CAVE OF SECRETS release January 27th

Get ready for Cave of Secrets, the third volume in the NIGHT ANGELS CHRONICLES.

caveofsecrets-evernightpublishing-jan2017-banner1-1

 

A demon force is taking over Oak Haven and people are dying in horrific ways. Somewhere beneath the city of Los Angeles lies the hidden chamber and the Secrets to the Origins of Life. If only Sera can find it, maybe she can stop the violence. She needs her dad to help her and she’s certain he’s still alive. But in order to find him, Sera must make a pact with her nemesis, Fabian Gore.

Peter, the Night Angels, has vowed to love and protect Sera, but even he can’t help her in this task. Nor can Jimmy, the human whom she knows she can trust. Only the “girl with the crazy eyes” can lead Sera to her father. Without her dad and the secrets he holds, Sera doesn’t think she can go any further.

Sneak Peek from Cave of Secrets:

Where was Gus? Once I entered the thick bushes I paused and listened. How silent it was. How heavy and still. Stifling. Oppressive.

“Gus?”

Why didn’t he answer?

And then I heard it. A scream. A horrible, agonizing scream, cutting through the stillness and ending as suddenly as it had begun.

I ran, allowing my denizen senses to guide me. I could feel it stronger than ever. The oppression, the evil. Now I saw a trail of blood before me. A body had been dragged here, plowing a path through the underbrush.

It looked like Gus had almost made it to the place where the foliage had ended. Only a few feet further and he would have jumped the wall and been back in civilization, walking on the sidewalk near the road to the market.

But Gus wasn’t ever going to the market again. Or anywhere. Perhaps whatever had attacked him had first chased him down this pathway. Perhaps while we had called to him, Gus had been running for his life, all his energy intent on getting away, none left over to cry for help.

And then that final scream of pain and terror.

I followed the path of blood through the broken underbrush, up the hill, knowing what I would find at the end.

In a little open area, beneath an old oak tree, its roots spreading like writhing snakes along the ground, I found a scene of carnage. A broken, twisted body, arms and legs at impossible angles. Face in the dirt, a lake of blood seeping into the thirsty soil.

Salem was kneeling by the body, reaching a hand toward it.

“Don’t touch it,” I said, kneeling beside him.

I was aware of Jimmy coming up from behind, breathing hard.

Salem turned the body over anyway.

“No,” he said, pulling away.

Gus’s throat had been torn out, his chest, his stomach, a gaping, glistening hole, his insides gutted. He lay there, eyes staring sightlessly up at the burning sky, mouth stretched wide across his teeth in a frozen grimace of excruciating pain.

“God help us,” breathed Jimmy.

All my nightmares came alive in that moment. The image of the monster Gore on the plateau, teeth and claws dripping blood. He had done this to a coyote–gutted it. And then there was our family lawyer, Mr. Meriwether. I had almost forgotten about the poor man. The same thing had happened to him.

Gore–it must be Gore! I turned away from the body and stared at Salem. He was looking down at Gus with hated and contempt. No pity, no remorse.

An icy river flowed down my spine. Could it have been my own brother? Salem’s gaze shifted to me and he read my questioning expression. His eyes went wide with disbelief. He shook his head and mouthed, No!

Others were crashing through the bushes. Soon the entire group, including Stanton, was gathered around the body. And then pandemonium broke out as the reality of what lay before them sank in. Students who had, only moments before, thought they tough threw up. They screamed, losing complete control of themselves.

Tray, Jimmy, Inez and Scooter were upset like the others but in a different way. They were silent. Horror struck. And they were stronger. They had seen more and suspected what types of creatures might have done this.

Alex was a blubbering, broken mess. This wasn’t what he had signed on for when he joined Gus’s gang. He screeched like a frightened mouse when Salem happened to glance at him and then clapped a hand over his mouth to stop the sound. He would never accuse Salem to his face, never have the nerve. But Salem and I both knew what he and everyone else was thinking–that Salem had done this.

 

 

 

 

The Key of Solomon’s Secrets Revealed in NIGHT ANGELS CHRONICLES

I saw Dr. Strange and I loved it. It’s making a lot of money around the world so I guess a lot of other people loved it and I’m not surprised. It takes us back to the spiritual, reminds us how little we know about the universe and how unwilling or unable most of us are to try and find out. Not through science and traditional learning, but through spiritual practice. Through the denial of the physical and the training of the spirit and the mind.

