I'd like to thank Roxanne @ Bewitching Book Tours for giving me this opportunity to participate in the DARKLANDS Release Day Blitz.
DARKLANDS
By
Nancy Holzner
Book
#4 in the Deadtown series
They call it Deadtown: the city’s
quarantined section for its inhuman and undead residents. Most humans stay far
from its border—but Victory Vaughn, Boston’s only professional demon slayer,
isn’t exactly human…
Boston’s demons have been disappearing, and Vicky’s clients are canceling left and right. While fewer demons might seem like a good thing, Vicky suspects foul play. A missing Celtic cauldron from Harvard’s Peabody museum leads her to an unwelcome conclusion: Pryce, her demi-demon cousin and bitter enemy, is trying to regain his full powers.
But Pryce isn’t alone. He’s conjured another, darker villain from Vicky’s past. To stop them from destroying everything she loves, she’ll have to face her own worst fear—in the realm of the dead itself.
Boston’s demons have been disappearing, and Vicky’s clients are canceling left and right. While fewer demons might seem like a good thing, Vicky suspects foul play. A missing Celtic cauldron from Harvard’s Peabody museum leads her to an unwelcome conclusion: Pryce, her demi-demon cousin and bitter enemy, is trying to regain his full powers.
But Pryce isn’t alone. He’s conjured another, darker villain from Vicky’s past. To stop them from destroying everything she loves, she’ll have to face her own worst fear—in the realm of the dead itself.
They call it Deadtown: the city’s quarantined section for its inhuman and undead residents. Most humans stay far from its borders — but Victory Vaughn, Boston’s only professional demon slayer, isn’t exactly human…
About this Author:
Nancy Holzner grew up in western
Massachusetts with her nose stuck in a book. This meant that she tended to walk
into things, wore glasses before she was out of elementary school, and forced
her parents to institute a “no reading at the dinner table” rule. It was
probably inevitable that she majored in English in college and then, because
there were still a lot of books she wanted to read, continued her studies long
enough to earn a master’s degree and a PhD.
She began her career as a medievalist, then jumped off the tenure track to try some other things. Besides teaching English and philosophy, she’s worked as a technical writer, freelance editor and instructional designer, college admissions counselor, and corporate trainer. As Nancy Conner, she writes how-to and reference books on topics ranging from classical mythology to using Office 2010.
Nancy lives in upstate New York with her husband Steve, where they both work from home without getting on each other’s nerves. She enjoys visiting local wineries and listening obsessively to opera. There are still a lot of books she wants to read.
She began her career as a medievalist, then jumped off the tenure track to try some other things. Besides teaching English and philosophy, she’s worked as a technical writer, freelance editor and instructional designer, college admissions counselor, and corporate trainer. As Nancy Conner, she writes how-to and reference books on topics ranging from classical mythology to using Office 2010.
Nancy lives in upstate New York with her husband Steve, where they both work from home without getting on each other’s nerves. She enjoys visiting local wineries and listening obsessively to opera. There are still a lot of books she wants to read.
Website: nancyholzner.wordpress.com
Twitter: http://twitter.com/NancyHolzner
Short Excerpt:
Calling a spirit is tricky
business. To do it right, you need a ritual dagger, along with candles,
incense, salt, and an altar loaded up with all kinds of magical paraphernalia.
Except for the kitchen salt shaker, I didn’t have any of that. What I had was
my intention.
I stood in the center of the
living room, having pushed its few pieces of furniture against the walls. I
took a couple of minutes to get centered, breathing deeply and going inside
myself. Breathe in . . . breathe out. Breathe in . . . breathe out. No
thinking, no guilt, just a steady focus on each breath. When the world seemed
to pulse in time with my heartbeat, I opened my eyes. I pointed at the cabin
floor and moved in a slow, clockwise circle. I concentrated on my intention:
protection. I projected my will from my brain, my heart, down my arm and
through my pointing finger, creating a sphere of protection around me. Nothing
could enter the circle unless I allowed it.
Let it be so.
