Rachel Dacus is here to tell us about her cozy mystery The Deadly Tea.
There's also a great giveaway.
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This post is part of a virtual book organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Rachel Dacus will be awarding a $20 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
Most sleuths don’t have the advantage of talking to the murder victim for clues, but Saffron has a window into the afterlife. The problem is, she's not a detective and has no wish to be.
In the charming heart of London’s Notting Hill, Saffron juggles motherhood, running an animal welfare foundation, and counseling recently deceased spirits—the invisibles. But her peaceful routine is upended when a spirit insists she solve the mystery of his untimely death. Lucas Troy pops into her awareness claiming he was killed and demanding she figure out who did it. He wants justice before he'll agree to move on. But Saffron's role isn't to play detective, but to help each invisible plan for the next adventure in living. She asks Lucas if he suspects anyone in the circle at his aunt’s tea party where he died. He can’t imagine anyone wanting to kill him, but he persuades Saffron to interview them all.
She feels for Lucas, who had hardly begun his life, and she tries to persuade him that he can have a great future next lifetime, but finally she gives in and agrees to a little investigating. If she finds out something, perhaps he’ll agree to move forward. But the closer she gets to the possible killer, the more she’s in danger. Saffron has no wish to join Lucas in The Room Over There.
Settle in to a cozy mystery with a touch of the supernatural, the heartwarming chaos of family, and the charm of London’s Notting Hill. "Interesting characters, intriguing mystery."
Read an Excerpt
It was glorious to dawdle around the bohemian and vintage shops on Portobello Road, and the addition of rare April sunshine in London made it seem to Saffron like her spa day. Not that she ever got to have those, as most mothers of young children didn’t. But today, browsing and shopping, she indulged herself in a glorious solitude amid the crowds. This busy street was her paradise, and she needed just a few more things for the children’s Easter outfits, but hoping not to find them too quickly.
Traffic and people swirled around her, and she thrilled to the bright colors, food stalls, brushes of music wafting out of open doors. She would forever be a tourist in her adopted city of London. Notting Hill was so like her San Francisco Bay Area, but snootier. In many ways, more exciting.
Peering into windows, she thought about the perfect bow tie she wanted for Percy’s suit, so her seven-year-old son didn’t look like a tiny banker. Four-year-old Freida could use a flower pin for her pinafore dress. Focusing on these ideas was such a pleasure. Saffron tried to wipe the smile off her face, remembering that Londoners did not walk around smiling, though Californians often did.
A passerby jostled her, and as she stopped to check her bag, a low voice drifted down. “Hey! Anyone here?”
Hella damn. An invisible. Another drifting spirit.
“I’m here,” she whispered. “I’m busy, as you can see. You can see me, right?”
“I see a lot of hair. Curly. Are you some kind of animal?”
Saffron huffed. “You’re looking at the top of my head. Come down lower, so you can see my face.”
Some might call it being haunted, but Saffron called it helping invisibles. She wasn’t often contacted by newly dead people, but occasionally one popped into her vicinity. They always needed orientation and comfort after the trauma of dying.
About the Author:
Rachel Dacus is the author of eight novels and five poetry collections. Her fiction features love and relationships, exotic locations and intrepid heroines, and emotional journeys of self-discovery, all with a touch of the supernatural. Her poetry, stories, and essays have appeared widely in print and online literary journals and anthologies. She enjoys life in the beautiful San Francisco Bay Area, with its coast and trails where she walks her tiny but mighty Silky Terrier with her architect husband.
Owner of Strange Brew, a popular coffee shop in Silence, she's worked hard and has overcome many obstacles to build the life she has. It's a good life, one that includes work she loves, an apartment to call her own, and plenty of good friends.
But an unexpected phone call comes as a brutal reminder of a time she thought she'd left far behind. Suddenly, she's faced with the choice to turn her back on the beautiful life she created, or break her guilty silence.
Chief Deputy Hugo Alexander isn't sure when exactly he started seeing the quiet coffee shop owner as more than simply a good friend. It's hard to pinpoint the moment when she went from a supportive friend to him and his teenage son, to the woman who features in his dreams and fantasies.
