Another week another teaser! I’ve been stewing on Part 5 and writing pieces here and there when I grab the chance. Still aiming for my goal of turning in this final part to my editor and getting the process for re-launch going! No major bookish events coming the rest of this month. But y’all should definitely check out my book blog for tour giveaways, plus We Write Fantasy to meet some fantastic authors!
Silver Hollow 2018 Edition Teaser
As long as Amie had known him in this life, she had only seen a fraction of what Emrys was capable of. She knew he was bound to serve her family. She knew he had lost much of himself through the centuries since losing her the first time. This much Amie had seen and felt through his eyes. And much as they both tried to deny it, much as the whispers of her darker memories warned against, they belonged together. Or something like that. She hadn’t had time to sort through the confusing cocktail of fury and relief she felt upon finding him. At that moment, he was bleeding out against her side while attempting to seduce her in the old tongue.
“Min tungol leoht ecelic…”
“Enough of that, Shakespeare.” Amie pressed against his chest, coaxing him to avoid a fallen rafter.
He turned his nose to her dirty hair as though she smelled of roses and sighed. “Forlætan ic na, Nim.”
“I’m not leaving you anywhere, not until we’re safe,” she grumbled in reply. Trust the man and his insecurities. After all she had gone through to find him again, Amie had no plans of abandoning him ever again.
Scorch marks crept from floor to rafter, most of which had fallen in without betraying their foundations. Silence stretched between them, desperation leaking from the gray areas of her vision as they sifted through a fine layer of ashes. Everywhere else the House had been resurrected to life. Here the destruction was untouched like a war memorial, no less haunting than it had been her first sojourn. Only now, she expected the curious specters peeking from broken walls and doorways.
Emrys’ weight against her shoulder grew heavier, his grip about her waist loosening. The glow of candles beneath the library doorway winked ahead, giving her the will to urge him along with words and a surge of energy.
“Almost there, love. Come on, don’t let me do all the work here. I need you to walk…yes that’s it, just like that.” She squeezed his waist and winced at his groan as she dug into increasingly wetted fabric.
Her blood ran cold as she realized Arthur had been right about his condition.
“Please,” she whispered, to Emrys, to the Crafter, to the ghosts watching them in judgement.
I need him, she thought as she lifted a hand and the library door opened of its own accord.
“Feather!” Amie called to the empty sanctuary with its endless maze of books, strange tapestries and roaring fireplace. By the time the great gryphon poked his head about a shadowed corner, she was half-dragging, half carrying Emrys toward the central rug.
“Great molting thunderbirds!” Feather squawked, his golden eyes flashing as he ran on all four paws. “Where the devil did you find this one?”
“In the forest. We were attacked,” Amie replied, dreading the look her feathered friend gave the man in question. “Emrys, wake up, I need you to lean on Feather.”
Feather’s beak clicked together and his brow cocked, yet he stood on his hind legs and wrapped a front lion’s paw about Emrys’ back. Together they managed to lay the Wight on his back before the hearth. Feather sank back on his haunches a moment, observing. “Many a year has passed since my path crossed with the Bane of the Veil.”
Amie fell to her knees and set to work unwrapping Emrys’ dark trench coat. The buckles were murder to undo with cold-numbed fingers
“I assume it was you who called him back, aye?” Feather’s rumbling voice fell gently against her frayed nerves.
I don’t know what happened.
“Yes,” Amie lied. Arthur had said to call to him. She supposed she did, in a way. Yet the way Feather spoke, she knew this went deeper. No time.
Emrys’ head tossed from side to side while his brow creased in pain.
“I need to get these bleeding clothes off so I can see what’s wrong with him,” she muttered as she undid the last buckle, pushed the trench coat aside, then froze. Wide patches of blood like spilled ink, smeared across the Wight’s torso. Her fingers shook too much to unbutton his vest properly.
The gryphon huffed a sigh and extended a single, razor sharp claw. “Allow me, lass.”
Amie nodded and watched as the gryphon carefully cut open the vest and black shirt beneath. “Thank you,” she breathed.
Feather bowed his great head in her periphery before pulling away. Amie was already lost in peeling the sticky fabric from sickly pale skin. Oozing bullet wounds littered across his chest. A lone sob escaped. She blinked rapidly, needing control in order to focus. She needed to assess, not break down before she could help.
His blood was black and hot to the touch, mingled with a metallic silver substance. “What is this?” She rubbed the silver steeped blood between her fingertips.
Feather’s chest rumbled as he pondered her question, bending his neck until his eagle’s eye was nearly level to them. “Unicorn blood.”
“Why would someone put unicorn blood in bullets?” Amie wondered aloud. “What kind of sick person even thought up the idea?”
Feather grumbled with a sneer, “Foul beings in league with foul beasts.”
to be continued…
Goals: aka Morphin’ Time
- Finish and submit Part 5 for editing rounds in two weeks or less.
- Begin to order bookmarks and fun swag 😉
- Schedule re-launch events
- Send out ARCS & set up Goodreads page w/giveaway
- Publish in May (ish) -lol wish me luck!
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Jennifer Silverwood 