Saturday, July 25, 2026

New Release: "The Belgravia Phantom," by: Ellis Blackwood

 Hello everyone. I've got another book tour for you today. And this one is for a new release for author Ellis Blackwood. Check out the details below for "The Belgravia Phantom," and read the sneak peek he provided for you all to enjoy. Don't miss out on this awesome read. Grab your copy today to fill your weekend with words a plenty. Happy reading everyone :).

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Victorian mystery fiction as you’ve never read it before – from well below stairs.


The Belgravia Phantom
The Quill & Page Victorian Mysteries Book 1
by: Ellis Blackwood
Genre: Historical Victorian Mystery

Ned and Vi belong to the evening, when the naphtha lamps of the costermongers’ stalls hiss and flare, and all between is subsumed in shadow. When the streets still throng with shoppers, and the trams and cabs and omnibuses are lit by oil - white light, oncoming; red light, receding - and Whitechapel Road feels interesting to know. When the cries of the chestnut roasters, the fried-fish sellers and the pie-men create a cacophony of distraction.  

This is when they thrive.

They have their stomachs set on the hawker of baked potatoes, with his lovingly polished can on four legs, its brass plaque proclaiming: “Old Original Baked Potatoes”. The old man who ran the stand for many a year lately died; his errant son has the business now, and shows rather less aptitude for vigilance.

While Ned lurks in the background, Vi sidles up. Her head tilts this way and that, apparently undecided. She plays with an unseen coin in her hand. The bait.

Glowing charcoal lights the lad’s face orange. He narrows eyes at her. Steam rises from his burner, and the earthy aroma of the treasure within. 

“What can I have for a ha’penny?” she asks. It is all she could spare, but it should suffice if she plays it right.

He snorts. “On your way, missy. My prices start at a penny and no less.”

She glances up and down the road, where the sellers either side, of ham sandwiches, hot green peas and eels, have patrons queueing. 

He kicks a heel. It has not been easy, taking over his father’s trade. The baker who roasts his hundredweights recently upped his fee, and the locals whose custom the old man relied upon have found new flavours elsewhere. Many deserted him for that other potato hawker in Spitalfields.

As his gaze follows Vi’s, he licks his lips. “S’pose I might be able to find a small one.”

He opens the wide half-lid, peers inside debating, and picks out the smallest spud he can find. 

“Butter and salt?” she asks innocently.

“For a ha’penny? Don’t push yer luck.” 

As he hands over the plain fare, she fumbles the coin. The tiniest flick of her thumb sends it skittering into a gutter, his attention trapped on its progress. By the time he has retrieved it, mumbling sourly, Ned has pounced and vanished, melting into the crowd. He moves slickly for a big lad, even one cradling stolen potatoes in an untucked shirt.

“Sorry. Butterfingers.” Vi smiles, savouring the spud’s warmth as she heads home.


BLURB:

How do you prove you didn’t scare Lady Pemberton to death with a phantom?

Such is Kate Quill’s quandary. The faked séance went horribly wrong, and now Inspector Hartwell of Scotland Yard has her in his sights.

Kate’s poor. Seamstress poor. But what she lacks in the pocket, she makes up for in allies.
There are her siblings. Daisy, the actress. Ned and Vi… There’s no way around this – they’re petty thieves.

There’s Mrs McGinty, their formidable Irish landlady. There are Vi’s Whitechapel Worthies, Little Till (adorable) and the Twins (quite odd).

And there is Frederick Page, former gentleman’s gentleman, chess aficionado, lover of puzzles, and now reluctant partner in an unlikely Victorian detective duo. Please, do not refer to him as Freddie, or he’ll be grasping for the smelling salts.

Can this glorious rabble somehow band together to investigate all those lofty lords and ladies who attended the séance?

And discover who really murdered Lady Dorothea Pemberton?

The Belgravia Phantom is the first in a series of irresistible Victorian murder mysteries from the acclaimed author of the Samuel Pepys Mysteries. Expect fiendish whodunits, singular characters and vivid history. Step into London’s gaslit and swirling pea-soupers, and hear those click-clack footsteps approach...

*** NEW RELEASE ON JULY 31! ***

Purchase your Copy Today!

Add to your TBR List!

Check out Reviews and Recommendations!


