Exclusive Perilous Prophecy Excerpts, Book Launches, Events and more!
(Sat, 27 May 2017)
Under one month away until PERILOUS PROPHECY, the Prism Award winning prequel to my acclaimed STRANGELY BEAUTIFUL saga with Tor Books! This book is lyrical and mythical, following the beleaguered and
dangerous paths of The Guard, a secret band of spectral arbiters tasked with bringing Prophecy to bear in 1867 Cairo and London. Shifting between mortal and the Whisper-world of the dead,
ancient vendettas come to bear in an eerie, gaslit age.
Read Exclusive Excerpts posted by THE BOOK SMUGGLERSSTEAMPUNK CAVALIERSFANTASTY CAFE
And Now for the LAUNCH PARTIES!
JUNE 20TH, 7PM CINCINNATI, OH, STREETS OF WEST CHESTER BARNES AND NOBLE
I return to my Cincinnati Hometown Barnes and Noble on June 20th, release day, at 7pm for a reading, discussion and signing!
COME TO MY BOOK EVENTS AND BUY MY BOOK FOR MY BIRTHDAY! Release week falls on my Birthday so if you want to get me a birthday present, supporting my new book is everything I could ever ask for! If
you can't make it to an event, don't worry, WORD BOOKSTORES in Brooklyn is doing signed, personalized pre-orders that
will ship release day!! Order by June 18th and they'll go right out, please note any personalization requests in the notes section of the order. You're supporting a great local bookstore that is very active in the community and this very important release all in one!
JUNE 24TH - PORTLAND, OR - THE HISTORICAL NOVEL SOCIETY CONFERENCE is open to the public for a book signing and events!
JUNE 27TH, 6:30-8:30PM, NEW YORK, NY, THE MORRIS-JUMEL MANSION - Signing, discussion and fashion presentation by Wormwood and Gall!
Hope to see you there!
Cheers, Blessings and Happy Haunting!
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You are Cordially Invited to the Wedding of Natalie Stewart and Jonathon Whitby, Lord Denbury
(Wed, 26 Apr 2017)
Hello, Dear Readers.
It was recently brought to my attention that I, tragically, failed to include a wedding scene for dear Miss Natalie Stewart and her dashing Lord
Denbury at the end of the Magic Most Foul saga, The Double Lifeof Incorporate Things. It isn’t that I forgot this particular detail,
it’s just that I was introducing, in the end of the novel, Miss Clara Templeton and the threads that would then be picked up in my most recent books, my Eterna Files saga. While my focus was then onto the next adventure, I assure you it was not for any lack of love for
these two brave young people. It is also true that the two of them are private people, not ones for show, so pulling back this curtain on them didn’t feel at the time like the right thing to do.
Now, they seem more willing.
Thanks to the clever Camille and Layla, who wrote to me on this topic, and included their thoughts and opinions, ideas I have tried my
best to incorporate herein. And so, without further ado, I present to you the missing scene from the end of Natalie’s story, and before the events of The Eterna Files. This special extended scene is especially for you, Camille and Layla.
You are Cordially Invited to the Wedding of Natalie Stewart and Jonathon Whitby, Lord Denbury
The Manhattan morning was bright and clear, so different from the grey days of the recent horrors Natalie Stewart and her fiancé had endured.
The weather was a good sign, Natalie thought, staring out past the long oval mirror she stood before, gazing at the window sill of the church’s bridal suite where a little
flurry of motion drew her eye.
A song sparrow had alit, ducking under the pane of golden stained glass that had been opened at an angle to allow a bit of air through on this fine
day. It trilled at Natalie, puffing out speckled brown and beige feathers, and Natalie could not help but gasp slightly at this small, beautiful visitor, beaming the creature a smile. A second
She wanted to reach out her hand, to see if this magical little being would deign to take to her finger, but she refrained. While the action would
have heralded fairytales of old, such an encounter would be unnatural, and Natalie had experienced plenty of the unnatural in her past many months and returning to nature’s order was her greatest
hope. The bird continued singing, Natalie it's patient audience, until it heard other chirping responses from winged compatriots and it turned to fly away. The little creature
vanished into the flowering bushes outside Immanuel Lutheran Church, on the east side of Manhattan; the sacred space where Natalie had grown up, searching for the long lost bond of her
mother, and frequenting any place her spirit may live on. Life was full of fragile little birds, souls flitting in and out again.
