Saturday, October 29, 2011

An All-Hallowed Tale – Part 1 (Chance to Win!)

Post an excerpt, they said. Easy! I thought.

Not so much in hindsight. I have too many things I’d like to share. With seven releases coming between now and March, it’s a little difficult to decide, “Do I share what’s available now, or do I share what’s coming down the pipe?”

So, I’ve decided the answer to that question is to go with the whole shebang, and give you a taste of my newest series, Inherited Damnation.

Damned At Birth...

Thousands of years ago, sixteen children were born to the Selgovae High Priestess, Nyamah. Eight were sacrificed by their incubus father in a quest for eternal power. Eight Nyamah secreted away. For betraying her evil mate, she was executed, her body divided, her soul chained to the mortal plane.

Nyamah's magic lived on. Written before her death, her book of sacred rituals details the means of destroying the incubus, Drandar. If this is accomplished, her spirit will at last rest peacefully.

But the immortal children who can carry out the rituals are divided. Some crave the innocence of light and mortal existance. Some thrive on the dark needs of their conflicted souls. Others tend the balance, forever devoted to the ancient Celt ways.

None may ever know the beauty of love, for if they should, they cannot resist the calling to kill the one who holds their heart.


Cian opened his fingers and dropped the sandwich on the tabletop. He’d hurt Miranda. After he’d poured his soul into her, along with his tainted seed, he had shredded her to bits. He didn’t need words to tell him this – her expression said everything. Pain. Betrayal. Sorrow – all of it shone in her eyes, gutting him until he bled alongside her. It might have been easier if he had just carved out her heart.

If he ever had the chance to make this right again, he would fall to his knees at her feet and beg. She would never believe he was over two-thousand years old, that his blood was half demonic, and all the other fantastic reasons he had forced her away. But maybe, just maybe, he could find something right to say. Something that mended all the bisected bits of her heart.

Angry with his fate, frustrated with his impossible choices, he kicked the chair opposing him. It skittered across the kitchen floor, clanged into the counter, and topped sideways. The clatter satisfied a portion of his agitation.

“You’re in love with her,” Rhiannon observed quietly as she stepped into the doorway.

Cian swore beneath his breath, in no mood for his sister’s well-intended badgerings.

“That’s what this is about isn’t it? The brooding. The indecision. The inability to do anything but rage.” She moved across the room and eased into the chair at his right. Her warm hand fell on his arm, her touch soothing to his agitated skin. “Why didn’t you tell me, Ci?”

Tell her what? That their curse was ripping him in half? That for the first time in his immortal creation he loathed what he was? What they all were? He clenched his teeth and looked away from her probing blue eyes.

“Now I understand why Belen was so mad about you disappearing into your room with her.” A soft chuckle accompanied the wry shake of her head. “You have something he wants.”

“Sibling rivalry at its damnedest,” Cian muttered.

She cocked her head, watching him with keen intelligence. Perhaps a touch of higher wisdom. Cian didn’t know exactly what she latched onto, but he resented her intuition. Her ability to read him so well.

“Miranda,” she murmured thoughtfully.

He glanced sideways at his sister. Not once had he revealed Miranda’s name. Unless they’d been eavesdropping on his encounter in the hall, no one should know.

“Belen knew her name. He’s met her, hasn’t he?”

Visions of the one evening the three of them had spent together flashed before his eyes. Belen sugarcoating his voice, wrapping seduction around Miranda in attempts to draw her away from Cian. Coercion meant to entice, pleasure he would grant, all the while plotting how he intended to draw out her death.

Surprising even to himself, a low growl rumbled in the back of Cian’s throat.

“Cian, tell her.”

He slammed his palms down on the tabletop and rocketed to his feet. “Tell her, what exactly, Rhiannon? That I’ve envisioned methods of killing her that make acts of torture look like child’s play?”


Parts 2 and 3 will be available in later posts. If you’re looking for a freebie, comment on all three, and one name will be chosen to receive a copy of your choice of my currently available books.



Kathryn Merkel said...

Wow, great excerpt. I will definately be on the lookout for the next two.

drainbamaged.gyzmo at

Claire Ashgrove said...

Thanks, Kathryn!

Na said...

I felt for Cian. Got to appreciate a man who is capable of remorse.