I thought it might be fun to look an old title not many readers are familiar with, despite it being a ton of fun! I created this one almost ten years ago, built a cool world around the concept, and have long thought it would make an awesome fantasy novel. Not likely to happen now, but if you'd like to read a novella that is sexy, romantic, adventurous, and a whole lot of fun, you just might love this one!
The Gates of Infinity
(Erotic fantasy/adventure novella)
Thaer is a world that mirrors our own, but in many ways it
is both the past and future of Earth. Magic and sorcery are commonplace, and
beneath the vast sands of Cairos and the waters of Venicia lie secrets that may
hold the key to travel between worlds and time itself. All things are tied to
the presence of a legendary pirate captain, a skilled mage, and a sorceress who
has never known her true origins. As the spells weave amid treachery and
betrayals, the tempestuous storm gates are opened and salvation or destruction
looms in their swirling, fiery depths. Will time be turned inward, or can the
Fate of two worlds truly rest on the success of a terrified reporter from
modern day New York? A woman whose fate was written in another world and time,
and who now holds the key to the unpredictable power contained within the Gates
of Infinity?
CONTENT NOTES: Paranormal, Magic, Witches, Wizardry,
Urban Fantasy, Adventure, Pirates, Erotic Romance
Excerpt:
PART ONE
It began several
hundred years from now. Life conspires to take us where we are meant to be,
even when we do not ourselves know the direction in which we are traveling.
Thus it was that my uneventful existence began, and ended, with a single drop
of blood, spilled unsuspectingly on a honed and gleaming pirate blade. In the
now distant year of nineteen hundred ninety-nine, in the town of Avalon Inlet,
somewhere in the hidden coastal regions of Northern Maine, I encountered the
capricious Lady of Destiny. It is, even now, an incredible tale of adventure
and, yes, of romance that is the stuff of dreams. My name is Verity, Veranna,
or even Verianya--and if you will let me, I will tell you of my assignation
with a magical and thrilling life forever altered by the whims of Fate...
* * * *
"The entire place is a work of art," Verity
Mathison said with genuine reverence. She'd been stranded in the picturesque
town since the previous evening, when her car had quite inexplicably decided it
didn't want to go any further. Being a journalist/novelist did have its
advantages; in this case, as a freelancer, she tended to not keep 'office
hours'. Finding the small town with the fanciful name of Avalon Inlet was a
writer's dream come true. Not only was the place not on any map, it was
something out of a time long passed into history.
The young shop girl smiled, the expression pretty with
pleasure at the compliment.
"We're a small community," she said, voice soft
with a slight lilt. "Things don't change much from year to year."
"Is everyone here of generations past, or does the town
have any new blood?"
"Once in a while strangers find us and decide to
stay," she answered, still smiling, though with less sincerity than
before.
"Why aren't you on the map?" Verity wondered,
looking around the crowded antique shop. There were vast riches in this place,
the writer mused, examining a display of weaponry that had to be at least a
couple of centuries old. Since she had entered the shop, a tiny thrill of
excitement had been growing stronger within her as the minutes passed. In spite
of the lack of sense in it, Verity felt as though she'd found some lost part of
her soul reflecting back at her as she examined the array of artifacts that
filled the quaint shop.
"How much is that one?" she asked, pointing to the
shiniest and least ornate of the swords that were arranged on a wall behind the
counter.
"It's not for sale," the clerk told her, eyes now
sharp, thoughtful, and unmistakably wary.
So that's your game, Verity thought with cynicism. The price
had just jumped considerably, she knew. But, like everything else, it would
have a price.
In spite of her decree, the girl reached up and lifted the
shimmering blade from its place amid the other swords. Motion fluid and
graceful, she spun the cutlass and offered it to the curious stranger, hilt
first.
With a combination of near-fear and undeniable excitement,
Verity stared at it. The lurch of her stomach was eloquent testimony of her
surprisingly intense nervous state. With a will of its own, her hand rose and
she watched in detached fascination as her fingers closed around the well-worn
grip of the archaic weapon. As soon as her hold was solid, she was forced to
drop the sword; heat seared her flesh and she cried out, cursing furiously as
the pain pulsed upward along the length of her arm.
The shaken clerk stared at her as though she'd gone mad.
It wasn't the pitying look one gave a lunatic, however.
There was sincere terror in her eyes as she watched the other woman, and Verity
knew she didn't help the situation by glaring at her in unjustified accusation.
That didn't lessen her anger, of course, because somewhere inside her, she did
blame the hapless girl for not warning her of the potential threat in accepting
the sword from her hands.
