Three Announcements! New release, audio book and giveaway results!

It's a busy Monday today!

Seriously, Baby Girl has her 4-month doctor's appointment in an hour, it's super busy, but I've got time to put the word out for a few fun things.

The first, and biggest: today is the release day for the final book (novella) in the Bad Behavior series I wrote with LA Witt! Romantic Behavior is the happily-ever-after you've all been waiting for. It's been long enough coming, jeez. Links below!

https://riptidepublishing.com/titles/romantic-behavior

Romantic Behavior on Amazon

Secondly, I had an audio book come out last week. Not a Riptide book, shockingly, a Dreamspinner one! Off The Beaten Path, my novel of family, werewolves, weird politics and, of course, romance is now available at Audible! It was narrated by Jack Wesley and I think he did a great job. You can find it here!

https://www.audible.com/pd/Romance/Off-the-Beaten-Path-Audiobook/

And lastly, speaking of audio books, it's time to give away Friendly Fire! Lynette, Amelia, Carolyn and geemeedee--you guys win! I'll leave reply messages on the other post so you know where to contact me to get your book.

The Tower: Chapter Ten, Part Two

Notes: Almost done! One more chapter for an epilogue from Camille's perspective, I think, and then we'll be on our way. Have some denouement, darlins.

Title: The Tower: Chapter Ten, Part Two

***

Chapter Ten, Part Two

To say that Doctor Grable was furious about the entire affair would be an understatement. He was in a state of towering rage, the sort that made some men fume and pace and throw things. In him, it just seemed to make him go cold and still. Anton had never seen a man’s eyes harden like that. “You’re sure of this?”

“As sure as I can be.” Camille didn’t sound intimidated. Well, that made one of them. “Wordless, wandless magic—a spell of compulsion laid on each of his friends, and on Anton as well. They did the killing—at least some of it—but Gerald Montgomery was the one powering their actions and blacking out their memories of it. He tried to cover up his tracks tonight by pushing the three of them into actions that would result in their own deaths. That, of course, is where he went wrong.”

“Why ‘of course’?” Anton asked. Doctor Grable was the one who answered.

“Spells of compulsion like Montgomery worked are considered dark magic. Old, without concrete form and function, more the result of sheer will on the part of the caster than on the rituals we utilize today, for safety’s sake. This sort of unstructured magic used to be common, but it regularly killed more people than could ever hope to master it. The thaumaturgical system enforces order, and through that order, there is safety for the practitioner. It’s hard to disregard your own safety when you’re working a spell, harder still to force someone to disregard their own.

“Montgomery was able to make his friends kill because he’d had months, perhaps years, to work on them. To turn and twist their will, a cause aided by lowering their inhibitions with alcohol, most likely. But to get them to kill themselves, or take actions that would cause the same result?” He shook his head. “Not so simple. You saw the result of that—hell, you’re part of the result of that. You were able to catch yourself, Percival didn’t end up committing suicide, and Harry worked his magic so inefficiently it was a matter of ease to loop a binding over him.”

Anton hadn’t remembered his part of things being quite so easy, but now didn’t seem to be the time to argue the point. Doctor Grable clearly wasn’t done with either of them. “I can see now the method behind his murders, but I cannot understand his motive. What was he looking for? What did he think these men had?”

“A magical palimpsest,” Camille said, surprising Anton with his immediate candor. “One that contains a spell deadly enough to raise concern at the highest levels of government.”

The doctor’s eyebrow raised. “And why send a man with no magical skill after a magical book?”

“Why not?” Camille countered. “When has anyone ever needed magic to act as a hunter? Although, in this case, I was not entirely without magic, thanks to Anton’s assistance.”

“Ah.” Doctor Grable looked between them and nodded. “I understand the timing now. These men who died…Montgomery thought they had the book.”

“Indeed.”

“Well.” The doctor blew out a breath. “At least his plans were foiled there.”

