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Tuesday, November 1, 2016

Dispelled by Terri L. Austin


Dispelled
A Null for Hire Novel
Book One
Terri L. Austin
Genre: urban fantasy
Date of Publication: Nov. 1, 2016
ISBN ebook: 978-1-946066-00-8
ISBN print: 978-1-946066-01-5
Number of pages: 340
Word Count: 90,000


Book Description:


They call me an abomination. A mutant. A curse on their kind.


I don’t let it bother me. Much.  
My name is Holly James, and what they say is true. I’m a freak of nature—a null. My mere presence zaps the magic from Others, rendering them powerless. That’s why they hate me. But here’s the kicker: I’ve found a way to profit from my lack of mojo.
Whether it’s acting as a mystical wet blanket in a dispute between pyromancers or keeping hormonal shifters from changing during a sweet sixteen party, I provide a highly specialized service. For a hefty fee.


When a young witch turns up dead, clutching an amulet cursed with black magic, my estranged grandfather asks for my help. In return for nullifying the necklace, Gramps promises to find my missing mother—a witch who vanished after my birth. Of course there’s a catch. He wants me to assist Cade McAllister, the arrogant sorcerer in charge of investigating the case.


Cade resents my existence, let alone my attempts to help. Still, I’ll do whatever it takes to find my mom. For my own peace of mind I have to know what happened to her, and I won’t allow anything to get in my way. Not even this crazy, irrational longing I feel for a hot sorcerer with the sexiest scowl I’ve ever seen.
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Excerpt 2:
Thaddeus Aldridge was a loon. What else would explain hubcaps and rusted mufflers hanging from a tree in the front yard like ripened fruit? Or the army of ceramic gnomes lined up in formation on the sparse brown lawn, waving gardening implements like weapons?
His ramshackle property stood six miles from the highway. The narrow, two-story house was missing more paint than not. Faded red shutters hung cockeyed next to filthy windows. On the sagging porch sat a ripped, floral sofa. On that sofa sat an old man wearing overalls—no shirt—chain smoking and using a Folgers coffee can for an ashtray.
Cade parked in front of the house and we stepped out into the heat. No wind moved the heavy, humid air.
Before we took two steps toward him, the old man stood, flicked the butt in the can, and grabbed a gnarled wooden wand from his pocket. “Get off my land. This here is private property.” He raised the wand, pointed it toward us, then looked at it with a frown. His eyes shot to me. “What the Sam Hill?”
“I’m a null.”
Surprise flashed across his features as he made a move to dash inside but Cade was there before him, blocking the screen door. “Sit down, old man. We’re just here to talk.”
The heavy scarf draped around my neck itched, and I rubbed at it while I climbed the weathered, rickety porch steps to get a better look at the loon in question. Thaddeus Aldridge could be summed up in one color: gray. Gray hair, gray stubble, gray skin.
His sunken brown eyes shot angry daggers at Cade. “I don’t have to talk to you.”
Cade crossed his arms. “According to section three-thirteen, subsection B of the Code—”
“Don’t quote the Code to me, son, I wrote the damn book.” He stomped back to the sofa and fell onto it.
“My name’s Cade McAllister. I’m a Council Investigator.”  
“I don’t give a hot goddamn who you are. This is my house, and you brought a null here. Now I’m gonna have to redo all my wards. You know how long that’ll take?”  
Cade walked from the door to perch his ass on the porch railing. I copied his move.
With a sigh, Aldridge lit up a smoke, squinting as he inhaled. He ran a thumb over a groove in the wand.
Wands were passé. Even Gran didn’t use a wand back in the day. They were a crutch. If you rely on your wand and find yourself without it, you’re screwed.
“Where’s Vane?” Cade asked.
The old fart puffed away. Soon his head was enveloped in a cloud of smoke. “How should I know? That boy don’t inform me of his comings and goings.”
