Tread carefully, Vagabond. Guard the Grimoire as you would your life because everything you hold dear will one day depend upon what it tells you.
The lines in Kara’s forehead deepened. She reread the short letter, holding her breath the whole time. A thought pulled on her mind, but her pulse raced too quickly for her to pay much attention to it at all.
S.M. Boyce is a novelist who loves ghosts, magic, and spooky things. Lichgates is a semifinalist in the Kindle Book Review’s Best Indie Books of 2012 and a Finalist in the Eric Hoffer Book Awards of 2013.
Buy your copy of Lichgates (Grimoire Saga #1) at your favorite online retailer. For more information on Boyce’s books, head over to smboyce.com or her Amazon Author page.
You can also find her on Twitter, Pinterest, Facebook, and Google Plus.
An Excerpt from Elfin
By Quinn Loftis
Chapter 1
“Halloween is here and once again I’m struggling to pick a costume. Once again I am trying desperately to ward off Elora’s attempts to turn me into some sort of gothic princess or dark fairy. If you happen to see me strutting down the street in a halter top with wings, glitter in my hair, and three inch heels, please shoot me on sight.” ~ Diary of Cassie Tate
“I’m not wearing that Elora. You might as well take that pattern and stuff it back into the bag of long lost costumes that should never see the light of day.” Cassie climbed into her best friends beat up Dodge Neon. The door creaked ominously as she opened it. Chipping red paint sloughed off, revealing a layer of blue beneath it. Who knew what color lay beneath the blue. Elora’s car had been painted several times by her older brother, Oakley, when he had started working at the auto body shop his senior year and the original color was since long forgotten. Few little sisters would have voluntarily allowed their brothers to practice painting on their vehicle, but Elora didn’t have much of a say in the matter. At least he had finally covered up the skull and crossbones he had jokingly, and quite poorly, painted on the hood.
“I’m telling you now, as your friend, if you try and wear a costume like you did last year, I will personally put you out of your own misery, not to mention my own,” Elora said in her signature dry voice. She rolled down the window, letting the crisp fall air blow through the car that had, despite the increasingly cool temperature, still grown hot from sitting in the asphalt parking lot that boasted absolutely no shade for the student parking.
“Seriously?” Cassie’s jaw dropped open. “That costume was so creative.”
Elora rolled her eyes as she started the car. She shifted into drive and pressed the pedal to the metal, coaxing the sputtering little engine to deliver its maximum effort, which resulted in a loud squeal from the tires as the girls pulled out of the school lot. Cassie latched onto the door unconcerned about the loud noise; well acquainted with her friend’s maniacal driving skills.
“You were an ant.” Elora’s face scrunched up in distaste.
“Yeah, but I wasn’t just an ant. I was an ant on a picnic table.”
“Exactly,” Elora responded deadpan. “You were wearing a table. I’m sorry Cass but I draw the line at wearing furniture. We’re seniors this year; we have a responsibility to blow the minds of all the underclassmen peons.”
Cassie laughed. “What about Charlie’s Angels? They are some kick butt females.”
Elora raised a single pierced eyebrow at her best friend.
“Do you really see this,” she motioned to her face and then her body, “as Charlie’s Angels material?”
Cassie looked over at her friend. There was no doubt that Elora was beautiful, but not in a typical way. She was heavy into the Goth scene. Her hair was dyed jet black, with the exception of the bright red chunks she put in it. She wore it in long layers with bangs sweeping across her face intentionally creating a mysterious air. She had a stud resting in her left brow; four piercings in her left ear, five in her right, a stud in her right nostril, and, of course, a stud in her tongue. She wore dark eye shadow that gave her purple eyes, made possible by colored contacts, an enigmatic sparkle. She was naturally fair skinned, so she didn’t bother with any powder on her face and her skin was flawless anyways. She wore black, black, and more black and she rocked it. Black miniskirts with black fishnet tights drew attention to her insanely long legs on her five foot, seven inch frame, which was completed by black combat boots and an off the shoulder shirt revealing a black halter top. Around her neck dangled various crystals, all of which were, according to her mother, effective to promote healing, positive energy, or some other such nonsense. Various rings, ranging from skeletons to talons, adorned nearly every finger.
Cassie’s mouth quirked up. “I see your point.”
“Just leave the costumes to me. I’m sure my Lisa can help me come up with something dark and sexy.” Elora turned onto Cassie’s street and her tires screeched to a halt in her driveway.
Lisa was Elora’s mom and that is what Elora had always called her. Elora wasn’t into titles that she claimed society put on people to set them apart, when, as she put it “we are all human beings who picked their noses as children in front of people without shame and then in secret as adults.”
“Who says I want to look dark and sexy?” Cassie asked.
“I do,” Elora answered giving Cassie a what kind of question was that glare.
“Just remember that we are not standing on a corner trick or treating for the wrong kind of tricks and treats, okay?”
Elora rolled her eyes but then added, “That was actually a pretty good analogy.”
“So glad I meet your approval.”
“I’ll call you later tonight. No doubt you are going to need my help on our English project.” Elora began to back out of the driveway. Cassie motioned for her to roll down her window.
