Month: December 2024

My top ten favorite books of 2024

The year is nearly over. And while the events of 2024 might have sucked (it sucked so hard) I read some great books. Like, some really great books.

So let’s focus today on the good books and not on the horrible life and world events.

Here are the top ten best books I’ve read this year. It was a tough decision. I was shocked that Rift didn’t make it, even though I loved that book. But here’s what made the cut.

Also, if the book in question is a horror book, assume that I reviewed it on Haunted MTL. Just in case you want a more in-depth perspective on one title.

You Like It Darker by Stephen King

I can’t believe a King book made the list at the bottom! Don’t worry, he’s coming out with a new Holly book next year, and I’m sure that one will make it higher.

I did a whole review of this one on Haunted MTL. But the short version is this.

You Like It Darker had stories for long-time King fans, like a follow-up to Cujo. But it also had some fantastic stories that any new reader will love. My favorite of the bunch is Danny Coughlin’s Bad Dream.

A Well Trained Wife by Tia Levings

This is not an easy read. But it was so impactful. Here’s a link to my full review. But if you’re struggling with an abusive religion or an abusive marriage, this is the book to remind you that you are not alone.

Hekate by Courtney Weber

If you’re interested in witchcraft, or if you’re already practicing and want to deepen your understanding of the goddess of Witchcraft, this is a must-read.

Bad dreams in the night by Adam Ellis

If you’re not already following Adam Ellis on Instagram, do it. These stories were eerie, clever, and fun to read.

Hide comic by Kiersten White

This was a year of comic books for me, starting with Bone and ending here.

Last year I read Hide and loved it. When I found out there was a comic version, it seemed like a great read. And, it was. Whether you’ve read Hide the novel or not, you should check this graphic novel out.

Two sides to every murder by Danielle Valentine

If you’re a big slasher or true crime fan, like you know I am, this is a book for you. It had all the quaint and gorey charm of a good horror movie, with a modern feel.

The Hacienda by Isabel Canas

I read this book in January, and I haven’t shut up about it since. It’s a fantastic little ghost story with a love story built in. And, of course, a witch priest. Love it.

Three simple lines by Natalie Goldberg

I thought this would be a book about writing haiku, and in a way it was. But it was also about traveling to an unknown country and experiencing everything that had to offer. And, it turns out I needed to read that. Some of you might know I had to take a trip by myself out of my hometown alone for the first time in 16 years. But I had courage. Because if Natalie could go to Japan alone, I could go to another city alone.

So thank you, as always, Natalie.

Horror Movie by Paul Tremblay

This book was brilliant. It was so well thought out. The writing was so clever. It was so meta. The punchline was completely unexpected. I loved every second of it.

Mister Magic by Kiersten White

The fact that Mister Magic made number one on my list should not surprise anyone. This book wrecked me. I mean it led me down such a journey, I can’t begin to tell you.

If you are suffering from religious trauma, read this book. If you just want a beautiful, dark horror story, read this book. If you’re breathing, read this book.

Well, that is it for my top ten list and it for the year. But don’t worry, I’ll be back next Friday to start another year of reading, writing and struggling against the forces of evil.

See you then.

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Woven is now available in its entirety on Amazon! Click the image below to check it out.

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My 2024/2025 Winter reading list

It’s cold outside, I don’t want to go anywhere, and there’s nothing I want to do more right now than read. This mood isn’t likely to change through most of Winter.

Which, when you think about it, is what Winter is for.

So, here’s what I plan to read during the winter of 2024, 2025. If you’ve read my planned reading lists before, you might notice this list is shorter. I have more information to come regarding this. You might also see some repeats from my last list. This is because Maggie Smith died and I had to read all of the Harry Potter books again. These things happen.

As always, this is a reading list that encompasses my many hats. I’m a writer, a witch, a horror critic, and sometimes I like to read something for fun. Hopefully, you’ll discover something here that you didn’t know about or had forgotten. If you plan to read any of these, or if you have already, let me know in the comments.

Appalachian Folklore Unveiled by Darkness Prevails

I’m all about folklore and legends. And, of course, I live in Northern Appalachia. So this book looks right up my alley.

Also, I discovered this book exists because it was featured on my local library’s website. Get involved with your local library, my friends. The benefits are endless.

Writing on Empty by Natalie Goldberg

I recently discovered a treasure trove (like, four) of Natalie Goldberg books I’ve never read. And through a series of events, most of which sucked, I’ve only read one of them so far. But this one is about her struggles with writer’s block during Covid lockdowns. I can’t imagine Natalie Goldberg having writer’s block, so this one is near the top of my list.

The Morrigan by Courtney Weber

I’ve already read a book by this author about Hekate. It was fantastic, faith-affirming, and packed with information I did not have.

I’ve been fascinated by The Morrigan since reading Mists of Avalon as a child. I know, that’s pretty basic but there it is. So I can’t wait to learn more about Her.

Long Quiet Highway by Natalie Goldberg

This was originally published in 1993, and it’s about Goldberg’s journey as a student of Zen Buddism. It also feels like it’s going to be about America. I’ll let you know after I read it.

Poetry as spell casting byTamiko Beyer, Destiny Hemphill, Lisbeth White

Honestly, the title says it all. Art is witchcraft and vice versa for me. So using poetry as spell casting is right up my witchy little ally.

This book is also about bringing about good changes in the world. Which I think we could use right now.

An Apostate’s Guide to Witchcraft by Moss Matthey

Any of my very Christian readers might worry about this one. But it’s about a topic that I need some help with, healing religious wounds and trauma. Because Jesus loves me, but the church of my childhood did not. Or, at least it wasn’t a healthy love.

We Used to Live Here by Marcus Kliewer

I actually don’t know a lot about this book except that it’s a dark, cold wintery haunted house story. And it must be damn well popular because I have been on the waiting list at my library for it forever. Watch Haunted MTL, I’ll be reviewing it as soon as I can get my hands on it.