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Ellis Blackwood writes very British historical mysteries: fiendish whodunits packed with singular characters, vivid period detail and plenty of wit. His completed nine-book Samuel Pepys Mysteries series is set in 17th century London. He is currently working on the Quill & Page Victorian Mysteries, featuring a found family of East End misfits investigating the crimes of the upper classes who cast them out.

A former journalist, Ellis wrote features for the UK's most popular national newspapers and magazines before escaping to Cornwall with his wife, two daughters and Spike the dog. He holds an MA in Comedy Writing, which explains a lot.

He grew up on The Hardy Boys and Three Investigators, graduated to Sherlock Holmes, and has never quite recovered from Columbo. He prefers writing female sleuths, with the odd chap thrown in, and is firmly convinced that historical settings are simply more fascinating.

"Absolutely fabulous, reek of authenticity, full of intrigue and fun" – Amazon review of the Samuel Pepys Mysteries

Learn more about Ellis...



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Enter to Win:

$10 Amazon or PayPal Gift Card

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Next Stop on the Tour:
July 26th






















"The Lesitha Veil Tales," by: CM Dawson — Book Tour & Giveaway!

 Hello everyone. Today is another day for some fun bookish posts. I am going to feature a book tour for CM Dawson's two books in her "Lesitha Veil Tales." You can dive into both of the books with sneak peeks, and book details. Don't miss out on these two books in this series. You won't want to miss them and book 2 is on sale for 99¢ for a limited time. Make sure to grab your books today. Happy reading :).

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Every choice echoes across worlds. Freedom or Chaos; Stability or Control?

The Edge of Oblivion
The Lesitha Veil Tales Book 1
by: CM Dawson
Genre: Epic SciFi Fantasy Adventure


Then there was the Great Xan Janal, who claimed to have gone over the Edge and slayed a mighty beast to save a village. He boasted that there were many worlds, all separated by the Veil. There were people of different races who spoke weird languages. Some were tall and fair with long, flowing, silver hair. Others were short, squat, covered in fur and grunted a lot. Those stories always made me laugh. My eyes blurred as tears welled up, thinking of him. Whether they were real or figments of his imagination, Xan had given his life to sharing his stories of adventure. And I wasn’t about to let him down.

As I crawled on, I wondered which world I would find on the other side of the Veil. Would it be a world of thick jungles, filled with loud, screaming creatures jumping from one towering tree to the next? Or would it be a crystalline world overflowing with unimaginable colours? I was hoping for the water world, for Muut’s sake, except for the whole swimming thing. That scared me.

I looked back again and then beyond Muut. I scanned the horizon and watched as the heat rippled off the scorched ground. The only things that stood as high as a man here were the boulders that dotted the landscape. There was no lush green foliage, and the rivers were more often dry more than filled with water. I dreamed of seeing the leaves of a plant that was as big as me. I fantasised about dipping my fingers into a cool running stream and carrying the refreshing water to my lips; skipping stones across its surface and seeing splashes instead of puffs of dust.

I didn’t know if Xan’s stories were real or made-up fantasies to impress the ladies. But what I knew was that I didn’t want to die without at least attempting to find out. I owed him that much. So I turned back and faced the Edge. I checked the straps that held my knives tucked against my wrists. I placed my right hand out in front of me and then my right knee, then my left hand, left knee. I slowly crawled to the Edge.

The fingers on my left hand reached it first. I stopped and looked at my hand. The tips of my fingers curved over an edge. My breath caught in my throat. I moved my right hand up to match my left and swallowed deeply as the tips of both hands were now bent joyously over the Edge of our world. I slowly lowered myself down to the rough ground and felt the sharp rocks poking me in my chest and belly. 

Carefully, I pulled my body up to the Edge and peered over. The air coalesced into a swirling mist of obscurity, roiling and bulging, causing my vision to slide and refocus as I tried to peer through it. 

I pulled myself up to the Edge, raising onto my elbows and stretching my neck as far as I could. The grey mist swirled around my head forming dewdrops on my cheeks. I blew into it, watching as it whirled madly away from me, quickly folding back in on itself. I extended my arm and felt a cool dampness cover me like a second skin. The further I extended it, the less I could see of it. 

I pulled myself up and swivelled around to sit on the Edge with my legs now dangling freely. My feet disappeared into the swirling mist that roiled below me. Then I leaned out as far as I could and swished my arms back and forth, trying to clear a view through the grey wall. 

