The Witch
Chronicles
Book 2
Ann Gimpel
Publisher: Taliesin
ISBN:
Release Date: 8/7/14
Genre: Dark Paranormal Romance
Word Count: 65,000
Two
stubborn people—a witch and a mage—come together with a fierceness borne of
desperation. Can passion trump their intense need for independence? Will they
live long enough to find out?
Roz, Jenna, and Colleen are the last of
the demon-stalking witches. So far, they’ve escaped disaster, but their luck is
running low. When demons strike in the midst of Colleen’s wedding, Roz launches
desperate measures because she and her sister witches are Earth’s only hedge
against being overrun by Hell’s minions. As she shape-shifts to keep one step
ahead of the demons, at least it takes her mind off her other problems.
Personal ones. She burned through a couple of marriages with a string of loser
men before, after, and in between. Though she wants to be happy for Colleen,
the jealousy bug bit deep and hasn’t let go.
In Roz’s secret heart she’s attracted to
Ronin, one of the Daoine Sidhe. He’s so profanely beautiful she can barely
breathe around him, but he’s also headstrong and arrogant. Not good partner
material, she tells herself, unless she wants to end up dusting her heart off
one more time.
Ronin set his sights on Roz when she was
at his home in the U.K. for a strategy meeting and he can’t get her out of his
mind. Unfortunately, she’s so prickly getting close to her requires scheming.
He casts an enchantment to lure her at Colleen’s wedding, but she senses the
spell and rebuffs him.
The story starts with a wedding and ends with another wedding and has a lot of action in between. Roz, Jenna and Colleen are the last three demon-stalking witches. They have managed to hold off previous demon attacks but the attacks are increasing in number and intensity and they need help. The Daoine Sidhe are now helping but even with their help it is not enough to hold off Hell’s Minions.
Getting that additional help is part of the focus in Witch’s Bane. The other focus; the budding romance between Roz and Ronin, one of the Daeine Sidhe. The book has it all. There is a lot of action, great characters, and romance all in a well-written story. This is a middle book so don’t look for a final solution. However there are new players joining in the fight and they have a little breathing space. For a while the demon’s will be held at bay. Look for the final battle in book three.
About the
Author:
Ann Gimpel is a mountaineer at heart.
Recently retired from a long career as a psychologist, she remembers many hours
at her desk where her body may have been stuck inside four walls, but her
It was during long backcountry treks that
Ann’s writing evolved. Unlike some who see the backcountry as an excuse to drag
friends and relatives along, Ann prefers solitude. Stories always ran around in
her head on those journeys, sometimes as a hedge against abject terror when
challenging conditions made her fear for her life, sometimes for company.
Eventually, she returned from a trip and sat down at the computer. Three months
later, a five hundred page novel emerged. Oh, it wasn’t very good, but it was a
beginning. And, she learned a lot between writing that novel and its sequel.
Around that time, a friend of hers
suggested she try her hand at short stories. It didn’t take long before that
first story found its way into print and they’ve been accepted pretty regularly
since then. One of Ann’s passions has always been ecology, so her tales often
have a green twist.
In addition to writing, Ann enjoys
wilderness photography. She lugs pounds of camera equipment in her backpack to
distant locales every year. A standing joke is that over ten percent of her
pack weight is camera gear which means someone else has to carry the food! That
someone is her husband. They’ve shared a life together for a very long time.
Children, grandchildren and three wolf hybrids round out their family.
@AnnGimpel
Excerpt:
Ronin Redstone unwound
his arm from Roz and gripped his hands together in his lap to lessen the
temptation to touch her again. Where he figured most of the guests were anxious
to see the bride, he’d been interested in Roz. Probably too interested since
he’d bounced to his feet the moment she entered the room and had even spun the
mildest of spells to coerce her to sit near him. He pressed his lips into a
flat line as he wrestled with his thoughts. Ever since he’d met the tall,
imposing witch at his home in northern England a couple of weeks before, he’d
been able to think of little else. She even entered his dreams with her silky
black hair, pronounced cheekbones, and hawk-like nose. In those dreams, she was
naked, her bronze skin glimmering in moonlight.