Cade turned to me. “Go check inside. See what you can find.”
On the one hand, I really didn’t want to go into the house. Who knew what disaster lurked there? On the other hand, I was suspicious that Cade might discover some clue and not share it with me. No matter which hand I chose, it was a lose-lose proposition.
I looked into Cade’s eyes, widened mine in warning, and poked his chest with a finger. “We’re partners, don’t forget.”
When I walked inside the house, letting the screen door slam behind me, I heard Aldridge’s wheezy laugh. “I reckon she’s a handful.”
“You have no idea,” Cade rumbled.
The place reeked with sixty years’ worth of stale smoke that was probably embedded into the walls and scarred wood floor. Newspapers, old coffee cups, and dust covered every surface. I walked to the kitchen. It was even grosser in there. Years of food had been cooked onto the stovetop. It made the burger I’d eaten earlier rebel in my stomach.
I took in the kitchen and spotted the phone. He had an old-fashioned, yellow rotary attached to the wall. Rotary, for God’s sake. No redial, no phone history.
But next to the phone, I found a number written in ink on the peeling wallpaper. I didn’t use my cell because I didn’t want it to show up on caller ID. So with two fingers, I gingerly picked up the receiver and spun the dial.
A deep voice answered. “Hey, Gramps, what’s up?”
“Um, hi. Is this Vane?”
“Who the fuck is this?”
I swallowed. “My name is Holly James. Cade McAllister and I are—”
He hung up on me. Son of a bitch.
I grabbed my phone, entered the number in my address book, and walked back outside.
Cade had his chin propped in one hand as he nodded, listening to the old man.
“Probably using some ancient black spell to mask the signature,” Thaddeus said around a cigarette. “But when you run into the caster, you should find a trace of it on his aura.” He stopped to hack before spitting into the coffee can. “Sorry ’bout that. Anyway, you can’t hide a dark aura for long. Not without a continual supply of sacrificial blood and blowing through a lot of power. It always leaves a stain somewhere.”
Cade glanced at me, his eyebrows shooting up. “Find anything?”
“I called Vane, and he hung up on me.”
Thaddeus sniffed. “Yeah, he don’t like to talk on the phone none. Especially to strangers. And if’n he knew you was a null, he’d be even less inclined.”
“Well, thanks for your time.” Cade held out his hand, and the old man shook it. “Good to talk shop with you.”
“Come back and see me, son. But don’t bring this one.” He jerked his head in my direction.
I rolled my eyes and made my way to the Ford. As I did, I held the ends of the scarf up to my nose. I stank of cigarette smoke. Blech.
Cade took the gravel road leading to the highway. I slid my gaze to him. “I have Vane’s number.”
“Good.”
I waited a beat. “What did you mean back there about talking shop?”
“Thaddeus used to be an investigator himself. He’s still sharp.”
“Learn anything new?”
“Not really.”
“Did he tell you about Vane?”
“No.” He turned on the radio to block my questions.
I reached out and hit the search button. I was tired of classic rock. I stopped on a country station. “So what is Vane Aldridge and how did he know London? Why would he want to kill her? Bigger question, why would he want to kill Stephanie?”
“He didn’t kill anybody, Holly. Vane works for the Council.”
I stared at him in silence for a full minute. “What the hell, Cade? Did you know this all along?” I smacked my forehead. Of course he did. That’s why he’d tensed up when Mick Raven said the name. “How long were you going to keep this from me?”
“I’m telling you now.”
Seething, I stared out the window. What else was McAllister hiding? Probably a whole host of things. That just jacked my anger up even further. “What does Vane Aldridge do for the Council?”
“He enforces their decisions.”

About the Author:
Terri L. Austin is a mild-mannered writer by day and a reality TV junkie by night. She lives in Missouri with her family, and loves to hear from readers.


