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Book Spotlight: Murder at Mother's by Maighread MacKay


I was able to sit down with Maighread MacKay and talk about life and writing.

1. Where did you get the idea behind Murder at Mother's?

The writing group (WCDR) to which I belong, was having a contest. The theme of the short story was "where sharks gather". I had an image in my head of "sharks" - the wall street type - and wrote a short piece about a family of sharks waiting for the Matriarch to die. No, I didn't win the contest, but I got thinking I could turn the small piece into a longer story. Thus, the beginning of Murder at Mother's.

2. Since you've asked a lot of questions having to do with the paranormal, have you ever found any answers?

Yes. I do believe there is much more to this life and universe than what has been taught in the past. Everyday there are new discoveries. Quantum physics, alternative realities, parallel universes - so much we had never even thought of fifty years ago. The Hubble sends back extraordinary pictures of space. Men have walked on the moon. So much we have to learn.

3. Did any particular event start you asking questions about the paranormal?

As a small child, one of my favourite books was "Artie and the Princess". It is the story of a small dragon named Artemus Peter Edward Aldebert Jehosaphat Dragon - Artie for short, and his adventures. It's probably out of print by now, but I still have my copy. Then, when I could read, I moved on to Nancy Drew. I especially loved "The Ghost of Blackwood Hall". As you can see, my love of all things mysterious began right at the beginning. As I got older, I wasn't satisfied with some of the theology I was taught and began to explore other perceptions of this world and our place in it. I have had a couple of extraordinary experiences which confirmed to me the existence of more than we encounter with our five senses. Our senses are limited. For example: we know sound covers a wide range, but humans can only hear a small portion of it. Dogs have a much larger spectrum. That is why, to us, dog whistles are silent, but are heard by dogs. It doesn't mean the range doesn't exist. Only, that we cannot hear it. I know it's the same with our other senses. We only see and hear a small portion of what exists. When conditions are right, sometimes our senses expand and we are able to see or hear things we usually can't. It doesn't mean the other realms don't exist. It only means that within the normal range of humans, we don't know they are there. I love to talk to people who have experienced a wider range of sight or sound to broaden my own horizons and understanding.

4. Any words of wisdom for new writers?

Advice for new writers? Put your baby in the hands of a competent Editor to make sure it is the best it can be. A good Editor will catch glaring holes in the plot; errors in tense; the flow on your piece; errors in grammar and much more - to make your writing the best it can be.

NEW RELEASE

MURDER AT MOTHER'S

Blurb:

A killer lurks at the Bancroft estate and the Matriarch, Martha Bancroft is murdered. Royally pissed, she hangs around to see what happened. When she doesn’t go immediately to the light, a member of her soul group, shows up from the other side. Gladys is adamant Martha needs to come with her, but Martha has no intention of going anywhere until she helps Detective Ian “Mac” MacKellar and Coroner Dr. Cecilia “Cissy” Walsh find the murderer. Gladys joins Martha and the two set out on their quest.

5 STAR REVIEWS FOR MURDER AT MOTHER'S

I hope that Author MacKay had fun writing this story, because I know I had a marvelous time reading her latest book. - J.C. Henry, Author

This is a wonderful light weave of mystery, family drama, metaphysical and psychic threads ...with a dark strand of greed added to the tapestry. I loved it. - R. Davies

This book has good pace, excellent characterisation and enough twists and turns to keep you interested. There's humour too. - Becca from Amazon.co.UK

Author Biography:

Ghosts, spirits and things that go bump in the night. Ancient mysteries and the riddles of our vast universe. Questions - lots of fascinating questions about the reality of our cosmos. Are there other dimensions or planes of existence? Are they inhabited? Do parallel universes ever converge? Angels, Spirit Guides. Are they real? Can we communicate with them? What about other entities such as the Fae, Unicorns, or Dragons? Could they exist? What happens when we die? Has the soul that inhabits our body been here before? Why would we come back? What about animals? What happens to them when they die? These questions have led me on a journey of investigating Christian Mysticism, Yogic Spirituality, Native Theology, Wicca, Celtic Shamanism, Quantum Physics, the Realm of the Fae and many other related topics. Using my experiences to draw on, I weave tales of Visionary Fiction for both children and adults. Whether nine or ninety, I hope readers will join me in exploring alternate paradigms about life and the after-life experience.