“All ready, dear?” came a gentle British accent from the other side of the door. “The guests are all assembled. It’s time, love.”
“Yes…” Natalie turned to the door, calling. “Come in here a moment, Lavinia, if you would?”
The door opened and a red-headed girl, eyes wide and glistening with excitement, swept in, closing it behind her from any prying
eyes. Natalie's dear friend, her only remaining peer, had dressed in all purple, an elegant but simple gown in head to toe satin, purple being the only color she might ever be seen
in outside of her Gothic black, so it was for the best that this was Natalie’s favorite color, grateful that her theatrical counterpart was so willing to take a secondary role
“Darling you look stunning! How may I be of service?”
“Just take a moment with me please?” Natalie didn’t realize how nervous she was until she heard her own faltering voice.
“Of course, oh, and you’ve not affixed your veil yet, dear,” Lavinia cooed.
They looked into
the mirror together, drinking in the image of Natalie in a beautiful ivory lace gown, with that beloved rich purple of hers, accented in ribbon trim along graceful lines, the ribbons
gathering in bunches, attached with silvery thread and weaving into floral patterns among small seed-pearls, little bouquets around the bodice line, The deep, royal purple swaths then
trailed down the back of the gown, gathering in a high bustle fashioned into a beautiful bouquet of purple satin roses, tumbling down to a graceful train.
Her dark auburn
hair was up in a bun that Lavinia had woven into looping braids at the beginning of the morning, pulling down a few loose strands to frame her face. “You must be winsome, my dear,” her
friend had said while putting in pins, “while you’re a sensible, forthright woman, you’re not severe, we can’t have everything pinned back like a schoolmarm. Let's see some of that passion of
yours.” The women had laughed and embraced, these sweet moments all the sweeter for the hardships they had so recently endured. Standing side by side at the brink of death, surrounded by death,
witnessing it, and being helped from the other side, it made them comrades in arms, sisters in the gravest of battles. Every relationship around them was stronger for their
holding onto life and hope, treasuring chosen family as more precious than any sum of money.
tended to those winsome locks around her friend’s face. “Your green eyes are otherworldly in this light,” she said. “A match to Jonathon's piercing gaze. You are the picture of a lady,
worthy of her lord; the beautiful Cinderella marrying her Prince,” Lavinia stated. “And now the crown.” She reached into the box filled with violet-scented tissue paper, withdrawing an ivory
tulle veil with a pearl-studded tiara whose comb would nestle into the braids Lavinia had earlier affixed. She set the veil in place and folded it over her friend, kissing her
cheek on the other side the transparent layer.
Natalie managed in a murmur, a flutter of nerves getting the better of her. “I am so grateful for your help. For you. For being here.”
would have been in here with us,” Lavinia added, “mother-hen to us all, but I think she’s been too busy looking after Jonathon, and your father, tending to their spirits.”
“She is our
guide, our Northe star indeed,” Natalie said. “Our motley and unexpected family is grand, is it not?”
“Oh, how it is! And while I am jealous, of course, as my Nathaniel hasn’t the slightest idea of proposing,” Lavinia scowled. “You mustn’t ever mind
me, this is your day.”
Natalie laughed. “He’ll come around, just you wait. And if he doesn’t, why, you’ve all of New York City to explore.”
“Indeed!” Lavinia exclaimed. “Come, we mustn’t keep the guests waiting.” The redhead bent to place the dainty satin slippers before her
friend, as Natalie lifted up the voluminous layers of her gown. “Step in, my princess.”
Her shoes, accented in the same colors, came to a graceful point, but the slippers were comfortable, as she didn’t want to go tumbling down a
church aisle. While Natalie appreciated finery, sensibility was always first. Her corset beneath her layers was likely laced too tight for sense, but that was also likely her nerves pressing
against the whalebone. Her figure was shapely and that’s all she could ask for. She let herself take a good look, and a deep breath.