Drop her a line at http://www.terrilaustin.com/











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Tour Scooter Nation by A.B. Funkhauser



Scooter Nation
Unapologetic Lives
Book Two
A.B. Funkhauser
Genre: Gonzo Mortuary Revenge Fiction
Publisher: Solstice Publishing
Date of Publication: March 11, 2016
ISBN: 1625263473, 978-1625263476
ASIN:  B01CT9GCQK
Number of pages:  194
Word Count: 48,854
Cover Artist: Michelle Crocker
Book Description:
Aging managing director Charlie Forsythe begins his work day with a phone call to Jocasta Binns, the unacknowledged illegitimate daughter of Weibigand Funeral Home founder Karl Heinz Sr. Alma Wurtz, a scooter bound sextenarian, community activist, and neighborhood pain in the ass is emptying her urine into the flower beds, killing the petunias. Jocasta cuts him off, reminding him that a staff meeting has been called. Charlie, silenced, is taken aback: he has had no prior input into the meeting and that, on its own, makes it sinister.
The second novel in the Unapologetic Lives series, Scooter Nation takes place two years after Heuer Lost and Found. This time, funeral directors Scooter Creighton and Carla Moretto Salinger Blue take center stage as they battle conflicting values, draconian city by-laws, a mendacious neighborhood gang bent on havoc, and a self-absorbed fitness guru whose presence shines an unwanted light on their quiet Michigan neighborhood.


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Excerpt:


1967
The old humpback with the cloudy eye and Orwellian proletarian attitude pushed past the young embalmer with a curt “Entschuldigen Sie bitte!—Excuse me!” That Charles E. Forsythe, bespectacled and too tall for his own good, didn’t speak a word of German was incidental. The man grunting at him, or, more accurately, through him was Weibigand senior embalmer Heino Schade, who’d been gossiped about often enough at Charlie’s previous place of employ: “Weibigand’s,” the hairdresser had winked knowingly, “is like a Stalag. God only knows where the lampshades come from.”
Whether she was referring to Schade specifically or the Weibigand’s generally didn’t matter. What he gleaned from the talk and what he took with him when he left to go work for them was that he was not expected to understand, only to follow orders.
Schade, muttering over a cosmetic pot that wouldn’t open, suddenly tossed it; the airborne projectile missing Charlie’s black curls by inches. Jumping out of the way, he wondered what to do next.
Newly arrived from Seltenheit and Sons, his new master’s most capricious competitor, expectations that he perform beyond the norm were high. Trading tit for tat, his old boss Hartmut Fläche had fought and lost battles with Karl Heinz Senior since 1937, and wasn’t about to abandon the bad feeling, even as he approached his ninetieth year. That his star apprentice had left under a tenacious cloud to go work for the enemy would no doubt hasten old Harty’s resolve to plot every last Weibigand into the ground before he got there first.
It was incumbent upon Charlie, therefore, to dish some dirt hopefully juicy enough to shutter Seltenheit and Son’s for good.
Stories of the two funeral directors’ acrimony were legend: late night calls to G-men during the war asserting that Weibigand was a Nazi; anonymous reports to the Board of Mortuary Science that Fläche reused caskets; hints at felonious gambling; price-fixing; liquor-making; tax evading; wife swapping; cross dressing; pet embalming; covert sausage making; smokehouses; whore houses; Commie-loving; Semite-hating; and drug using sexual merry-making of an unwholesomeness so heinous as to not be spoken of, but merely communicated through raised eyebrows, was just a scratch.
Ducking under the low rise water pipes that bisected Weibigand’s ceiling in the lower service hall, Charlie shuddered with the thought of retributive action, if only because old men were scary and he was still young. At twenty, he had finished his requisite course requirements, albeit at an advanced age. A lot of the guys were finishing at seventeen, only to be packed off to Vietnam. But Charlie had been delayed by way of the family pig farm which in many ways, could save his hide in a pinch. As the eldest male in a houseful of women, running the farm made him essential if the Draft ever became an issue. It hadn’t so far—he was too old, the 1950 and up birthdates pulled by lot would never include his. Yet he was haunted by the prospect of a violent end.
His mother—a gentle soul who knew the Old Testament chapter and verse—never missed an opportunity to discourage his dreams for a life in the city. This only aggravated matters. He was different, and he knew it. For that reason, he had to leave.
“You’ll wind up in hell if you try,” she said fondly, every time he negotiated the subject. In the end, it was a kick in the ass from the toothless old neighbor that sent him running far and fast off the front porch: “Yer not like the others, are ya sweetie?”
“Don’t expect an easy time from the Missus,” Heino Schade said offhandedly from his vantage over a pasty deceased.
“Mrs. Weibigand?” Charlie asked, noting that the old man used Madame Dubarry commercial cosmetic in place of the heavy pancake Seltenheit’s favored.
“You assisted her out of a particularly difficult situation. She will expect more as a show of your constant devotion.” He knocked his glass eye back into place with a long spring forceps.
Charlie understood. He hadn’t expected a call from the Lodge that infamous night, but then, it wasn’t every day that a good friend of the Potentate was found dead in a hotel room under a hooker.
“In flagrante delicto,” Schade continued ominously in what appeared to be Latin.
“Indeed,” Charlie said, faking a working knowledge of the dead language; the unfamiliar term, he guessed, having more to do with what Karl Heinz Weibigand was doing with a woman in a seedy hotel room, than his desire to ask Schade how he made his dead look so dewy.
About the Author:

Toronto born author A.B. Funkhauser is a funeral director, classic car nut and wildlife enthusiast living in Ontario, Canada. Like most funeral directors, she is governed by a strong sense of altruism fueled by the belief that life chooses us and we not it.

Her debut novel Heuer Lost and Found, released in April 2015, examines the day to day workings of a funeral home and the people who staff it. Winner of the Preditors & Editors Reader’s Poll for Best Horror 2015, and the New Apple EBook Award 2016 for Horror, Heuer Lost and Found is the first installment in Funkhauser’s Unapologetic Lives series. Her sophomore effort, Scooter Nation, released March 11, 2016 through Solstice Publishing. Winner of the New Apple Ebook Award 2016 for Humor, Scooter has also been nominated for Best Humor Summer Indie Book Awards 2016.
A devotee of the gonzo style pioneered by the late Hunter S. Thompson, Funkhauser attempts to shine a light on difficult subjects by aid of humorous storytelling. “In gonzo, characters operate without filters which means they say and do the kinds of things we cannot in an ordered society. Results are often comic but, hopefully, instructive.”

Funkhauser is currently working on Shell Game, a subversive feline “whodunit” begun during NaNoWriMo 2015.





















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Release Day Blitz for The Christmas Surprise - Samantha March

About the Book





Juliette Mabry is a happily married stay-at-home wife and mother...until there appears to be trouble brewing in her nearly ten-year marriage. Juliette takes it upon herself to find out if her husband is up to no good, but does she want to know the truth? Everything is revealed on Christmas, and Juliette is in for her biggest Christmas surprise.