Excerpt from Murder at Mother's:

The fire was the first incident which caught Martha’s attention. One of the ranch hands needed a rope from the tack room and arrived in time to smell smoke and dampen the blaze. A few weeks later, Jared discovered a fence bordering the back forty was down. He repaired it before any of the horses escaped. She shivered as she thought about the danger they’d be in wandering around the forest at night. Both episodes could have been accidents.

Today, dressed in her favorite jeans and boots, Martha strode down the hill to the horses. As she walked, her cane stirred the dry ground with small circular puffs of sand. Her heart and pace were more accelerated than usual as she thought about her beloved mare. Her first baby. Wonder how she’ll take to being a mother. Jared said the delivery went well, but I’ll feel better once I’ve seen her for myself. As she approached the barn door she heard a call. “Grandma, look out.” Forceful hands grabbed her in a firm grip. Her cane went flying. Her hair lifted as something whizzed past her ear and caused a burning sensation where it grazed her arm. She clutched the arms which held her and looked up into the shocked eyes of her grandson.

Other Books by this Author:

STONE COTTAGE

If you could plan your life before you were born, what could that life look like? Rebecca Wainwright, successful, polished EVP tumbles into depression and panic attacks after a traumatic incident. Seeking a respite from the well meaning, but smothering care of her family and friends, she stumbles onto an old stone cottage where she feels like she has come home. After purchasing the home, she discovers it already has an occupant. Annie McBride has been trapped in her home for over 150 years. What do these two women mean to each other? Why meet now? A story of how love bridges the years and can heal even the saddest of hearts.

5 STAR REVIEWS FOR STONE COTTAGE:

The reader gets to know how the events finally affected the characters’ lives and how they are dealing with a new reality. A lot of books omit this important piece and the future of the story is simply left up to the reader’s imagination. - Edna Marie

I enjoyed the stories of the main characters, and found this book to be an entrancing read. - A Happy Reader

That the author weaves two parallel plots in different historical frames seamlessly is a joy for this reader. - A.B. Funkhauser, Author of Shell Game

Excerpt from Stone Cottage:

The cacophony of the moaning wind and lashing rain concealed any sound of a horse’s hoofs. She could see nothing, except the murky fog. No light. No Will. Where are you? Her anxiety escalated to new heights. Her baby girl was asleep upstairs, but she seemed to have been sleeping for a long time. Was Maddy sick? Victoria knew there was something important about the baby that she had to explain to Will, but she couldn’t quite remember what it was. She needed her husband to come home to take her in his arms and tell her everything would be all right. Panic, like a bird’s wings trapped by the cage of her ribs, fluttered in her chest. She leaned her head against the cold glass and clenched her fists. Taking deep breaths to try and calm herself, she flattened her hands on the window.

“He’s fine,” she said. “I know it. Oh, Will, where are you? I need you so much. Please, please come home. Everything will be all right once you get here.”

Tears coursed down her cheeks. The old dog, sensing her unease, leaned into her leg and began to whine. Absentmindedly, she reached down to stroke his head. She would just wait. Wait for as long as it took for Will to come home.

Wait...wait...wait, her mind chanted to the ticking clock in the hall.

Tick...tock...tick...tock...tick...

Links:

Amazon Author Central: amazon.com/author/maighreadmackay

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Book Spotlight: Shell Game by A.B. Funkhauser


Hello, I had the privilege to sit down with A.B. Funkhauser about writing and life.

Is Carlos based on any cat that you know?

