by Amy Sumida
Giggle: “That was a lot to process, Amaron,” Trathon came forward and looker me over.
And please feel free to write me at [email protected] if you spot any grammar errors yourself. Even editors are human, and sometimes mistakes get by them. Please have mercy on my writing.
Keep reading for a sneak peek in the next book in the Spellsinger Series, due out in Spring of 2018.
Primeval Prelude
And you'll find even more sneak peeks after the pronunciation guide
Chapter One
“It's just a forest,” I muttered to myself. “It's not going to eat you, Elaria.”
“It might,” Torin said grimly from beside me.
We were lined up in front of Primeval, with armies of shining ones, witches, blooders, and griffins at our back. All of us intent on finding one woman who had tried to hurt us. And all because her husband was an asshole who had made magic grenades. I couldn't even justify why we were going through so much trouble for one woman who was probably already dead. But, Eileen had been a Shining One queen, and she had a better chance of surviving the forest than others. And we wanted to be sure the bitch was dead.
“Never leave your enemies breathing,” I whispered.
“Harsh,” Declan noted.
“It was something my Aunt Adelaid used to say.”
“Ah.” Declan nodded in understanding. He'd met Aunt Addy, so he knew firsthand how typical it was of her.
The one group I hadn't invited to the party was the spellsingers. There was such a thing as overkill, and when more than one spellsinger came to a battle, things weren't just killed, they were decimated. I didn't want to destroy Primeval. It wasn't the Lesser Fey's fault that Eileen had chosen their home as her hideout.
I looked at my lovers—all four of them—and then to my best friend, Cerberus. The ex-Hound of Hades smirked at me and waggled his brows. It was time to get started, no more dithering about the edge of the forest. I stepped forward, and the men went with me, including Odin, witch elder and also a close friend of mine. He was there to lead the witches. Gage, my griffin mate, led the griffins, while Banning, my blooder (vampire) boyfriend led his gura, and Declan, Torin, and I led our shining ones. I wasn't a Shining One, I was a spellsinger, but through chance and a little fate, I had become the Queen of Kyanite.
Our troops fell into line behind us. We hadn't brought horses, not even for the trip there. This was for two reasons; Kyanite Castle was close enough to walk the distance, and Primeval wasn't horse-friendly. We'd get further on foot.
Even though my group led, we had scouts who ran ahead of us; shining ones who knew the Primeval better than the rest of us. These were daring men and women who had wandered the woods alone, after seeking permission to enter. We had also asked for permission; a long process that involved several signals being placed out prominently before the treeline. Three lesser fairies had answered our petitions, and—after negotiating terms—had granted us access.
However, that access didn't come with information or a guide. The leaders called themselves the Trinity of Strength; Physical Strength represented by the redcap leader—Caorall, Mental Strength was led by a dryad named Eimhir, and Spiritual Strength was ruled by a leanan-sidhe called Ceanag. They were standoffish but respectful and had outright refused to answer when we had asked if they had seen Eileen. They had also limited us to bringing only fifteen soldiers from each race wit us, which meant that Torin, Declan, and I could only bring five knights apiece. Our entire force was only sixty-six strong.
I didn't know the kyanite fairies well enough to trust them as Declan and Torin did their men, and I almost gave them my number. But then I had volunteers, and I thought to myself; What better way was there to get closer to my kyanite knights than to take them with me into the scariest place in Tír na nÓg? If they were brave enough to volunteer, then I wanted them with me.
The Lesser Fey leaders weren't there to meet us—their permission didn't include protection either—but at least we wouldn't be attacked as soon as we stepped foot past their boundaries... we hoped.
Yes; the first few steps into the Primeval were the hardest, even with our scouts waving us forward. The sun was shining brightly over the Kyanite Kingdom, and over Primeval too, but it barely penetrated the thick leaf-cover the enormous trees provided. Think redwoods times ten. I'd never seen such gigantic trees.
And they talked.
Not in the way that people talked, but the creaks and clicks one would normally hear in a forest were much too rhythmic and patterned in Primeval to be natural. It was code; Primeval's version of sonar or maybe Morse. And it was really fucking creepy. I started humming, like I do when I get nervous, and the little piece of kyanite in my throat pulsed with magic in response. I took a deep breath and calmed myself. It was just trees.