Excerpt:
Chapter One

“Isn’t twerking just having sex?”
“Who told you that?”
“No, that’s not it at all!”
“I could have sworn I heard the TV say twerking was just sex. What the hell is it then?”
“It’s a dance . . . style. Thing. It’s like . . . it’s like this.”
“What? You look like you’re having a seizure.”
“Hey, I thought it was pretty good!”
“Oh, if the rest of the PTO moms could see us now!”
I laughed to myself in the stall, doing a final check of my social media accounts on my cell phone. What? I’m a mom to a toddler. Having alone time in a bathroom stall is the highlight of my day. I was getting ready to exit and join the great twerking debate, when I overheard the next part of the conversation.
“Anyway, back to the original subject. Do you think it could be true?”
“I don’t think so. They seem happily married.”
“Are you sure? She’s never really seemed. . . right for him. To click with him. You know?”
I wrinkled my brow as well as my Botox injections could let me. Was someone having an affair? I wondered who it could possibly be! My mind started to race with all the candidates before I told myself to calm down. Having an affair was no laughing matter.  I knew that matter than most.
“I just hate seeing families split up. And he’s so adorable.”
Okay, someone who was definitely married, and had a son. I doubt she was calling the husband adorable.
“But after what Carolyn did, are you really that surprised?”
Wait a minute. Were they talking about Carolyn, my best friend? So what, she had an affair. Okay, it was a bad deal. Her husband was the town sheriff, and she got caught sleeping with her gardener. It was so Desperate Housewives of her! Not in a good way, of course. But that was last year, and the tension was somewhat resolved. Carolyn and John even played nice at their daughter Claudia’s wedding a few months back.
“You have to admit, she is pretty fake. I know every time she’s nice to me to my face, I know she is just waiting to catch me slipup and say something she can twist around and report back to others. He probably is fed up with her. I wouldn’t be shocked.”
I heard the sound of paper towels being pulled out of the dispensers, and the women’s voices fade as they left the community bathroom at the pre-school, leaving me standing in my stall in shock.
Someone was having an affair. It was affecting a married family. I was married. I had been married to my husband Christopher ten years this January. They had a son, an adorable son. Call me biased, but I thought my son Colin was pretty freaking adorable. He skipped my red hair gene, thank the good Lord, and instead was a spitting image of Christopher – dark floppy hair (already it did the flop!) shiny brown eyes and one fierce dimple in his left cheek. He was in pre-school, was four years old, and was the true light of my life.
The people involved were also somehow connected to Carolyn, my best friend. And apparently people thought “she” whoever she was, was a fake. And maybe liked to spread rumors.
Now, I don’t think badly about myself. I’m a good person. I’m a good wife, and I’m a damn good mother. I’m a good friend to those who are actually my friend. But yes, I liked to. . .  be in the know. I took it upon myself to be the eyes and ears of our small little town of Delany, Maine. Especially after the tragedy that rocked us two years ago, there needed to be a lookout. And I designated myself that person right after Portland’s death. But I scaled back a lot on poking myself into business I didn’t belong to in the past couple of months. And I never meant to spread rumors, and I wouldn’t even think about telling lies. But was I fake? I didn’t think so. Sure my boobs were. And my nose. But that was my outside persona. Inside I was a good and real person.
They weren’t talking about me . . . were they?
With a start, I realized I was still standing in the stall, cell phone in hand opened to Facebook. I felt a little ill, but knew I had to get out of the bathroom and start my day. It was silly to worry. They weren’t talking about me. The similarities were a coincidence. But I would make it my mission to find out who they were talking about.


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About the Author
Samantha March is an author, editor, publisher, blogger, and all around book lover. She runs the popular book/women’s lifestyle blog ChickLitPlus, which keeps her bookshelf stocked with the latest reads and up to date on all things beauty, fashion and fitness. In 2011 she launched her independent publishing company Marching Ink and has four published novels – Destined to Fail, The Green Ticket, A Questionable Friendship and Up To I Do. You can also find her on Youtube sharing beauty reviews and creating makeup tutorials. When she isn’t reading, writing, or vlogging, you can find her cheering for the Green Bay Packers and Chicago Cubs. Samantha lives in Iowa with her husband and Vizsla puppy.
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Snapchat: Samantha.March



Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Samantha-March/e/B005ZWOGJY



Book Links


The Christmas Surprise – http://amzn.to/2fk6vPc


Destined To Fail - http://amzn.to/2egZj0M


The Green Ticket  - http://amzn.to/2eDKWbl


A Questionable Friendship - http://amzn.to/2eiuSsq - 99 CENTS! 


Up To I Do - http://amzn.to/2egYZyY - FREE!