Unfortunately, Bess Choi seems to have him firmly locked in the friend zone, and it's not until worrisome things start happening around her, she cautiously starts lowering the barriers.
But when he discovers she might be in far more danger than she's been willing to let on, he's done tiptoeing around.
Click cover above to listen to an excerpt from Guilty Silence!
USA Today bestselling author Freya Barker loves writing about ordinary people with extraordinary stories.
With forty-plus books already published, she continues to create characters who are perhaps less than perfect, each struggling to find their own slice of happy.
Recipient of the ReadFREE.ly 2019 Best Book We've Read All Year Award for "Covering Ollie, the 2015 RomCon “Reader’s Choice” Award for Best First Book, “Slim To None”, Finalist for the 2017 Kindle Book Award with “From Dust”, and Finalist for the 2020 Kindle Book Award with “When Hope Ends”, Freya spins story after story with an endless supply of bruised and dented characters, vying for attention!
Martina Boone is here to tell us about The Crown of Moonlight, The Five Crowns #1, fantasy-romance.
There's also a great giveaway.
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The Crown of Moonlight
Martina Boone
(The Five Crowns, #1)
Publication date: November 11th 2025
Genres: Adult, Fantasy, Romance
She’s the Highlander who saves his life with forbidden magic. He’s the immortal stranger who falls first—one healing touch, one fierce kindness at a time.
A romantic fantasy inspired by Scottish history, where the land itself is magic and chooses a woman as its champion.
Flora Domhnall is the last of her line: a healer, a strategist, her clan’s only defence in a war neither side can win. When she finds a dying immortal warrior in her woods, saving him is a terrible risk. But if he dies on her land, her clan will pay the price.
Her choice binds her fate to his.
Chyr has spent four centuries chained by the oaths carved into his flesh—oaths that read his every thought. Violence and honour are all he knows, and Flora’s brave, impossible mercy breaks him open.
Hunted across the burning Highlands, they can rely only on each other. Their longing grows with every mile they share a saddle, every sacrifice made in silence, and every night they guard each other in the dark.
He’s hopelessly fallen. She’s fighting not to fall.
Then the ancient sovereignty magic of the Cailleach Queens awakens in Flora—and marks her as something the world hasn’t seen in four hundred years.
And Chyr’s oaths may demand he destroy the one person he can’t bear to lose.
For her, he’ll try to break his oaths. Even if it kills him.
From award-winning author Martina Boone, The Crown of Moonlight is a mythic Celtic romantasy perfect for readers who love the haunting historical romance of Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander, the soul-deep yearning of Rebecca Ross, and the dark, aching magic of Rachel Gillig’s One Dark Window. The first book in a sweeping series about ancient crowns, impossible oaths, and a love that must survive betrayal, war, and the gods themselves.
My knees shake as I crouch beside the nearest Ever, and a hot flush of magic ripples across my skin. More magic than I’ve ever felt. But that’s not the only shock. Although the ancient tales talk about the beauty of the Everfolk, seeing it in front of me makes my breath catch.
The Ever is handsome in a way that explains the warnings in the ancient stories—the blinding, dangerous sort of beauty that’s said to make humans lose their will and descend into madness. His features are too eerily perfect, his black hair has the gleam of raven’s wings, and the blue eyes that look unseeingly into the sky catch the light like layers of stained glass, revealing more colours the deeper I look.
His sightless stare unnerves me, and I brush my fingers across his lids to close them. The skin is still warm. I flinch from the contact, and my hand grazes a pale-blue crystal set in a ring on his right hand.
A jolt of pure power jars me as I touch it—so hot and bright that it pulls an answering flare from the ember of magic that burns inside me. Snatching my hand away, I wait for the sensation to ebb. But I miss it when it’s gone. My magic misses it, which makes no sense since my magic isn’t Ever magic. Careful not to touch the ring again, I bend closer to examine the crystal set within it. There’s movement inside, gold threads of magic dancing like lightning behind a thin haze of cloud.
The movement is mesmerising, holding me captive a moment too long after Ari snorts and stomps his foot. By the time the thud and the jingling of his bridle finally register, his muscles are braced as he uses his back to pull harder against the reins that tie him to the tree.
Then a twig snaps somewhere close. Behind me? To the left?
