Magic’s Daughter
By
Ann Gimpel
Publisher:
Liquid Silver Books
ISBN:
978-1-93176-151-2
Release
Date: 4/8/13
Genre:
Paranormal Romance
Destined to be surrounded by magic yet
have none of her own, Cassie walks a thin line. Her mother is dying and her boyfriend
has turned into something that terrifies her. By the time she wakes up to the
danger she’s in, it’s nearly too late.
Her clairvoyant friend Jeremy warns her about
her scumbag boyfriend, but she’s not listening. Deeply disturbing events unfold.
Cassie’s life hangs in the balance. She and Jeremy join forces to battle the
darkness threatening them. Meanwhile, Cassie warms to Jeremy in ways she never
could have anticipated. Love was always there if she’d just opened her eyes and
looked.
Excerpt:
Cassionetta Ceobbinn sat in her old Subaru and
rested her forehead against its steering wheel. Her electronic design work had
ground to a halt an hour earlier and a headache pounded behind one eye. The
garage of the Capitol Hill mansion rose around her, silent as a crypt. Her
mother’s Aston Martin sat off to one side, gleaming white against the
semi-darkness. Cassie girded herself to open her car door, grab her things, and
go inside. “It’s my house, goddammit,” she muttered to boost her courage. “So
what if he sent me a text message not to come home.”
The garage lights came on, blinding her. The
door leading into the house crashed against the wall. Before the ringing in her
ears subsided, her live-in boyfriend stomped to her car. Well, the live-in part
was still accurate. The boyfriend part seemed to have evaporated like so much
smoke.
“You weren’t supposed to come home tonight,” he
growled. “I texted you hours ago. You can just turn that piece of shit you
drive around and go stay at your mother’s office.”
Fury boiled up from her guts. She took aim and
opened the car door hard into his midsection, hoping she could clip a ball for
good measure.
“Oooph. You little bitch.” He jumped back
rubbing his hip.
You bet I
am. High heels slapping the concrete
floor, she jumped out of her car and stood eyeball to eyeball with him. “This
is my mother’s house, Tyler MacKenzie. I live here. Or have you forgotten?”
Cassie yanked her shoulder bag and computer case off the passenger side of the
front seat and stormed past him.
He grabbed her arm before she made the steps
leading into the kitchen. “I have people over. It’s the full moon. I’m leading
a séance. Your presence would disturb the energy.”
She twirled to face him, breaking his grip.
“You mean you have mother’s clients over. Where is she, by the way?”
He shrugged. “Don’t know. Haven’t seen her.”
Cassie turned away from him. He closed his hand
over her arm again, hard enough to make her squeal. “If you don’t let me go,”
she snarled through clenched teeth, “I will call the police.”
His fingers loosened marginally. “But,
sweetie…”
She heard compulsion beneath his words. Cassie
didn’t have any magic of her own, but she recognized it in others. When Tyler
wanted her to fall in love with him, he’d used honeyed words all the time. They’d
only stopped once she let him move in.
“Can it.” She twisted her head so she could
lock gazes with him. “Let me go. Now.” His hand fell away. “I want you out of
here tomorrow—”
His eyes narrowed. He shoved long, red-gold
hair out of his face and sneered at her. “Fat fucking chance of that. We’ve had
this conversation one too many times for my liking. I’m here, and I intend to
stay. There’s nothing you can do about it. Unless you want to meet with an
unfortunate accident.” A nasty laugh bubbled past lips she’d actually thought
were full and sensual. “Of course something like that could happen anyway. If I
were you, sweetie, I’d watch my
back.”
Cassie shuddered. She swallowed, but her mouth
was dry. Maybe she’d underestimated Tyler. Once they’d stopped getting along,
she’d seen him as an inconvenience, not a menace. He’d never sounded quite like
this before though. There’d been threats, but they’d been subtle, veiled in
double entendre.
She squared her shoulders and turned to face
him. It was the kiss of death to let bullies know they were getting to you.
“I’m done with your crap.” She infused as much venom as she could into her
voice. “I will call the police. You threatened me.”
He snorted. “I’d just deny it. They’ll believe
we had a lover’s spat. Women are so emotional.”
His blue eyes gleamed with an unnatural light.