The Christmas Surprise – http://amzn.to/2fk6vPc





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Daniel Peyton - Legacy of Dragonwand Book 2 - PROMO Blitz





Fantasy
Date Published: February 16, 2016


He Who Seeks Destruction, Wields Evil...

As the search for the legendary Dragonwand continues, Markus and his trio of travelers find themselves in unfamiliar territory traversing the countryside for clues to its whereabouts, while Hallond persists with his plans to rule the Kingdom. But the closer they get to obtaining it, evil lurks around every corner and even those creatures that seem the most unassuming are a threat to the group. Captain Morris persists in his effort to foil their plans of freeing Gallenor from imminent destruction, aligning himself with the Shlan. As a lighthearted romance between Markus and Crystal blossoms and Markus begins to understand his destiny, they soon learn that love may just be even more powerful than any magic ever foretold. But will their collective efforts be enough to vanquish the wicked for good?


EXCERPT

Markus and Crystal sat in the middle of the town near a stone bridge overlooking the little crystal clear river. They felt like they were in a toy city – with everything being so small – but it was the perfect size for the inhabitants. Several Gnomes had arrived with a pair of the most exquisite shoes Markus had ever seen.

“Wow, these feel great,” Markus said, overlooking the shoes they had made for him with great interest. True, they were his old shoes – refurbished to the T – but he could not recognize them at all. Five old Gnome men fussed around his feet still shinning and dusting them off.

One old man smiled at his own reflection in the polished leather. “Yes, it was fun to work on. I can’t wait to make more.”

“Oh, I’m sure we'll be leaving soon. But, if I can come back I'll certainly make the trip for shoes of this quality,” Markus said with an appreciative grin. He turned his foot from side to side looking at the craftsmanship.

Crystal put on the shoes they brought her out of courtesy, then realized how great they were. “Markus, I’ve never worn shoes before.”

“Well, what do you think?” Markus asked, curious.

“Um, I find it very clever that they made allowances for my extra-long toe claws,” she replied.

“Interesting,” Markus said.

Crystal smiled at the old Gnome checking her shoes. “These are perfect. I do not know how we can thank you.”

Markus added, “I wish I could repay you, but all the money we had was left in the bags of our friends.”

The old Gnome craftsman gave Markus a rather sly grin. “We Gnomes do not use big people money, it would matter little to us. But, we do barter. Perhaps a trade.”

Markus wanted to say something about the fact that the King inferred that this was to be a gift, but since he did not wish to upset them – especially considering the quality of their work – he felt fine with the idea of paying. “Sure. What do you want?”

The old Gnome turned around and looked up at Crystal. “You.”

Crystal stopped admiring her shoes with a shocked expression. “Me?”

The Gnome walked over to her, as did several others including a few that had not been part of the shoe makers. Three woman formed a half circle behind Crystal, petting her tail. The old Gnome nodded. “It has been a long time since any gnome has worked with actual fur. To spin and weave it would be a gift like nothing we have had in generations.”

Crystal swallowed hard. “Uh, do you want to cut some off?”

Markus got up and closed the distance between him and Crystal, noticing that the women were combing through her tail with large toothed combs that he recognized from the spinners back in his village. “Wait, are you preparing her fur already!?”

The gnome smiled wickedly. “We want to cut the fur off and use it.”

Markus called his wand to his hand and raised it waist high. Crystal grabbed his wrist. “Don’t make a mess yet. I'm sure we can talk about this. After all, it is just fur and it will grow back. I have needed to get my tail trimmed for some time and this is a perfect opportunity.”

The Gnomes all got as excited as dogs getting to eat for the first time in days. Two women came out from another shop with large razors and eager eyes. The old Gnome continued to stare at Crystal. “The deal was we make shoes, we get fur. But, that isn’t enough.”

“What deal?” Markus asked, pulling free from Crystal and waving his wand at him.

“The King told us if we waited until sufficient time had passed and we made something important for you, then we could get the fur.” The old Gnome said this as though it was a signed contract.