Who holds the devil by Michael Dittman

I had the pleasure of meeting Michael at a local author’s event. He seems like a dear. And when he talked about this book, I had just one question for him. Is the witch the good guy? When he said yes, I had to read it.

Also, it’s about a tree that was holding back an ancient evil in my hometown. I also wrote about trees holding back an ancient evil. Obviously, I had to read it. Again, watch Haunted MTL for the review.

Fairy Heards and Mythscapes by Kerry E.B. Black

I also met Kerry at the same author’s event, and we swapped books. I always love someone else who understands that fairy’s are dangerous and should be treated with respect and caution. Can’t wait to crack into this one.

Witchcraft for wayward girls by Grady Hendrix

Two of my favorite writers are putting out books this year about witchcraft. I know it isn’t just for me, but I like to think it’s a little bit for me.

This is a story about a pregnant teenager sent to a school for girls in that situation, who learns witchcraft as a way to take back control of her life. Relatable.

We’ll prescribe you a cat by Syou Ishida and Madison Shimoda

This one is way different than anything else on this list, as it is not horror and still fiction. Essentially it’s a story about lonely people who are, for many reasons, given a cat. I have two, and a dog, and I can tell you they’ve saved me during some dark times.

Never underestimate the power of pets.

This one’s probably going to make me ugly cry on public transportation.

Don’t let the forest in by C.G. Drews

Finally, I put this book on my to-read list because Bookstagram will not shut up about it. Then, of course, there’s the cover.

This seems to be a story about a writer and artist who accidentally birth monsters. Which, you know, sounds like catnip to me.

And, again, have you seen the cover?

So that’s the plan. I hope to get through all of these books and find that they lived up to the hype.

Now it’s your turn. What are you reading this winter? Let us know in the comments.

You can find all of these books, and follow along with everything I’m reading on Goodreads.

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Free and low cost holiday ideas

The holidays are expensive. This isn’t a huge shocker, I know. And if you’re a writer and not John Grisham, money is probably tight. I know it is for me.

It’s so easy this time of year to feel like we must miss out on things. Like the lack of numbers in our bank account is holding up holiday joy. And it just shouldn’t be that way. Christmas shouldn’t have a price point for entry.

So today, I want to share some things that I do every holiday season that cost little or no money. Because while I’m on a budget now, I used to be dead broke. And this is how I made the holidays special.

Read

I have a full list of Christmas books that aren’t romance. I posted them here, here and here. I also wrote my own collection of Christmas stories, if you’re interested.

Reading is maybe my favorite solo activity during the holidays. And while reading is always a treat, there are ways to amp it up. I think reading with the electric fireplace on and a nice hot mug of Earl Gray tea with a slice of orange in it makes the whole experience next level. Before I had an electric fireplace, I was obsessed with fireplace videos on YouTube. I still use those if I’m reading in the bedroom, rather than lugging the fireplace all over the house.

We’ll talk more about YouTube soon.

Crafting

This will look different for everyone. And it’s something that I’ve leaned hard on ever since my first (very broke) Christmas on my own. Decorations, gifts, cards. These are all expensive, and they can be crafted.

On my first Christmas out, I made origami ornaments for our pathetic little tree. I drew portraits of my family in a circus. I hand-stitched a teddy bear. Over the years my family has received hand-knit and crocheted scarves, blankets and fingerless gloves.

While I’m in a better position this year, my loved ones are still getting handmade gifts. I crocheted my grandmother a sweater, which I can say safely here because she doesn’t read this blog.

Well, you might be thinking, that’s all well and good for someone handy with yarn and such. Or paint, sketch or pottery. What are the people who don’t craft supposed to do?

The answer is that there is always something you can create. For instance, my grandma is also getting a casserole dish of homemade mac and cheese, a dish she doesn’t need to return, with a nice note telling her the time and temperature to bake it.

You can cook something, take pictures, make fire cider, or make cute ornaments from a tutorial on Instagram. Or, since I’m assuming you’re a writer if you’re here, you could write something!

A handmade gift doesn’t need to be a traditional handmade gift. It can be anything that you create that someone else will value.

Repurpose decor in your home for holidays

So, we’ve got gifts out of the way. So, what about decorations? Well, there are lots of ways you can simply move things, and reorganize them. And make your home festive without buying new things.

I decorate my house plants with ornaments. I collect red and green books from the house to place in specific places. I leave my Christmas mugs or just ones that happen to be green or red, out on the counter where they can brighten up the place. When I’m putting out a hand towel or washcloth in my kitchen, I reach for the holiday-colored ones. Look over your home and belongings as though they’re all brand new. Get creative. And let me know what you come up with.

Forage

I love pinecones this time of year. I am also blessed to live in Western PA, where pinecones are plentiful. So are holly and pine. I can take a simple walk to a nearby wooded area and collect things to decorate my home and alter. I can make all sorts of things. People make some truly amazing things out of sticks, yarn and paint.

And, if you’re witchy inclined like I am, natural-made ornaments also match a more Yule-centered vibe. The whole reason we decorate trees is because people brought them in so the wood spirits would have somewhere warm to spend the darkest nights.

Just be careful your foraged goods aren’t harboring tiny pests. You want to invite wood spirits, not woodlice.

Check for local events that might not cost anything.

God bless my local library. They are doing all sorts of events for the holidays. Concerts, craft nights. There was even a local author event to help people out with their Christmas shopping.

Yes, I was there, and yes it was a delightful time.

We are blessed to have a local symphony as well, and they do free concerts every week. I am willing to bet that you have something local that is awesome and exciting. Check your local library website and any other cultural organizations you have. You’ll be amazed at what you can enjoy for no money.