I either leaned too far or whipped my arms too wildly, because I tumbled off the ledge into the mist. My heart leapt as I felt myself sliding down the edge of the world. Suddenly, I jerked to a stop when the rope tied to my ankle caught me tight. My breath gushed from my lungs and my heart pounded my ribs. 

I heard Muut calling to me, his cries distant, muffled. 

I hung for a moment, dangling upside down against the edge of the world. I released my fear as I pushed myself up away from the rough rock face. Curling my knees beneath me, I crouched for a moment, waiting to see if I would fall. Nothing happened. The cool mist swirled around me; my head swooned with the mesmerising movement.  

I filled my lungs with the moist air and stood. Fully expecting to topple over, I stretched my arms wide to catch myself when I did. I stood there as rigid as a boulder with my arms spread, knees locked, breath held, eyes tightly closed.

Nothing. 

I slowly opened my left eye, peeking, face scrunched tight, awaiting the imagined impact. Both eyes sprang open, and the air exploded out of my lungs. A breathtaking view assaulted my eyes. 


BLURB:

"We were younger than we realised and equally naïve."

Dive into The Edge of Oblivion — a coming of age fantasy of secret map books, a dying storyteller’s last wish, and a crystal key that reveals tears in reality. Discover a richly imagined world, fast paced adventure, and a hero who must choose between duty and destiny — buy now and step over the Veil.

The veil is weakening and shreds between the worlds are becoming more frequent. Darkness is spreading. A new Rysyn is sought to replace the Torsoma before it’s too late and the veil fails, releasing chaos across the facet worlds.

Bex Gartan has no desire to follow her father into the Grinders Guild – or die of stone lung like he did. A rebellious 17-year-old, just weeks before her Liberation Day, a brutal encounter shatters her world. In a shadowy alley, she faces a tragedy and finds her destiny.

Bex's determination to find the truth pulls her into a conflict that spans multiple worlds. She becomes the target of assassins, the pawn of questionable advisors, and now the unlikely successor to the leader of the Facet worlds. Bex must learn to temper her impulsive nature and trust her instincts if she’s to save her friends, and the Facet worlds.

Will she be the saviour they seek or the herald of chaos?

Purchase your Copy Today!

Add to your TBR List!

Check out Reviews and Recommendations!


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Dark Side of the Veil
The Lesitha Veil Tales Book 2


“Come,” the ‘naut commanded. 

I turned my attention back to the wall where a trickle of moisture ran down a groove, around a rivet, and disappeared behind the bench.

The white-hot tearing of my scalp ripped a scream from my chest as the ‘naut yanked me to my feet by my braid. He held me, dangling in the air for a moment before releasing me. My hands went to my head and returned covered in blood.

“Come or be dragged.” 

The warmth of the blood running down my back held me for a moment. Then Tar was at my side, gripping my elbow to guide me.

“Walk,” he commanded.

My legs felt like they were full of sand, but I made them move as he guided me out of the cell and we followed the ‘naut through the maze of passages. “Where are you taking me now?” I whispered.

Tar ignored my question, but I felt a tightening on my elbow.

“Why are you helping someone like him?”

Again, no response, but this time there was a tug on my elbow. “Okay, at least tell me where you’re taking me?”

The massive head of the ‘naut glanced back at us. “No speak. Walk.”

We rode up out of the cells in an open lift. The fresh air felt good against my sweaty face. I studied the bleak world of Vrellum as we rose and wondered if my friends were somewhere lost in the labyrinthine maze of metal gantries and yellow haze.

The platform stopped and the ‘naut led us out into brighter, well-lit passages. We were back in the fortress of Urbo’Krk. We weren’t led to the main assembly chamber. This time the ‘naut led me past the big wooden doors with the familiar motifs etched on them. Instead, I was taken to a smaller chamber. As we entered, a light came on above a large metal chair that sat in the centre of the room. There were straps on the arms and the footrest. I stopped short, making Tar bump into me.

The ‘naut pointed. “Sit.”