 Anton cleared his throat. “Ah—”

“Indeed, we were most fortunate,” Camille said before Anton could continue to interject. “And as for why he decided to end his charade now, I assume it has something to do with the fact that his father has just been thrown in prison back in England, and all of their lands have been confiscated by the crown. I went through some of his personal correspondence while you cleaned up,” he said in an aside to Anton. “Debauchery and deceit are apparently heritable traits in the Montgomerys.”

“Oh.” But… “But he had to be a member of the Devoué before that, didn’t he? To learn the dark magic?”

“Perhaps he was merely waiting for the right cause to come to him,” Doctor Grable said dryly. “The Devoué, from what I understand, are not a movement that relies too heavily on magic in any form. That’s the only minor blessing to be had in this whole rotten affair.” He pushed up from his chair. “Lord Lumière, if you wish to bring my inattentiveness regarding the conduct and capacity of my students to the emperor’s attention, that is of course your prerogative. Rest assured, I’ll be threading through the rest of them like a needle through broadcloth. If there are more Devoué sympathizers, I will root them out.”

“I believe you.” Camille stood and laid a hand on Anton’s shoulder. “I believe our business can be continued tomorrow. It’s late, and we should leave you to your work.”

It was an easy out, and Anton wanted to take it, but first he had to know—“What are you going to do about Percival and Harry?” Because they were killers, that much was true, but they weren’t cold-blooded murderers.

“Do?” Doctor Grable looked a bit surprised. “All I plan to do is have them see a medical thaumaturge as soon as I can summon one, to ensure the hold Montgomery placed on them is gone. Then, I suppose, we’ll see. If they wish to continue their studies here, I won’t discourage it. I have the feeling, though, that our university’s appeal has rather palled for them at this point. I hope it hasn’t done so for you as well, Mr. Seiber.”

“Oh.” Anton hadn’t even considered that. “No, I—I have no plans to, to leave before I’m finished with my studies.”

“Good. In that case, gentlemen, I bid you good evening.” This time, Camille took the hint and left, guiding Anton by his shoulder and steering him away from the hall that held his little room.

“Come back with me to mine,” he murmured, and Anton all but collapsed with relief. His nerves were frayed to the breaking point, and it was all he could do now to let himself be led back outside into the darkness and wind—that terrible, hungry wind, that tore at you and did not want to let go—and down the road to Camille’s guesthouse.

If Anton had thought of returning here before the events of tonight—and he certainly had—it had been with ideas of mutual pleasure like they’d enjoyed before. But now…he felt hollow. He had used up all his energy, every iota of emotion that had helped him maintain his strong front, and now he was nothing but a husk. He could not feel desire, not even for Camille, when there was no wellspring for the feeling to flow from.

Camille seemed to understand without making the question explicit. He helped Anton out of his bloody, sweat-stained clothes and into a clean nightshirt. Anton’s skin, at least, had already been wiped mostly clear. He wished his mind had as well.

“Sleep,” Camille said gently, laying him down on the bed and joining him a moment later after he blew out the candle. “There is no expectation here other than that.”

And Anton was ready to sleep, ready for oblivion, but first… “You forgive me, then?”

Camille killed his brown, just below the swollen skin of the cut on his head. “There is nothing to forgive.”

Anton was pretty sure there was, but he’d take the reassurance for now. Sleep, at least, came as swiftly as he’d hoped it would.

***

For Camille, it was a different story.

The Tower: Chapter Ten, Part One

Notes: We're almost to the end! Poor guys, I'm giving them all hell right now. But there will be time to mend things. I doubt we're seeing the last of Anton and Camille in this story.

Title: The Tower: Chapter Ten, Part One

***

The Tower: Chapter Ten, Part One

Anton couldn’t take the tenderness of Camille’s embrace for long, not with the truth battering just behind his teeth, threatening to grind them to dust if he didn’t reveal it. Better to get it over with and see if there was anything left of himself to salvage once Camille was gone. “He took it.”

Camille pulled back a little way. “Who took what?”