Markus waved his wand over the women with the razors, “Hold off just a minute, we never agreed to anything like that. You can keep the shoes.”

Crystal stopped him again. “Markus, don’t worry. I'm fine with this.”

Markus shook his head. “I don’t know, there's something strange about this.”

Crystal grinned. “My tail might look odd for a little while, but it will grow back. Besides, these are nice shoes.” She returned to the elder gnome, “I’ll trade.”

“Not enough,” the old Gnome said, shaking his head. “The more we talked about it we realized there would not be enough fur to go around. We don’t want just this one time, we want more. MORE!” He appeared to be getting more demented as the conversion proceeded.

Markus put his hand on her shoulder. “No deal! We don’t trade people for anything in Gallenor. Especially shoes.”

The Gnomes did not like that as evident by the crowd growing more restless and murmuring louder with each word Markus uttered. A rather large mob had now congregated around the couple.

The old Gnome clicked his tongue. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. I was afraid of this.” He pointed at Markus. “We want her… we will have her. You are in our way, so we will just have to kill you and take her.”

“WHAT!” Markus pointed his wand at the old Gnome.

The man seemed unfazed by the sight of the wand and snapped his fingers. “Get them!”

The Gnomes attacked unabandondedly, showing total disregard for their own safety. Crystal cried out as a razor lifted a chunk of the fur from her tail. Markus noticed, and pulled her to her feet before they could take another swipe.  He pointed his wand at the two women Gnomes charging. “Hrinda!” A wave of simple force knocked a group of Gnomes over, including the two women. “Run!” Markus yelled and then grabbed Crystal with his free hand,  heading for a distant part of the caves.

Gnomes came out of everything, spilling into the valley of the cave like a torrential flood, with all the madness of a stampeding horde of hogs. Their eyes were filled with rage, intent to kill anything in sight. Markus was wary of using any deadly spells on them, seeing as though for all he knew, he could easily set the entire cave on fire or flood it, killing innocent Gnome children in the process; and that would do them little good. So, all he could do was toss them around with shove spells.

“How are we going to get out of here if we can’t walk through stone?” Crystal cried out.

Markus thrust his wand at another group and then continued toward the exit. “I don’t know. I guess we'll just have to blast through.”

“Stop him!” a sea of Gnomes shouted, gathering to block their way. Some wore little bows and arrows and sent a wave of arrows at Markus and Crystal.

“VEDR!” Crystal cried, and used her hand to send a blast of wind at the incoming arrows, deflecting most of them. One hit Markus in the shoulder and another simply dove into edge Crystals clothes. Markus smiled, surprised at her. She shrugged. “Hey, I grew up around arrows, I know how to handle that much.”

“That’s….INCOMING!” He looked back to see more approaching.

“VEDR STORR!” Crystal shouted again. This time, a hurricane appeared and not only deflected the arrows but sent most of the Gnomes sprawling across the ground. Even Markus and Crystal had to brace themselves against the cave walls to keep from being tossed about.

Once the wind died, Markus took Crystal’s hand again and started for a wall in the distance. “We will go out that way, I will make us an exit.”

But the Gnomes were still gathering themselves from the explosion of wind and making up ground quickly. Markus pointed his wand at the wall and was about to use the stone dust spell he used to get out of Stillwater when Crystal stopped him again. “What?”

She looked back to the Kings residence. “The bag, the Codex is in it. We still need that.”

Markus shook his head in disgust. “Seriously! We'll manage without it. I'm not going back that way.” He attempted to cast the spell when she stopped him again.

“We can’t leave it,” Crystal stressed. “It is far too important.” She started to head back when he grabbed her arm and stopped her.

“No, if we go back, they'll get you and I cannot allow that to happen.”

Crystal smiled. “I can handle these Gnomes. Don’t worry.”

Markus did not budge, maintaining a tight grip on her arm. “No, I'm not going to face Treb having to tell him I left you behind for some old book.”