The Foreward to SHELL GAME was written by horror writer Bri Volinz whose family lives six doors up from me. Like the characters in the novel, we are conjoined by common interests (writing) and a cat. Kobe was adopted by Bri four years ago when she was away at college. Cramped up in a windowless basement apartment, it didn’t take long for her to realize that he was very special. It wasn’t just his higher than normal affection for humans that stood out, but the ease with which he could turn his back on the whole domestic situation without a thought. This laissez faire attitude, in Bri’s own words, led her to conclude that she had to “let him go.” Kobe left Bri’s student apartment and took up residence in her parents’ home in the suburbs. There, he became the toast of the town visiting neighbors, insinuating himself into their homes, and eventually earning the ire of an, as yet, unknown complainant who ratted him out to Animal Control. (I doubt we’ll ever learn the identity of the whistle-blower.)

Keeping cats indoors against their will is a hot button issue among those who seek to protect the public from Lyme Disease, Rabies and fecal infections on the one hand, and those who recognize that some cats will not stay indoors no matter how well-intentioned we, the owners, try to be in keeping them there. Today, Kobe spends most hours inside my home owing to his advancing age—he’s going on five! Wanderlust seems to have abandoned him naturally. Bri and I share co-parent responsibilities—food, healthcare. His range, once vast, is now limited to the six doors between her parents’ home and mine. Are we relieved? Yes! Is he? Probably. He not only lives his life on his own terms, but can revel in its celebration with the release of SHELL GAME. Smart kitty.

What was the first award you received from your writing?

I won Best Horror Novel 2015, Preditors & Editors, and it was very gratifying. Winners were selected based on the number of votes cast by readers and supporters on a daily basis, which meant that ballots could potentially be cast by the same people day after day. What this told me was that my first book had a following that believed enough in it and me to keep voting for it continuously over a two-week period. This meant the world to me. I’ve gone on to win juried competitions—also gratifying—but that first win will always hold a special place.

Any words of wisdom for new writers?

There are so many formulas and gurus out there, and every single one of them has a utility when matched to the right need. Before I’d completed the first act of the first novel, I was advised by the shadowy “them” to “decide on my genre,” “write for the market,” “show don’t tell,” and “get an agent,” among other things. I didn’t do these things not because I was smug, but because I had (and still have) a fantastic critiquing group that I trusted and a publisher that allowed me the critical time I needed to grow and “get it right.” SHELL GAME is my third published novel and with it and the fourth and the fifth work etc., I’ll keep riding the learning curve.

ADVICE: Sit down and write and leave all the other “stuff” for later. There will be plenty of time to buff, polish and LEARN. And join a critiquing group. The members will make you a better writer and you will learn to handle criticism with aplomb.

What made you decide to become a funeral director?

I have the greatest respect for so many professions—day care workers come to mind—but I lacked the courage to pursue them. This was a calling.

Book Description:

Carlos the Wonder Cat lives free, traveling from house to house in a quiet suburban neighborhood. Known by everyone, his idyllic existence is jeopardized when a snarky letter from animal control threatens to punish kitty owners who fail to keep their pets indoors. The $5,000 fine / loss of kitty to THE MAN is draconian and mean, but before Team Carlos can take steps, he is kidnapped by a feline fetishist sex cult obsessed with the films of eccentric Pilsen Güdderammerüng. Stakes are high. Even if Carlos escapes their clutches, can he ever go home?

The third novel in the UNAPOLOGETIC LIVES series, SHELL GAME follows SCOOTER NATION (2016) and HEUER LOST AND FOUND (2015) this time, with an eye on a seemingly pastoral community with a lot to hide. More than a cat and mouse story, Shell Game is an examination of community—who we are and how we relate to one another in a questioning world. Written with tongue firmly in cheek, it asks us to open our eyes, see better, and have a little more patience.