Her heady scent, pine
forests and jasmine, tickled his nostrils and made him wonder what she’d feel
like in his arms. Once he kicked the door open to that slippery slope, his cock
sprang to life, clearly eager to find out. He tried to clip his libido before
things whirled out of control and she noticed his arousal, but his cock wasn’t
in the mood for negotiation—or retreat. He wove the tiniest don’t look here
spell and draped his lower body with it.
In years past, he’d
simply have created a love charm, imbued it with compulsion, and bedded the
woman. That probably wasn’t a good idea, though. Roz would sense his magic, be
outraged he tried to coerce her, and that would be the last he ever saw of the
striking witch. Never mind she had good reason to not want much to do with him
since he’d been one of the key players two hundred years ago who’d suggested
foisting demon stalking onto the witches. He tightened his jaw muscles. Who
could have guessed his little machination to get his kin out from under a
highly unpleasant task would nearly be the death of the few witches who’d
inherited the power through a magical version of gene splicing? Of course, he’d
also been the one to send Duncan to fetch one of the witches to quell a demon
uprising in the U.K. last month. That was how they’d discovered only three of
the special witches remained…
No wonder she’s not
overly fond of me. Ronin grimaced, not liking the truth in his thoughts. An
inner voice huffed, reminding him it wasn’t his fault the witches in question
hadn’t produced more offspring, but he shushed it.
Surely I can at least
charm Roz out of that sour expression on her face.
He forced his breathing
into a regular pattern and glanced toward Duncan and Colleen at the front of
the room. The resident witch had completed her part of the ceremony and Titania
was speaking in Gaelic so old he had trouble following it. The Sidhe binding
ceremony lasted at least half an hour, so he let his thoughts drift. Anywhere
but to his cock, which still throbbed uncomfortably.
As de facto leader for
the Sidhe, a post he held more because no one else wanted it than because of
any special skills on his part, he sensed they stood at the edge of a cataclysmic
event. Abbadon and his henchmen, the Irichna demons, had grown appallingly
strong. Capturing them one at a time and shepherding them to the Ninth Circle
of Hell where they were trapped for all eternity wasn’t a workable solution
anymore. There were too many of them, and maybe not enough space in the bottom
of Hell.
Because he was afraid of
a firm answer regarding Hell’s demon storage capacity, he hadn’t asked Titania,
though surely she’d know. If they couldn’t dump Irichna behind the Ninth
Circle’s gate, he had no idea what they’d do with them. And if Abbadon
consolidated his full power, Earth would be laid waste. Ronin clamped his jaws
together. Apocalypse didn’t come close to describing what would happen if
Abbadon were freed from protecting his demons and could concentrate on taking
over Earth.
In addition to not
inquiring too closely about the Irichna, I also haven’t asked about Oberon.
Ronin grimaced again. If the King of Faerie were truly so tired of immortality
he’d let himself fade into the Dreaming, Ronin didn’t want to know about that,
either.
When did I turn into
such a craven I avoid unpleasant answers?
Even though he wasn’t
expecting one, a response popped up anyway. He’d loved a human woman once, but
she’d died bearing their son, who’d perished right along with her. The major
vessel serving her heart had ruptured, and no amount of Sidhe magic could heal
her or breathe life into their dead child. Ronin withdrew from the other Sidhe
after that, mostly because he didn’t want to hear their lectures about the
whole debacle being his own fault. After all, they weren’t supposed to mate
outside their blood. When he finally picked up the reins of command a couple of
centuries later—or maybe it had been three—he held himself aloof and avoided
confrontations with anyone, about anything.