Then, I called the Night Hag. I
pulled up everything I knew about her legend. I remembered the terror I’d felt
as a child—lying in bed, sure she was coming for me, pulling my pillow over my
head to block out the sound of galloping hooves. I could see the pages of a
book of Welsh folktales, one from Mab’s library, where I’d read her story. I
felt the uncanny shiver that had tingled through me when, walking alone at
night in a dark Welsh lane, I’d felt something pass by. My pulse pounded like
those galloping hooves. My whole body trembled with the desire to run, to flee,
to stay out of range of the hag and her pack of hellhounds. But I stood my
ground.
And I called her to me.
“Mallt-y-Nos!” My voice rang out
with a confidence I didn’t feel, pushing past the cabin’s walls. “Matilda of
the Night! Lady of the hunt! Mistress of Hounds! Night Hag, who drives lost
souls to the Darklands! I, Victory Vaughn, do invoke thee!”
The words echoed back to me, then
faded. My intention cut through the silence, as I held the image of Mallt-y-Nos
in my mind. A silhouette on horseback, shadowy against the moon, long hair
flying behind her as she rode. She reined in her horse and cocked her head,
listening. I called out again: “Mallt-y-Nos, come to me!”
In my imagination, the hag
wheeled her horse around. She whistled to her hellhounds. Shrieking a
bloodcurdling hunting cry, she raced toward me.
“Come!” I shouted, shrieking too,
raising the volume to blot out the horrible sound of the hag’s approach. “I
command thee!”
Hounds bayed and howled in the
distance. The sound grew closer. The ground shook as thundering hooves pounded
closer, closer. I clamped my hands over my ears and kept shouting. I wasn’t
saying anything now; I was just making noise. Anything to fight the terror of
her approach.
An explosion jolted the cabin as
the wall collapsed. I staggered back a step, almost falling, covering my face
with both arms. A tingle in my shoulder told me I’d bumped into my protective
magical barrier, and I jerked forward. I had to stay inside the sphere.
I dropped my arms to see what I’d
called
I stared into the fiery, red eyes
of a massive steed. Flames shot from its nostrils, but they broke to the left
and right before they reached me. Hounds leapt forward, jaws snapping, but they
couldn’t reach me. My protection held.
“Quiet!” shouted a woman’s voice.
The hounds fell back, milling around the cabin. The wall they’d burst through
remained intact. The half-dozen hounds that crowded the place didn’t look like
any dogs I’d ever seen. Each was the size of a small horse. Their eyes glowed
red and orange, lit by inner fire. Saliva dripped from their fangs; it sizzled
when it hit the floor.
The horse turned sideways, and
Mallt-y-Nos came into view. I blinked. This was the Night Hag? The woman
astride the horse was young and beautiful, with blue-green eyes and golden
blonde hair that flowed, shining, to her waist. She looked nothing like the
nightmare hag that had terrorized my childhood imagination. “Why have you
summoned me?” she demanded, regarding me imperiously from her demonic steed.
Before I could answer, her face
changed. Wrinkles formed around her eyes, on her forehead, between her nose and
mouth. Her blonde hair faded to gray, then bleached white. Her skin went from
creamy to blotchy red to jaundiced. I gaped, unable to look away, as the
beautiful young woman sagged and faded into an ancient crone. Finally, the hair
thinned to a few wiry strands. The skin shriveled and peeled away, baring the
skull beneath. Flames consumed the eyes, leaving only a red glow.
I looked into the face of death.
The cycle began again. In the
course of a few minutes, Mallt-y-Nos flowed from youth to middle age to
decrepitude and death. And back again. And then again. I stared, fascinated,
almost forgetting the terror of her presence.
In her death’s-head form, she
pointed a skeletal finger at me. “Why did you call me?” she asked again, her
voice impatient. Youthful flesh covered her skull. Her cheeks turned pink; her
eyes sparkled. Thick, shining hair cascaded down her back. “Do not suppose,
mortal, that you can command me. I came because I was curious. Mortals run from
me; they do not request my presence.”
That I could believe. Even in her
youthful form, she was terrifying.
“I called you to ask you a
favor.”
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I love this series and cannot wait to read this newest chapter in Vicky's life. Congrats on this new release and thanks for the awesome giveaway!
ReplyDeleteOMG! I looove Nancy Holzner!!! I've really got to read this series!!!!!
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