YouTube’s holiday content is vast

Then, of course, there’s the question of Christmas TV. Everyone wants to cozy up and watch something festive and nostalgic this time of year.

But if streaming isn’t in your budget right now, don’t despair. YouTube has some fantastic holiday content. Garfield’s Christmas, those claymation videos everyone seems to like, clips of Pentatonix concerts. If you are looking for holiday watching, you will find it on YouTube.

Spending time is the best gift

This one is a bit cliche, but it’s true. The best thing about the holidays is spending time with people you love. Your family, your friends, your pets. Spend as much time with them as you can. Bake together, read together, go walking and look a the Christmas decorations together. (Oliver especially loves this one.) Decorate the house together, make homemade cards together. Break out the board games if your family likes that sort of thing. Put on matching PJs and take a million bad pictures. Because that’s what everyone’s going to treasure in the latter years. That’s the point of the holidays, to hold onto warmth and brightness during the darkest and coldest nights of the year.

I have, over the years, written several gift guides that include inexpensive or free gifts for readers and writers. If you’re interested, you can find them here, here, here, here, here, here, here and here.

Now, it’s your turn. What is your favorite no-cost way to celebrate the holidays? Let us know in the comments.

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Stories Save Us

This is a speech I gave during the Stories We Share Event at the Butler Library event on December 27th. Several lovely people suggested that I publish it. So, here you are.

Hi there. My name is Nicole. I write stories about dragons, ghosts and spaceships. Sometimes I write about the ghosts of dragons on spaceships. And, like most people who are at least mildly funny, I have been through some hard life events.

Don’t worry, this isn’t all depressing, I promise.

I was raised by a mother with a lot of chronic health issues. This meant I spent more time in my childhood than I should have in waiting rooms, doctor’s offices, or just keeping myself occupied quietly so my mom could rest.

I passed the time by reading. Chronicles of Narnia, Goosebumps, Laura Ingells, Babysitter’s Club. These stories kept me company in dark places. I escaped into Secret Gardens and attic rooms enhabited by Little Princesses.

As an adult, I fell in love with and married a man who also has chronic health issues. Because of course, right? And again, books have come to my rescue. Stephen King, Philippa Gregory, Tamora Pierce, Kiersten White and Grady Hendrix keep me company through scary days.

Now I do more than read these stories, I write my own. And in the past few years, while almost everyone has fallen on hard times, it’s sometimes felt foolish to keep writing fiction. Indulgent, and insensitive even. A writer I’m very fond of named Matt Wallace, who wrote the Savage Rebellion series, said that marketing right now feels like standing outside of a burning building and yelling at the people coming out, “Hey, you wanna buy a book?”

But the answer is yes, yes I actually do want to buy a book and read it. I want stories.

Stories can save us. And they do this in two ways. The first is of course that they’re entertaining. It’s fun to read. And while you can’t run away from your problems, you can take a break from them. Maybe you need some time in Narnia, or a haunted house, or a world where sewing is magic. Because after we take that time, take that break in a book, we come out a little bit stronger. Maybe that gives us the clearer eyes we need to look for the helpers that Mr. Rodgers told us about. Maybe it even gives us the strength and courage to be the helpers.

Here’s the other thing that stories do for us. They tell us that we are not alone. Fear can make us feel like we’re the only ones suffering. That no one else understands the pain we’re going through. But that’s not true. We’ve all had those seasons in life where we’ve gotten a scary diagnosis, tried to leave a dangerous relationship, fought an addiction, moved far away from everything familiar, or worried about how we’re going to pay rent and get groceries, and keep the electric on. We’ve all said goodbye to people we never wanted to say goodbye to, or had something violent and terrible happen to us that we neither deserved or saw coming.

Neil Gaiman said this about writing Coraline. “Fairy tales are more than true: not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten.” But we knew this before Gaiman. The author of Beowulf knew this and wrote about monsters and dragons that the great hero faced. These stories comforted and guided our first ancestors. They helped them cope, heal, and find the courage they needed.

We are not going to fight literal dragons. We aren’t going to face Voldemort, or a sentient haunted house, or a series of unfortunate events orchestrated by a school friend of our dead parents. But we are going to fight our own dragons. And a lot of the time we win, and live to see brighter days.

What worries me, is how many people can’t remember the last time they read something for pleasure. Most of us spend a lot more time doom-scrolling than resting our hearts in fiction. If that’s you, find a book you want to read today. We are standing in a library right now. Find a book to take home with you. Take half an hour, ten minutes, hell five minutes, and read a story you love. Maybe it’s something you read as a child, or maybe it’s a new book. Maybe it’s wildly out of your age range. Look, when I’m stressed I reach right for Beverly Cleary so I’m not going to judge.

Make the space for you to have joy, no matter how bad your day is going. Because we all need to remember that dragons can be beaten.

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Falling From Grace launches today!

For me, this day is over ten years in the making. Ten years of ups and downs, twists and turns I never saw coming, and the overwhelming need to have this story out in the world.

No matter how I had to do it.

Falling From Grace is now available. All of Woven is now available for the first time since April 2023.

It’s been a lot of work, waiting and praying, but it’s all been worth it to finally have this series out in the world again for all of you to enjoy.

Please let me know what you think of the story. I’m so excited to be able to share Grace with all of you. Especially going into the holiday season.

Stay tuned, there’s a lot more to come.

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Falling From Grace, Chapter three

Chapter Three

A few days later Grace woke alone in her bed with a feeling that she was late for something. There was a pressure, a certainty that she had a crucial, important thing to do, and that it must be done at once. She got out of bed in a flash, and pulled her clothes on. It took only moments to tug a tan dress over her shift and lace it up, but it seemed an eternity. Brushing out her hair and setting it in a bun to keep it out of her face took years. She brewed a cup of tea, and then sat down with a scrap of paper and a rough piece of charcoal to consider what she needed to do. What could weigh on her so desperately that she felt in such a rush?