I spin around, searching. But there’s nothing. No one.
Well, I refuse to play this game.
“Who’s there? Come out and show yourself instead of hiding like a coward.”
The Wood falls unnaturally still. Then shadows stir beneath an oak tree to my left.
“I know you’re there,” I say, gripping the dagger tighter.
A voice answers me from the shadows. “Careful, little one. Taunt the things you fear, and you might just prove you were right to be afraid.”
The voice is male—slow and resonant, pitched between a growl and a cat’s deep purr. A predator’s voice, claws barely sheathed.
A shiver of awareness ripples down my spine. I draw on the cool, gritty power of the earth and fuse it with the fire that burns inside me. Needles of magic rake through bone and tissue as I force it outward, pouring it into the dagger. The blade groans, lengthening and thickening until it becomes a perfect replica of my father’s sword and rests cold, heavy, and steadying within my grasp.
An Ever steps forward, his figure cloaked in gloom, footsteps whispering over the frost-crusted moss. He’s larger than the bodies behind me seemed, taller and broader, his features carved in bold strokes beneath gilded hair that’s tied half-up in a warrior’s knot and reveals a widow’s peak. He looks gaunt, worn down, though power and command still radiate from him. He’s every bit as beautiful as the others—and devastatingly male.
He watches me with a faint, treacherous smile. “You can put that illusion away,” he says. “You’re lucky I didn’t mistake it for a threat.”
“The sword is no illusion,” I say, “and the threat is no mistake.”
Author Bio:
Martina Boone is the award-winning author of romantic fiction set in magical places. Her books blend lush writing, strong heroines, wounded heroes, atmospheric landscapes, history, folklore, family secrets, and magic woven through the ordinary world. When she isn’t writing, she can usually be found traveling, reading, studying history and folklore, wrangling wildflower meadows, or playing with Shetland Sheepdogs and tuxedo cats.
Shanna Hatfield is here to tell us about For Liberty & Love, Petticoats & Patriots #1, historical romance.
There's also a great giveaway.
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For Liberty and Love
Shanna Hatfield
(Petticoats & Patriots, #1)
Publication date: June 16th 2026
Genres: Adult, Historical Romance
Courage built a nation. Love made it worth fighting for.
Throughout 250 years of American history, a well-loved locket finds its way into the hands of eight spirited heroines—each standing at the crossroads of love and destiny, and each inspired by a true patriot. As it journeys from one heart to the next, these stories unfold with sweet romance, unwavering hope, and a deep love of country, proving that even in uncertain times, love is always worth the risk. Start reading the Petticoats & Patriots series today!
She never intended to become a spy … or fall for one.
Philadelphia, 1776
As whispers of revolution turn swell into a roar for freedom, Lucy Carlson is no longer content to simply watch from behind the counter of her father’s jewelry shop. When a mysterious woman—none other than Martha Washington—leaves behind a locket, Lucy discovers the piece is more than a pretty keepsake. The necklace is a secret vessel for the revolution that carries the promise of love.
Drawn into a dangerous spy ring, Lucy begins crafting coded messages concealed within the locket’s clever design, living a secret double life and risking everything she holds dear in a time of sacrifice and war.
Continental soldier Branch Barton is a man defined by duty. Tasked with rooting out traitors, he moves through the shadowed world of deception and divided loyalties. He’s trained to trust no one, yet he finds himself drawn into a slow-burning connection with the jeweler’s spirited daughter.
But when Lucy begins to suspect Branch may be a Redcoat in disguise, their fragile bond is tested by mistaken identity, growing mistrust, and the threat of betrayal.
In a war where even allies can become enemies, Lucy and Branch must navigate a world of hidden truths and guarded hearts. With the fate of the colonies—and their hearts—hanging in the balance as Lucy delivers a message in enemy territory, will they find the courage to trust each other and choose love?
Lucy rushed into the shop and drew up short at the sight of the man who had stood across the street earlier, leaning against her workbench. Despite being so taken aback by his presence, she couldn’t help but admire his muscular form and his handsome features.