Not waiting for comments, or assistance, if the girl was
indeed planning to offer any, Verity turned on her heel and left the shop. As
she glanced back, she caught the name of the place, The Mahjrah Treasure Chest.
She was now quite unimpressed with the pirate's plunder.
* * * *
The following day, fool that she sometimes was, Verity returned
to the Treasure Chest and again was drawn like a magnet to the rack of weapons
on the back wall. The sword hung in its place, seeming to stare back at her in
subtle challenge.
"Have you come back for old Ehtionne's sword,
miss?"
The girl from the previous day was gone; in her place was an
ancient man, stooped and weathered by time. But, his eyes were sparkling with
vitality and shrewd intelligence. As Verity gazed into those keen dark eyes,
the sensation of edgy excitement began churning deep within her.
"Ehtionne?" She repeated, at a loss to form more
than the single word query.
He nodded, then hobbled around the counter and gestured for
her to follow him. They stopped in a small alcove that was separated from the
main area of the shop by a curtained doorway. Once inside, Verity discovered a
tiny gallery of aging paintings. The old man pointed to the largest of the
collection and her heart felt like it wanted to grow wings and leave her body
as she stared at the face of a stranger who'd haunted her dreams from
childhood.
"My God!" she breathed in unequivocal shock.
"He's real."
The old man looked inordinately pleased, and she tried not
to resent him; there was no reason for such emotion.
"You recognize him."
It was more a statement of presumed fact than any form of
real question.
Verity shook her head.
"No," she denied. "I must have seen his face
in books. I've researched this area's folklore and pirate legends." Even
as she made the assertion, and tried desperately to believe it, she knew it to
be a lie. The old man knew, too, she could read it in his steady brown eyes.
"There are no photos of Mahjrah in any of your books,
miss," he assured her in a soft, almost regretful tone.
As she had the day before, Verity ran. This time she didn't
escape the confines of the shop. When she flung aside the curtain and would
have bolted for the doors, she ran straight into the young girl who'd been
there the previous day.
"What are you doing?" she demanded, her voice and
eyes glaring with anger.
"Leaving," Verity snapped, her responding
irritation more reflex than anything genuine.
"That part of the shop is not open to the public,"
she informed the visitor. "It's our storage room."
"Storage room?" Verity repeated stupidly. Anger
flared in the next instant, and she glowered at her. "The old man took me
in there," she told the annoying girl. "And it sure as hell doesn't
look like a storage room!"
The clerk was giving her that disturbing look of pity and
fear again.
Verity was furious.
"If you don't believe me," she snarled at the shop
girl, "he's still back there." She turned, yanked aside the curtain,
and was met with the solid presence of a heavy door, the sign in the center of
it proclaiming that it was to be used by 'Employees Only'.
"If you'll wait, ma'am," the girl said, ice in her
tone now. "I'll allow you to speak to the manager."
Gawking at her, Verity numbly trailed her back into the main
room, then watched her disappear behind another door. Silence engulfed the shop
and she continued to look at the partially revealed doorway that had led to the
small gallery.
"Are you still interested in the cutlass, miss?"
The voice went through her, and she was enraged anew. She
whirled around and the old man smiled benevolently.
"What the hell is going on here?" she demanded,
taking a step toward him.
He calmly walked to the other side of the counter and took
the sword from its mounting. He twirled it with remarkable skill and Verity
took an involuntary step backward when he held it out for her to take.
"No, thanks," she assured, sarcasm in the tone.
"I've already had that experience once, and it's quite enough."
He appeared amused all over again and wrath rose in her
throat as a bitter bile. He was laughing at her!
"All right," Verity snapped viciously. "Give
me the damn thing."
Her fingers closer over the hilt and she braced for pain.
It never came.
Enthralled by the feel of the weapon in her hand, she stared
at it. Her other hand rose to stroke the smooth, cool metal of the saber and a
whisper of something powerful trembled along the length of her arm. Oblivious
to anything else, she touched the edge of the silvered blade with the side of
her thumb. A prick of pain warned her that she'd tested well-honed metal rather
foolishly. Blood welled and spilled onto the blade, a single crimson teardrop
of life.
The reaction was immediate, and terrifying.
The polished metal clouded, became translucent, tinged with
the scarlet of blood; then the images began to coalesce before her spell-bound
gaze. The small shop in Avalon Inlet no longer existed. Her head felt like it
was spinning, and reality growing ever more distant, yet closer, as well.
Someone screamed as Verity fell into the chaos that she'd glimpsed in the
gleaming blade of the sword...
