Besides blogging and working as a professional freelance writer and editor, I also write fantasy and sci-fi novels and have completed 14 full-length manuscripts and one novella. Some of you may recall that I officially published my novella Blood Magic back in 2017. Now I'm sharing it exclusively with you readers by offering a FREE excerpt of the first five pages!
Check out the storyline:
After the death of their mother, a
powerful witch, Pontias is tasked with raising his three daughters: hot-tempered
Semper, well-mannered Ambriose, and practical Carnelia. In an effort to ensure
their success, he has his wife’s magic bestowed upon his daughters, who each
grow up to be powerful and successful: a magician, a love expert, and a
knowledge guru. Yet they are unaware of a family tie lurking in the background
plotting to take back their rightful claim to the magic. Semper, Ambriose, and
Carnelia suddenly find themselves ensnared in a joint quest to put their lives back
in order while trying to survive each other. While the enemy waits for the
chance to strike, they must learn the value of family as they discover a family
secret and the bonds that tie them together.
Enjoy this special preview of Blood Magic, available now on Amazon for just 99 cents!
Prologue
As far as everyone knew, Miss
Cresida Pellinore was the strongest witch in the whole town, not to mention the
most beautiful. Well, and it was to be expected of her blood – the Pellinores
had boasted the most prominent brood of witches, warlocks, wizards,
enchantresses, and the like of the whole countryside for the past two hundred
and fifty years. So no one questioned it but to tip their hats at the child in
acknowledgement of yet another stroke of good fortune for the Pellinores.
Even before they had journeyed
to what was then only a few spare cottages, the Pellinores could trace their
blood back to generations of witches. Miss Cresida was just another in a long,
long line. And yet, by her third birthday she proved herself to be quite more
remarkable than her most of her relatives. By the time she was seven, Cresida
could hex a wart right off your nose before you even blinked, and by the time
she turned ten she could make a tree swallow do the foxtrot upside down and
then have it sing God Save the Queen. People came to her for potions and spells
ever since she was a child, and her favor with the village was outspoken.
Besides that, she was the most stunning woman in all the countryside even by
the tender age of ten, in addition to having a reputation that was not to be
toyed with, and there was a powerful splash of wild blood in her that made her
so strong-willed. It was no surprise, then, that she became enamored with one
of the handsome, swarthy youths travelling through, and for a long time no one
saw or heard anything from her.
It was nearly a year later that
Miss Cresida Pellinore returned to the village, but not with her rich chestnut
curls flowing but hidden within a long gray cloak. On that cool autumn evening
no one stirred about among the high winds, so none heard the crisp crunching of
leaves as a dark figure traipsed to the door of a lone house.
The handsome young man who
opened it stared for several moments before the woman thrust something at him.
He stared down at the little bundle and saw that it was a child barely more
than an infant, and rather unsightly, too.
“You must take him, brother,”
the woman spoke. “Please.”
“Cresida, what are you doing-?!”
the man exclaimed in wonder, but then the woman stretched out her long slender
fingers at him. His eyes widened in acknowledgement of what she was doing and
also in acknowledgment that her magic was far stronger than his.
“Take him, Renton. Raise him as
a son, however pathetic he may be. And don’t worry; I may visit sometime in the
future.” Cresida smiled and lowered her fingers as Renton took the child
stiffly, doubting that last part. Then with a rush of wind she vanished into
the cool evening. Renton remained in the doorway, still quite unable to move.
For he knew Cresida was never coming back to their village.
But his sister’s spell was
strong – there was naught he could do against her orders until he could figure
a way to manage a loophole in the spell. And that would take some time. In the
meantime, he remained secluded and kept the child hidden away, secretly hoping
it would prove itself remarkable like its mother. On the contrary, it was clear
by age three that the boy had barely any talent at all, as he could hardly
manage even the simplest of spells Renton struggled to teach him. Perhaps this
was why his mother had turned him over to Renton’s care all along. He was such
a sulking child, prone to moping sitting curled up in dark corners for hours,
and tracing lines in the dirt or playing with the bugs that crawled up. He had
a dirty complexion and long dirty waves of hair, and his body was as frail as
his emotions, at least for the first five or six years of his life.
Renton tried to instill some
sense into the boy while attempting everything he could to counter Cresida’s
spell, and grew angrier and angrier as the boy could only manage the faintest
stirrings of bad magic. When this happened Renton shouted about his mother to
no end.
“Shut up!” Rindel growled with
his hands clapped over his ears and teeth gritted while smarting tears leaked
from his cheeks.
