I could could put a magical plot twist on the event, but for now I'm going to remain peaceful and enjoy my quiet Sunday. While I'm at it, I promise to avoid all ley lines. (see bio...)
Oh yeah, thanks Ben Franklin for coming up with an idea that can shift our daily lives with a touch of chaos. ;)
Baby schedules go wack-o (at least it did for my kids), overnight jobs are bizarre and then there's the time spent running around changing all the clocks that don't automatically shift to the new hour. (note to self: turn cell phone off...then reboot...)
So in celebration of Spring Forward for Spring, I'm giving my Twitter Followers & Visitors the opportunity to explore within the pages of Concentric Circles.
Enjoy.
Description: Shayla Brinawell comes from a fragmented family. Fearful of the dangers her daughter could face, Shayla’s mother raised her to deny and hide her magical gifts. Shayla is about to have her world turned upside down and every other which way. Witch way that is. She must come to terms with her magical destiny in hyper drive.
Meekal Chilkwell has always known his life purpose. To protect the magical and healing waters of The Chalice Well located in the shadow of the great mystical Tor in Glastonbury, England. A new danger has arisen. One that threatens not only the Chilkwell family, but also the non-magical world.
Shayla & Meekal join together to conquer Syther the Quitch, an evil wizard bent on spreading darkness.
Concentric Circles grabbed me the minute I started reading and didn't let go. Fast-paced and well-written, I LOVED this novel! Guess I'm a sucker for books that keep me turning the pages.
~ Sky Purington ~
Excerpt from Chapter Eight: Death Knell
After eating, Shayla and Meekal walked through a hidden panel in the library to an upper room serving as an oversized closet. “This is where we store the linen and paper goods for the guests who stay here at the manor. It’s mostly Mari Bree and Harry who use this particular secret passage.” Meekal closed the cupboard door they stepped through and a mythic shroud surrounded them with a sense of the past.
Shayla studied the many drawers and doors built into the wall on either side. A chill traveled through her. “Kal?”
He motioned to the wall beneath a small leaded window. “Yeah, this is where two monks stayed. Their cots were there. The cupboards are a later addition.”
The window let in a sliver of distorted moonlight, casting them in silver.
“Spooky.”
“Aye. Come this way,” Meekal whispered, wrapping his fingers protectively around hers.
Next, they stepped out into the upper hall. Plush carpet padded their footsteps as Shayla followed Meekal past portraits, artifacts and live plants adorning the upper hall.
He led her to a narrow stairwell at the far end. The first surprise Shayla received was that the stairwell was an optical illusion. Three pie-shaped steps turned to the right only to end in a black wall carved with a door. Close inspection revealed the illusion of his bedroom entrance.
“Surprise.”
“How?”
“This way,” Meekal said, mischievously. He moved his hand forward to the shelves that graced the end of the hall next to the fake stairs. The oak shelf before Shayla boasted several figurines: a unicorn, a wooden box carved with runes and a Crusader helmet. The helmet was fascinating. It was made of steel with narrow eye slits on the crossbar of the symbolic cross of the Crusades. Fleur-de-lis terminals embellished the sacred symbol. Meekal’s finger glazed over the brass cross, following its shape. “Pernicious.”
Shayla’s brows rose sharply.
“No one will ever guess that’s my keyword,” he said, while he readjusted the helmet’s position on the shelf. “Even Harry doesn’t know it. Follow me.”
Shayla stepped through the doorway that had opened when Meekal spoke. “Why doesn’t Harry know? I thought he is your best friend.”
“His twisted sense of protecting me. We hang out elsewhere when we’re together. Stubborn prat. Anyway he prefers the Tor or Harry’s Pub when we take time to socialize.” The book shelves swung closed behind them, latching with a soft click.
“Pernicious was the Raven Prince. He was Fyr’s da and the person who sent Black Bry to Glastonbury. You’ll learn the history later. Perhaps Fyr will tell you.”
“Okay,” Shayla said, dragging the word out as she focused on the thickly carpeted narrow stairs wending upward. They stepped into Meekal’s room. His upper floor bedroom spanned the full size of the manor. The steps carried them up to the middle of the chamber.
The bed dominated the right side, its presence powerfully bold due to four posts rising almost to the pitched ceiling. The ceiling, marked with both heavy wood beams and modern skylights, crowned with everything with perfection. “Wow.”
“That’s why I like it up here,” he replied, voice filled with humor and pride. “I have a full view of the gardens below and the summer sky above. I’ve never been able to decide which I like best, the stars on a clear night or snow falling from the heavens.”
Shayla reached for the intricately carved bedpost. The ancient oak, hand carved with leaves and grapevines, hinted at a story. Heavy ripe fruit looked so real they tempted one to pluck them. “Kal, why grapes?”
“You don’t know? Grapes are connected with the vine mentioned in the Bible. You know, the blood of Christ? The bed has been in the family for generations. Mum wanted more modern pieces so she gave this one to me.”
At the opposite end of the room, a desk and low book shelves stood before a wide window overlooking the garden. She walked around a half wall where a flat screen TV hung, past Meekal’s workout area to a portrait positioned on the right-hand side over the desk. Ignoring the books scattered on the desk and surrounding shelves, Shayla studied the portrait closely. “Kal, is this it?”