She wrote down everything she could think of, everything that might need done. Clean the house, weed the garden, do the washing. It was a small enough list, but it seemed to press on her. With another quick sip of her tea, she headed to the river to collect a bucket of water and get started.

She was on her knees in the fireplace, scrubbing the soot away with a wire brush and heavy soap when she heard a gentle knock on her door. Grace winced as she got up, and opened the door to find Nikita standing there.

“Oh, you look a mess,” Nikita said. “What have you got soot all over you for?”

“I was scrubbing out the fireplace, what do you think?” Grace asked.

Nikita looked around the room, which had all been thoroughly scoured in the last few hours. “I was worried when I did not see you in the square. May and June said they had not seen you since supper last night.”

“I just needed to get some cleaning done before I came down,” Grace said. She ducked her wash rag into the water and started wiping away the soap. “It was such a mess, disgusting. What would Victor have thought if he had come home to that?”

Nikita shrugged. “Well, it looks fine now. Will you come back with me?”

“Suppose I should. The quiet cannot be good for me.”

“It is not good for me, either. I wonder, could I come and sleep here until the men get back? I would feel better if I was not alone at night.”

So she was not to have any peace, even in the evening.

“That would be fine,” Grace said. She used a dry cloth to wipe down her face and hands, then the front of her dress. “Come on, I guess.”

Nikita nodded, and all but pulled Grace to the square. June and May were there, busy with their needles. “There you are. What, were you sleeping in?” June asked.

“Oh, shut up,” Grace said. She had her own sewing to do, working over scraps from some old clothes for a blanket. She pulled her things out of her bag, taking a seat next to May. “Is Morgan off hunting again?”

“Yes,” June snorted. “For all the good it will do him.”

“He caught that nice pheasant the first day,” Grace said. “What happened to him?”

“Dunno, but Olga’s little boy has brought more game out of those woods than Morgan,” May sighed. “It is a shame, too. I would love to have some meat tonight.”

“He had better get himself together, in case Da-,” June began. She pursed her lips together and didn’t say anything more. Not as though she needed to.

May glance up from her work, as though to comfort her sister. But her face darkened. “What is she doing here?” she asked.

Grace followed her gaze and saw Yeva, creeping towards the collection of women. Traditionally, women and daughters of men who died didn’t come near the gathering in the square. It was a kindness, to keep away. To not remind women of the men lost before.

“She looks lost,” May said. “Should we invite her to sit with us?”

“I will leave if you do,” Grace said flatly.

“Be kind. She lost all of her family,” May said. “You know what that is like.”

Grace thought of Yulia, running from her house with Grace’s ma’s book. She thought of the silence, days later, when Grace had hammered on the door to beg for her book back. Yulia had forever acted as though the book had never belonged to Grace, as though her ma and grandma’s writing wasn’t on every page. “Aye, I do. And I earned a spot at someone else’s table, looking after you. She can find a way to be useful, or look after herself. A handout will just make her weak.”

“Grace, look,” Nikita said.

Outside of the circle of women and children stalked a thin man with thinner hair. He leered at the women, giving Grace a filthy smile when she looked his way.

“Yurick,” Grace muttered. “Can Timur not keep him under control?”

“He does this every mission, everyone knows he is too weak to be sent out himself,” June said.

“Worthless old fool,” Grace said.

“It is sick, what he is doing,” May hissed. “Sneaking about trying to get a woman alone while her man is gone. This is exactly why Morgan should have stayed here instead of going out to hunt.”

The day passed slowly. Once the sewing was done the girls weeded the garden and dug up some potatoes for supper. They went to the river and trapped a few fish, tiny things. Grace baked some bread, from her share of the flour that the men had gotten during their last raid. Nikita had some carrots. The food was cooking when Morgan returned, carrying a few dead squirrels by their tails.

“Well,” he grinned, holding up the animals. “Had better luck today.”

“Oh yes,” June crooned, looking over the animals. “That will be such a meal for five people.”

“You know what you are?” Morgan snapped, gesturing wildly with the dead squirrels still in his hand. “You are a thankless khu’i. I do not see you out there, trying to find anything to kill in those woods.”

“Um, excuse me, Grace?”

Yeva was standing near their cook fire. To Grace’s fury, she was holding her ma’s book in her hands.

“What do you want?” Grace asked.

“I, well I wondered if I could ask you a question. Lada gets these headaches, and she said my grandma used to make her a tea for them. Something stronger than willow bark, she said. But I cannot find the recipe anywhere. Do you have any idea what it might be, or where I might find it?”

“Why would you think I would tell you anything?” Grace asked. “You have the book, look it up yourself.”

“This book is too complicated for me. I mean, the medicine recipes are all intermixed with these strange symbols and I cannot make any sense of it. Besides, I am no healer. I only ever learned about midwifery,” Yeva said. “Grandma said you used to apprentice under her, I just thought-.”

“Your grandma was a dirty liar,” Grace said. “Now get away from here, you are not wanted. Go on, go home.”

“I need help. What is anyone going to do in this village if we have a healer who does not know what she is doing?” Yeva asked.

“I guess we will have to sort it out, since that is the situation we are in,” May replied.

Yeva turned away, her shoulders drooping. Grace felt her conscious pinch, but just for a moment. She wanted to snatch the book away from the girl, but what good would it do? She was no healer either.

***

Everyone dithered around the fires after supper. The women were hesitant to go home to empty beds. The children, unaccustomed to the mysteries and magic of the night, were just happy to be sitting around a fire and listening to stories from their mas and sisters. Thus it was late when the women started heading for their homes. Some carried little ones on their hips, others led sleepy ones too big to be carried anymore.