Excerpt:

Escorted with force up creaky wooden stairs into a passageway straight out of Kafka, the cat squirmed as the space opened into a large windowless room. There, light from tall lamps shot white hot from floor to ceiling, their beams reminiscent of Nuremburg on its worst day. These, uniform in design, were placed with deliberate care every six feet or so, like the stations of the cross in a Catholic cathedral. The lack of adornments on the walls and in the cornices, however, made this place anything but holy, the ecclesiastical taking a back seat to amateur theatrical.

Kitty growled a thousand growls, all unheard.

Unlike their hooded counterparts from down below, the humans upstairs concealed their identities not with comic book capes, but with papier mâché masks, obscuring what were probably facial features of little worth. Their bodies, once unshrouded, offered an array of tattoos and piercings. Many were on the heavy side, their adipose jiggling with the multitudes that tried to copulate in interesting ways. Nothing at all like Güdderammerüng’s Blod av Däggdjur, which supported an aesthete both elegant and worshipful, this sexy orgy party tried way too hard to be what it clearly was not.

Large cat statues in the Egyptian fashion added to the absurdity of the occasion. Eight feet tall, the polystyrene golden statues came by way of a prop wrangler and his girlfriend, who had purloined them from a storage locker after a film wrap in Vancouver. Under red-pink lights, the cat sentinels were positioned in equal numbers on either side of a large altar, marked by numerous fetish objects and eschatological symbols. In line with the forced revelry that abounded, their uses gained currency with the rather strange choice of Seventies-era rock music that assaulted the senses.

Working up a large hairball, Carlos barely caught his breath for all the hookah vapors filling the room. Humans of all genders did what they did together, separately and severally. Many appeared older, their sagging midsections reminding him of the old Tom’s that lived out their lives in the Banford barn outside Cavan.

Claiming to want something more, something more in line with Güdderammerüng’s vision, their attempts at consciousness raising from the “darkness to the light” fell flat. These humans, for all their writhing and hookah smoking, fundamentally lacked what the cats had: that state of grace that comes with knowing who you are and what you’re here for.

PRAISE

“…writes with a take-no-prisoners style of prose.”

  • Steve Cronin, AMERICAN FUNERAL DIRECTOR MAGAZINE

“Funkhauser digs down deep into each character and shatters the lines of morality, showing us the darkness and light within all of them...”

  • Angela D’Onofrio, Author FROM THE DESK OF BUSTER HEYWOOD

"Funny, quirky, and sooooo different."

—Jo Michaels, JO MICHAELS BLOG

Author Biography:

Toronto born author A.B. Funkhauser is a funeral director, classic car nut and wildlife enthusiast living in Ontario, Canada. Like most funeral directors, she is governed by a strong sense of altruism fueled by the belief that life chooses us, not we it.

Her debut novel Heuer Lost and Found, released in April 2015, examines the day to day workings of a funeral home and the people who staff it. Winner of the Preditors & Editors Reader’s Poll for Best Horror 2015, and the New Apple EBook Award 2016 for Horror, Heuer Lost and Found is the first installment in Funkhauser’s Unapologetic Lives series. Her sophomore effort, Scooter Nation, released March 11, 2016 through Solstice Publishing. Winner of the New Apple Ebook Award 2016 for Humor, and Winner Best Humor Summer Indie Book Awards 2016, Scooter picks up where Heuer left off, this time with the lens on the funeral home as it falls into the hands of a woeful sybarite.

A devotee of the gonzo style pioneered by the late Hunter S. Thompson, Funkhauser attempts to shine a light on difficult subjects by aid of humorous storytelling. “In gonzo, characters operate without filters which means they say and do the kinds of things we cannot in an ordered society. Results are often comic but, hopefully, instructive.”

SHELL GAME, tapped as a psycho-social cat dramedy with death and laughs, is the third book in the series, and takes aim at a pastoral community with a lot to hide. “With so much of the world currently up for debate, I thought it would be useful to question—again—the motives and machinations championed by the morally flexible, and then let the arbiter be a cat.”

Funkhauser is currently working on THE HEUER EFFECT, the prequel to HEUER LOST AND FOUND.

