Halloween Week: Book Spotlight for A Persistence of Geraniums and Other Worrying Tales

Welcome to Day Seven of my Halloween Week!

Today I showcase a delightful book of Edwardian style murder and tragedy with a spotlight for A Persistence of Geraniums and Other Worrying Tales by John Linwood Grant. Plus there's the Instafreebie Halloween Horror Group Giveaway. Enjoy!

A Persistence of Geraniums and Other Worrying Tales 

by John Linwood Grant

Illustrated by Paul Boswell

Enter a world where the psychic, the alienist and the assassin carry out their strange duties as quiet tragedies unfold around them. These are tales of murder, madness and the supernatural in an Edwardian England which is never quite what it seems. From rural Yorkshire to the heart of the City of London, death is on the air, and no one can sense it better than Mr Dry, the lethal Deptford Assassin...

A PERSISTENCE OF GERANIUMS AND OTHER WORRYING TALES is available in paperback.

(With a forthcoming ebook).

Amazon UK

Amazon US

“HIS HEART SHALL SPEAK NO MORE”

An extract from the collection ‘A Persistence of Geraniums and Other Worrying Tales.’

We spent some hours exploring the lower beach, popping anything to which we took a fancy into Emilia’s sacks, and the sea was coloured with the first pink tinges of sunset by the time we abandoned our beach-combing to return home. Even Philip seemed more animated than usual.

At Bitterns we washed, ate a cold collation (Isaiah was in Ipswich on business), and examined our finds. Most were akin to Emilia’s existing collection, but she had found a large tellin, the two halves of its shell spread in the manner of a perfect rose-coloured butterfly. Some of the urchin tests were broken, the material like fine porcelain. She discarded those as Philip went though his own sack.

‘Mrs Rawkins…’ He stared at the rounded object in his hand. It was crusted with sand, the crude shape of a heart and some three and a half inches across.

She took it from him gently, and frowned. Her hand-brush took the sand away, to reveal something which was clearly not an urchin.

‘Wood,’ she said, peering through an eyepiece she had been using to identify crustacea. ‘It appears to be a wooden carving.’

‘Of a heart urchin?’ he asked, though I thought that one would hardly need to make an effigy of these common animals.

‘No, of an actual heart I think, Philip. Quite a curio. A sailor’s carving, perhaps, from a dull voyage.’

She threw it back to him, and went about her work.

‘I shall keep it as a memento of this afternoon.’

He cradled it oddly in his hands, as if it were delicate, then slid it into his jacket pocket. I forbore from saying the cloth might stain – at least his attention had been dragged from his own unhappiness.

Isaiah returned not long after, and a pleasant late supper ensued, punctuated by Isaiah’s tales of dim-witted shipping agents and watered whisky. Emilia and I laughed or nodded as appropriate, used to his stories. Philip picked at his food, saying little but offering the occasional faint smile.

‘Emilia tells me you found a rather unusual “urchin”,’ said Isaiah, wiping his fingers on a napkin. ‘Might I have a look?’

My nephew took the carving out of his pocket, though at first he seemed reluctant to hand it over. Isaiah turned the object in his thick fingers, examining it.

‘Amazing what gets washed up around here. Emilia found, um, part of a figurehead once, half buried in the sands after a storm.’

‘A shipwreck?’ I asked.

‘Or an incompetent carpenter.’ Isaiah laughed. ‘This wooden thing, however, reminds me of something I once read, long ago. A local bit of, um, nonsense. You could try my library, young man.’

‘Thank you, Mr Rawkins.’ Philip took the carving back, slipping it into his pocket once more. I had to wonder why the boy was still carrying it around. There was something about it which was not to my taste…

Author Bio:

John Linwood Grant is a professional author/editor who lives in Yorkshire with a pack of lurchers and a beard. He writes dark historical horror and weird fiction, including the Mamma Lucy tales of 1920s hoodoo and the Last Edwardian series. With some thirty stories published, he is also editor of Occult Detective Quarterly, plus forthcoming anthologies. His 2017 collection 'A Persistence of Geraniums' – stories of Edwardian murder, madness and the supernatural – has been widely praised, whilst his popular website greydogtales.com explores weird fiction and weird art.

🎃

And here's the giveaway...

Over 30 Free Books and Stories in this horror giveaway!