Grace, Nikita, Morgan and the girls left in a group. They were moving a little slow, acting a little silly. Morgan had a bottle of vodka, and they’d been passing the spirit around.

“Those wee little squirrels,” June laughed. “I suppose they were better than nothing with some potatoes, but they were so tiny!”

“A small animal is harder to catch than a bigger one,” Morgan said, shaking his finger at his sister.

“Then you should have spared yourself the trouble, and gotten bigger ones,” May chuckled.

“Oh, stop fussing at your brother,” Grace said. “He is trying, that is important. You keep right on hunting, Morgan, and you will get better someday.”

“The woods are half hunted out. That is what Boris says,” Nikita said.

“Da never fails to bring something home,” June responded, mulish.

“I am going to bed,” Morgan snapped and headed for the door. His hands were glowing blue. It wasn’t the shield magic of his uncle, or the destructive force his da had. It was just light. But on a dark night like that one, light was enough.

Morgan and the girls headed for their house, while Grace led Nikita to hers. “I will set a cot out in front of the fire for you,” Grace said. She shut the door, and secured it with the solid brace Victor had put in before he left. She tried not to think, before he left for good. It was just left, and he would be back. He had to come back.

Grace turned from the door, and nearly tripped over Nikita. She was frozen in place, staring at a shadow in the corner of the room.

Yurick emerged from the shadow, calmly. “It is about time you girls got home,” he said. He breathed deep, as though casting for their scents like a hunting hound. “I have been anxious, waiting for you.”

“You have no reason to be here, Yurick. Get gone,” Grace said, pushing Nikita behind her.

“Ah, but I do have a reason to be here,” Yurick said. He walked slowly towards them. “Nothing gets me harder than a woman with child.”

“Nikita, go,” Grace said, shoving the other woman toward the door. Nikita pulled the brace free, and ran. Yurick was at the door in a moment, slamming it shut behind her and trapping Grace in with him. He hit her, sending her sprawling on the ground next to the table.

“Are you so eager for a man?” he chortled, as Grace shook her head, trying to clear it. “Alright, then. I can have little Nikita later and you now.”

He fell on Grace, pulling up her skirts. Grace grabbed for the closest thing to her, a stool at the table. She hit Yurick hard in the side of the head, and shoved him off of her.

“You bitch!” he yelled, but Grace didn’t waste time. She brought the stool down on his head again, and again.

“Stop, stop it!” he cried. “I will leave, I will!”

“To do what, rape some other woman?” Grace snarled, and hit him again.

Just then the door slammed open. Morgan came in with a sword in his hand, June just behind him.

“Oh, Land and Sky,” Morgan snorted, looking at the puddle of Yurick on the floor. “You worthless old man, what did you think you were going to do?”

Grace stopped hitting him, allowing Morgan to grab the sobbing man by the back of his shirt. “Get out of here. I catch you sniffing around my aunt again and I will run your hide through.”

Morgan shoved him out of the house, laughing when Yurick stumbled and fell.

“Grace, are you alright?” June asked.

“He did not get what he wanted,” Grace said, setting the stool down with shaking hands. “I might have banged my head on the floor when he hit me, that is all.”

“Grace!” May called, running to the front door. “Grace, Nikita is going into labor!”

“What?” June gasped.

“She just collapsed on the floor as soon as Morgan and June ran out, and water started pouring out of her. What do we do?”

“There is no experienced midwife,” June said numbly. “What can we do for her?”

The three of them looked to Grace, as though she would have some sort of an answer. She had to have one.

“Damn it, someone go and fetch Yeva,” Grace said finally.

“She is a girl,” May said.

“She is an apprentice midwife, which is more than any of us,” Grace replied. “Go May. June, start boiling water. Let us get the new ma in a bed. Morgan come on.”

Falling From Grace is available today! You can get it right now on Amazon.

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Falling From Grace, Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Grace leaned against the door frame between the bedroom and main room, watching Victor pack clothes into a bag. “Calvin thinks we will not be gone longer than a week, but I do not know,” he said, adding a leather pouch of dried meat to his bag. “I hate to give you a time because I do not want you to worry if we are later than that. Did you make that flat bread I asked for?”

“It is on the ledge above the fireplace,” Grace said, not bothering to stir herself to fetch it for him.

“Thank you,” he said, striding across the room to get it. “I got that new bar put on the door, but it is not going to do you any good if you do not use it. I cannot imagine anyone would fuss with you, but you never know.”

“I will be in the square with the other women most of the time, anyway,” Grace replied.

“But you will come back here at night,” Victor said.

“Do not go,” Grace replied.

She didn’t know what she expected him to do with this, but laughter wasn’t really a surprise. “Do not go? Calvin and I finally get Timur to give us some real work, and you are telling me not to go. Woman, have you lost your mind entirely?”

“This is death, what he is sending you to do. Marching into the Septan palace, dressed like a Calistar soldier? You will not survive, not a man going with you will.”

“That is foolishness,” Victor said. He stood, and clenched his fist. A blue shield of light manifested. They’d yet to find anything that could penetrate it. “I will come home, and so will Calvin. So will all of us going.”

“And what if you do not? What are the girls and Morgan and I going to do then, eh?” Grace whispered.

Victor was across the room in two strides. He swept her up into his arms, and his mouth found hers. “Darling, I have to do this. I did not become a Brother to raid food storage barns, and I will not do it anymore. Timur has given me a chance here to prove-.”

“Timur has given you nothing,” Grace hissed. “He has given himself a way to be free of you, Calvin, and every other young man who would defy him. He does not expect you to come back.”

“Perhaps not,” Victor said. “But I will.”

“Vicky, are you not ready yet?” Calvin called from outside.

“I am coming, hold on!” Victor replied. He released Grace reluctantly and grabbed his bag from the table. Grace followed him outside.