She blinked. For a moment, he looked like a
demon one of her mother’s psychic friends had raised by accident. Cassie knew
enough about them—interdimensional beings that traveled from world to world
wreaking havoc—to scare the shit out of her.
Don’t be
ridiculous. Ridiculous, ridiculous echoed
in her head. I’m seeing things.
Her heartbeat sounded loud in her ears; her
hands fisted at her sides. “You’d better get back to your séance. Wouldn’t want
any of those high rollers to get away.”
Her face twisted into a grimace. Thank Christ
he spun on his heel and trotted smartly back into the house. Tyler cut an
elegant figure with his richly-embroidered gypsy cape, broad shoulders, and
classically handsome Nordic features. Flowing ruby silk pants rode low on his
slim hips. No wonder she’d been taken in by him.
Fuming—and scared half to death—she followed
him into the house, but turned a hard left before she hit the kitchen and took
what had once been the servants’ staircase. It had been stupid to fall for
Tyler, one of the dumbest things she’d ever done, but there was no going back.
She couldn’t unravel time and choose not to tumble into his arms and his bed.
That part was a done deal. If she listened to him, his residency at chéz
Eleanora was a done deal as well.
Shit!
Worry for her mother filled her, obliterating
her fears for her own safety. Eleanora Ceobbinn was—or had been—a well-known
psychic, but she’d apparently made one too many trips to the far side of the
veil. She was still alive, but she hadn’t spoken a word in nearly a year,
rattling around their old house like a ghost.
Eleanora had come from money—and made plenty on
her own—so at least that wasn’t a problem, but her mother was definitely
fading. It was almost as if someone—Tyler?—were feeding off what little energy
she had left. Unable to shake her earlier sense of foreboding, Cassie shivered.
If she hadn’t been holding onto her purse and computer bag, she would have
wrapped her arms around herself.
Maybe because she was thinking about her
mother—and the house had a mind of its own—she wasn’t surprised to find herself
beneath a full-sized oil painting of Eleanora. Lush dark hair ended at knee
level and her haunting violet eyes seemed alive. People had told Cassie she
looked like her mom, but she’d never thought so. Eleanora was beautiful—and
ageless. Cassie had the hair and the eyes and the striking six foot height, but
the effect wasn’t nearly the same.
She still had no idea what had gone wrong the
day her mother checked out. She’d come home from work to find Eleanora sprawled
face down on the Oriental carpet in the séance room, candles smoking black
gouts of greasy flame. If there’d been clients, they were nowhere to be found.
Her mother had regained consciousness, but that
had been about all. Cassie had known better than to lug her around to a bunch
of other doctors with their uncomfortable questions and pained silences after
the first one had asked, “Your mother does what
for a living?”
Cassie dragged herself away from the portrait.
When she was a little girl, she’d believed her mother’s painted eyes were the
gateway to a magical world. She’d asked Eleanora and her mother had smiled
shrewdly. “Stranger things have happened, child,” she’d said. “It’s best not to
test this one.
Ann Gimpel is a clinical psychologist, with a Jungian bent. Avocations
include mountaineering, skiing, wilderness photography and, of course,
writing. A lifelong aficionado of the unusual, she began writing
speculative fiction a few years ago. Since then her short fiction has appeared
in a number of webzines and anthologies. Several paranormal romance novellas
are available in e-format. Three novels,
Psyche’s Prophecy, Psyche’s Search, and
Psyche's
Promise are small press publications available in e-format and paperback.
Look for two more urban fantasy novels coming this summer and fall:
Fortune’s Scion and
Earth’s Requiem.
About the Author:
Ann
Gimpel is a clinical psychologist, with a Jungian bent. Avocations
include mountaineering, skiing, wilderness photography and, of course,
writing. A lifelong aficionado of the unusual, she began writing
speculative fiction a few years ago. Since then her short fiction has appeared
in a number of webzines and anthologies. Several paranormal romance novellas
are available in e-format. Three novels, Psyche’s Prophecy, Psyche’s Search, and Psyche's
Promise are small press publications available in e-format and paperback.
Look for two more urban fantasy novels coming this summer and fall: Fortune’s Scion and Earth’s Requiem.
A
husband, grown children, grandchildren and three wolf hybrids round out her
family.
@AnnGimpel
(for Twitter)