She did look every bit the princess, in a gown far fancier than she could have ever afforded without Evelyn’s help, benefactor and fairy godmother
incarnate. The same fine tailor that had done up her purple evening gown when she first met Nathaniel Veil outdid themselves on this masterpiece.
“Well, here goes…” Natalie murmured, hoping her voice would remain with her. Lavinia escorted her to the foyer that had been emptied of guests in
preparation for the procession.
The wide wooden church doors closed, Lavinia deposited Natalie with her father and went to join Nathaniel through the side aisle, moving
quietly and away from view.
“My girl, you are the picture of loveliness,” her father said, dressed in his finest black suit with a white cravat, tears in his eyes. Missing her
mother went unspoken, she took up such a huge part of their hearts that needed no explanation.
Jonathan and she had agreed to keep the event small, private, intimate. Neither of them was much for show, they had proven to one another that they
existed for meaning. When the doors were opened for her by an elder of the church, an elderly German smiling at her and murmuring how proud Helen Stewart would be, may she rest in
peace, Natalie held onto her father’s hand as he held out his arm for her, steadying their mutual nerves on one another. Both were the introverted sort, this kind of display made Natalie
queasy. But it was for Jonathon. For him, for his love, she would suffer a thousand discomforts to prove her heart.
They’d forgone a large procession, they didn’t have the family to fulfill the roles nor the desire for the spectacle. Their wedding party, one
beloved friend each, a fellow couple who had stood with them at death's door. Lavinia and her partner Nathaniel would step up to support them at the altar.
When asked what music she’d like, Natalie had thought only of her mother, and what she would have wanted to hear. Much like Jonathon, Natalie loved
all music, no matter the genre, but her mother had loved Bach most of all, and her father had raised her with a sensibility that made the composer quite sacred. So once Natalie was in view, the
first notes of a sweet and simple Bach cantata, on violin and piano, made Natalie feel like she could float forward to her love.
Jonathon Whitby, Lord Denbury, stepped into view as the music started, the small audience stood and Natalie felt faint at the look of him. The
slight mist of her veil could not filter out his supreme, exquisite beauty. His ice-blue eyes stole her breath as they always did; in an ever-changing world, that was one constant.
His beautiful mop of black hair, as wild as it ever was, a visual representation of his passionate heart, was kempt enough to be tucked behind his
ears, and it made Natalie’s fingers itch to run through it and muss it all up in a ravenous kiss.
His frock coat was nearly black, the fabric was rich, with an iridescent quality and as a shaft of light came through, it carried an undertone of
purple in an elegant glow. Natalie felt quite sure Evelyn Northe must have advised him as to the accents, for the deep plum cravat he wore exactly matched the accents on her dress. What a good
mother she’d been to them, helping this all come together.
That, or perhaps Jonathon had snuck a peek of the dress when it had arrived at Evelyn’s house, courtesy of her favorite tailor. That would be like
him, trying to get everything right, trying to make sure all her details were attended to. Looking at him, she fell in love with him all over again, a sickening, wonderful, beautiful tumble all
the way down the aisle as she moved slowly, her father beaming at her side.
Reverend Blessing, in his finest church robes sporting embroidered doves, his deep brown skin a contrast to his huge white-toothed smile, offered
the kind of expression that was so full of love and grace Natalie could see the holy spirit shining through as if it were a lamp within him. The holiest and best of clergymen she knew, a man who
had saved their lives and believed them when only Evelyn Northe did, was an Episcopal priest and not Lutheran, but the church didn’t mind, and the denominations were in full communion. The two
would have had no other man marry them than Blessing, who had prayed with them in their direst need.
When she reached the altar, nodding her head to the Reverend, her hands leapt out in front of her, reaching for Jonathon, and his hands met hers,
both of them warm and trembling with excitement and nerves. Gingerly he lifted the veil and let it fall behind the pearl crown, murmuring breathlessly how beautiful she was. Natalie bit her lip
and blushed. He would, she knew, always have that effect, and she rejoiced in it. Her happiness in that moment managed just slightly to edge out her nerves.