I threw my head back, catching Tar off guard and smashing his face, just missing his already flattened nose. My elbow connected with his ribs, and I heard a satisfying grunt. Turning to run, I wasn’t quick enough. The one-eyed Omaj blocked my exit, and the ‘naut grabbed my shoulder, pinching me, and I screamed at the crushing of my bones. He threw me into the chair, slamming my head against the upper backrest. I left a bloody imprint from his earlier threat of dragging me. I tried to get up but felt pressure on my chest. It forced me back into the chair.

“Enough.” Urbo’Krk stepped out of the shadows with Cog at his side. He’d removed his cape and the silver breastplate. He now wore a black vest that allowed him to display his mechanical arms. Beneath the close-fitting fabric, I could see that his neck and chest were flesh. There was a seam where the augmented arms attached to his shoulders. The join was smooth and had a natural appearance as if the black mesh were just another type of skin.

He leaned over me. His presence felt heavy. The pressure built on my chest, and I tried to take a deeper breath, but could only sip the air. I turned away and refused to acknowledge him.

“Ah yes, you feel my strength.” He stood and pointed at Tar. His energy pushed against me, pressing me into the metal seat. Tar remained standing against the wall and motioned for Omaj to strap my wrists and ankles to the chair.

“I wish to examine you.” He spoke calmly as he turned and walked to a table that ran the length of one wall. “It isn’t every day a Rysyn passes through my world.”

My teeth felt like they might pop out as I spoke through my clenched jaw. “I’ve never heard of a Rysyn and don’t know why you think I’m one. I was only looking for the truth.”

I glared at Tar as I spoke my defiant words. His stoic face drew tight as he stared at me and shook his head. Cog had stepped further into the room and now sat at my side. His quizzically tilted head indicating his attention.

Urbo’Krk’s broad back hunched over the table now straightened as he slowly turned back to look at me. “I will learn what makes you a Rysyn,” his eyes flicked to Cog, “or I’ll make the cog suffer for your defiance.”

Cog tilted his head as he gazed from me to his master. I couldn’t be certain if he understood the threat that Urbo’Krk had made, but I also wouldn’t be the reason that he suffered any further abuse under this monster.

My jaw remained clenched as I slumped defeated into the chair. Tears welled in my eyes as Urbo’Krk came toward me carrying a mesh of wires.

“That’s better. Now sit still; this will hardly hurt.”


BLURB:

When Bexlin Gartan is kidnapped into a world of metal and gears, the impulsive daughter of a storyteller must reclaim a stolen Lesitha Crystal and learn why her blood marks her as the next Rysyn—before a tyrant uses her power to shred the Veil and destroy everything.

Bex crossed the veil for adventure - now she may never return home, may never see her ma again or laugh with her friends. Stranded in a dark Facet, ruled by a tyrant set on seeking revenge and using her to fulfil his vengeance, she must decide whether she will become his pawn or fight to save all she loves.

Separated from her friends, she convinces the strange mechanically augmented half-lifes to help her find them and to return home, but not before she tries to stop the demented ruler, Urbo'Krk. Uncertain who to trust or what the rising energy building within her means, she must learn to control her impetuous ways and calm her mind. Only then can she face the truth of her destiny - saviour or destroyer.

Will she bring stability or usher in chaos?

*** ON SALE FOR ONLY 99¢ ON AMAZON & KOBO! ***

Purchase your Copy Today!

Add to your TBR List!

Check out Reviews and Recommendations!


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CM Dawson is an indie fantasy author and the founder of Crystal Path Publishing, writing multi-world adventure fiction from the rolling green hills of Wiltshire, England. Her debut series, The Lesitha Tales, follows Bex Gartan — a headstrong, impulsive 17-year-old who finds herself thrust into a power struggle that spans multiple worlds. Compared to Samantha Shannon, Brandon Sanderson, and Suzanne Collins, the series blends fast-paced action, vivid world-building, and a fierce coming-of-age heart. She crafts immersive multiverse fantasy filled with emotional stakes, dark magic, and lore rich worldbuilding. The first two books — The Edge of Oblivion and Dark Side of the Veil — are available now. A space opera trilogy, a short story collection, and a dystopian novel are all in development. When she is not writing, she can be found gardening, editing the local parish magazine, playing skittles, or being bossed around by her two English Bulldogs, Sage and Bubba.

Learn more about CM Dawson...



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Enter to Win:

Swag pack with a signed first edition of "The Edge of Oblivion," 
bookmark, stickers, cog mug & postcards,

$20 Amazon or PayPal Gift Card,

— 1 Winner Each!

Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

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Tuesday, July 21, 2026

Royal Archives Entry #001

Hello to all of my reader friends!

As promised, I will be spending a lot of time exploring the world that makes up my new book, “The Fae Chronicles: Battle for the Underworld." Well, it’s new-ish. For those of you who may be new here, I am rewriting a story that was important to me, but I had been unable to dedicate my full attention to. As I wrote it, I re-lit a fire inside me that had me designing an entire world around my book. This is something I had originally intended to do, but the task seemed overwhelming at the time.

I will be starting my first Royal Archive entry with Selkies. As some of you know I have recently released a book called, “Selkie’s Storm” over the past few months. So, I thought they would be a good place to start, as they are briefly featured in the Fae Chronicles, and promise to be more prevalent in a later novel. Clearly I love Celtic mythology!

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Five Fascinating Facts About Selkies

One of my favorite things about writing fantasy is discovering the incredible myths and legends that have been passed down for centuries. So many of the stories we know today began around campfires, in fishing villages, or were whispered from one generation to the next.

As many of you know, my novella "Selkie's Storm" was inspired by one of my favorite Celtic legends—the mysterious selkie.

If you've never heard of them before, here are five fascinating facts about these unforgettable creatures.

1. Selkies aren't mermaids.

Although they're both connected to the sea, selkies are something entirely different.

According to Celtic folklore, selkies live as seals in the ocean. By shedding their seal skin, they can take on human form and walk among us. When they're ready to return home, they simply slip back into their skin and disappear beneath the waves.

2. Their seal skin is everything.

A selkie's skin isn't just clothing—it's their connection to the sea, their freedom, and their true identity.

Many traditional legends tell of humans hiding or stealing a selkie's skin, trapping them on land. These stories aren't simply romances; they're often heartbreaking tales about freedom, belonging, and the desire to return home.

3. Their legends stretch across the Celtic world.

Stories of selkies have been told for hundreds of years throughout Scotland, Ireland, Orkney, Shetland, and the Faroe Islands.

One of my favorite things about folklore is that every region tells the story just a little differently. There isn't always one "correct" version, which makes exploring these legends even more magical.

4. Are selkies dangerous?

Surprisingly...not usually.

Unlike many mythical creatures, selkies are rarely portrayed as monsters.

Most stories describe them as gentle, mysterious beings whose greatest wish is simply to return to the sea. It's often human choices—not the selkies themselves—that create tragedy.

5. One common myth isn't actually true.

Many people believe selkies are simply another version of mermaids.

They're not.

Their stories are unique, deeply rooted in Celtic folklore, and focus far more on love, loss, family, identity, and the pull of home than on magic alone.

Perhaps that's one of the reasons these stories have survived for centuries—they remind us that even the oldest legends are really about the human heart.

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I love weaving pieces of Celtic mythology into my writing, and you'll find echoes of these ancient legends throughout my stories—including my new fantasy series, The Fae Chronicles.

If you've already read Selkie's Storm, I'd love to hear what you thought of the selkie legend.

AND, I still have a paranormal mystery available, as well, titled "Shadows of Willow's Creek."

Now a question for you my readers: If you could spend one day with any creature from Celtic mythology, which would you choose? I’d love to hear your answers!

Until next Tuesday, may your lantern never fade.

-Joli G. Campbell

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Did you enjoy this post? If you did and want more with updates please head over to the sidebar menu in the upper right corner. You can subscribe to the blog either by the RSS feed option or through the Follow button. Hope you have a great week. Until next time :). 

Tuesday, July 14, 2026

Hello From My Corner of the Woods!

If you're new here, welcome! I'm so glad you stopped by.

If you've been following my writing journey for a while, thank you for coming along on this adventure with me. Whether you've been here since the beginning or you've only recently discovered my books, I hope you'll find something here that sparks your imagination.

I've always loved stories that blend mystery, folklore, fantasy, and just a touch of darkness. Those are the stories I love to read, and they're the stories I love to write.

Some of you may already know my paranormal mystery, Shadows of Willow's Creek, where long-buried secrets and ancient evil collide in a small town. Others may have discovered Selkie's Storm, a novella inspired by Celtic folklore and one of my favorite mythical creatures.

Those stories will always have a special place in my heart.