And that was when they grabbed me.
Pronunciation Guide/ Character List
Adam MacLaine: Human client
Aoide: E-da, Elaria's aunt and siren
Arnet: Are-net, Knight of Flourite
Ava: A-vah, Queen of Sapphire
Banning: Ban-ing, Gheara of the Kansas Gura
Barret: Bare-it, Commander of Chrysocolla Army
Bran: Bran, King of Garnet
Branna: Bra-nah, Duchess of Jade
Carrick: Care-ick, Knight of Onyx
Cerberus: Ser-bur-us, Demi-god dog-shifter
Declan: Deck-lan, King of Alexandrite
Edmond: King of Jet
Eileen: I-lean, Queen of Copper
Elaria: Eh-lar-ee-ah, spellsinger
Finbar: Fin-bar, Duke of Sapphire
Gage Saeiqa: Gauge Sah-E-kah, griffin
Galen: Gay-lin, King of Sapphire
Garret: Gare-it, King of Topaz
Gerard: Jare-rod, Knight of Onyx
Hugh: Hew, Knight of Onyx
Isandra: I-san-dra, Queen of Diamond
Jack Armstrong: Loup
Jameson: Jay-meh-son, Knight of Fluorite
Jarlath: Jar-leth, King of Diamond
Jonah Malone: Human gangster
Kalliope: Kah-lie-oh-pee, Elaria's mother and a siren
Kean: Key-in, Knight of Howlite
Lorcan: Lore-can, King of Copper
Maeve: May-ve, Queen of Peridot
Moirin: Moy-rin, Queen of Tiger's Eye
Mrs Chadwick: Adam MacLaine's housekeeper
Niall, Nigh-all, King of Citrine
Odran: O-drawn, King of Howlite
Oonagh: Oooh-nah, Queen of Snowflake Obsidian
Parthalon: Par-tha-lawn, King of Jade
Quinlan: Kwin-lahn, Alchemist
Riona: Ree-oh-nah, Queen of Malachite
Sara: Sare-rah, pink tourmaline fey.
Shauna: Shah-na, Queen of Amethyst
Shevaun: Sheh-von, Queen of Chrysocolla
Teagan: Tee-gan, Queen of Jet
Tír na nÓg: Tier-nah-n'awhg, Realm of the Fairies, the Land of Youth
Torin: Tore-in, King of Onyx
Keep reading for some sneak peeks into the first books in Amy's other series...
Godhunter
Fairy-Struck
and
Happily Harem After
Godhunter, Book 1 in the Godhunter Series
You can get this book for FREE on the 9th day of every month!
Chapter One
“There were of old certain men versed in sorcery, Thor, namely, and Odin, and many others, who were cunning in contriving marvelous sleights; and they, winning the minds of the simple, began to claim the rank of gods.”
Saxo Grammaticus, Gesta Danorum, 13th century
When someone asks if you’re a god, you say yes!
Those were the words going through my mind the first time I met Thor. In my line of work they should have been words to live by… literally. At least they would have been had I remembered them in time. Unfortunately, Bill Murray’s voice taunted me inside my head mere seconds too late. Thanks a lot, Bill.
My forgetfulness
left me facing the distinct possibility of an early and creatively painful demise. If only I'd remembered the movie wisdom sooner. Yes, movie wisdom. Scoff all you want but it may surprise you how much useful information is hidden in movie dialog. At least that's what I tell myself so I can feel better about thinking in movie quotes half the time.
“So, Thor,” I smirked up at the giant, gladiator-muscled, Viking while he glowered down at me through a fall of his shimmering copper hair. “What's it gonna be? Hammer? Lightning? Fists of fury? Lightning might singe the rug a bit. Odin might not appreciate that, it looks kinda old.”
Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to taunt a god but hey, what did I have to lose? He’d caught me red handed, bent over the new Make War, Not Love campaign plans I'd found in the Human Relations room of Valhalla. I hadn’t even heard the loud-mouthed God of Thunder coming in, if you can believe that. Loud-mouthed didn’t automatically equate to loud-footed, evidently. Then to make matters worse, he asked me if I was a god. Like maybe I was a newbie or something, and what did I, the ever quick-witted one say? I said no. Yeah, I wanted to smack myself silly for that one.