“Montgomery, he took the p-pal-palimpsest.” It was hard to force the word past his lips, but once he had Anton found it easier to get the rest of the sordid tale out. “He knew about it, somehow, he knew and he did something to me when he touched me. He—I couldn’t fight him, I tried, but he asked me to get it for him and I did.” Anton shuddered at the memory of Montgomery’s lips against the back of his neck, and the way Anton’s mind had rebelled even while his body had been in complete thrall. “I gave it away, I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to but I did it anyway, I—”

Camille cupped Anton’s face in his hands. “Take a deep breath,” he said, and Anton gamely tried. “Another. One more time…good. Anton.” He sighed and leaned forward. Anton expected a slap on the cheek, but he got a gentle kiss to the forehead instead. “You haven’t been trained to even identify that kind of dark magic, much less to resist it. Of course you complied, it was all you could do. And then he pushed you out the window.”

“He told me to fall, and I did.” Anton recalled the hollow feeling in his stomach as he tipped forward, the distant sight of the ground making his nerves quiver with fear. “I managed to catch myself on the arch. But the window…I couldn’t grab it. I thought I would fall again.” He looked up at Camille. “How did you get it open?”

Camille shook his head. “I merely flipped the latch. There was probably a spell on the window to make people avoid it, but of course that wouldn’t work on me. Are you well enough to move? We need to get your head seen to, and I need to speak to Dr. Grable.”

Anton gripped the edge of Camille’s cloak with desperate hands. “Have you even heard me? I lost the palimpsest, Camille! You trusted me with it, with something that could be absolutely deadly in the wrong hands, and I lost it! How can you want to have anything to do with me?”

“Anton.” Camille covered his shaking hands and squeezed them reassuringly. “You didn’t lose it, it was forcibly taken from you—there’s a difference. And you didn’t keep your notes in the same place as the palimpsest itself, presumably, so Montgomery still doesn’t know what it says. Not to mention, you still have the notes, don’t you? Somewhere?”

“I…yes, I do.” In one of the drawers of his desk, actually, with a simple concealment charm on them.

“Then we aren’t left with nothing. And lastly, if anyone should be held responsible for this mess, it’s me. I gave you the palimpsest in the first place and then sent you into the lion’s den. I should have known you would be a figure of interest after what happened on the train. We’re lucky that it took Montgomery so long to bring his focus to bear on you, otherwise you would likely have been targeted far sooner.” He looked grim now, his lips pressed tight together beneath his moustache. “The deaths of those four men are on me, if they can be blamed on anyone other than their killers. And even then, I think we’ll find that Beaufort and MacPherson might be less culpable than we first thought.”

“You…you think that Montgomery—” Anton suddenly remembered Percival’s plight. “Oh God, did you find Percy in time? Did he reach the river?”

“I found him,” Camille assured him. “He was in a state of deep conflict, clearly fighting with himself over whether or not to throw himself in the river. When I touched him, it was like breaking a trance.” Camille frowned again. “A deeply Catholic man would never commit suicide. And Harry Beaufort, while by all accounts rather reckless, would never throw away his future and all the wealth he hoped to accumulate by openly attacking his fellow students. I think we need to speak to Dr. Grable.”

Anton closed his eyes. “He will be so ashamed of me.”

“No.” Camille stroked warm fingertips down Anton’s cheek. “He would do better to be ashamed of himself. Come, let me help you up.”

Once he was shakily on his feet, Anton let Camille lead him down the long stairs to Dr. Grable’s office. It would have done more for his pride if Anton had stood on his own, but truthfully, he needed the support right now. His body still ached, his head throbbed where it had been split open on the slate, and he hadn’t quite shaken off the shock that gripped him. Montgomery a killer, a murderer. Able to do thaumaturgy that Anton couldn’t even identify, and the only reason that Anton was still alive was because of the luck of Camille’s timing and nature.

By the time they got to Grable’s office, Harry was mostly free of the stone, and spitting mad over it. “—dare you attack me this way, I will inform my father and he will—”

“Keep up that tone with me, boy, and I will put another rock in your mouth to gag it,” Dr. Grable told him. “Your father won’t be doing anything once he learns his son attempted to murder two of his fellow students.”