“I have to go up to my dad’s work remember?” Cassie yelled to her.
“Why do you have to go again?”
“His assistant is out for the week and he asked me to do some of the filing and whatever other meaningless tasks she does,” Cassie said in exasperation.
“Okay. We’ll work on the paper tomorrow. It’s not due until Friday anyway,” Elora waved as she continued out of the driveway and peeled and puttered off down the street.
Cassie looked at her watch and realized that she was already late. She walked over to her less than impressive, not to mention ancient, Honda Civic, digging her keys from her backpack. Once she had them, she tossed her backpack into the back seat, slid into the driver’s seat, and started it up. She backed out of the driveway in a much more reasonable fashion than Elora just did, and headed towards her dad’s work in downtown Oklahoma City.
~
“Dad, I’m here.” Cassie hollered as she walked into the reception area of Woodland Oil Company, Inc. From what little she knew of her dad’s work, he handled the company’s financial stuff and had the words “President of,” in front of his name. She walked past the reception desk and down a long hallway passing office after office on either side. Her father’s office was the last one at the end of the hall.
She knocked and opened the door when she heard his voice. William Tate, III sat at his paper-covered desk, tie loosened around his neck, his salt and pepper hair rumpled from continually running his hands through it.
“Come on in, Cass,” her father said and she noticed how tired he sounded. He always sounded tired, Cassie thought to herself. He worked way too much. Though he never complained about it, Cassie could tell the long hours were wearing him down. She made a mental note to bug him later about taking her on a vacation. It was for his own good.
“Hey,” she said with her brightest smile, hoping to bring a little energy into the stale room. She wanted to wrap him in a hug when he returned her smile and he immediately looked at least ten years younger.
“So what do I need to do?”
William stood and his six foot, three inch form seemed to make the large office shrink a bit. With a flat stomach, large musc
ular arms and powerful legs, William Tate was an avid athlete. He tried his hardest to make time to do push-ups and sit-ups in his office throughout the day. Aside from his graying hair, he looked much younger than his forty-six years. He laid the papers that were in his hands down as he came around his desk and motioned for her to follow him back down the long hallway to the reception area. His assistant, an older, frumpy woman named Martha, kept her desk in meticulous order. He pulled a box of papers out from under the organized desk.
“These need to be filed alphabetically into these file cabinets.” Then he pulled another box from the other side of the large file cabinets.
“These need to be shredded,” he motioned to the box. “The shredder is actually in the break room which is out those doors,” he pointed to the main office doors. “Down the hall, on the left.”
“That seems like an odd place for a shredder,” Cassie said absently.
Her dad let out a huff of laughter. “You don’t have to tell me. But do you want to be the one who tells Martha where she should put her shredder?” He turned to go back to his office then paused. “You’ll be okay out here by yourself?”
Cassie rolled her eyes. “Dad, I’m eighteen. Technically I no longer require supervision.”
He let out a groan. “Don’t remind me,” he said, leaving her to it.
An hour and three paper cuts later, Cassie finally finished the filing. She stood and stretched her legs and then her arms. She looked down at the box full of papers to be shredded and quickly decided that she was not going to be able to carry it down the long hall. She looked around the office for some sort of cart.
“Bingo,” she smiled as she pulled a rolling cart from a closet to the right of Martha’s desk. She hefted the heavy box onto the cart and then steered it from the office and down the long hall. Cassie had to admit that it was kind of creepy being alone in a large building, knowing there was no one else inside. It reminded her of a movie that she once saw where the lead character woke up from a lengthy coma and staggered from the hospital only to discover that there was no one left alive in the city.
She found the door that her dad had been talking about and poked her head inside to make sure that it was indeed empty. She saw that no one occupied the room and proceeded to pull the cart inside and over to the shredder sitting at the back of the room. She began the monotonous task of pushing paper into the machine and listening to the grinding sound it produced as it cut the paper into tiny pieces that would be impossible to read. Just as she grabbed the last of the papers, she heard raised voices that sounded as if they were coming from just beyond the wall to her right.
Cassie froze. Without thinking, she tried to quiet her breathing, which had inexplicably begun to speed up. Cassie stood and walked over to the wall and pressed her ear to it. The voices were intoxicating, smooth and intriguing, like melted milk chocolate. She found herself wanting to get closer, wanting to find out who could have such a voice. Before she realized it, she found herself walking back out of the break room and to the very next door in the hall. The wall of this office was made of glass instead of painted sheet rock. The blinds that hung in front of the glass were closed, blocking her view to the inside of the room. She walked a few steps down the hall, passing in front of the glass. When she reached the end of the glass, she saw that there was a small, roughly four inch opening where the blinds weren’t quite covering the window. She peered in through the opening and her breath caught in her throat.
