This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Josh will be awarding a $20 Amazon GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
Snow continues to fall outside, but I don't notice. From somewhere, the sound of children laughing and shouting as they throw snowballs at one another drifts through the air. A truck rumbles by, bringing with it a snatch of Walking in a Winter Wonderland.
A cup of spearmint tea is near at hand, and I sip from it now and then, hardly knowing that I'm doing so. Its fresh, clean warmth fills me with a sense of profound wellbeing.
I am listening, my thoughts far away in another world. There are people there—people that I know quite intimately—and they are telling me what they are doing, what they are saying, and what is happening all around them. I listen, and my fingers fly and dance across the little plastic keys of my computer, recording each event, no matter how trivial, as it happens.
I am the conduit; I am the scribe. I am creating these things—the people—this world—but it does not feel that way. I see the reds and golds of a setting sun; I see the deep, heartbreaking blue of the ocean waves, capped with frothy white foam; I see the autumn leaves as they turn brittle and are whipped away by the winds that come roaring down from the distant mountaintops.
I see all these things, though I have been blind for thirty years. This world is real; this world is solid. But it has about it an ephemeral quality as well. I must capture every detail—every last nuance—lest it be lost forever. It is not difficult; I have walked these streets before, many times, in my dreams. Still, I agonize over the work. I must get it right—just exactly right.
As the words flow, other souls come to me. I hear the laughter, the gasps, the cries of astonishment of friends and loved ones that time has taken from me, reacting to events as they unfold upon the page. I hear the questions, the exclamations of delight, from those nearer who will be among the first to take my hand and allow themselves to be led into this strange wilderness.
Suddenly, the voices stop. Their owners are retiring for the night, taking meals with their families, or simply resting. They will share no more of their secrets this day.
With a sigh, I close the computer, already wondering when they will return and what queer enterprises they will embark upon next.
I reach for my tea, only to find that it has grown cold. I drink it anyway, already missing my friends from that other world, though I know they will be back tomorrow.
… and tomorrow …
… and tomorrow …
Sixteen-year-old Emily Haven, heroine of the girls’ hockey team at Lindsey High, has spent her young life keeping two secrets: her rapidly deteriorating home life and the seemingly supernatural power that makes her a star on the ice. When she begins seeing visions of a lost and ragged boy reflected in mirrors and shop windows, a series of events unfolds that tears her from twenty-first century Minneapolis and leaves her stranded in another world with horrors to rival those she has left behind. Lost amidst creatures of fantasy and legend, she is forced to confront the demons of both her past and future to unravel the riddle of the mysterious boy and embark upon a journey to uncover long forgotten histories and the dark, cloaked figure in the shadows behind them all. Caught between opposing forces of a war she does not understand, Emily must find new strength within herself and, above all, the will to remember her friends.
Enjoy an excerpt:
“Hello?” she whispered, but she couldn’t hear her own voice over the low whine that was building in her head. The knowing hadn’t abandoned her. It hadn’t abandoned her at all. If anything, it was stronger than it had ever been.
Her muscles spasmed with the force of it. The whine in her head rose to a crescendo that made her feel as though she’d become some kind of weird human tuning fork. She began to shake uncontrollably, and the floor seemed to sway and heave beneath her feet, like the deck of a ship on rough seas.
She fell to her knees in front of the mirror, unable to tear her eyes away from the strange boy with the pony-tail and the torn and ragged clothes. She could see every minute detail of his attire, from the thick red and black thread that had been used to mend his jeans and jacket, to the filth and tarnish on the old-fashioned fastenings.
He reached out toward her, and as he did, her own reflection in the mirror winked out. Only his face stared out of the dusty glass. His eyes were full of hope and sadness, and seemed the eyes of a much younger child. Those eyes spoke of suffering and loss, and Emily’s heart called out in recognition. She thought she saw the flicker of flames behind the boy, and then she was reaching out to him as well.
Their fingers met. She clasped his in her own, feeling their warm, rough reality, and wanting to give comfort as much as receive it. Such a simple action. Such a mundane, human gesture. And with that ordinary decision made, two worlds changed forever.
“Yes,” she whispered, and watched as the breath of that word fogged the glass between them, spreading until it filled the world with a cloudy, white mist.
About the Author:
GoodReads Author:https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8333122.Josh_de_Lioncourt,br> Dragon’s Brood Cycle: http://DragonsBrood.net
Buy the book at Amazon, iBooks, Barnes and Noble, or Kobo.
a Rafflecopter giveaway