When he removed his cocked hat and nodded politely, her gaze fell on the sun-kissed golden hair of his head, traveled down to expressive brows that raised slightly at her perusal, and hesitated at soulful eyes the color of moss caught in a beam of sunshine. His full lips and defined jawline added to his masculine allure. As he straightened and stepped toward her, she had the fleeting thought that he moved with strength and purpose, as though he was in full control of himself and his surroundings.
“Hello, Miss Carlson,” he said in a soft, deep voice that made Lucy’s knees feel unexpectedly weak.
Or perhaps the weakness came from realizing she’d stupidly left the ledger open and out in plain sight for anyone to read the entries. Not that she nor her father had anything to hide, but she didn’t think the tall man with a commanding bearing had any right to know who purchased merchandise in their store.
“May I help you, sir?” Lucy asked in a crisp tone as she strode behind the workbench, closed the ledger, and slid it onto the shelf where her father kept it.
“I came to retrieve something my…” He hesitated just long enough for Lucy to grow suspicious of his intentions and motives. “… aunt left here. A pair of gloves. Aunt Patsy sent me to retrieve them.”
Lucy could have easily handed over the gloves, which were sitting next to her tools just inches from where she stood, but she didn’t. Surely, he had to know she’d seen him lingering across the street, watching for Patsy.
Did the man mistake her for a complete dunce? Or did he think his attractive features and a voice that rumbled like a summer thunderstorm wrapped in velvet would leave her so captivated that she would bow to his every whim and wish?
Affronted, she stiffened and lifted her chin. “I will give … Patsy the gloves when I next see her. If that is not her preference, then please bring a note from her to indicate otherwise.”
“I assure you, Miss Carlson, I mean no harm. My aunt was quite distressed to realize she’d misplaced her gloves. They were a gift from someone quite dear to her heart, and it would be a tragedy for her to lose them.”
“And I assure you, Mister …” She paused, since the man had failed to introduce himself.
“Barton. Burwell Barton at your service,” he said with a bow, then offered her a boyish grin that caused her stomach to flutter. “But my friends call me Branch.”
“Branch,” she repeated, wondering if the name had anything to do with the series of barely noticeable moles on his left cheek that were shaped like a curved tree branch.
As though he could read her thoughts, his fingers brushed over his cheek. “A mark from birth, I suppose. Now, may I please have my aunt’s gloves?”
Lucy shook her head. “No, you may not. I intend to place them into her hands myself, sir. Now, unless I can interest you in a set of buckles or perhaps a snuff box, then I’ll have to ask that you depart. My family is waiting for me.”
“My apologies, Miss Carlson.” He backed toward the door. “My intent was not to insult or upset anyone.”
“Yes, well, I …” When she looked up into his face and caught him smiling, it was as though all the words she’d planned to say fell back down her throat. Mercy, but he was handsome with those sharp cheekbones and a bottom lip that seemed designed for passionate kisses.
Passionate kisses?Heavens above! What was she thinking? For all she knew, this man could be one of the king’s spies.
Author Bio:
USA Today Bestselling Author Shanna Hatfield writes sweet romances rich with relatable characters, small town settings that feel like home, humor, and hope.
Her historical westerns have been described as “reminiscent of the era captured by Bonanza and The Virginian” while her contemporary works have been called “laugh-out-loud funny, and a little heart-pumping sexy without being explicit in any way.”
When this farm girl isn’t writing or indulging in rich, decadent chocolate, Shanna hangs out with her husband, lovingly known as Captain Cavedweller. She also experiments with recipes, snaps photos of her adorable nephew, and caters to the whims of a cranky cat named Drooley.
To learn more about Shanna or the books she writes, visit her website http://shannahatfield.com or find out more about her here: linktr.ee/ShannaHatfield
Kent Priore is here to tell us about In the Wake of Gods, an epic dark fantasy.
There's also a great giveaway.
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Seth thought God was dead...
but ideas tend to linger.
In the Wake of Gods
The Abyss Borne Gods Book 2
by Kent Priore
Genre: Epic Dark Fantasy
“Kent Priore writes
like a natural about the supernatural. American fiction has found a terrific
new voice.”
—Joseph O’Neill, PEN/Faulkner Award-Winning Author of Netherland
Standing amidst the destruction of Magistrum, great sorrow and guilt weighs
upon Seth as he keeps the memory of his mistake close—to continue his growth,
to remain good. A concern which lingers through the birth of his daughter,
Persephone, labeled a True Born God by the personification of the White Abyss.