He ground his jaws
harder together. His internal inventory was damned depressing; it forced him to
take a harsh look at himself, and he didn’t like what he saw. He glanced at
Titania. She clasped Duncan’s and Colleen’s hands between her own, and his eyes
widened. Had he truly spent the entire ceremony sunk in memories and self-pity?
It would appear so, he
thought dryly. In moments, Titania would utter the final words, Duncan would
kiss Colleen, and the ritual would be done. He barely had time to wonder why
Titania hadn’t kicked up more of a fuss about Duncan marrying a mortal, when
the bridal pair kissed.
The tiniest sigh escaped
Roz, and he looked sidelong at her. Her full lips were parted in half a smile,
and she looked captivated by the ancient binding that had unfolded, mostly
without him paying one whit of attention to it. She leaned toward him, her
earlier ire apparently forgotten. “They make such a lovely couple,” she
whispered.
Ronin narrowed his eyes
and looked hard at Duncan and Colleen, wrapped in one another’s arms and
kissing enthusiastically. He didn’t know about the lovely couple part, because
he didn’t view the world that way. “They do look happy,” he whispered back
because he thought he ought to say something.
Bubba, who’d been
standing off to one side, made a grab for a bag Ronin hadn’t noticed before.
The changeling reached inside and Ronin’s internal alarm went off. The
changeling was about to throw something at the couple. Had the creature been
co-opted by demons? It wasn’t unheard of since their race contained a
smattering of demon blood. Afraid if he hesitated he’d be too late, Ronin
pulled strong magic and rose to his feet.
Before he could loose
it, Roz fastened a hand around his lower arm. “It’s just rice,” she said, her
voice still low. “He’s going to throw rice at them. Stand down.”
Ronin met her dark,
luminous gaze. “What sort of custom is that?” he demanded. Magic thrummed
around him, making the air shimmer in iridescent hues. The changeling indeed
tossed rice high in the air, showering everyone within a ten-foot radius of
him, laughed uproariously, and then did it again.
“An old one.” Roz tugged
on his arm and he sat reluctantly. “Bubba adores Colleen. He’s laid his life on
the line for her a bazillion times. He’d never hurt her.”
“Better safe than
sorry,” he muttered, feeling like an ass. “How was I to know?”
“It’s okay.” She let go
of his arm and patted one of his hands.
As long as he was in an
apologizing mood—they were rare for him—Ronin exhaled sharply and said, “I’m
sorry I, um, suggested you sit next to me.”
She cocked her head to
one side and quirked a brow. “If you’d only suggested, it would have been fine,
but you did a tad more than that.”
Flutes and guitars began
to play Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March.” Colleen and Duncan turned and floated up
the center aisle with Bubba right behind, still throwing rice. Even Ronin had
to admit they looked radiant. He’d known Duncan his entire life, and he’d never
seen his fellow Sidhe look so carefree and besotted with joy. In one wild,
unrestrained moment, before he glossed his emotions over with rationality, he
wanted the same for himself.
Ronin felt Roz’s gaze
still on him and knew he couldn’t ignore her comment. “You’re right,” he said
stiffly. “I did do more than that.”
She repositioned herself
so he had to look at her. “Why?”
Because I’ve wanted to
strip you naked and worship your body from the day I met you. He cloaked his
mind, hoping he’d been fast enough and she hadn’t read his thoughts. “I’m not
quite sure,” he stumbled over the words, because they weren’t the truth.
Her dark gaze never left
him as she weighed his statement. Finally she nodded, almost to herself. “When
you figure it out,” she said and winked broadly, “be sure to let me know.”
Heat rose from his neck
and swooshed over the top of his head. Damn! He was a Sidhe and a warrior. It
was unseemly to blush like a love-struck maid. He opened his mouth to stammer
some sort of reply, but she got up, along with the rest of the guests. “Come on,”
she said. “I’m starving.”