Many a night Renton lay in bed
listening to the boy muttering spells and growling angrily to himself in the
dark, and oftentimes sobbing quietly to himself. His temperament grew steadily
haughty and bitter, until one day when the boy was seven Renton at last reached
a breakthrough in Cresida’s spell that would allow them to at least leave the
village.
“Pack your things!” Renton told
him, “We’re going away!”
“Where are we going?” Rindel
whined.
“I've finally found where your mother
ran off to,” Renton snapped. “Now hurry up!”
No, they were not going to let Cresida get away. He
may not be as powerful as her, but
that should in no way discount him altogether. After all, he was her brother.
It turned out Cresida had done
very well for herself, as expected, finding a thriving town to set up shop and
a new life. From what he heard around, she was just as popular and had no doubt
regained an extensive list of clientele. Now there was only to see for
themselves. Renton thanked the old man who was still going on about how “the
wonderful girl had cleared up his gout beautifully, just beautifully,” and took
off with Rindel in the direction of Cresida’s house. He began to feel an
overwhelming determination rise up in him and tingle down to his fingertips at
the thought of being so close after all these years. He ordered Rindel to wait
in the bushes, and went to see for himself.
But something stopped him in
the path. Renton couldn’t say whether it was the strength of Cresida’s spell,
but something held him there frozen. From within the house came the sounds of
laughter, loud laughter – a woman’s, a man’s, and – three girls. And then the
pounding of little feet racing about. Renton’s heart twanged at the unmistakable
voice of his sister, “I've almost caught you now!” followed by more laughter –
her own. Renton swallowed a lump. She was happy.
A few moments later a woman
emerged from the door still with the traces of laughter about her face and a
woven basket in her arms. She stopped when she saw Renton standing there at the
edge and her smile dropped. She glanced around, set down the basket and quietly
hurried over to him, on bare feet, Renton noticed. His body stiffened as she
did so and contemplated his face.
“I see you’ve managed a breach,”
Cresida said slowly.
Renton looked to her at last,
but looked away again before long. She was too familiar, and yet, had aged,
just as he had. Though she was still very beautiful. “I see you’ve made a new
life for yourself.”
“Yes, it’s an easy enough town
to live in.”
There was an awkward silence
between them, and then Renton swallowed hard and looked toward the window where
the back of a man and the heads of three small girls jumping up and down could
be seen. “Are they powerful?”
“Oh, no,” Cresida replied to
his surprise, dropping her voice and looking away very discreetly. “Their
father's much too ordinary.”
Renton’s brows pinched at her. “Really?”
At that moment the door opened
and out came the father, along with the three small girls. “Daddy!” they cried,
and he stopped and looked at the stranger his wife was talking to. Renton could
see that he was young, much younger than his sister.
“Who is this, Selly?” the man
asked good-naturedly, as if he was some guest and not a dear relative forced
into servitude. Cresida looked to Renton with desperation in her eyes.
And for some reason, whether of
Cresida’s doing or not, Renton simply opened his mouth, eyes shining at them,
and said quietly, “Just leaving.”
He turned with the children’s
voices breaking the silence soon enough and found Rindel with tears brimming in
his eyes.
“I told you to wait in the
bushes!” he barked angrily, but Rindel continued to glare at the house and the
happy family. He stood there for a long time and then hurried after Y. he
demanded, “What about my mother?!”
Renton threw him off and
shouted, “She doesn't give a damn about you anymore!” He scowled. “She’s got a
new, and better life here. What would she want with you?!”
Rindel bit his lip while the
tears held in his yes, refusing to let them fall.
Renton shoved a finger at him. “Get this straight, little boy, I still can’t break this spell, so it’s your fault that I’m bound to take care of you! And don’t you ever forget that!" He stomped off while Rindel stood there, tears in his eyes, scowling at the ground, biting his lip, fists clenched.
I
Mr. Pontias Madge couldn’t have
been more delighted to have three wonderful daughters. And their mother was
simply more than he could ask for. They had met under the stars of a full moon
at the summer night’s fair – she had been breathtaking, and he had been
captivated. She was a kind, spirited woman and incredibly wise to boot. He knew
how popular her business was, though she never included him in it – "Oh,
it's just a few spells here and there, really,” she told him modestly and
shooed him away.
With each of their daughters
being born, however, Cresida spent less time in her shop. In fact, Pontias
sometimes glimpsed someone whispering to Cresida while retreating out the back
door, or dropping by and handing over little packages. That was when one of the
girls started wailing, or pulling on his hair.
Carnelia was the first. She was
a quiet little thing with jet black hair and eyes that glinted intently at you.