Check it all out here!

Halloween Horror Giveaway!

And please return tomorrow for the last day and a look at the Twist Fairy Tale Anthology, Mirror and Thorns. 

Book Spotlight: Assassin Marked

Today I have another book spotlight, this time for the sci-fi/fantasy novel Assassin Marked by Michael C. Sahd. Enjoy!

Assassin Marked by Michael C. Sahd

Damian DuFonte, a professional assassin working for the Crime Syndicate, just can't seem to get past his need for revenge. So when the only woman he's ever loved asks him not to kill one of their bosses, her pleas fall on deaf ears. Although Victoria may be willing to forgive this transgression, the Syndicate certainly will not.

To prove Victoria's loyalty, the Syndicate tasks her with leading a group to hunt him down. Somewhere in the solar system, on the outs with his lover and on the run from trained killers, Damian is ... an Assassin Marked.

Assassin Marked is available at:

Amazon

Author Bio:

Michael C. Sahd grew up in Santa Fe, New Mexico. From a young age, he read voraciously, particularly in the fields of fantasy and science fiction. Shortly after becoming a teenager, he learned to play and enjoy fantasy games such as Dungeons and Dragons. At around the same time, he began writing stories and D&D campaigns of his own.

As an adult, Michael attended New Mexico University, studying in the fields of English and literature. During this time, he honed his writing skills and expanded his writing portfolio. Although he has completed numerous short stories, "Assassin Marked" marks his debut published work.

Currently, Michael lives with his wife and four children in a small town in Texas.

Book Spotlight: The Black Lily

Today I have  a book spotlight for the newly released fantasy novel, The Black Lily (The Arestea Chronicles Book 1) by Mandy and G.D. Burkhead. Enjoy!

The Black Lily by Mandy and G.D. Burkhead

Courtesan. Spy. Assassin.

Across the Kingdom of Arestea, the shadowy league of professional killers known simply as the Guild has long since earned its terrifying reputation. And none of its current members are more infamous than the Black Lily. No one knows who the Lily is, but everyone recognizes the efficiency with which he or she brings down even the most guarded targets. There is no one, it is said, who is safe from this fiend once they have caught the assassin’s attention.

Now Lily herself is about to discover if her reputation has been inflated or not, for she has just been assigned the most daunting mission of her career: infiltrate the royal palace and eliminate the entire Arestean line of succession to make room for the Guild’s puppet ruler. It’s a challenging job, but one that will secure her place in the history books should she succeed.

But when unplanned circumstances take the king from his country to help secure the front lines in his latest war of expansion, Lily is left trapped in her assumed persona behind the palace walls and forced to stall for time. And when a particularly bad stroke of luck reveals her cover to the king’s brother, Crown Prince Adrian, Lily finds herself ensnared in her own web, forced to use all her skills of subterfuge and manipulation if she is to stay one step ahead of the naïve but righteous young man and finish her mission — or die trying.

You can find The Black Lily on:

Amazon

Smashwords

Author Bio:

Mandy and G.D. Burkhead met in high school in a writing chatroom, where they began an episodic story together. They attended college together at Lindenwood University and both received BA's in Creative Writing. 

They currently live in the Nashville area. Mandy has her MLIS and works at the Nashville Public Library. Gary is a copy editor for the Tennessean. 

When they aren't working or writing, they enjoy reading, playing video games, cosplaying, and attending conventions.

The Black Lily is their first full-length fantasy novel.

You can find and follow them on:

Facebook   Twitter   Amazon   Goodreads 

Drabble Wednesday: Nasty Things

Today on Drabble Wednesday, take a journey to the darkest underbellies of worlds beyond this realm...

Assassin

The oblique glances, the careful sidestep to avoid me on the street.

I see it. I see it all.

They are afraid. As well they should be, for I could snuff out their pitiful lives with ease. I am the creature society shuns, the thing those supposed upstanding denizens consider undesirable.

Until they need me.

Then they slink into my presence to toss their gold at my feet and give me the names of those they want killed. They hire their assassin and I do my work.

Then I kill the true undesired and drink my fill of their blood.

~*~

Imagined Things

Skitters in the shadows, incoherent whispers lost in the dark wind, thumps that make you walk faster, have you casting glances into the night. You scoff, while shivering. Your pulse races as you scold yourself. Only in your imagination. Not real. Just the mind playing tricks.