Crystal’s smile had washed away. “But, I'm not worth it. Without that book there is no hope of saving all of Gallenor and that's not an equal exchange. I can live here knowing you were equipped to save Gallenor.”

Markus looked down, ignoring the charging horde. “But, what is it worth saving the world when my world will be gone.”

“What?” Crystal’s eyes were wavering.

“You are my world now,” Markus admitted, a lump forming in his throat. “I wanted to find the Dragonwand and save Gallenor for selfish reasons until I found what I loved. Now, I have a new and just as important reason to save Gallenor, you. If I leave you behind, what will I do then?”

“Yes, what will you do?” Crystal asked. 

Before he could answer, the Gnomes arrived, and it appeared that every resident of the cave city was present.

Markus blocked Crystal behind him and pointed his wand at them. “One step toward her and I will set this whole damned cave on fire.”

“No, you won’t. That would kill you and her as well,” the old Gnome said with the confidence of certainty.

Markus gnashed his teeth for a moment, then smiled and pointed his wand at the wall. “Fine, I'll take down this wall and we're going to keep running until we see light.”

“Go right ahead,” the old Gnome dared.

Markus was not sure what to make of that, but it was an opportunity and he had to take it. So he turned on the wall and shouted, “STEINN!” He cast the spell but it bounced off the wall. “STEINN!” he repeated, but it bounced off the wall once more. “What's going on?”

“You do not think we wouldn’t have methods of stopping magic at the walls. We have been hunted by imps for a thousand years, these walls are built to resist all magic. You are trapped in here until we let you leave. Give us the girl, or we will kill you and take her anyway.”

Markus stood in front of Crystal again and pointed his wand at them. “I'll take as many of you with me as I can.”

“Markus look!” Crystal put her hand on his shoulder.

He looked over to see the old King walking up to the wall. He put his hand on it and the surface rippled as if he had tossed a stone into water. “Go, now!”

Markus looked at Crystal and then at the King. Was this a trap, or was it their only chance? He had little time to think and it was the only opportunity left that did not end in a lot of death. So, taking Crystal by the hand, they ran through the wall and vanished from view.







Daniel Peyton is a fresh author whose talents includes, writing, sketching and dreaming out adventures in faraway places that he seeks to bring to paper. He lives in East Tennessee where he draws a great deal of inspiration from the unique landscape. He has been featured in short story e-zines as well as flash fiction blogs. Legacy of Dragonwand: Book I is the first book in the Dragonwand Trilogy. Outside of authoring books, Daniel is an award winning cook, artist, and embroiderer. He is a distinguished member of the Sigma Alpha Iota, and often can be found teaching classes at his church. Before he began seriously devoting himself to becoming a published author, he spent over ten years traveling the country as a member of the Miyagi Ryu Nosho Kai dance school, performing Okinawan classic and modern dances.


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Cover Reveal: Give Me Chaos by Jillian Ashe


Give Me Chaos
Jillian Ashe
(Wolfegang, #5)
Publication date: March 16th 2017
Genres: Adventure, New Adult, Science Fiction

The fifth book in the Wolfegang series follows Katerina back to the top secret military base, Enzo, where she is Lt. Donnelly’s prisoner. The lieutenant puts her through tests and experiments to find out what makes her so special, and why the genetic enhancements aren’t degrading her brain. He wants answers for his own cure. Katerina might not survive his search for answers until General Ryojin shows up and changes the game completely.

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Author Bio:

My readers are what's important to me. Yes, I write for myself and the enjoyment of it, but I adore when a reader actually has a great time reading a story I slaved over. I don't write any particular genre, but I do stick to kick-ass female characters. I love writing about all types of differently strong women. My debut series is Young Adult Science Fiction. The first novella is free to see if you enjoy what I write.

I'm very involved with my fandoms, and love all things geeky and nerdy. I love connecting with my readers, so if you'd like to contact me just head over to my website :)

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