It was quite peaceful, and Pontias spent many days off work with her while
Cresida worked in the shop. Then came Semper. She was the most spirited child
Pontias had ever seen, and also the most strong-willed. She spent most of the
first three years of her life giggling while pulling out fistfuls of Pontias’s hair,
flinging his wire-rimmed glasses across the room, throwing her wet spaghetti in
his face with more giggling, and screaming happily in his ear the rest of the
time.
Fortunately Ambriose was a much
milder child. Ambriose was a sweet babe who liked to watch the little birds
that hopped around outside, and the flowers growing in the little pots in the
windowsill. The three of them played together rather well – with spells of
Semper’s spirited screaming or running madly about the house. At least her
siblings provided other distraction besides pulling out his hair, and he had
the time to regain the hearing in his right ear. Carnelia was the only one who
could ever calm Semper down, even with her merest presence, and that was a
blessing.
Their house was a happy place
for some time, and Pontias couldn’t have been more content.
But then something went very wrong.
Cresida suddenly became very
ill, confined in bed for several weeks. Pontias grew very anxious, helplessly wringing
his hands over her, and she was always either grumbling at or sending away all
the doctors. There didn’t seem to be anything that could be done, and so
Pontias was forced to clutch her hand tightly and watch her slip deeper and
deeper into the ailment. Sometimes he suspected in her sad eyes that she knew
herself what was ailing her, but she would never talk about it.
Then one night when the girls
were all in bed Cresida called him softly to her. She smiled weakly and then
held out a piece of parchment that was heavily inked with strange symbols that
Pontias could not recognize.
“Take good care of this. I am
leaving all my magic to my girls,” she told him. Then she took a pen and
carefully inked each of their names, along with a good number of those strange
inscriptions. “This will ensure their future.” Then she signed her own name at
the bottom, and Pontias looked on tremblingly as she pressed it into his hands,
gave a final smile, sat back upon the cushions and closed her eyes.
For the first two months after
she had gone, Pontias was caught in a psychological frenzy. He could hardly
sleep half the nights without waking up and running about the house with his
heart racing as if the great reaper of death were here for him, too. In fact,
every time he looked at the girls now he could hear death’s approach knocking
at their door.
This rising sense of panic
crossed over into his work life as well. First he took a demotion, then a pay
cut, then was out of work altogether as the company went bankrupt overnight and
was quietly dissolved. Their savings didn’t last long with three growing girls.
Soon there was no money to stuff up the hole in the wall, or to fix the leak in
the ceiling.
Pontias was poor. They were all poor, for that. Pontias looked at
his girls and his heart swelled, and he could not let this continue. He knew
something had to be done – and was desperate.
Renton did not expect someone
so late at night, especially in the heavy rain. It was a strange cloaked figure
banging outside. He eyed the stranger through the slot in the door.
“Oh please, you must help me!”
the stranger pleaded.
Renton would have liked to send
him away, but business was business. And so, to the relief of the stranger the
door swung open and he was ushered into a small room. Once seated at the small
round table, the man peeled back his hood to peer at the strange mystical
objects and symbols that hung about the room. He recognized a few of them from
his wife’s shop, though he never knew what any of them meant.
That was when Renton was
noticing the face of this stranger, and stared. This was the husband of his
dead sister. He was speechless for a long moment until the man set something
upon the table and pushed it forward. It was a piece of parchment, along with a
few gold coins. Renton swept the coins aside and snatched up the paper at once.
His eyes traced over it greedily as Pontias said, “Please, you must help me. My
wife has passed and left me, and I’m afraid there's no future for my three
daughters.”
Renton ran his fingertips over
the smooth ridges of the ink. He pressed his lips together and his heart
dropped then – these were powerful inscriptions, too powerful for him to break.
He took note of the four signatures with downcast eyes.
“My wife left me this, though,
you see, something for our daughters. But I’m afraid I can't make heads or
tails of that strange writing.” Pontias's eyes shone at Renton’s grim
countenance. “She said she was bequeathing her magic to them, but surely you
know how to unlock it, a magician like yourself!”
Renton’s heart burned – this
magic should rightfully belong to Rindel! But instead he kept quiet. “I do,” he
admitted, knowing full well he could not break the bindings of this spell
anymore than he had been able to undo Cresida’s last, and that only was broken
with her death. But perhaps there was something he could do yet.
“Oh please!” Pontias leaned
forward anxiously. “You will help me, won’t you?”
Renton slowly looked up from
the parchment, a small smile playing across his lips. “Of course,” he said. “You
have nothing to worry about.”
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