“I didn’t, though! I’m telling you, I—that—something is wrong here!”

In contrast to Harry’s raging, Percival sat quietly in a chair against the wall, his eyes distant and face dull. When he saw Anton enter the room, a tiny spark of life reentered his expression. “Anton, you survived!”

“I—yes, I’m all right.”

“Survived what?” Harry demanded, clawing at the granite still clinging to his leg.

“Survived Gerald, of course.”

Dr. Grable looked from Anton to Percival, then back to Camille. “Are we dealing with dark magic, then?”

“Pure force of will, in its most elemental form,” Camille agreed. “He had no need to employ the trappings of thaumaturgy to make it work either, although he did have to be in physical contact with Anton. I presume his tricks worked better on these two gentlemen because of longer exposure to them.”

“I killed a priest.” Percival sounded calm, but he wouldn’t quite meet anyone’s eyes. “I’m sure of it. I knew him a bit, socially, and I mentioned him to Gerald. I don’t know why he wanted him dead, but I remember…I remember waking up in bed with my hands aching, and a rosary I’d never seen before on my dresser.” He sighed deeply. “God will punish me for this sin, and I will deserve it, but I will not kill myself for it.”

“What the hell are you on about?” Harry demanded. “You haven’t killed anyone, and neither have I!”

“Yes,” Dr. Grable said. “I’m afraid you have. Let me clear your mind and show you.”

“Don’t touch me,” Harry spat, trying to step backward. The stone still held his lower leg, though, and he only succeeded in falling to the ground. “Don’t touch me, I will tell my father about this and he’ll—” Dr. Grable forced Harry to meet his eyes, pulled out his silver wand, and drew a complex circular insignia on his forehead.

“Will to fight will,” he muttered. “Now see.”

A moment later, Harry’s eyes went wide. “No.” His protest turned into a moan, and he shook his head hard, like an animal. “No, no! I didn’t—I would never—oh god, the blood, I—I—” He buried his face in his hands and began to keen.

It was Percival who went to him, took him into his arms and held him tight against the horror he was forced to relive. “It will be all right,” Percival said quietly. “It will be all right, Harry.”

Harry only wept in reply.

Happy New Year! New projects, a giveaway, and best wishes for 2018.

It's 2018! 

One can only hope that, for those of us living in America, it will be a less politically toxic place than it was last year. I'm not holding my breath, but hope springs eternal. Anyway, onto more fun things.

I've got two books coming out in January with L.A. Witt from Riptide! They're the last two books in the Bad Behavior series, and while yes, we do put the guys through the wringer in the third book, the fourth is pure, unadulterated, delicious fluff. So if you like cop stories, if you like romantic suspense, if you like my work or L.A.'s or both, then I hope you pick these ones up. Reckless Behavior is out now, Romantic Behavior comes out on the 15th.

https://riptidepublishing.com/titles/reckless-behavior

Amazon: Reckless Behavior

https://riptidepublishing.com/titles/romantic-behavior

As far as other writing projects go, I've got a novel coming out in Dreamspinner's Dreamspun Desires line, called Handle With Care. It should be here in September. Also, the audio book of Off The Beaten Path will be available in January as well. I'll let you know exactly when.

This year I'm going to try and self-publish the first few installments of stories in the Bonded Universe, as well as The Train and The Tower as a duology. Tempest should make a reappearance as well, and I've got plans for a new blog story as soon as The Tower is done that I've got high hopes for. I've got another co-authored story with Lori in the works, I've got solo stuff I'm working on, and I've got my baby to take care of, so everything is going to happen when it happens. But I wouldn't trade extra time with my baby for anything, so...no rush :)

Last but not least! I have four copies of the audio book of Friendly Fire to give away! It's narrated by Nick Russo, the same guy who did the first two stories in the Panopolis series, and I love it. 

To win, all you need to do is leave me a positive, hopeful comment about this coming year by January 15th, when I'll randomly select the winners. 

Thanks for all your support, your affection, and your time. Here's to a happy 2018 for all of us!