And due to the sudden death of her uncle, Persephone’s abyssal powers emerge in
a destructive way, tearing a hole through the fabric of the world. Thus,
solidifying Seth’s worries of managing his own struggles while being father to
a god who resembles his past far too much.
Feeling Persephone’s powerful aura pulsate through dimensions, both
antagonistic forces begin pursuing her, wanting to eliminate a threat, and make
her power theirs. Alongside these heavy stressors, Seth must also deal with the
inevitability of Sasha dying the same mysterious way as the other Guild
members.
The Earth devolves into a wasteland as the gods ravish the globe, devouring
every human they can find. All the while Seth, Sasha, their daughter, and
others lay in hiding, waiting for the right moment to strike back, to resist
the will of the Abyssian gods—but can they without sacrificing everything they
worked so hard to achieve? And will Seth, so burdened by his past actions,
endure this, or will he devolve into the monster he once was…the monster he
fears his daughter will also become?
Fans of "Jerusalem" by Alan Moore, “The Bell Jar” by Sylvia Plath,
or “The Master and Margarita” by Mikhail Bulgakovor will enjoy “The Monsters
Among Us.”
The pitch-black night splits apart as two dark clouds go
their separate ways. A large full moon looms overhead, filtering its borrowed
light through the open window of Persephone’s bedroom.
The young girl tosses and
turns, with soft animalistic grunts emerging from her. Gritting her teeth,
twitching, flitting about, she whimpers as a large weight festers like cancer
within her. A multitude of pressures, cramping with tightness in her tiny
chest. Aching for release. A god, trapped in the frame of a small girl.
Tremors ripple through her
body, intensifying further and further, and—she screeches.
Persephone sits erect, her
eyes closed, mouth agape. Breathing in deeply, her head arches back, her eyes
peel open, and rays of white light shine out from her skull, as she begins
sucking in a tremendous amount of air in one, unending gulp. The bright yellow
moon distorts and wobbles and sways like water, and at one edge begins to spill
into a bright golden river. Stretching further and further, like toothpaste
through its tube. The stream descends toward the Earth, creating a glittering
strand of moon dust, stretching across thousands and thousands of miles until
reaching Persephone’s window, and spilling into her mouth—
“Persephone?” Seth bursts
in. “What’s wro—”
Sasha follows in from
behind, stricken in awe alongside him. “Persephone? Persephone!” she shouts,
running over and throwing her arms around the girl.
Seth hurries over to the
window, watching the stream of moon dust spill into his daughter’s mouth.
Reaching toward the stretched-out moon, specks of dust displace from the
stream, glittering its golden sheen around his fingertips. Looking out and up
through the window, he finds the once full moon half dissolved, crumbled away
like sand.
“What is happening?” Andes
says, appearing in the doorway. Mikhail stands at his side, nuzzling his sleepy
eyes with the back of his hands before waking to the commotion before him.
“She’s not responding!”
Sasha says.
Seth rushes over. “That
light…no, it’s happening again.” Sasha yanks her gaze toward Seth, alarmed. “It
happened earlier today, while reading…this white glow—and this pressure. It’s
the Abyss. No doubt.”
“My apologies,” Andes
says, “But we have larger concerns at the moment. If she consumes the moon, its
absence will devastate the Earth!”
Seth breathes in heavily. A
doomsday event in the middle of the night. She’s my daughter, that’s for sure. “Clear
the room!” he shouts, his eyes illuminated with white abyssal flame. “I’m going
to try something.”
Sasha rises, inching away
slowly. Her gaze locked too fiercely onto Persephone. Seth places a hand on her
shoulder, gesturing with his head for her to step aside. A hollow sensation
takes root in Sasha as she ambles over to Andes.
Seth hovers his right palm
over Persephone’s face, curling his fingers in a circular motion. Hand shaking,
the pull of the moon dust river is too severe, continuing its descent into the
depths of Persephone—setting his entire body ablaze with white flame, Sasha and
Andes feel a gravitation shift pulling toward Seth. Mikhail clings to Andes’s
sleeve, fearing his feet would be swept up in the sudden, unnatural wind
current rushing through their enclosed home. And though the fire is bright, it
does not burn. It does not scorch nor warm.