Calvin had already hitched his wagon. “Are you done crying over your woman yet?” he asked.

“Do not be jealous, just because I have one,” Victor laughed, tossing his bag into the wagon. “Where is Boris?”

“Saying goodbye to Nikita, still. We will pick him up on the way out of town,” Calvin said.

Grace decided to try Calvin next. She stood beside his seat on the wagon. “Calvin, think about this. What is the point of starting a war between Septa and Calistar? The aristocrats will just send poor sons to go fight for them.”

“But that is part of the plan,” Calvin laughed. “Do not worry your head, Grace. Look after the girls and Morgan, and we will be back soon.”

But Grace grabbed hold of the horse’s reigns. “What if none of you come home? What about Boris, leaving Nikita here with his babe?”

“Boris will come home,” Calvin said. “And so will I, and so will Victor. Do not be afraid, Sister. And let go of my horse, please.”

Grace released the reigns but didn’t move away. She felt shaken to her core, as Victor grabbed her up into a hug. “Stop fussing, woman,” he laughed, swinging her around. “This is a great mission.”

“And nothing is going to stand before this,” Calvin said. He clenched his hand, and a ball of light appeared. Unlike Victor’s, his light was no shield. It was a ball of energy that nothing could stand against.

“But what if Timur is sending you into a trap?” Grace cried.

At this, Calvin leaned down from the wagon seat to whisper in her ear. “That is the thing, though. He is, and we know it. When we return victorious, we will have a very, very different conversation with him about where our country is headed. And I do not think he will enjoy it.”

May, June, and Morgan crowded around the wagon, and Calvin sat up straight in his seat. June, the middle of Calvin’s children, had an ever messy braid down her back. Her brown dress was stained at the bottom with mud and at the knees with soot.

“Take care of each other, and stay out of trouble. We will be back in a week,” Calvin said.

“Do not tell them that,” Victor said, swinging into the seat next to Calvin.

“One week!” Calvin bellowed and clicked at the horse to send him on his way.

“Goodbye Da, be careful!” June called, waving at him. Grace joined the others in their farewells, feeling brittle. She watched as they rode to the other end of the village, stopping along the way to pick up Boris and a number of other men.

“Come on,” Grace said. “We might as well head to the square.”

June and May nodded, but Morgan said, “I am going to go hunting. The sun is barely up, I should be able to get some good meat for supper.”

“Oh really?” May snorted. “You are going to go hunting? And why would you waste the whole day like that, eh?”

“You ought to stay and help us weed the garden,” June said.

Morgan scoffed. “What do you need four people to weed the garden for? I will go and get us some meat. Grace, will you make a pie if I bring you a bird? Your crust is better than theirs.”

“I would need the goat milked,” Grace replied dully. “And I might need to churn butter, as well. Go and get your game if you can. Be careful.”

Morgan was gone in a moment to collect his traps and head into the woods.

“Might as well get the goat milked, then,” Grace said.

“You are not going to be the one this time, are you?” June asked.

“The one what?” Grace asked.

June sighed. “The one woman who cannot help but mope until the men get back. They always ruin the whole experience for the rest of us.”

Grace shook her head. She grabbed her bucket and went into the small enclosure next to the house where her goat resided. She was napping in the sun, but came fast enough when she heard Grace come in. Normally she would have been milked earlier, but Victor hadn’t had the time before he left.

“Are you going to stand there and complain at me the whole time I do this?” Grace asked, settling into her stool to milk the creature.

“Maybe. Why are you so upset, anyway? You have never been this way before.” June grabbed some hay from the pile next to the enclosure and started making a pile of it.

“You all seem to think that these men are invincible just because of a little magic,” Grace muttered.

A single scream rang out just as she was finishing with the goat. Grace only just managed to not spill any of the milk before running from the paddock. June was just a moment behind her.

“That is Yulia’s house,” June cried. The front door was wide open, and they could hear Yeva shouting for help inside.

Grace stopped on the threshold. Yeva was kneeling next to her grandmother’s chair. A cup of tea had fallen and shattered on the floor. Yulia was slumped in her chair, not breathing.

“I, I do not know what happened,” Yeva sobbed. “I just came in to check on her, and she was like this.”

“Was there something off in her tea?” June asked.

“I do not know. She might have stirred something in by mistake, look at her damned work table!” Yeva cried. She gestured to a table near the window, laden with herb bouquets and bowls. Always a thin wisp of a girl, Yeva seemed even smaller now in her fright.

“What am I to do, I am all alone now,” Yeva sobbed.

Grace considered the girl. She couldn’t remember saying more than a handful of words to her since she’d been born. She’d said enough to Yulia, screaming for her book back, for help, for anything the old woman might have been able to do for her.

“I was alone younger than you,” Grace said. “You will be fine.”

Yeva turned a tear stained face towards her, her eyes wide. “How?” she asked.

“That is not my concern. When Morgan gets back we will help bury your grandma. That is more than she bothered to do for me.”

Grace went back to her chores, leaving the girl no room to say anything more.

Falling From Grace is coming out tomorrow! Preorder it here now on Amazon.

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Grace, Chapter One

In a sparkling city of canals and magic, there is a prince named Victor. He is married to a strong headed princess, and they have two daughters who are the center of their world. Together they have fought monsters and men, and changed the course of their country, Septa, forever.

But before Victor was a prince, he was a common man. And he loved another, a girl named Grace. This is her story.

Prologue

Thirteen years ago

The night was black, the wind slicing cold. At a little house near the woods where creatures crept, scratched and howled, a girl sat in front of the door. She was barefoot, wrapped in a quilt, shivering. But she had to get out of the house for as long as she could stand the cold. The darkness and smell inside were too much for her.

Ma was coughing again, and sobbing. The sobs were so loud that Grace could hear them over the wind. A moment later they were stifled, and Grace could hear Yulia, the village’s other healer, talking. The wind was too harsh for her to hear her words.

