes with tips painted green, blue, and orange still jutted evenly along the field’s southern edge, though whether the colors signified crop rotation or ownership, Selena couldn’t say. Only one plant grew there now, and she was willing to bet it hadn’t been deliberately planted. The yellow grass devoured every inch of naked soil, creating a neck-high carpet of brittle, oily stalks. We aren’t gonna find any food on offer here, Selena thought, though she kept this opinion to herself—the last thing her brother needed was more bad news.
A fountain stood on a cobbled square beside the field, its ledge chipped and weathered. A bronze woman stood atop its stone platform, her face tarnished and scaly with grime. She held aloft a jug with a broken handle. Water dribbled from its spout. No food, maybe, but water’s more important anyway.
Selena knelt to the water. A caustic stench of grease and bitter herbs rose from the pool. A skein of shimmery oil coated the water, stirred to a rainbow froth where the trickling spout spilled its endless contents. Selena rolled up her pant legs, removed her shoes, and waded into the fountain. The water’s scummy skin clung to her leg hairs. She cupped her hands beneath the dribble.

Even before the water touched her lips, she knew it was bad. The stench of it lapped at her face like a hungry tongue. She sipped anyway, gagged, spat. Running or still, the water was hopelessly befouled. Its taste and smell lingered long enough for her to place it: the smell of the yellow grass, the few times she’d been forced to push her way directly through it. Not content with razing the town’s crops, the vile stuff had also poisoned its water supply. Whatever this shit is, it’s thorough.

About the Author:

Justin Joschko is an author from Niagara Falls, Ontario. His writing has appeared in newspapers and literary journals across Canada. Yellow Locust is his first novel. He currently lives in Ottawa with his wife and two children.




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THE LADY RAVEN by REBECCA HENRY


 

 
 
Hey there! I hope you enjoyed your weekend. Did you catch the latest episode of Supernatural Sunday? Look for it on this blog and subscribe on YouTube if you're into the supernatural.
 
 
To start this week off we welcome Rebecca Henry, who is sharing the details of her new novel "A Dark Cinderella Tale". Read on. 

The Lady Raven
A Dark Cinderella Tale
Rebecca Henry

Genre: Fantasy, Fairy Tale Retold

Publisher: Austin Macauley

Date of Publication: November 30th 2017




ISBN: 1786935783



ASIN: 978-1786935786
Number of pages:175
Word Count: 48,863
Cover Artist: Austin Macauley
Tagline: For those who have an affinity for magic, witches, dark fairy tales, and the macabre...
Book Description:
In The Lady Raven, Rebecca Henry tells the tale of Zezolla, a little princess abandoned by her father into the hands of her evil stepmother and wicked stepsisters. A familiar fairy tale you may think but all is not as it appears. The reader is soon drawn into a web of witchcraft, lies and deceit, and gradually realizes that this is no typical fairy tale, but a dark and macabre take on one.
Zezolla is treated with the utmost cruelty, neglected and vilified, and left to live in the damp cellars of the castle. The only friends Zezolla has are her beloved raven and her pet wolf. Her only comfort lies in the loyalty of the creatures of the forest, and her mother's hazel tree.
Will Zezolla have the power to escape her torment and ultimately save herself from the unscrupulous clutches of the king? The Lady Raven is a compelling tale, and one that is not for the faint-hearted.

Amazon     BN     Smashwords



Excerpt:

 Zezolla entered the forest, twig in one hand, shattered glass in the other. She moved effortlessly through the night as if she herself had wings which carried her. She came to a clearing, a streak of moonlight shining on the frozen ground. “This is the spot, my love.” The raven flew into the sky circling Zezolla as she dug into the ground. “Remember the order, my princess. Plant the twig and then the glass.”
“I call upon the spirit of my mother. I command you to leave the grave in which my mother’s body rests. Awaken now and bring forth the tree of life!” Zezolla held her hands up to the moon invoking its powers. “I am the daughter of the witch Avelina. I invoke the powers of the night. Come to me, my mother’s spirit. I welcome you!” A silver mist traveled above. The raven flew down to his princess. “She is coming, princess.” Zezolla watched as a tiny branch came forth from the dirt. Slowly it grew, taller and taller. More branches came. Zezolla thought she saw the figure of a woman in the tree. Shards of glass formed together creating glass leaves, dangerous to anyone who touched it - anyone but Zezolla. The princess stood up amazed by the beautiful sight before her. “It is complete, my love. My mother is here and her spirit resides inside the tree.” A remarkable hazel tree stood before her, 15 feet tall with a small opening at the base big enough for Zezolla to fit through. She examined the leaves running her long fingers over the glass. “It cannot cut me my love.” She held out her arm for the raven to perch. “But it will be dangerous to anyone else who tries to touch it.”
The two men made it to the barrier, gasping in horror. “What entrance is this!?” cried out Jack. “This was never here. There has never been an entrance to the forest.” Jack backed away, terrified that Zezolla awakened a spirit inside the forest. “It’s just a narrow passage. It must have been caused by the cold ice.” concluded Edward logically.
Jack shook his head. “No, Hexe did this. She has opened the forest. Who knows what evil lurks inside? These grounds are now cursed.”
“If that is true then I will not venture in.” Edward turned to leave but Jack stopped him. “This might be valuable to me Edward. If Hexe possesses some magical entity inside the forest then I want it.”
Jack grabbed Edward by the collar and moved him through the opening. Edward clung to his knife, jumping at the sounds around them. “There is a light coming from beyond the trees. Could be lightening. Let’s go see what Hexe is up to.” Edward tried to turn back, but Jack had a strong hold on him. “Courage man! You’re no better than a scared boy.” snarled Jack.
Zezolla, unaware of the servants approaching, entered the hazel tree. Edward ducked down behind a bush as he saw Zezolla disappear.
“We must leave now! I told you this would be our death! She is a witch! Did you just see how she entered that glass tree?!”
Jack was too fascinated to leave. He had never witnessed true magic before. “I want to take a closer look.”
“What? Are you mad! If you go near that tree that will be the end of you!”
Jack did not listen to Edward and walked over to the magical tree which was shimmering in the moonlight. “I just want to see it. Stay where you are if you are afraid,” Jack snorted.
“To hell with curiosity. I don’t want to end up without my head like Princess Guinevere. Go on then, you fool! Go see your magical tree.”
The tree seemed to call to Jack, beckoning him forward. “It’s so beautiful. Look at the sparkling leaves.” He reached out to touch one. The branch moved slicing his finger off his hand. Jack screamed in pain, clenching his finger to his chest. He tried to run away, but the tree caught him in her branches.
Edward stayed hidden, watching in horror as Jack cried out for help. “Edward, help me!”
“Stupid fool. I told him not to get closer.” muttered Edward
The tree tightened its grip around Jack, cutting him as it squeezed. “Please! I am sorry! Please let me go!” The tree would not accept Jack’s pleas and brought down another branch lined with razor sharp leaves. “No! No! Please, I will do anything! I will protect the princess from her stepmother. I swear to protect her as long as I live! Please, spare me!” The branch came down, slicing Jack’s throat with a row of deadly leaves.
“She needs no protection. I am with her now.” said the tree.

About the Author:




Rebecca Henry is the author of two novels, The Lady Raven and Louisiana Latte. In addition to writing, she is also an avid vegan, gardener, crafter and practices yoga.