The moon dust begins to
retract. Rising from Persephone’s throat, she gargles and gags.
Seth’s eyes glow brighter,
and a portal opens at the far end of the room, creating yet another
gravitational pull. Beyond the portal lay a vast darkness, sprinkled with
glimmering stars. Sasha, Andes, and Mikhail huddle together, clinging fiercely
to the doorframe while Seth and Persephone’s abyssal weight holds them steady.
The last of the moon dust ejects from her stomach, and the white glow of her
eyes disappears. Waking up, she’s suddenly lifted into the air by the vacuum of
space—she thuds against Seth’s big right arm, brought close to his side. With
the flick of his left hand, the moon dust flings into the darkness, followed by
a pillar of abyssal flame erupting from his palm. Gravity reverts to normal as
the portal closes.
Rushing to the window,
they find the wobbling moon slowly steadying itself. Aglow with abyssal flame,
searing the fabric of the world back together, it reforms into the same bright
full moon as before.
“I can’t believe that
worked,” Andes says. Sasha stares in awe of Seth, but with an ever-deepening
scowl sinking into her face.
“I had a hunch. The words
she pulled from the book pages floated back into form once she snapped out of
it. The abyssal flame was an added precaution.” Seth collapses onto
Persephone’s bed. The young girl cocks her head in confusion at her father’s
exhaustion.
Andes, noticing the looks
on both parents, steps toward Persephone. “You two get some rest. I’ll tuck the
youngsters back into bed.”
“You sure?” asks Sasha.
“Never more sure in my
life! Now, go.”
Glancing tiredly at each
other, Seth and Sasha hurry back to their room.
Andes pulls a chair up to
the bed and takes the book he gave her years ago from the nearby nightstand. Mikhail
hops into bed beside Persephone, both children content beneath the covers as
Andes begins to read a story.
Persephone smiles widely
toward her uncle. With no memory of what had just occurred, she relishes what’s
to come. A story told by her loving uncle, her most favorite of things.
The Monsters Among Us
The Abyss Borne Gods Book 1
“Kent Priore
writes like a natural about the supernatural, and The Monsters Among
Us is a marvelously dark and true novel. American fiction has found a
terrific new voice.”
—Joseph O’Neill, PEN/Faulkner Award-Winning Author of Netherland
Seth’s life until now has been a product of a diabolical, evil Truman Show, his
entire upbringing a façade orchestrated for malevolent purposes. After his
beloved dies, he undergoes a demonic metamorphosis, which causes the world’s
fictitious walls to crumble.
As he tries to piece a semblance of his life back together and move on, he
meets friends who inspire, but even more harsh truths are revealed, perhaps too
difficult to cope with.
The very existence of life and reality is exposed as a machination of grotesque
gods. And to defeat them, Seth will have to fill his emptiness, for which
there’s only two options…
Bring the world to ruin, or learn to transmute his pain into strength.
Fans of "Jerusalem" by Alan Moore, “The Bell Jar” by Sylvia Plath,
or “The Master and Margarita” by Mikhail Bulgakovor will enjoy “The Monsters
Among Us.”
“I was intrigued from the first
sentence, determined to spend the night speed-reading so I didn't have to
remain in suspense any longer.” -Ella Dupuie, author of Fractures
of the Fallen
“Supernatural storytelling at its best, this vivid cinematic novel takes the
reader on an imaginative journey through what could be considered end of
days. The Monster’s Among Us is a masterful creation and a
must read—even for those who aren’t fans of fantasy/horror.”
—Joni Marie Iraci MFA author of Vatican Daughter
“You've been gifted with versatile magic. Fire can destroy,
but it can also create. You are a forge that bellows with hellfire. Make use of
it. I have found that magic is best used in creative and unprecedented ways.
Even the dullest magic knows few limits. Magic does what the mind wills it to
do.”
I start to run after Gluttony. I keep the image of those
poor kids in my mind. The rage in me intensifies. My new demon body in
combination with my anger makes me fast, but not fast enough. I can still see
Gluttony in the distance, but he’s leaving my field of view more with each
passing second.