A long table filled the room and was surrounded by chairs, half of which were filled with men, though they were far from normal looking. These men were beautiful, regal, and masculine all at the same time. Each had long hair, board straight and shiny, with unorthodox coloring. The hair of one of the men was stark white, though he looked as if he were in his early twenties. Another sported hair of pale blue, while another’s was light purple. This was bizarre in and of itself, but that was far from their most unusual feature. Cassie’s mouth dropped open when she noticed that their ears were pointed at the tips. Not sort of pointed, like some people have, which are often described as ‘elfin’ in appearance. No, these ears were well and truly pointed, strikingly different from anything she had ever seen before. Cassie blinked her eyes and rubbed them fiercely, trying to make sure that she wasn’t just seeing things that weren’t really there. She looked away from their ears and instead studied their faces. Again she noted that they were inhumanly good looking. Everything about their faces was perfect. High cheekbones, straight, perfectly proportioned noses, pale, smooth, flawless skin that seemed to shimmer under the florescent lights. Then she noticed that their eyes, like their pointy ears, seemed unbelievable. They sparkled, containing unnatural colors that appeared to match the color of their hair.
One of the beautiful men stood from the table and she saw that he was unusually tall. His fitted clothes left no wonder to his body structure. This man’s hair shimmered a dark blue, and his eyes were a matching sapphire. He was muscular, but far from bulky. He was built for speed and agility. He wore loose fitting brown pants that looked as if they would allow him to move without hindrance. The material of his white shirt appeared to be the same as his pants and while it also seemed to be fitted for allowing maximum movement, was tight enough to reveal a flat stomach. His chest was broad, but not too thick. His arms, even covered by the sleeves of his shirt, were obviously muscular.
He began to walk around the table and she noted that his movements where so smooth as to be catlike in their grace. He walked confidently, owning the room and commanding the attention of the others. As he drew closer to the back of the room, nearer to where Cassie stood on the other side of the glass, she held her breath, wondering if he could hear her. He stopped only feet away from her on the other side of the glass and his eyes snapped up, meeting hers. His piercing stare seemed to root her in the spot, even though everything inside her was telling her to run as fast and far as she could from the room, and the beautiful men that occupied it. His lips began to move and the motion of another man standing behind him broke her eyes from the intense stare. She saw that the man was moving towards the door. Cassie made a quick decision, albeit the wrong quick decision. Instead of heading in the direction of her dad’s office, she turned and ran in the opposite direction, grabbing the first door she came to. The door opened into an empty office next to the conference room. She rushed inside and pulled the door closed, pushing the lock in place, not bothering to check and see if the room was empty. Once again, not her brightest moment.
Her breath came in rapid pants and her heart was beating so hard it felt like it was going to jump straight out of her chest. She pressed her ear to the door, listening to see if she had been followed. When she didn’t hear anything she turned, pressing her back to the door and tilting her head up. Her eyes closed as she let out a long, nervous breath. She stood there for several moments composing herself before she felt someone’s eyes on her. Letting out an inward groan before she opened her eyes, she nearly whimpered knowing that she was going to find someone staring at her. Deciding that there was nothing left to do but face the individual, she opened her eyes and slowly scanned the room. They stopped on a figure with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall that separated the room from the conference room where the impossibly beautiful men sat. He looked as if he didn’t have a care in the world and didn’t appear to be surprised to see her there.
She couldn’t move or speak. Like the men she had just seen, he was gorgeous, unbelievably so. For a moment the person seemed to flicker and someone else stood before her, equally gorgeous, and then he returned to his original appearance. She frowned, puzzled by the strange occurrence, but was quickly distracted when he spoke to her.
“Well hello, beautiful.” His voice was deep, resonating to her very soul. It was smooth and as flawless as his form.
Cassie still couldn’t speak. Her mind was too busy taking in his appearance. His hair, dark as midnight, fell across his forehead and was long enough t
o tuck behind his ears. Long lashes framed his silver eyes, which shined when they caught the light. He had high cheekbones and a straight, aristocratic nose. His lips were red and full, and appeared to Cassie as if they were made for all things pleasurable. He was tall and, like the other men that she had seen, muscular but not overly so. If his looks were not enough to disarm her, then adding the clothing would take care of it. If she had to describe his clothes in one word it would be ‘medieval.’ He wore black pants, that appeared to be the same material as the others, fitted to his form, a black shirt that was molded to his arms and over the shirt he wore a black vest that looked like it was designed for protection more than style. He had on black boots that came up over his pants and laced all the way around his claves. Her eyes ran slowly back up his body and when they returned to his face, she saw a smug, knowing smile. She blushed at having been caught obviously ogling him.
“Had your fill?” He asked her and the teasing was evident in the mischief dancing in his unusual silver eyes. He continued to watch her and seemed to be waiting for something but Cassie’s mind was lost in a fog of desire and longing.
“I’m wondering if someone as beautiful as you can speak,” he said. “And if so, will the intelligence level be so wanting that it ruins the outer package.”
That caught her attention and pushed through the fog.
“Are you asking if I’m an idiot?” Cassie asked incredulously after finding her voice.
He smiled a slow, Cheshire Cat smile and the look in his eyes made her shiver.
“She speaks,” he uncrossed his arms and one hand came up to cover his heart as he pushed away from the wall and took a step towards her, “and her voice is a caress to my soul. I suppose if you have a voice like that then I could tolerate you not being the brightest bulb in the box.”
Veiled Shadows (The Age of Alandria: Book Two) Page 28