But over the past several years, I've been pouring my heart into something even bigger.

A new world.

A world hidden beneath the roots of an ancient Hawthorn tree.

A place where lanterns glow through the night, kingdoms rise and fall, old magic lingers in forgotten forests, and legends are still being written.

That world is The Fae Chronicles.

The first novel, Battle for the Underworld, has been two years in the making. Every map, every kingdom, every character, every piece of history has been carefully woven together to create a world I hope readers will want to visit again and again. Fun fact – it has already been published once before. However, the story was very important to me and I knew I had rushed it. To be honest, I had a lot of heavy things going on, and I still do. But I've learned to compartmentalize some of these things, putting them away for later so I can handle them more readily with a fresh mind.

I'm getting closer than ever to sharing it with you.

As I prepare for its release, in about two weeks I think,

 I thought it would be fun to invite you behind the scenes.

In the coming weeks, I'll be sharing glimpses of the Underworld here on the blog. You'll meet fascinating creatures, discover forgotten legends, explore magical kingdoms, and uncover little pieces of history that don't always make it into the books. Some posts may introduce you to characters. Others may explore Celtic folklore, the myths that inspired parts of my world, or simply offer a peek into my writing process.

Think of this as an invitation.

An invitation to walk beneath the Hawthorn.

To wander hidden paths.

To discover stories waiting just beyond the lantern light.

I'm so excited to share this journey with you.

Thank you for being here.

The adventure is only just beginning.

Until next time,

Joli G. Campbell

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*** COMING SOON ***


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Saturday, July 11, 2026

"Mystics in Hell," compiled by: Janet Morris — Book Tour & Giveaway!

 Hello readers. It's a busy Saturday and I got one more book post for you all to enjoy. Check out this book tour featuring author A.L. Butcher and the box set "Mystics in Hell," that was compiled by Janet Morris. You will find details on all the stories within the collection along with a sneak peek into A.L. Butcher's story itself. Hope you snag a copy and enjoy the read. Happy reading everyone :).

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No heaven can save them from their own twisted visions—welcome to a side of the underworld you have never dared to imagine.

Mystics in Hell
A Heroes in Hell Anthology
Compiled by Janet Morris
Genre: Dark Fantasy Anthology


From The Abode of Woe by A.L. Butcher


Paradise’s dim light grew ever dimmer as the hell-lights began to glare with the blue glow of sulfur. It was an unforgiving light for the unforgiven. Word had got around, and crowds had begun to gather for the evening’s entertainment. Calchas had started a book on the outcome of the battle, and the diablos were rolling in.

“Two to One for the Pig Man!” yelled a grifter clad in the sharpest suit of the evening. 

“Seven to Four for the Prince!” bellowed another voice, shrill in the crowd.

Kevin the fiend grinned. He was having the time of his unlife; he’d read the small-print.

“Are they ready?” Calchas asked, eying the large and sinister cloth-covered mounds on opposing sides of the temple.

“Yep. Ready for mayhem, master.” A smiling fiend is not something to stir the heart with confidence or joy and Calchas sobered. He wondered if he should feel guilty, but he had enough of that to last a thousand lifetimes and these New Dead had brought it on themselves. At least that is what he told himself and Cassandra.

“Ego fighting ego will bring no good for either. A temple built in haste to honor mere vanity and lies will surely fall to dust.” Cassandra stared at the mounds, hoping these fire-spiting death machines would not bring them all to the Undertaker’s door. Were they too close? She closed her eyes and let her mind wander.

“Will we be punished for this venture?” He’d asked, thinking too late they may have erred and voicing both their fears. He hoped nothing would backfire; plans in hell oft went awry. And he knew that sooner or later he’d pay the price for this deceit.

“This is Hades. Punishment is inherent. But I think not . . . at least not on this day. ‘Rue thy former life, and revel in thy afterlife, for thou art damned.’ Is that not the advice you once gave me? We are the damned. We must survive as we may. But those infernal and wicked weapons of the new-dead — Surely the walls of Ilium would have fallen on the first day.” She paused, “Would we have fought with such demon-weapons of war?”

Calchas gazed over to the two looming cloth-bound shapes. “Probably. Priam and Agamemnon would have found some means to destroy one another, no doubt. Man’s capacity for war outweighs his capacity for reason — and this place is full of the testimonials to that.”