Then again, maybe I should cut myself some slack. It’s a little shocking to be face to face, well face to chest, with what had to be close to seven feet of gorgeous, vibrant, leather-clad Viking godliness. Did I mention gorgeous? And the leather? I don’t mean that yuppie silky lambskin either. I mean hard core, I’m gonna bust your ass if you look at me wrong, well worn but still strong enough to wipe the floor with your face, leather. Just seeing the way it teased me by gripping all that muscle, made me want to rip it to shreds and teach it a lesson. Bad leather, Viking gods should be naked.
“You wanna see my hammer?” Thor’s eyes took on a wicked gleam as he looked slowly up and down my body, which took longer than it should have for all five-foot-three (and a half) of me.
“Whoa there, Viking,” I leaned back further on the table he’d previously planted me on like I was a misbehaving child. “Raping and pillaging days are in the past. You gotta catch up on the times.” I snapped my fingers in his face. “Nowadays there are laws on the treatment of prisoners.”
“Not for gods,” his lips twitched. It was just a slight movement but I caught it and it gave me the smallest glint of hope that I might actually make it out of this mess alive. Get 'em laughing, then run while they're distracted. It's not the best plan but it's worked for me before.
“Hey, like I always say, gods are people too,” I smiled my best P.R. smile. Gods are great, they’re not at all out to manipulate mankind, really, and I’m definitely not here to foil their evil plans. I smiled bigger.
“No we’re not,” the frown was back and he set an intimidating fist on the table next to my hip for good measure. A fist that was nearly the size of my face.
The leather around his forearm creaked at me gleefully.
Okay, that was more like it. I could handle an angry god better than a horny one. I congratulated myself on the sharpness of my tongue until I felt his thumb scrape lightly over my jeans. I went still, listening to more creaky leather commentary as Thor leaned in closer and I found myself wondering how much strain the stuff could take. Maybe he’d bust his seams before he had a chance to bust my face. I can’t say the prospect didn’t have its own appeal, even without saving me an ass kickin'.
The glimpse of chest I had through the V of his leather tunic was something straight out of a male calender. Made for women to drool over, the kind of sculpted, smooth, perfect chest that looked airbrushed. It was mere inches from my face, rising and falling with his deep breaths, and I had an overwhelming urge to lean forward and rub my cheek against it. Then there was that smell. This close to him, I was practically enveloped in it. It was like standing in the middle of a storm while lightning struck nearby; a wild, exciting aroma of rain and electricity. Of freshly washed man.
“Now, now,” I chided him like a school teacher as I tried to focus on his face. “You mustn’t forget your own history. Shall I refresh your memory?”
“Try me,” he made a sound halfway between a sniff and a snort, “let's hear what you think you know of gods.”
“Well for one thing,” I poked my finger into his massive chest, “I know you aren’t gods at all, so you can just stop with the holier than thou attitude, buster.”
A thick eyebrow arched up and Thor’s lips went into mini spasms.
“For another thing,” yes, I was still poking him, “I know where you’re from, Atlantean. I know your god abilities are nothing more than technological and magical advances your kind kept from humanity in an attempt to rule the world. Advances that ended up destroying Atlantis but still you all didn’t think that was any reason to stop practicing them.”
“Practice does make perfect,” his eyes started to spark with the very magic I’d referenced and I knew I had only one shot to get out of there alive and un-hammered as it were.
“I know something else too,” I whispered and cast my eyes side to side conspiratorially.
He couldn’t help it; his smile finally broke free as he leaned in closer, “What’s that?”
“I know if I do this,” I kicked my leg out as hard as I could and caught him where no man likes to be kicked, “god or not, you’re going down.”
I jumped off the table the minute Thor landed, groaning and cupping himself on the thick carpet. Then I bolted past him and out the door, already chanting the spell that would get me through the wards of Valhalla and out into the Aether. I felt the magic rush over me like a hot, tickling breath as I ran down a long hallway to the tracing room. It sparked eagerly across my skin, urging me back to where I'd come from. Everything in its place and all that.