Neither of them were souls of the stage, that was their friends, Nathaniel and Lavinia, who stood as sentries on either side as their wedding
party. Nathaniel had thankfully not upstaged the groom and was dressed in the simplest black frock coat she’d ever seen him in. However he was already crying, the dear, over-dramatic
When the vows began, Natalie had to take deep breaths, her history of Selective Mutism would forever haunt her, making language in times of
pressure difficult, but looking at Jonathon, the whole reason she’d been able to speak again, the words flowed. They were words, after all, for him, and her undying love.
"I do" went by in a haze. All was said, agreed to, promised, and finally when Jonathon moved in to kiss her and there was a polite
applause, she felt all the fear and tension she’d kept held within her since the beginning of the terrors that followed them fall away.
When they turned to the joyous crowd, Natalie first looked at her father, then Evelyn. Beautiful and elegant Evelyn in a champagne silk gown,
the picture of ageless grace and the woman who had become more to both Jonathon and her than either of them could quantify, mother and mentor, guardian and guide, her heart swelled. But
then joy tumbled again a moment, like that little sparrow from the window sill if it flew into a harsh wind. She ached as she thought who else should be standing
Maggie should have been there too. Lost, misguided,
brave, redeemed, recently departed Maggie. Natalie's sensibilities were flooded with a flush of guilt and sadness, over how all of it had ended. But as if to reassure her, the ghost of a
young woman, radiant in transparent white, wafted through the wall of the church, floating below a stained glass window of martyred saints. Maggie. She had come after all.
Maggie's spirit blew a kiss towards Natalie, and Jonathon, shook her head as if saying not to worry, and floated to the back of the chapel,
where Natalie noticed other ghosts, in a flash of light, now appeared like angels, a floating, luminous host.
Natalie squeezed Jonathon’s hand harder. He turned to look, gasped at the sight of the attended mothers and instinctively wrapped his arm
around the waist of his newly pronounced wife.
Lord Denbury led the new Lady Denbury down the aisle and out to the front of the church, where there was rice and embraces, flower
petals, cheers and congratulations. And of course they were bid kiss, again. And they kissed when they weren’t bid. No one stopped them. They were finally free to be as openly in love as
they’d been nearly from the moment they met, when the impossible became possible and two souls collided against one another in a burst of color and light.
To the dazed glee of love, they lost themselves, and Natalie found that everything was aglow, a happy sense of floating, at last, with no weary
cares. As if she were as feather-light as the ghosts around them that had served not as haunts but guardian angels.
She didn’t and wouldn’t let go of Jonathon’s hand and thankfully no one asked her to. He certainly didn’t let go, in fact, his arm was around her
waist as often as it could be, fingertips brushing and grazing and wandering to the bare skin of her cheek, her neck, up her arm, causing delightful shudders amidst the hazy glow of feeling like
everything was, at last, well. Solved. Settled. And would be, happily ever after and all that.
For all Natalie felt like she’d lived through an Edgar Allan Poe tale, now she was living the end of a magical, sweeping love story, a romance like
she could never have dreamed, a love she thought never could have been found, and for this change of genre, from horror to happiness. If one were to tell her story, she thought, let it be this,
and nothing more.
(BUT these characters live on into the future, in other works…)
Please note, dear
readers: For those who love these characters, they do appear as co-stars and in many cameo appearances in my Eterna Files series, a
dark, gritty, X-Files sort of tale that takes place two years after the events of Magic Most Foul.
To answer another question, there is a child of this marriage, Evelyn Helen Whitby, and yes I will be writing about her in books to come,
in the future. As all my worlds are parallel worlds, thankfully I don’t have to let go of any of these dear souls, who so have their hooks in me.
Please come visit me in the Eterna Files and Strangely Beautiful worlds, where familiar faces collide and the dark allure of the ghostly, Victorian Gothic still reigns supreme.
Cheers, blessings and happy haunting!
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