My mind is coated red with the image of the flattened
children. Like a shark who had just picked up the scent of blood, my adrenalin
surges, and I can feel a manic fit overtaking me. My perception is flooded in a
crazed haze. I feel limitless, as if I can do anything. This is a feeling I
know well. I felt it when I decided to return home to Crowley and burn it all
to the ground.
Where's that voice, huh?Not going to tell me to stop this time?
{No.}
Why not?
There’s no answer.
Whatever.
With nothing to hold me back, I really am limitless.
Instinct takes over. I conjure my flames, but not with the intent to attack. I
stretch my arms behind me and point my hands straight back. Fire erupts from my
palms, propelling me forward. I take flight at a much greater speed than my
legs can reach. I hurtle through the air, struggling to maintain balance. Like
a cannonball I blast my way through trees and homes alike. Planks of wood and
support beams scatter about in chaos.
I wonder about the people living in these homes. Are they
safe? Have I killed them? I don’t care. I feel useful to Melphis for the
first time, and my bloodlust is reaching glorious heights as Gluttony's body
grows larger in my view. We are passing the border into New Mexico at intense
speeds. Before I know it, we have passed into Colorado, the foot of the Rocky
Mountains in sight. He appears to slow down. What is he looking for here?
He comes to an abrupt stop, pulling up the ground beneath
his tentacles as he does so. I keep my speed and make my descent. I plummet
hard upon his back. His tentacles give out, causing his large body to fall to
the ground. A thundering crash shakes the surrounding space.
“Who's there?” Gluttony roars. “Wait, no—Greed? You
smell like my brother!”
For a dumb brute, he’s quick to piece things together. He
rises, supporting himself with six of his eight tentacles. The other two pursue
me. One slithers behind and wraps itself around me. The sludge-like tentacles
are as strong as they are giant. I struggle but remain motionless. The heat
rises again. I feel empty, but from that emptiness arises my rage which festers
and grows ever more passionate. Flames overtake my body. I can feel the slime
of his tentacles melting away, like sweat dripping off me.
"Fuck you!" I roar.
The blood-stained clothes of those helpless children rush back to me, then so
do the memories of my own ruined childhood. The flames increase and grow hotter
until the whole tentacle catches fire. It burns away at a fierce speed. Ashes
flutter away as black sludge spills out from the now open hole in his hard
shell. Gluttony roars and his tentacles squirm like a spider that has just been
stepped on.
I climb on top of his hard shell and
beat down my fists with reckless abandon. It withstands my punches, at first. I
can feel my strength rising alongside my rage until at last, cracks form. The
fractures stretch wider with each punch. Gluttony moans as they grow deeper.
Melphis called him a transporter. Just what is he protecting with this dense
outer layer?
My focus intensifies and locks onto
the growing fissure in his shell. My mind goes blank. All that exists is this
shell, the sensation of my knuckles bashing into it, and the white flashes of
rough skin being blown away in shrouds of dust. He is mine—he'll pay—I'll make
him pay—for
those kids—for
me—
The back of my head is hit by a
dense, wet object and I am knocked off the beast. My body shatters the trunks
of a few trees as I make my descent.
{Your lack of focus has made you
blind to the monster's many tentacles.}
"Shut u—" I choke.
Gluttony's enormous face is now mere
feet away from mine. My elation fades as I watch the skyscraper-devouring mouth
open at its four hinges. A long snake-like tongue emerges out of utter
darkness. It coils itself around my body before his teeth drop down, devouring
me along with much of the landscape. I feel my body now coated in slime, as it
slides down Gluttony’s throat. The darkness of the pit consumes me.
Graduated from Bard College with a BA in the Written Arts,
Kent Priore is an author of dark literature, genre-blending epics and
vignettes, where dark romanticism meets modern psychology for a macabre but
hopeful depiction of inner struggle and the human ability to endure, and
perhaps even prevail. He has a fascination with humanity and is one of the few
to believe that despite our many weaknesses, we are far stronger than we often
think. He wishes to show that strength to those darker individuals, burdened by
lonesomeness, poor mental health, and other forces perceived to be out of their
control, as well as show them that all is not lost.