Until she called for Grace.

Grace swirled around and pulled the door open. The wind caught it and tried to drag it out of her hands. She had to use all of her strength to close it.

“Come and help me,” Yulia cried. Grace’s ma was jerking in the bed, her body twisting and convulsing. Her Da, lying next to her was still during this fit, ghastly still.

“Come here!” Yulia called again. Grace ran to the bed. The two of them turned Ma to the side, as flecks of spittle flew from the woman’s mouth.

Finally, she was still. Her chest rose and fell, and her breath was labored. But at least the terrible seizing was finished.

“Good, good girl,” Yulia said. “Do not be running outside again. Get yourself to bed.”

“But, but Da,” Grace whispered.

“There is no helping him now. I will move him out of your ma’s bed, but you are not strong enough to help with that. Now off to bed with you.”

Grace retreated to her bed, and fell on it. Her da was dead. What would she and her ma do without him? She settled into her blankets, and tried to do as she’d been told. But she just couldn’t close her eyes.

Eventually she dozed, as Yulia stoked the fire.

Grace was never sure how long she slept, when she was woken someone walking past the foot of her bed.

She sat up, startled. It was Yulia, but she had her cloak on. And she was holding Grace’s ma’s book. The book of medicines and herb lore that had been her own ma’s legacy. It was black and leather bound. When it was closed, her ma tied it with a red ribbon. This now was missing.

“What are you doing, Mistress Yulia?” Grace asked.

“Rochelle next door is having her baby. I must go attend to her,” Yulia said, and turned to go with the book.

“Wait, but what about Ma?” she asked, struggling to get out of bed. “Yulia, what about my ma?”

But Yulia was gone already.

And a single glance towards the big bed showed Grace that there was nothing more she could have done for her ma anyway. Both of her parents lay still, their chests not rising.

And just like that, Grace was all alone. She thought at first that surely Yulia would return to help her, to tell her what to do. But she didn’t.

The fire was low, its warmth and light fading fast. Grace hurried to the wood pile next to the fireplace, and began feeding it logs. There weren’t many, and Grace prayed the few remaining would last her until dawn. With her parents now only husks that had been people, the thought of darkness was too much. She tried to think of good memories of her parents. There were many to choose from. But right then, she could only be aware of the ghastly lumps tucked into their bed. Grace huddled close to the fire and waited for Yulia to come back with her ma’s book.

She was still there, alone, when the sun came up.

The next day men came to take away her parents. One of them was Calvin, Rochelle’s man. He was also the da of May, June and Morgan, three little ones that Rochelle had occasionally asked Grace to help with in exchange for a few eggs or vegetables from her garden. He looked haggard, but was the only man to spare her any attention. “Little girl, are you hungry?” he asked.

“I, I do not know,” she whispered.

He gave her a gentle smile. “Maybe you can come and help with the children while Rochelle heals? We do not have much to spare, but I will see that you have something for your help.”

“Thank you,” Grace said softly. “Did she have her baby?”

Calvin’s face darkened. “I am afraid it was still born. The Sky did not smile on this village last night.”

A boy came in to the house a few moments later, Calvin’s little brother Victor. He was only a year older than Grace. “Calvin, Rochelle is missing. I cannot find her. Morgan is crying for her, I do not know where she could have gone.”

“Ah, damnation,” Calvin muttered. “Victor, do you know Grace? Maybe she can help you look after the little ones while I go and find that fool woman.”

Victor looked over Grace, her hair a mess and her dress stained. “Please, if you do not mind,” he said. “I do not know what to do with babies.”

“I can help, yes,” Grace said. “I will be happy to help you, Victor.”

Part One

The Septa Mission

Chapter One

The women of the village had a tradition when the men were off on a raid. They would collect together, anyone whose man was involved, and spend almost all day at the center square. The village had no inn, for who would want to stay there? They had no tavern, because no one had the extra coin to get drinks. There was a meeting hall for the Brotherhood, but the women weren’t allowed in there. So they collected in what they called the square, but was really just a clearing in front of the meeting hall. They set up tables, and brought out chairs. They’d do their washing communally, and share what little supper they could as well. Those with children would bring them, and the women would lend a hand in caring for them.

They collected together because it was easier to work with so many other hands. They collected together also because it was loud. And it was good that it was loud. Grace had never spoken to the other women about the matter, but she was sure they all would agree. When they were surrounded by other women and children, making noise, it was easier to forget that sometimes men didn’t come back from missions.

While that wasn’t likely this time, it was always possible. It was a simple enough raiding mission, taking food collected for the greedy aristocrats to redistribute to those who had actually worked for it. But one could never depend on even a simple mission going to plan.

Grace, now a woman grown, sat in a circle of chairs with a basket of sewing. Her thick, light hair was pulled into a tight knot to keep it from her face. May, now also a woman grown, sat next to her with a larger pile of simple dresses, tunics and breeches, muttering. She had her da’s ice blue eyes, and his height.

“Can you speak up?” Grace asked. “I do not know how you expect anyone to hear you.”

“What is the point if anyone does hear me?” May replied. “June certainly does not care that she has left me with all of the mending. She is off pretending that she will catch some fresh meat for supper. As though she could.”

“Do not fuss at her,” said Nikita, sitting on Grace’s other side. Her belly was swelled with her first child, and she was crocheting a blanket. “At least she took all the bigger boys out to the woods. They might not bring anything back, but at least it got them out of here for a while.”

“Sure. It got them running in the woods, shouting and scaring away all the game for the next moon, so the men will not be able to get fresh meat when they return,” May replied.

“Speaking of,” Grace said, as a sound caught her attention. She stood, still holding a shirt in her hand. The other women began to hear it as well. The grind of wheels on the road, the sound of horses. The men had returned.