He’d been afraid the
second the ceremony was over, she’d race away from him as far and as fast as
she could, but she’d just invited him to eat with her, at least he thought she
had. He bit back a smile until just the edges of his mouth twitched. Maybe she
didn’t abhor him as much as it seemed when she’d shot him that poisonous look
once she sensed his magic.
I learned something. I
have to ask her, not simply push her to do what I want. He hurried after her
swishing skirt, not wanting to lose her in the crowd. He could always locate
her, but the less magic he used until she got to know him, the better.
*
Roz caught up to Jenna
just inside the dining area and hugged her. “Wasn’t it just perfect?” she
gushed, still caught up in the mystical pull of dual wedding ceremonies.
Jenna hugged her back
and nodded. She disentangled herself and eyed her friend. “What the hell, Roz?
It isn’t like you to fall all over yourself.”
Roz settled her face
into its usual, stern planes. “There. Is that better?”
Jenna grinned. “Yup.
There’s the grumpy witch I know and love. What happened to you anyway? I looked
back and you were trailing after that hunky Sidhe.”
“He snared me in a
spell.”
“Ooooh.” Jenna clapped
her hands together. “He must be interested.” She leaned close. “What did he do
during the ceremony?”
Roz felt her face
redden. “Nothing. I got mad at him once I realized he’d bamboozled me. Hush.
Here he comes.”
“Awesome.” Jenna
practically vibrated with enthusiasm. “He can eat with us.”
“I already invited him.”
A knowing look crossed
Jenna’s face and she opened her mouth, but Roz hissed, “Can it, sister,” just
before turning to Ronin and asking, “Where would you like to sit?”
He half-bowed—a courtly,
old world gesture that drove home just how old he was—lifted Jenna’s hand to
his lips, and said, “Nice to see you again, Miss Jenna. Anywhere the two of you
wish to settle is fine with me.”
“Maybe we should get our
food first,” Jenna suggested brightly, “since the tables will fill fast.”
“Good idea,” Roz
snapped, feeling unaccountably jealous. Ronin hadn’t kissed her hand, but he’d
been quick enough to snatch Jenna’s.
“If you don’t want him…”
Jenna spoke in their telepathic speech.
“I thought you were
interested in Tristan.” Roz led the way to a buffet table and picked up a
plate.
Jenna smirked. “I am,
but he’s not here.”
Roz dished up an
interesting looking salad, brimming with shrimp and crab, and followed it with
a few slices of rare beef and a roll. They found a table beneath a leaded glass
window and laid their plates down.
“I’ll get us something
to drink.” Ronin smiled. “Preferences?”
“What are you getting?”
Roz asked, avoiding Jenna’s gaze.
“Mead,” he answered.
“It’s what I prefer.”
“I’ll take Irish
whiskey,” Jenna trilled and settled into her seat.
“Just bring me a glass
of one or the other,” Roz muttered. “I’m not picky.” As soon as Ronin was out
of earshot, or close enough, she glared at Jenna. “Leave him alone.”
“But you’re not even
sure you’re interested in him,” Jenna protested.
“And how would you know
that?” Roz stuffed a forkful of salad into her mouth, chewed with a vengeance,
and swallowed.
The other witch dropped
her gaze, looking sheepish. “I, um, peeked.”
Roz slammed a fist on
the table hard enough the dishes rattled. “You looked inside my head without
asking?”
“’Fraid so. Sorry.”
Jenna started eating with a studied nonchalance.
Roz exhaled and then did
it again. Both of them were lonely; getting angry with her longtime friend
wouldn’t serve any purpose other than creating bad water under the bridge
they’d have to clear at some point. “Jenna. It’s the wedding ceremonies. All
the old magic in them makes us want what Colleen and Duncan have.”
“I suppose you’re
right.” Jenna’s hazel gaze met hers and she looked repentant, her brows drawn
together. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too.” Roz smiled
crookedly. “Let’s not fight. Not today.”
No comments:
Post a Comment