What if it isn’t in your head?

What if something truly lurks in the dark?

Because we do.

Bumps, bangs, and bogeymen. Skulking, creeping, coming out to play when the sun goes down.

We are behind you. Following you.

Waiting for the right moment.

And you won’t be going home tonight.

Or ever again.

~*~

The Ruling Elite

Everyone falls from grace. Sooner or later.

Riding high one day and in the gutter the next. I’ve seen them all.

The nature of this cesspool kingdom. Kings and queens think they can hold on to their power, but it don’t last. They lose their grip on the crown and they’re gone. And someone else’s ass is sitting on the throne. Until they get the boot. Or the ax.

Yeah, they all fall out of favour.

Or get pushed.

That’s where I come in. My specialty that.

For the right amount of gold.

A gal’s got to make a living.

© A. F. Stewart 2017 All Rights Reserved

Drabble Wednesday: Kings and Commoners

Today on Drabble Wednesday, we go medieval...

Warning: today’s post gets a bit icky.

Boy in the Kitchens

Turn the spit, turn the spit, turn the spit.

Alfred watched the meat sizzle, and cranked the handle round and round. Day after day, he sat, stared, and spun the roast.

“You boy! At the spit! We’ve a new job for you!”

Alfred looked up with glee, and eagerly relinquished his place to another kitchen lad. The royal butcher ushered him into a back pantry.

“Sorry boy, but the king wants special meat for his supper.”

Poor Alfred never saw the cleaver fall. 

Come supper, another boy sat watching the sizzling meat that used to be Alfred.

Turn the spit.

~*~

Vantage Point

The old room atop the temple held the perfect view of the queen’s procession route.

He watched her horse drawn, open carriage meandering its way up the street.

He took his time, lined up his bow, and let the arrow fly.

The projectile pierced the queen’s chest, and she crumpled like a doll.

The assassin patted his purse. The payment of the king's gold rattled with a beautiful sound, and he chuckled with proud satisfaction. Then he stepped over the body of the snooping priest he killed, snuck down the back stairs onto the street, and disappeared into the crowd.

~*~

King’s Decree

Arabella stared at her reflection in the mirror, tucking a stray lock of hair into place. She applied red colour to her lips and cheeks. She mustn’t appear sallow on this day. Her audience with the king.

How lives turn on the will of that man.

She appraised her appearance. She looked thinner than a few months ago, but not gaunt. That was good. The newest royal concubine best not look sickly.

Can I do this?

She closed her eyes, taking a breath.

You don’t have a choice. You lost the rebellion. You become his, or die like your husband.

© A. F. Stewart 2016 All Rights Reserved

Drabble Wednesday: Secrets

Today on Drabble Wednesday I delve into the dark shadows and even darker hearts…

A Venice Night

I slip through shadows and sunset and the drifting mist, my near silent footsteps swallowed by the ocean lapping against the bridge. A gondola is waiting; soon I will be lost among the murky waterways and alleys of the city. As I near my escape, I clutch my precious satchel close, my free hand grasping my stiletto.

Too late I see. An empty gondola, the flash of another blade. Pain in my side, my useless knife falls. I watch the assassin snatch away my satchel, the stolen papers reclaimed. Then he rolls me into the water and all goes black.

Winter

A winter snowfall blankets a crisp white across the mountain landscape, imbuing the night with a quiet beauty. Against the weather, welcoming light—cast from a human dwelling—flickers. A sliding door stands open, the frigid air swirling past the bamboo and wood.

A breeze wafts a flurry of the tumbling flakes inside the home. A tiny storm dances, and for a moment, a minuscule of time, the white suspends in air. Then it descends. It spawns a brief contrast to red stains on the floor, before it melts into pooling liquid.

Before it joins the blood of the dead.

Desert Sand

Footsteps, impressions in the sand. Two sets lead out into the desert, the tracks of friends, of two adventurous men. One man, a natural leader, outgoing, handsome, a risk taker. The other quiet, more introverted, cautious, but clever and patient.

One man kissed his beautiful wife as he left this morning, the other shut his door on an empty apartment. Two friends. One careless with his words, never letting his success go unremarked. The other smiles while resentment and envy churn in his heart.

