“Dead of Winter: Journey 10, Pergesca” resumes outside the Lost Library, where Hallgeir was faced with a decision that could impact the entire world. . Lucetius is gravely wounded when he attempts to deliver a message. Emlyn, Zasha, and Osabide are again separated from all their friends. The Three must continue their journey without assistance or protection from the other travellers. They must reach the faraway city of Pergesca. That is also the seat of power of the ancient Society of Deae Matres. Will the companions eventually be reunited? . A vicious enemy returns, displaying unexpected strength. . An important character dies in this novelette. The death of a character is a rare thing in stories written by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene.
Our Review
This enthralling story is gathering pace, and although things do seem promising, I doubt there can be a totally happy conclusion as there are too many opposing forces at work here.
Emlyn, in her innocence, cannot hope to compete with all the forces of evil that surround her.
Or can she?
The mysterious force that guides her is her only help. Thankfully, her companions have stopped treating her as a child, dismissing her adventures and intuitions, as they have begun to realise that a strong and powerful presence is guiding her.
Watching the fall of Haldis, someone I never completely trusted (I was with Emlyn with this one) I was impressed with the way the author handled this extraordinarily complex situation.
Throughout the episodes already visited and enjoyed, I have been enthralled, entertained and patient, waiting for the story to reveal its secrets, but as we near the end, the tension is becoming unbearable.
Can you wrap your body In another man’s shadow? Walk in his footsteps, Eventually taking over his life. Can you walk through London, New York, Tokyo, Moscow? Wondering what to do with the fourteen minutes to the hour that they have in common. What can you find out about yourself In such short a time? Does the completed hour Connect them in some unknown way? London would be ten o clock New York five o clock Tokyo seven o clock Moscow one o clock On the surface, it would appear not. Still, I wonder about the fourteen minutes between each city…
Kate Devereau wakes up in hospital unable to speak or move after the brutal attack by her ex-husband.
Her brain has shut down, refusing to acknowledge the misery of her dark and disturbing past.
A past that conceals a web of painful secrets.
Michael Barratt, Kate’s old flame, brought her to the hospital insisting that her ex-husband had tried to kill her
And from the state of him, had tried to kill him too.
With the help of DI David Snow, Kate will gradually piece her shattered life back together,
only to discover her nightmare is far from over.
Her first instinct is to run, but Snow convinces her to stay to help him put an end to the nightmare.
A nightmare that will get a lot worse before it gets better…
An excerpt from Out of Time
When he discovered Michael Barratt’s location, Snow didn’t have to ask what happened as the constable’s face said it all. A lovely shade of green was indicating the man was having trouble hanging on to his breakfast.
The churchyard resembled a scene from a horror movie with blood everywhere. The victim had been attacked from behind. A single knife wound to the neck, causing him to bleed out in a matter of seconds. What had possessed the man to leave the safety of the church? You had to wonder at his mental state, for he didn’t appear to have had a death wish.
Snow looked down at the man lying on the grass, an attractive man, despite the scar tissue and missing hair. He felt a little sorry for him, not for dying, but for spending too many years searching for Kate Devereau, only to fall flat at her unforgiving feet. He thought again about the other woman in his life and the child. Michael Barratt sure liked to complicate his life, but to what end? Still, the fight was over for him now.
The area behind the church had been checked as soon as the body was found, but there was no trace of Jack Holland. Snow wasn’t fooled, he had to be around there somewhere, as he wouldn’t rest until he had Kate Devereau in his clutches.
She almost knocked him down as he opened the door to the church. ‘Where is he?’ she said, trying to sidestep around him. He put his hands on her shoulders. ‘You cannot go out there, Kate. I will not allow it. You will have to say your goodbyes later.’
Her face contorted with either rage or upset, he couldn’t tell which. ‘He is dead, Kate. He went outside against our instructions and paid the ultimate price. At least it would have been quick …’
She started to walk backwards away from him, a stunned look on her face as the truth sank in. Snow caught the attention of a WPC and indicated Kate shouldn’t be left alone. He watched them walk away and wondered what would happen next. He tried to reach Jim Harris on his phone but there was no answer. He left a constable to guard the door and went to find him.
Snow marched around outside the church, looking for Jim Harris. He refused to consider losing anyone else. He was so angry, if he could get his hands on Jack Holland, they wouldn’t need to lock him up.