Women and children stopped what they were doing, eager to greet them. Timur, the leader of the Brotherhood, came from inside the meeting hall. He was an old man with gray hair, but he still walked steadily enough.

“Ah,” he said, seeing the men. “My brothers, you have returned.”

Timur’s sons led the way, driving a wagon full of barrels and sacks. They were calling out to the women and their da, and couldn’t have been in higher spirits. Many of the men were the same, hurrying to set down their burdens and grab up their women and little ones.

Grace watched for Victor, Morgan and Calvin. She knew she shouldn’t have worried. They were three of only a handful of mages in the village, and their magic was powerful. But that didn’t mean something couldn’t happen.

But they were there, walking at the back of the crowd. Victor and Calvin were easy enough to see. Victor’s reddish blond hair was in a tangle around his face. His broad shoulders were slumped. Calvin, taller and broader than his brother, was looking at the ground rather than at the crowd. His son Morgan was thin, and appeared thinner still when compared to the other two. His fine blond hair was pulled back neatly, as it ever was. They came to May and Grace, but there was a dullness in their greetings.

“Gracey,” Victor sighed, and grabbed her up into his arms. He hugged her tight, and she returned the embrace. “I have missed you, my girl.”

“Victor, what is it?” she asked, pulling away.

Calvin released May, letting Morgan hug his big sister. He gave Grace a dark look. “Where are Yulia and Yeva?”

Grace tensed. “They are likely in this crowd somewhere.” As though she would know where that thieving old woman and her granddaughter were.

“Now is not the time for old angers. We lost Vlas,” Calvin said.

“Oh, oh no,” May gasped. Vlas, Yulia’s son and Yeva’s da, had been a good friend of Calvin’s.

“A guard for the aristocrats took him out as we were leaving the stock house. We must tell them,” Victor said.

May looked quickly at Calvin. “Da, do not say anything stupid to Timur.”

“Do not be telling your Da what to do, girl,” Calvin said, but it was muted. “The fool sent us on this raid knowing damn well the guards would be thick. He should hear this.”

“Yes, but maybe not with screaming in front of the whole village,” Victor said.

Calvin sighed. “I suppose there is some sense in that. Where is June?”

“Out hunting with the bigger boys,” Grace said.

“Foolish girl should be here, not distracting the boys in their hunt,” Calvin muttered. “Alright, Vicky, let us go and find Yulia and Yeva.”

Grace let May trail after them. She would have no comfort for Yulia. No sense being there when she found out she’d lost her son.

Timer was with his sons in front of the meeting hall. He cast his hand over the wagon, full of foodstuffs and goods. “Look at all you have brought us!” he called, striding into the middle of the crowd. “These goods will go to villages in need, instead of the bloated coffers of the aristocrats. And that is something well worth celebrating, do you not all think?”

The village cheered, at least most of them did. Yulia and Yeva were listening to Victor and Calvin. Grace saw Yulia stagger, and lean heavily on her granddaughter. Yeva, all of fifteen years old, didn’t look as though she could bear the weight. May helped the older woman to a seat, where she broke down into sobs.

Timur didn’t seem to notice. “I want to thank each and every man who brought this bounty back to us. Together, we brothers will do what the aristocrats will not. We will feed our people. We will clothe them. We will bring our country back from the brink of darkness. And someday, no more children will starve.”

“I wish he would shut up,” Morgan said, eyeing his da. Grace had to agree. Calvin was still standing over the sobbing Yulia, but his eyes were on Timur. His raging eyes. His hands were starting to glow blue, he was losing control of his magic.

“Brothers, we have fought a long and hard battle against the aristocrats. We have been ground down. Look at this, look at what they had kept in their store houses, stolen right out of the hands of the people. They leave us to starve, but we say no more! We will defeat them!”

Calvin turned, as though he would march up to Timur and tell him just what he thought. But May put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

She didn’t think to stop Victor, though.

“When?” Victor called.

The crowd hushed, and turned to see who had spoken. Timur, still all grins, said, “What was that, Brother Victor?”

“I asked you when would we stop the aristocrats. Because these little raids are not doing anything.”

“I would not call this mountain of goods a little raid,” Timur said.

“I sure as hell would,” Victor replied. “Especially when you consider what we lost to get it. Or did you not even notice that we came back here a man short?”

Grace darted through the crowds to get to Victor, to shut him up. But it was far too late for that.

“Stand back, young wolf,” Timur said. “Your passion is admirable, but you are aiming it at the wrong man.”

“You think so?” Calvin called. Apparently May wasn’t able to keep him silent any longer. “All we do, all we have ever done is raid! We are the Brotherhood of the Broken Chain, and we act like a pack of thieves! Why are we not attacking the aristocrats? King Kurtis is old and mad, surely he could not stand against us.”

“I will not send men to die attacking the capital, Calvin,” Timur said. “Not even your magic light balls are going to take that castle down.”

“Maybe they would, if you were not too much of a coward to let me go find out,” Calvin snapped.

The entire village froze. They looked from Timur to Calvin, with Victor standing at his back. They waited.

“What did you just say to me?” Timur asked.
“We all know you heard me,” Calvin snapped. “So how long will you treat us like a thieving crew, eh?”
Timur’s eyes narrowed. He looked like he was trying to work out a puzzle. Grace waited. She felt like a deer who knows a hunter has her in his sights.
“You, you young men might have a point,” Timur said. He nodded, looking them over. “Yes, I think you just might. I am older, of course. I have spent my life making sure our people were fed and safe. But maybe that is not enough anymore.”

Timur walked calmly up to Calvin, and put a hand on his shoulder. “You have such fire, such promise, young wolf. How about we see how far you can take that?”

Falling From Grace is launching on Friday! You can preorder it right now on Amazon.

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