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Excerpt: The Light Who Shines

 

Suspense - 1

The Light Who Shines

Book 1 of the Bluebell Kildare Series

Prologue

 

Shaina

Winter, Year 1, Red Ages

I wake to the sound of pounding on the door and Mor’s voice yelling, “Shaina. Shaina.”

Sorcha wakes up crying as I rush to open the door. A bloodcurdling scream tears through the night, destroying any illusions of a peaceful return to slumber. I swing open the door with trembling hands and see anguish in Mor’s eyes. The words that tumble from her mouth bring to the fore all the fears I’d been trying to suppress this winter.

“Shaina, Conor was found dead, killed by the bloodsuckers. Grainne and Aongus are calling you a Witch and gathering the town folks to burn you as one. Quick! We must run.”

I start gathering my things together, but Mor yells, “There is no time. Grab the bairn. We must go now!”

Sorcha is wailing now. Tears streak her little cheeks as she grips her blanket tightly in tiny fists. I grab my plaid and wrap it around us both as I follow Mor outside.

“You must quiet her,” Mor whispers.

I try to comfort Sorcha in a hushed voice. “Shh, Sorcha, you must be quiet. Shhhh.”

Sorcha pays no heed and cries all the louder as she clutches me with her little fingers.

I hear the voices of the villagers coming now, yelling and screaming, “Burn the Witch. It was her husband who brought this upon us.”

Aongus’ voice rises above the rest. “Let her die too. Why should she be spared?”

Mor leads me past the blacksmith’s shop, behind Fergus’ cottage, toward the forest. I see their torches at my cottage now. A voice yells, “They’re gone,” and the villagers continue to chant, “Burn the Witch. Burn the Witch.”

I cast through my mind wildly now, seeking a remembrance of a place to hide. My mind comes up empty, just as it did all winter when I feared a night such as this would come. I should have braved the cold and gone to the sea caves where the dragon tribe dwells despite the perilous winter journey.

Just then, Sorcha lets out a loud bawl, and I hear Grainne yell, “She’s over there.”

Mor and I run around Fergus’ cottage and make for the tree line. The throng is following us quickly with the younger men in the lead. The woods are just up ahead—if only we could lose them in the deep of the trees. If only Sorcha would stop crying.

We reach heavy brush, and I hear the thunder of feet behind me. Just at the edge of the woods, my foot catches on a tree root and I tumble to the ground. As I land on the hard dirt, I twist to protect Sorcha from being crushed by my weight, and pain shoots up my leg. Fear strikes my heart as I realize I’ve a choice to make.

“Mor,” I yell.

Mor glances over her shoulder and sees me on the ground. I try to stand, but my knee gives way. I see the torches through the dark coming swiftly closer.

“Mor, take Sorcha. It is too late. Run. Keep her safe.”

Mor stands there, petrified. She looks at me, she looks at the woods in front of her, and she looks at the torches that are almost upon us. I thrust Sorcha out while warm, wet tears stream down my cheeks and fall unheeded onto the snow. “Take the bairn! It’s me they want.”

Mor grabs Sorcha and my arms, bereft of their lovely burden, fall uselessly at my sides. I stare hungrily after Sorcha for one last moment, and just as Mor and Sorcha disappear in the dark of the woods, the torches are upon me. First the young men arrive, their faces ugly with rage. I know each of them, grew up with them, broke bread with them, bartered with them, sang with them, but it matters not. It’s fear that drives them this night, and no proclamations of innocence or fond memories will help me now.

July 30th, 2015|Uncategorized|2 Comments

Character Letter from Blue to Jack (old)

 

DSC_0663PP26PPC1C-yP2B-3000 funFrom the book: The Light Who Shines

June 1, 2022, Red Ages

 

Dearest Jack,

I am writing because I find myself a tad bewildered about our personal relationship. However, I first feel compelled to address your professional attitude toward me at work in my role as an experienced Supernatural Homicide Detective.

I may not be a Light Vampire skilled in the art of swordplay and able to move faster then the human eye can observe, but I can dispense Holy Water and snuff out Dark Vampires with the best of them. I confess, I am not a strapping specimen of male strength with magical skills that lend themselves to blending in the dark. However, I have my wolf, Varg, who lends me his strength, ears, and eyes. Although I am female and have the seemingly benign gift of being a sensitive, you may find it somewhat relevant that I can SENSE SOULS, and therefore am unlikely to be surprised by any perpetrator I track.

In addition to all of the above, I believe my exemplary record of success in my caseload proves that I should not have to report to you every five minutes. Somehow, I find this to be a smidgen overprotective. Since, you do not require my colleagues to report to you on such a frequent basis, I think we should reflect on why you single me out. Is it because I am a female? Please loosen up! I expect to be treated as the competent, intelligent, successful agent that I am.

Now on to personal matters . . .

Perhaps it has occurred to you that when you stand well within my personal body space and do such gentle things as tuck my hair behind my ear, that it might have an affect on a healthy female libido? Alternatively, it may strike you as a tad out of the norm of professional behavior to get me in a state of half-undress on the belfry? I don’t recall a course on interoffice undressing during my initial training seminars. Did I miss that?

So, in reflection, you might understand my confusion when you make powerful statements like:

“Don’t even think of me. I am nothing but a boss keeping an eye on an employee who is working on a dangerous case.”

I don’t think it is too much of a stretch for me to conclude that at least some element of our relationship has passed the bounds of the normal boss and employee relationship. Do you?

I’m sorry, I have to run. Varg senses someone on my balcony and I need to investigate!

In haste and confusion,

 

Blue

Bluebell Kildare

Inspector, Homicide Unit

Supernatural Investigation Bureau

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March 5th, 2014|Uncategorized|56 Comments