He found his sergeant checking the cars outside in the street. ‘You need to answer your phone, Jim before I have heart failure …’
‘Sorry, Boss, it must be on silent. Saw a man hanging around out here, so thought I’d check.’
‘Since when do you leave the scene of a crime, Jim, whatever the reason?’
A scream from inside the church drew their attention, and they hurried inside, expecting the worst. Kate and Sam were sitting on the floor in front of the altar, and Kate was the one who had screamed. Sam looked up as they approached and pointed towards the altar. ‘Present from Jack Holland …’
Snow had to look hard to recognise what had been left on the velvet altar cloth, and his heart sank when he realised what it was. Kate’s flowers were lying there, soaked with blood. The most obvious message from a killer, intended to strike fear into the soul of his next victim, and from the look on Kate Devereau’s face, it had worked…
The titular dead of Winter begin this Journey in a collection of vignettes. The Veil separating the world of the living and the Realm of the Dead has indeed become thin. As feared the dead begin to enter the Realm of the Living. Small outbreaks of chaos are scattered across the world as spirits try to resume their old lives.
Also in those shorts, two characters are introduced who will come back into the story in future Journeys — Gregorios, and Mairead who recalls the circumstance that brought Zasha and Tajín together. The spirits also visit some characters from past Journeys.
Emlyn and company encounter the King of Hell, and this time, Arawn is not in a dream-like netherworld.
Biography
Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene lives in a “high desert” town in the Southwest of the USA.
Teagan had always devoured fantasy novels of every type. Then one day there was no new book readily at hand for reading — so she decided to write one. And she hasn’t stopped writing since.
Her work is colored by her experiences from living in the southern states and the desert southwest. Teagan most often writes in the fantasy genre, but she also writes cozy mysteries. Whether it’s a 1920s mystery, a steampunk adventure, or urban fantasy, her stories have a strong element of whimsy.
Founder of the Three Things method of storytelling, her blog “Teagan’s Books” contains serial stories written according to “things” from viewers. http://www.teagansbooks.com
Major influences include Agatha Christie, Terry Brooks, David Eddings, Robert Jordan, and Charlaine Harris.
In this journey, we discover Lyn Pistyll, a beautiful waterfall, and in Emlyn’s dreams, Arawn, the king of the dead lives there.
Legend has it that when the Great Wall was healed, this waterfall was created, sealing the dead away from the living.
Dead of Winter is a story with ghosts, but not your average ghost story.
The veil that was meant to keep the realms apart has been ripped apart by the untimely and brutal arrival of Arawn and the spirits can now more between the worlds, where, of course, Emlyn can see them.
But these ghosts are not here to cause trouble, they just want to pick up where they were before they died.
Dead of Winter gets better with every journey, but some serious co-operation by all concerned will be needed to sort this mess out!
March 11, 2021, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about deep wishes. Where is the deep — in the sky, the ground, or outer space? What kind of wishes reside there for whom and why?
Sitting in the middle of the field, mysterious in the moonlight, was a wishing well. It wasn’t there yesterday; of that I am sure. I mean, why would anyone build a well so far from a house? Far from looking quaint and old worldly, it looked much too menacing for my liking. I found myself drawn to it, but was my life really so bad, I needed to make a wish? There were a few things I could wish for, a proper home, a better husband, a baby… If I only had to choose one, which would it be?
Let the records show I am indissoluble. I would survive a sudden dipping in lime. Some people come up smelling of roses. I am one of them. I am anodyne, I would not like to offend anyone. Better I were pulled through a gathering backwards. Where I pull my hair, trying to wake. Ahead, I see a three-sided symbol with a yellow dot in the centre I feel my body sway with the low sound of drums. A strange triple style beat The echo rings back to my sleeping mind Where I stare at my profile in the mirror Wondering where the other of me has gone…
I never thought these words would drop onto my keyboard. I am convinced I have killed someone. I don’t remember why, or who he was. My memory, half hidden in a fog, We both held the knife. I remember he was left-handed. He lunged first, twisting away. I received a deep stab to my left thigh. He fell past me, I spun around, my knife lodged in his back. He fell on my kitchen floor. Trouble is, there has never been a dead body on my floor. The two-inch scar on my thigh tells me there should be. I have no explanation for the mark he left. A childhood accident has been suggested. Others say it could be an old memory From a past life we carry forward Once in a while, the scar itches Reminding me of something I cannot fully remember…