I loved the library in the movie, and Dr. Strange ‘s insatiable appetite for learning. One of the books he took out of the library was The Key of Solomon, a book of deep magic. I sat forward in my seat in amazement because what is inside of that book is important to the NIGHT ANGELS CHRONICLES.

ksol11

Remember that as Sera’s father, Theo, tells her, coordinates lead to destinations and keys open doors. But what kind of doors?

And at what point does one decide, “Here and now, I start following the coordinates?”
How does one know where to begin counting down?

From what world have the demons come? The universe is made up of 70% dark energy and we don’t know what that is. But Sera has caught a glimpse of it through the mysterious boxes.

How can an infinite number of beings be trapped inside the Life Box? How can an infinite numbers of object be trapped inside the Object Holder? Who is channeling power to the Queen and what horrors await if she breaks free?

Solomon imprisoned the 72 demons in the Life Box. But then, what happened?  You can find out in Book of Angels.

the-fall-of-the-rebel-angels1

In Book of Angels, Sera battles one of those demons, but I can’t say more here.

There are 6 angels. This Sera finds out when she steals the Book of Angels and brings it to…oh, I better not say who.

Yes, there are 6 angels.

But now, there is destined to be a 7th.

And this, more than anything, fills Sera with fear.

thb1hietg2

Book of Angels on Amazon

 

 

NIGHT OWL REVIEWS Author Interview

Author Interview Night Owl Reviews

Check out this sort and sweet interview in Night Owl Reviews.

BOOK OF ANGELS is Inspired by Illuminated Manuscripts

WHO IS PETER HERGOVICH?

Check out this guest post on “A Young Adult Dreamer” blog. There is also a giveaway!

In Book of Angels, Sera has her first encounter with the Queen, who is imprisoned in the Life Box in Saint Catherine’s Monastery in the Sinai Desert. Sera must travel to the monastery with Peter and Blanca to check on the Queen.

The excerpt in this blog post tells about Sera’s encounter with the Queen.

Who Are the Night Angels? Marek Tells His Story

ffc18[1]

In Book of Angels, readers find out more about who the Night Angels really are…and their terrible histories.

Here Marek tells his story to Sera, after a lesson in sword-fighting. It isn’t a pretty tale, be prepared…. The images it brings to mind are horrific. But the stories need to be told…the truth must be revealed.

MAREK’S TALE:

Marek drew close to me, so that I saw the fine sheen of sweat on his brow, still fresh from our practice. As usual, his expression was neutral but his eyes were cold and hard, the look I had seen in Peter’s eyes so many times when he remembered his past and the humans who had inhabited it.

“One night I overheard my master’s drunken conversation with his wife. The next morning he was going to send me to the Coptic priests at Abu Gerbe to be castrated.”

I shook my head and took a step back. This was something I had not seen in my Turning. What I had seen was bad enough. I didn’t want to find out more.

But Marek stepped forward, almost daring me to try and escape. I was against the wall and he was in front of me. I didn’t try to get away. What would be the point?

“His plan was to sell me to the Ottomans. It was against the Ottoman’s faith to make eunuchs. But the Christians had no such qualms. Do you know how they would do it?”

I shook my head.

“The priests chained the boy to a table and sliced off his penis and testicles. Then, for the healing process, they stuck bamboo catheters into the genital area, dug a hole in the sand, and buried the child up to his neck. The survival rate was ten percent. Naturally those who survived fetched a large price.”

I was revolted. I had heard of female genital mutilation. But this was something I did not know. And why should I? It wasn’t necessary to know every horrible detail of what had happened down through history!

“So…the Ottomans wouldn’t make eunuchs but they had no problem buying them?” I asked.

Marek still didn’t look angry. Only amused, and always in complete control. I wondered what it took to make Marek truly angry. I never wanted to find out.

“Humans are nothing if not hypocritical. They can justify the most horrific and obscene behavior by telling themselves lies over and over until they believe them.”

I had to admit that this was true. I’d discovered it the hard way, after my dad’s death, when the carefully preserved façade of lies hiding the true nature of Oak Haven was torn away.

“I slit the throat of my master while he slept in a drunken stupor.  It was my first killing. I ran away. I was quickly captured by a group of traders and brought to the Sultan’s court anyway. But at least I had escape castration. The Sultan was far crueler than my first master but he was of a superior intelligence. He took a liking to me and made sure I was taught history, art, poetry and philosophy. For that I am grateful.”

Marek now took a step back and I breathed easier, feeling my muscles relax slightly. When would I ever really relax, every again, I wondered?

I was too stunned by his story to say anything. We picked up our swords and walked toward the small door in the courtyard. Marek grinned sideways at me. “I see how kids in your culture pierce and tattoo themselves. Some put rings through their noses–willingly! It’s very funny to me.”

