Clearwater, Florida, United States
Once upon a time Aithne Jarretta tripped upon a ley line. Actually it had happened before, but she didn't realize the ramifications until later. She brushed the incident aside and climbed into her car. Real life was the important factor at the moment. However, those RL moments wove into meeting new friends--the kind most people never see and definitely don't chat much about. Those friends came with persistent voices. Eventually Aithne brought them out of the closet and politely called them Muses. They became her virtual traveling companions and still journey with her today. Author: Concentric Circles, Wyndy: In a Heartbeat, Kissing Santa, Claire: the Lost Fae (coming soon) Flash Fiction: Flashpoint & The Match Maker
About CONCENTRIC CIRCLES…
Shayla Brinawell comes from a fragmented family. Fearful of the dangers her daughter could face, Shayla's mother raised her to deny and hide her magical gifts. Shayla is about to have her world turned upside down and every other which way. Witch way that is. She must come to terms with her magical destiny in hyper drive.
Meekal Chilkwell has always known his life purpose. To protect the magical and healing waters of The Chalice Well located in the shadow of the great mystical Tor in Glastonbury, England. A new danger has arisen. One that threatens not only the Chilkwell family, but also the non-magical world.
Shayla & Meekal join together in order to conquer Syther the Quitch, an evil wizard bent on spreading darkness.
Excerpt from Chapter Eight: Death Knell
After eating, Shayla and Meekal walked through a hidden panel in the library to an upper room serving as an oversized closet. “This is where we store the linen and paper goods for the guests who stay at the manor. It’s mostly Mari Bree and Harry who use this secret passage.”
Meekal closed the cupboard door they stepped through and a mythic shroud surrounded them with a sense of the past.
Shayla studied the drawers and doors built into the wall on either side. A chill traveled through her. “Kal?”
He motioned to the wall beneath a small leaded window. “Yeah, this is where two monks stayed. Their cots were there. The cupboards are a later addition.”
The window let in a sliver of distorted moonlight, casting them in silver.
“Spooky.”
“Aye. Come this way,” Meekal whispered, wrapping his fingers protectively around hers.
Next, they stepped into the upper hall. Plush carpet padded their footsteps as Shayla followed Meekal past portraits, artifacts and live plants adorning the upper hall.
He led her to a narrow stairwell at the far end. The first surprise Shayla received was this stairwell was an optical illusion. Three pie-shaped steps turned to the right only to end in a black wall carved with a door. Close inspection revealed the illusion.
“Surprise.”
“How?”
“This way,” Meekal said, mischievously. He moved his hand forward to the shelves that graced the end of the hall next to the fake stairs.
The oak shelf boasted several figurines: a unicorn, a wooden box carved with runes and a Crusader helmet. The helmet was made of steel with narrow eye slits on the crossbar of the symbolic cross of the Crusades. Fleur-de-lis terminals embellished the sacred symbol. Meekal’s finger glazed over the brass cross, following its shape. “Pernicious.”
Shayla’s brows rose sharply.
“No one will ever guess that’s my keyword,” he said, while he readjusted the helmet’s position on the shelf. “Even Harry doesn’t know it. Follow me.”
Shayla stepped through the doorway that opened. “Why doesn’t Harry know? I thought he's your best friend.”
“His twisted sense of protecting me. We hang out elsewhere when we’re together. Stubborn prat. Anyway he prefers the Tor or Harry’s Pub when we take time to socialize.” The book shelves swung closed behind them, latching with a soft click.
“Pernicious was the Raven Prince. He was Fyr’s da and the person who sent Black Bry to Glastonbury. You’ll learn the history later. Perhaps Fyr will tell you.”
“Okay,” Shayla said, dragging the word out as she focused on the thickly carpeted narrow stairs wending upward. They stepped into Meekal’s room. His upper floor bedroom spanned the full size of the manor. The steps carried them up to the middle of the chamber.
The bed dominated the right side, its presence powerfully bold due to four posts rising almost to the pitched ceiling. The ceiling, marked with both heavy wood beams and modern skylights, crowned with everything with perfection. “Wow.”
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