“They will fall in dust as vain men are wont to do.” Cassandra told him.

“They won’t go through with it. It would be suicide. That building will fall down in the next hell-storm,” Calchas replied, doubtful.

They’d watched the crowd assemble from a reasonable distance. “Pack up. In case. And I will try to steer the mayhem from our door to be on the safe side, should the range of those war-weapons be enough to hit us. Make sure you are careful where you stand.

“Look there’s old Assisi. Out for the entertainment, along with everyone else by the looks. Let’s see — drinks are half-price.” Calchas would not let this opportunity pass. 

Cassandra nodded, “Where did you get the fire-spitters?”

“Che Guevara owes me a favor. It might be useful to keep one—just in case. How hard can they be to use? Look, come there are our two brave heroes.” Calchas separated himself from Cassandra, still in the guise of the department man, and wandered over to the two Prophets.

“So, gentlemen, are we ready to settle this? Remember the winner gets control of that site, should it still be standing. The loser, or losers . . .will have more immediate issues to deal with.” Calchas motioned to the nearer of the covered shapes. “Who would like Big Bertha?”

The Reverend Henry Prince stared doubtfully at the shape. “That’s not a sword, or a firearm.”

“Give that make a Heck-Cookie!” Kevin chortled. He’d been milling and warming up the onlookers. With a flourish he tugged the cloth away — to reveal a howitzer, pointing towards the Temple of Woe. It was an evil-looking device, as were many man-made machines of death. “Humans, they do like to kill one another in all sorts of inventive ways! Welcome Big Bertha. She’s a friendly girl!”

“And the other?” Smyth-Pigott asked, his voice tremulous.

They walked across to a lower-slung shape. “Gentlemen, meet Roaring Meg, the deadly maiden of the English Roundheads,” Kevin chuckled.

“Not your era, I suppose, but they do the job. They are primed for combat. Meg has helpers: she fires but one ball at a time, yet she’s a fiery lass and one of the more knowledgeable operatives of hell has evened the odds.” Calchas held his palm out, containing dice. “Whoever rolls snake-eyes gets first choice, but Meg is a little slower, and older, and thus she fires first.”

“What happens if we refuse this ridiculous plan?” Henry Prince could not take his eyes from the cannon.

“Refuse? I wasn’t aware that was an option.” Calchas feigned surprise.

Kevin murmured something in Calchas’ ear, “My associate says it is an option but if a refusal is forthcoming then all rights are revoked to build now and for infernity, Sentence will be the six-hundred and sixty-five years of cleaning Perish sewers, and you must publicly affirm your rival as the true Chosen One, the true heir and the ultimate seer. And as both are equally guilty you will have to work together, and your women too, forever. If both refuse, then it must be done at exactly the same time. Whomever speaks first is deemed the greater coward.”


BLURB:

Mystic Madness!
Join the doomed on their vision quests in eleven stories by the damnedest writers in Perdition: Janet Morris; A.L. Butcher; Joe Bonadonna; Andrew P. Weston; Gustavo Bondoni; Seth Lindberg; Tom Barczak; Michael H. Hanson; Louis Antonelli; Christopher Crosby Morris.

Mystics in Hell is the latest volume in the notorious Heroes in Hell series of anthologies and novels created by Janet Morris.

A Frame of Mind by Janet Morris & Chris Morris
Kit Marlowe treks back from exile, where he has encountered three witches. Carrying a skull which he found on a blasted heath, he arrives at the Globe, where Satan and the angel of death accost him. At their displeasure, he’s banished once more, this time to return instantly via the powers of the Fates. Satan meets him at a cast party and decrees that Kit not only will spy for him, but play Banquo, beheaded in each subsequent performance of Macbeth.

The Come Right Inn by Andrew P. Weston
Where we meet up with one of Satan’s most secretive agents. A charming woman with a finger—and most other body parts—in every pie. She’s bewitching, beguiling, and bedeviled to be sure, but won’t think twice about skinning you alive if you cross her.

Abode of Woe by A.L. Butcher
When the self-proclaimed anti-messiah builds a temple on their doorstep and ruins business, Calchas and Cassandra look to some devious means to bring down the walls. Dueling mystics and misinformation bring mayhem to the underworld.