I felt grateful he didn’t expect some response from me about his terrible story. What response could I possibly give? It was all so horrible.

 

 

BOOK OF ANGELS COVER DETAIL

13690707_1128255480575207_4463882541413514378_n[1]

Sharing this beautiful cover detail from Book of Angels. As an artist myself, I have great respect and awe for the artist, Jay Aheer. She puts her soul into her work! She definitely has captures my vision for Key of Mystery and Book of Angels.

Book of Angels for sale at Evernight Teen

WHO ARE THE NIGHT ANGELS? Marianne tells her Story

In Book of Angels, readers get more insight into who the Night Angels are, from learning about their past lives. I thought I would do five posts, in the words of each of the Night Angels, telling their stories. The first is Marianne. After Sera’s Turning, in Strejan’s castle overlooking Lake Roza, Marianne sits with Sera in her room, at the top of a tower in the castle, and recounts her past….

Marianne

“I was twenty-six years old when I was turned into a vampire. On the edge of old age for those times. Before my Turning, I lived in a village by the sea, in the wild lands of Northern Ireland. My family were Druids. I was married to the gods and no man had ever touched me. We worshiped many gods and practiced human sacrifice. For you, in these days, it’s hard to understand. But for us, it was our life, we didn’t know any different. Everyone had a purpose, to toil or to serve the gods, one or the other. Life was hard, but easier for me than most. Then, the Vikings came to our village and hell descended on earth. A horde of them swept through like devouring insects. They threw my father from the cliffs. My younger sister, they raped and ran her through with a sword. My mother, they crushed her head with an anvil when she tried to protect my sister. They were dragging me by the hair to do the same when a great warrior on a white horse swept down like an angel, his brilliant eyes fixed on me in a stern and noble face.”

Marianne paused in her story, overcome with the memory. Then, she continued. “He lifted me onto his horse. You must understand it was the first time in all my life that a man had ever held me. I fought, clawed, bit and kicked. But he was an unbreakable tower of steel and only held me tighter until, finally I gave up my stuggle. We traveled back across Europe, his warriors torching the land, destroying everything before them. He kept me safe, caring for me. Anything I needed or desired, he gave to me. He became my world and I worshiped him as my new god. He brought me back to Constantinople, to that beautiful city, to his palace. He washed and perfumed me, dressed me in the finest clothes and presented me at the Sultan’s court.”

“You loved him so much!”

“Love?” said Marianne, as if trying to remember what the word meant. “Oh, yes, I loved him. But he didn’t love me. When the Sultan demanded me for his own, my lord gave me up. As a gift. Without a second thought. And then, after I had been taught and trained to obey my new master, the Sultan Turned me.”

“What happened when the Viking died?” I asked. “Did you cry, or was it sweet revenge to watch him grow old and wither away while you stayed young and beautiful?”

A dark fire smoldered in Marianne’s eyes. I dropped my gaze, out of the horror of what I already knew, not wanting to hear what she was going to tell me. “He isn’t dead, Sera. The Viking who saved me and brought me to Mehmet is Fabian Gore.”

I gasped and doubled over in agony. Every evil that existed, every cry of pain, every struggle against the darkness seemed to point back to Gore.

Marianne got up from the bed, walked a few paces, and then turned back to me. “So you see? I have no explanations for you. I now fight against the denizen that once I loved. How can I understand anything of this world, or we creatures that inhabit it?”

INTERVIEW AND GIVE-AWAY!

Reviews by Crystal, KH Mezek Interview

200

An Illuminated Manuscript; an ancient city beneath Los Angeles, built 5,000 years ago by the Lizard People; a Queen imprisoned in the Life Box in St. Catherine’s Monastery in the Sinai Desert; a castle in Slovenia; a medieval church hiding a dangerous mystery. Find out what happens to Sera in BOOK OF ANGELS, volume two of the NIGHT ANGELS CHRONICLES, as she continues her quest to find the tablet upon which is written the SECRETS TO THE ORIGINS OF LIFE.

Buy Book of Angels at Evernight Teen

Buy Book of Angels on Amazon

Introducing Author Christine Potter!

This is the first time I am hosting an author of my website. I’m very excited to introduce to you Christine Potter, author of Time Runs Away With Her and the soon-to-be published sequel, In Her Own Time.

Christine and I found out we had something in common: a love of travel. Christine carries that love into her time travel trilogy. Bean, a 1790’s folk singer, gets to time travel and it’s pretty awesome to follow her adventures. I’m intrigued by Christine’s traveling life as well and wonder what her husband does for a living and I would sure like to find out more about that haunted house! Below is a little peek into the wonderful world of author, Christine Potter. 

