![]() Castles & Cauldrons
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble -- EXCERPT: AlexandraEarl Dagon was chasing me. I couldn’t see his face, but I could hear him, his heavy footsteps were closing in on me. My breath quickened as I slipped in and out of the dark corners of Castle Dagon, desperately trying to find a place to hide. I could almost feel his breath, hot and putrid, as he huffed and puffed with the pace of his footsteps. His voice, a thought floating through my own mind. “You can’t hide from me, Evelyn. I know you’re here. I will find you, my darling. You will be mine again.” I opened my mouth to scream “No!” but nothing came. Chilly spikes of fear stabbed every part of me. I lunged forward, into another dark corner, heading toward the castle door. The Earl, hearing me, quickly shifted, and closed in on me once again. Every step I took felt like running through sludge. My feet, heavy with fear and tired from running, threatened to fail me before reaching the door. I pulled every ounce of energy from my being and prepared to take the final lunge, from the darkness to the door, only a few short steps away. I pulled back, like a cat about to pounce, and, with heavy legs, leaped forward, willing the voluminous sludge to release my feet. I lunged for the door. Earl Dagon snarled his footsteps right behind me. A large, clammy hand clasped around my neck, forcing me back, then spinning me around, toppling me to the ground… I woke up when I hit the floor. Relief flooded my body as I looked around, recognizing my bedroom. I was wrapped in a burrito of blankets and sheets, laying on the floor. Sticky sweat dampened the sheets and my hair, now clinging to my face and wrapped around my neck…like a large hand, choking me. It was a dream. A really terrible, awful, very bad dream. They were coming more frequently now. Since my daring jaunt to Castle Dragon in an effort to get a peek at an ancient book sequestered under lock and key in the library. Blackjack and I had taken a wee nap in an off-tour bedroom waiting for everyone to skedaddle. I had my first dream of the Earl then. He seemed to be mistaking me for ‘his’ Evelyn of Cumbria – the witch he professed to love, who broke his heart and ended up buying on the castle pyre. The Earl Dagon wasn’t after me. He wasn’t even alive. He was a piece of my history, my ancestry long since dead. Thank the Goddess. Blackjack sauntered into the room as I attempted to free my arms from their tangled position. He jumped up on my chest and sat. “Havin’ some troubles, woman?” My familiar’s silky voice floated through my mind. “A bad dream, Blackjack.” Blackjack lay where he sat, curling his paws under his chest. “I heard a thump. Did you fall off the bed? Or have you taken to sleeping on the floor?” I peered at him, my arms still trapped in the blankets, gobs of hair masking my face. “I fell off the bed, you goober.” “Oh, what fun.” Blackjack’s emerald green eyes, a match to my own, glistened. “You should probably get off the dusty floor. You’re not the best housekeeper, you know. Your dust bunnies have dust bunnies,” he proceeded to pull out a paw and lick it. “Ever so helpful, as always, you mangy brat.” ![]()
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