As I crossed the threshold, I was pulled through the tracing point and into the Aether. The tracing point sealed behind me with a low murmur of magic and a pressurized pop in my ears. But that physical sensation lasted only a moment before my body became a mere memory with a tingling, freeing ecstasy. I flowed through streams of pure magic, my spell propelling me along to my destination so I didn't have to navigate the waters myself. With another pressure-pop that announced the reformation of my ears, I exited the Aether and felt my body reluctantly become physical again. Gravity was the worst; a jarring, sucking sensation that took a few moments to readjust to.
My momentum sent me straight into a wall. A dirty, alley wall. I pushed off it immediately and swung around to automatically crouch into a fighting stance, just in case Thor had managed to follow me through. Tracing was a rush, add the adrenaline of the chase to it and it left me panting for breath and shaking. My pulse beat heavily in my ears, the thudding drowning out the traffic I could see in my peripheral vision. I was holding my kodachi before me and I hadn’t even realized I’d drawn the Japanese shortsword.
Remnants of magic sparked blue and drifted to the ground in a roughly circular outline but the wall across from me remained the same; no ripples, no blurring, no sign of Thor at all. I stood slowly, leaned back, and felt my heart rate start to decelerate as I slid the sword into its scabbard.
“God damn Buffy! Freakin’ vampire slayer gets all the props,” I muttered. “Vampires, please! Bunch of melodramatic parasites. And werewolves? I'd fight one of those puppies any day rather than a god. At least they can't pull magic out of their furry butts. Now faeries, I might not be thrilled to meet one of them in a dark alley… a dark alley kinda like this one.” I shoved myself quickly away from the wall and power-walked towards the street, still bitching about a fictional vampire hunter under my breath.
“Vampire Slayer,” I grumbled, “Try killing a god sometime and then get back to me. Blondie wouldn't last a day. She'd be whining to her mommy about the unfairness of it all within minutes. Oh, and falling for your prey... total amateur. You don't poop where you eat and you don't kill where you sleep. Or sleep with who you kill. No wait, that's necrophilia,” I frowned and then shook my head. “Oh whatever, it's just dumb to let your prey seduce you.” Thor's striking face flashed
through my mind, his ocean eyes sparkling with magic, and I decided to just shut the hell up. That guy Spike was sweet to Buffy, in a psycho kind of way.
Ugh. I threw my hands up and shook my head at myself. Staring death in the face can have an odd affect on people. Especially when death's face was that of a Viking god. I had to let it go and stop acting like a crazy person, muttering to myself about vampires and werewolves in an alley. This was just another day hunting gods, nothing special about it.
You might be wondering how someone gets into the god hunting business and all I can tell you is: hell if I know. I pretty much stumbled face first into it. Like hitting a rock when you're riding a bike at full speed; I went flying and landed in a thorn bush. A burning one. A talking, burning one that proclaimed it was god in a booming voice.
I never really was the religious type. I'm more of a hands-on kinda girl. I’ve practiced witchcraft my entire life, which I kinda look on as a religion of the self. I do mean witchcraft by the way, not Wicca. I know that's a religion but I don't practice it, I just do the spells. Wicca's a little too peaceful for me, though I do like the clothes.
Well, I guess I haven't practiced witchcraft my entire life but pretty damn close since Mom was teaching me spells in the cradle. Most babies got The cow jumped over the moon; I got sung to about drawing it down. Not that I’m complaining since it’s really helping me out these days but I’ve just never seen the gods as a big part of my life.
Boy has that changed.
I walked out of the alley, into the bright Hawaiian sunshine, and held a hand up to shield my eyes. Well where did you expect the gods to live? Okay, so they don’t all technically live in Hawaii but quite a few do and those that don't, seem drawn here. The land is still filled with old magic, practically spilling with it since there isn’t much land to begin with. So it’s a nice place for a god to go on vacation. Whatever, it’s my home and I have to say I’m getting a little tired of sharing it with them. They have their own realm to live in, they need to go there. Or they can go to Hell for all I care... which also happens to be in the God Realm. In fact, from what I understand, there's a few of them. They can take their pick.