13689461_10154540600500628_2120778528_n

SEQUELS, TIME TRAVEL, AND WRITING ON THE ROAD

I am a former homebody married to a man who lives and breathes travel. I’m also a writer of YA Paranormal fiction–and a poet. (Being a poet is kind of like playing Pokémon G; you wander around trying to catch all the poems before they jam up the cosmos. Dirty job, but someone’s got to do it.)

My favorite place to write both fiction and poems is in my cozy study in my own haunted (for real) house in New York State. But because of my husband, I have learned to write on the road. I have written in Berlin, in Edinburgh, in Nova Scotia, and squinting into the laptop in the front seat of our car somewhere in the wilds of the American West–with Ken driving, of course.

And the YA fiction I write is also about traveling…in time. It’s way interesting. And you don’t have to worry about reservations and hotels–or airport security. Or passports . The main character in my YA time travel series, Time Runs Away With Her, sure doesn’t. But Bean Donohue doesn’t always get to choose where she gets to travel, either. Or where. And that makes for all kinds of issues with her social life. So maybe it’s a wash.

Bean’s sixteen, a folk-rock musician, and mostly lives in 1970–but she gets zapped back to the 19th century, the 1940’s and the early 1960’s. And explores the dark side of the American Revolution in the Trilogy’s second book, In Her Own Time. In Her Own Time is coming out on Evernight Teen any day now, and I am dancing a jog in my seat waiting for that to happen.

I am writing this blog entry on the road now. Here’s what I have learned about writing on the road: it is impossible to write with your husband blaring some stupid show on the giant TV at the foot of your hotel bed. Especially if the stupid show is about Scottish guys building log homes with chainsaws. You need, as Virginia Woolf said, a room of your own. That requires renting a cottage which–good news–can cost less than staying in hotels, since you’ll take advantage of the local markets and cook your own food. More good news: cooking while traveling is the quickest way out of the tourist bubble I know.

You’ll eat more vegetables, because you’ll hit the local green markets and the docks, a great way to take the measure of any place. For example, on Canada’s Prince Edward Island, they sell oysters at the dock by the pound, not by the piece. You can get a couple of dozen oysters for what two Starbucks coffees cost in New York. Of course, you have to open the oysters, but you can train your husband to do that. That way he won’t turn on the TV because he will be busy in the kitchen and you can write in the quiet living room. A win-win.

The little house we checked out of in Kingsburg, Nova Scotia, was within sound of the sea with spectacular views. It had an airy loft with a desk; possibly the best place I have ever written away from home, except for the time I got stuck in Washington State after a writing workshop because of hurricane Sandy. I was traveling alone that time, and ended up coming back to New York on Amtrak.

If you can swing a room on a long-distance train, you’ll get your own personal assistant, who will carry your luggage and bring you food and drink, and be very impressed that you are a writer. I had an amazing cow-girl looking attendant taking care of me from Seattle to Chicago. I loved her. She kept slipping me free sparkling wine, which I used as a carrot on a stick for getting work done.

At dinner in a train’s dining car, you share dinner with folks you’ve never met before, which is weird at first, but then it’s great. People tend to tell you their life stories, and since you’ll most likely never see them again…hey, free material! I wrote like a fiend on the train.

I also did some very good writing on here Prince Edward Island last time, in the living room of a house owned by Lucy Maud Montgomery’s (Anne of Green Gables) family. I was staying there when I got the first book of the Time Runs Away with Her series accepted by Evernight Teen. I went and saw Lucy Maud’s grave the day of the acceptance and told her thanks. I was again a little jealous of my main character, Bean. How great would it have been to have caught a glimpse of Ms. Montgomery writing, instead? Bean would have!

I think it’s important to keep moving-both in space and time. The great thing about the past is that it’s always there for you to play with. Did I mention In Her Own Time is coming out any day now? Meanwhile, here’s a link for buying Time Runs Away With Her, a featured book on Evernight Teen just now. Happy trails!

13714521_10154540599660628_1828230747_n

Christine Potter is the author of Time Runs Away With Her and In Her Own Time, YA Paranormal romances set in the year 1970, about sixteen year old Bean Donohue. Bean can slide out of her own time period and see things that happened decades or centuries ago. Being a time traveler when all you really set out to do is play your guitar and maybe get a boyfriend can complicate life! Christine is also a poet with work in many small literary magazines and two poetry collections: Zero Degrees At First Light and Sheltering In Place.

Buy Time Runs Away With Her on Amazon

Buy Time Runs Away With Her on Evernight Teen