“Aye. See the stone archway in the background?”
“Yes.” The portrait was currently empty of people. It depicted a warm summer day. She squinted, positive she could see the breeze teasing the leaves on the trees. The background was of an English hill where a ruin stood in blazing defiance of the apparent destruction of the rest of the structure.
Meekal leaned in close. “Focus,” he breathed into her ear.
Eyes glued to the archway and the sky through it, Shayla whispered, “Travel into a portrait. So cool.”
A soft breeze transported them.
“Anything’s possible with magic.”
Shayla gasped. Turning quickly, she gazed into Meekal’s room from the inside of the portrait. Her palm rested on the cool stones giving her evidence of the truth of their journey.
“Good evening to ye.”
Shayla’s head followed the voice behind her. With hands and knees shaking, she whispered through her shock, “Hello.”
Meekal grasped her elbow, leading her to a short rock wall on the interior side of the ruin. “Here, Shay. Sit.”
“Morna told me. I dinna believe.”
Shayla swallowed her own disbelief and looked up into a near perfect mirror image.
“Shay,” Meekal said gently, “this is Keira. Keira, this is Shayla.” Meekal looked from one to the other. “Well, there is a slight difference in your hair color and…”
Shayla glared at him. “Kal.”
Meekal chuckled, his shoulders shaking.
Keira smiled and laughed. The sound was musical within the confines of the broken ruins around them.
“Where are we?” Shayla stood and looked around, no longer shaking.
“This was Wiston Castle.”
“How am I supposed to get the bezoar stone from here?”
“It isna here right now,” Keira said, with a smile. “Bry will come if need be.”
“That’s right, Shay,” Meekal said. “Want a tour?”
She looked up at the wave of the broken wall. The stones of a lone archway had the look of timelessness. The intricate masonry work drew her attention. “How old is this castle? There isn’t much of it left.”
Keira motioned Shayla to follow. “The original keep of the motte and bailey was built by Gwys. Some knew him by his Latin name, Wizo. He died in eleven hundred thirty. It was taken in battle several times by different warriors and has a history of falling to treachery.”
“Shayla likes history.” Meekal said and continued for Keira. “Wiston is considered one of the best surviving motte and bailey castles. There are only five others that boast a stone keep on their summits.”
“Pfft. I love history. Get it right, love,” she said, jesting. She stopped at the top of a line of stairs built into the earthen hillside. For some reason, the stones brought to mind the thought of journeys into the unknown. She paused at the top and turned to look at the exterior of the keep.
The wall was several feet thick, broken away in some areas indicating both bombardment and the erosion of time. Shayla inhaled deeply and lifted her hand tentatively to touch the grey stones. A harsh, piercing scream penetrated her pores. She shivered, pulling her hand back in surprise.
“Shay?”
Shaking the feeling off, she turned to face the vista stretching northward. The English countryside around them rolled downward in a steep hill. The high ground of the structure was considered the motte. Below, the earth leveled until it reached an old stone wall with a split wood gate.
A rambling manor sat against the hillside. The roof was slate grey. It rested, nestled by the green rise of the outer bailey, sheltered by tall trees.
Keira’s voice cut through her thoughts. “That’s the medieval house built much later.”
Meekal hissed, a frown crossing his face, he tugged on Shayla’s hand. “We need to get back. Something’s wrong.” Turning to Keira, he said, “Sorry, to cut this visit short. See you later.”
Keira only had time to give Shayla a soft smile and a nod.
“How can you tell there’s something wrong?”
“The portrait. There’s a ley line running right through it.”
Shayla and Meekal landed in Meekal’s bedchamber to the sound of bells tolling.
“What’s that?”
Meekal tilted his ear toward the window. “Church bells.” Shaking his head, Meekal guided her toward the stairs and down.
The bells tolled without stop, timed to perfection and tone.
“Damn.”
“Kal?”
“Hurry,” he urged, leading her through the bookcase into the upper hall where they met Joseph Chilkwell.
He handed them each a vest. “Good. You’re back. Here.”
Shayla stared at hers.
“Armor. Put it on. It will protect you from some spells and bullets.”
“Bullets?”
“Just in case.”
“But,” she said, trying to shift disbelief away.
“It’s a Death Knell,” Meekal said, thrusting his arm into the vest. “Somebody has died. It’s probably Syther letting us know.”
Her heart flipped. Breathing erratically, she pulled the vest on and followed them down the stairs to meet Chaeli and Harry in the foyer.
Harry greeted them with only a slight nod and turned to Joseph. “They’re at St. Dunstan’s Chapel. Mum called James. They’re on their way.”
“Shayla, have CIARANLEXISS ready.” Joseph stilled and waited for her to retrieve him from her boot.
Coming up after reaching down for her sgian dhu, Shayla met Meekal’s eyes, and bit nervously on her lower lip.
“Ah, the anticipation of battle.” CIARAN sounded excited.
Shayla tried to act nonchalant and ignored CIARANLEXISS by refusing to respond verbally. Instead, she clutched him tightly.
A spiral of air carried them to the chapel.
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| [novel rated *R*] |
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