Fool’s Gold by S.E. Lindberg
A tale of the Egyptian god of mysticism, Thoth, who seeks conspirators to retrieve the Philosopher’s Stone; with it, Thoth could usurp Satan’s control of the realm of Duat. Taking up the charge is Howard Carter, infamous antiquarian and tomb raider, and the disgraced evolutionist Ernst Haeckel. They discover that King Midas’s alchemical ability to transmute flesh into gold relies on the stolen stone, and Midas is producing Hell’s new gastro-currency: buttcoin. They infiltrate the Mortuary Mint and sabotage the currency’s production. Instead of returning the stone to Thoth, the duo uses it to build up their own fortune. The auditors of Hell, namely the First and Second of the Sibitti, police the matter.

The True Believer by  Lou Antonelli
Few national leaders of the 20th century had as much of a negative and controversial impact on history as Hendrik Frensch Verwoerd, prime minister of South Africa from 1958 to 1966, when he was assassinated. Commonly referred to in South Africa as “Dr.” Verwoerd, he had a PhD in psychology, and went down in history as The Man Who Invented Apartheid. Now in Hell, Dr. Verwoerd refuses to acknowledge his infernal fate and gets a special visit to set him straight.

By Any Means Necessary by Gustavo Bondoni
Umberto Eco knows he’s in Hell; the suffering and multiple deaths that never kill him permanently are more than enough of a clue for a man of his learning.  But when he gets forcibly recruited by Nazi Commando Otto Skorzeny to prove the theories of one of history’s greatest charlatans, he thinks things can’t get any worse.  He’s wrong.  Hell can always get worse.

Excalibur by Tom Barczak
When dealing with the harsh reality of the Afterlife: Hell can be hard. But Rasputin has something even harder, and Lafayette Ronald Hubbard desperately needs it if he is going to pull off the greatest magic trick Hell has ever known.

On The Run by Michael H. Hanson
Tells of Sufi mystic Rumi, Zen Buddhist Dōgen, and Charlatan Spiritualist Mina Crandon using their new-found magics on the grandest of all quests, to find powerful talismans that will allow them to escape Hell itself.

The Sorcerous Apprentice by  Andrew P. Weston
Daemon Grim learns new tricks from an old dog. And just as well. There’s a fallen saint to bring to heel, and she’s not known for playing ball . . . crystal or otherwise.

The Colossus of Hell by Joe Bonadonna
Doctor Victor Frankenstein and computer scientist Alan Turing want to build a cyborg. Quasimodo wants to win the hand of the French fortune teller, Marie Anne Lenormand. Rasputin and Cagliostro want to open an exclusive, private club. And a mysterious damned soul, known only as the Orange Ogre, wants revenge against anyone in Hell who ever cheated or betrayed him, laughed at and humiliated him, or even ignored him—especially His Satanic Majesty himself.

Strange Arts by Janet Morris and Chris Morris
In a Tower cell, Marlowe’s head struggles to regain consciousness and rejoin his body. Here he finds his Elizabethan spymaster, Walsingham, waiting with J the Merciful and three mysterious Sisters. After painfully stitching together his body and soul, the five entreat him to join their most secret conspiracy.

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A.L. Butcher

British-born A. L. Butcher is an avid reader and creator of worlds, a poet, and a dreamer, a lover of science, natural history, history, and monkeys. Her prose has been described as ‘dark and gritty’ and her poetry as ‘evocative’. She writes with a sure and sometimes erotic sensibility of things that might have been, never were, but could be.

Alex is the author of the Light Beyond the Storm Chronicles and the Tales of Erana lyrical fantasy se-ries. She also has several short stories in the fantasy, fantasy romance genres with occasional forays into gothic style horror, including the Legacy of the Mask series. With a background in politics, classi-cal studies, ancient history and myth, her affinities bring an eclectic and unique flavour in her work, mixing reality and dream in alchemical proportions that bring her characters and worlds to life.

She also curates speculative fiction themed book bundles on Pubshare - for the most part - the Here Be Series

Alex is also proud to be a writer for Perseid Press where her work features in Heroika: Dragon Eaters, Heroika Skirmishers – where she was editor and cover designer as well as writer – as well as Lovers in Hell and Mystics in Hell – part of the acclaimed Heroes in Hell series. http://www.theperseidpress.com/

Learn more about A.L. Butcher...

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