Footsteps, impressions in the sand. Two sets lead out into the desert, only one lead back.

Short Story Month And A Friday Read: Free Speech

Today's story offering is some sci-fi, a tale I wrote a while back...

Free Speech

The university auditorium was full.  A large crowd had turned out to listen to Professor Astor, the head of the peace group Utopia Mission and controversial scholar of socio-economic culture.  I had settled into a good spot early to hear his speech; I wanted to avoid the throng and the omnipresent security.  I was never one for being hemmed in by the crowds.

The campus, hell the whole city, had been erupting with his supporters and the opposing protesters for weeks since the announcement of his coming.  That’s why the university had spared no expense to protect the professor from the radicals and the loonies.  They had motion eyes, laser grids and several squads of campus police.  They took those death threats seriously, I guess.

A hush fell as the Professor stepped up to the podium.  I studied him; he was a short man, grey hair, frail looking.  You would never imagine the hatred he incurred.

“Welcome everyone.  I am pleased you joined with me this afternoon to discuss the flawed direction in which our civilization is headed.”

The frail little man faded, as the fire of conviction filled him.  His deep voice resonated with passion and principle.

“As you may be aware, I lead the Utopia Mission, a group dedicated to peace.  Not, as some would portray us, a group seeking to dismantle our laws, but a group committed to the advance of our society, of our future, through co-operation and an open government.  Governments that are free of hidden agendas, of corruption, governments that are honest with their people.”

“Have not our leaders abused our trust with laws that rip away our freedoms under the guise of safety?  The Militant Seizure Law has seen hundreds of innocents imprisoned under the guise of defence of country!  Some have died, others went missing, their assets confiscated by greedy officials!  The Big Brother Statute was supposed to protect us in this digital age, but was misused by your government to gather information about law-abiding citizens!”

The professor paused for a moment as applause, cheers and murmurs, as well as quite a few jeers and boos, rose from the crowd.

“It is the latest and the worst of these abuses, the Border Shield, which needs immediate action.  Are we, as a decent people, going to permit that heinous law?  A shoot to kill order for any persons -citizen or illegal- that may be perceived as a threat!  How many blameless people have been murdered simply because they questioned the border patrols?  Is it not time to voice our concerns, to voice our outrage?  We must influence change, achieve a revolution of liberty!”

A cheer rose with his words, and I looked over the crowd.  The professor was inspiring them with his speech, his captivating presence.  He had a rapt audience; even his critics were silent.  I leaned over and picked up my briefcase. It was time to begin.

I ran a hand over the synth-leather; the new upgrades had been worth the money.  The case’s smart scramblers and holographic overrides manipulated the security scans without a problem and my forged ID gave me full access to the building.  It wasn't difficult to suss out this isolated vantage point after that.

I unpacked the laser rifle from the case, connected the sections, powered it and made the target adjustments in the digital scope.  With a little patience to line up the perfect angle and a squeeze of the trigger, I took the headshot.  Professor Astor went down, lifeless, just another radical dissident removed.  I slipped out unnoticed in the panicked confusion, to meet my government contact and receive the transfer of payment for the job.

Book Spotlight: The Irony of Vengeance

The Irony of Vengeance by Valeri Beatrix

Flowers by day, murders by night.

To those who know her, Mia Ozu is a nice, yet often distant flower shop owner whose greatest flaw might be the fact that she’d rather prune her precious bonsai than participate in a conversation.
What they don’t know, is that Mia is harboring a deadly secret.

Haunted by the vicious murder of her parents, Mia spent a lifetime hunting down anyone involved. But revenge is never as sweet as it seems and when one murder reveals a shocking betrayal and threatens to expose her true nature, she must decide if finding the truth is worth the risk.


The Irony of Vengeance is available at Amazon in Paperback and Kindle and at Barnes and Noble for Nook.



AUTHOR BIO:

Valeri Beatrix is a writer, singer, designer…and a bit indecisive as you can tell from her abbreviated list of attributes!

In her head, she's many other things, including a ninja, ballerina and linguist…that means she love languages. Did you know she can now say OMG, in 5 ways??? Awesome, right!

When she's not writing/reading, she's chasing her darling child and attempting to convince her favorite (and only!) husband, to try the results of her latest adventure in the kitchen.