Other Books by A.B. Funkhauser:

HEUER LOST AND FOUND (2015)

Unrepentant cooze hound lawyer Jürgen Heuer dies suddenly and unexpectedly in his litter-strewn home. Undiscovered, he rages against God, Nazis, deep fryers and analogous women who disappoint him.

At last found, he is delivered to Weibigand Brothers Funeral Home, a ramshackle establishment peopled with above average eccentrics, including boozy Enid, a former girlfriend with serious denial issues. With her help and the help of a wise cracking spirit guide, Heuer will try to move on to the next plane. But before he can do this, he must endure an inept embalming, feral whispers, and Enid’s flawed recollections of their murky past.

SCOOTER NATION (2016)

Aging managing director Charlie Forsythe begins his work day with a phone call to Jocasta Binns, the unacknowledged illegitimate daughter of Weibigand Funeral Home founder Karl Heinz Sr. Alma Wurtz, a scooter bound sextenarian, community activist, and neighborhood pain in the ass is emptying her urine into the flower beds, killing the petunias. Jocasta cuts him off, reminding him that a staff meeting has been called. Charlie, silenced, is taken aback: he has had no prior input into the meeting and that, on its own, makes it sinister.

The second novel in the UNAPOLOGETIC LIVES series, SCOOTER NATION takes place two years after HEUER LOST AND FOUND. This time, funeral directors Scooter Creighton and Carla Moretto Salinger Blue take center stage as they battle conflicting values, draconian city by-laws, a mendacious neighborhood gang bent on havoc, and a self-absorbed fitness guru whose presence shines an unwanted light on their quiet Michigan neighborhood.

LINKS

Awards

New Apple E-Book Award 2016 “Humor” SCOOTER NATION

New Apple E-Book Award 2016 “Horror” HEUER LOST AND FOUND

Winner Summer Indie Book Award (SIBA) 2016 “Humor” SCOOTER NATION

Winner Preditors & Editors Readers’ Poll 2015 “Horror” HEUER LOST AND FOUND

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Book Spotlight: Xaghra’s Revenge by Geoff Nelder


Hello. I had the pleasure of being able to speak with Geoff Nelder about his latest release, his life, and writing.

Why did you decide to take a vacation in Malta?

For many years there has been a close relationship between the Mediterranean island of Malta and the UK. England took it from the French in 1800 and the islands became a protectorate until independence in 1964. The relationship deepened in the second world war when British and Allied forces defended it when the Axis forces tried to bomb it into submission because of its strategic position between Suez and Gibraltar. If you go to Malta you’ll see England everywhere in telephone boxes, pubs, clubs, and English is widely spoken. It’s a natural holiday resort for the English because they are made welcome in their own language in a warm sunny climate.

You've just added Malta to my list of places I need to visit. It sounds beautiful.

What led you to discover that the whole town of Xaghra was abducted?

Ah, if only it was just Xaghra whose people were taken in 1551. The pirates took every person from the whole island of Gozo. About 5,000 people, leaving only a few very old and infirm behind. Some others who wouldn’t fetch a good price were thrown overboard en route to Tripoli. I found out via an exhibition for tourists in their capital, Victoria.

I didn't know that many people disappeared on an island. It's a shocking number. I need to know one more thing.

Why do you think history books have left out the town of Xaghra being abducted?

History is written, or at least shaped, by the victors? It’s not that the mass abduction is completely left out, but barely featured. Maybe it’s because such horrors were relatively common in that era. That pirate, Rais Dragut (sometimes called Turgut Reis 1485-1565), had butchered thousands in various campaigns. It was a brutal time. He was captured himself for a while and made to be a galley slave. So, Gozo was maybe the worst example of wholesale captivity of innocents at that time. Why little mention in history and fiction books? I found few on Gozo getting steamed up about it. Maybe because they were descended not from the abducted, who were mostly taken to Tarhuna, Libya and stayed there, but from others who came to take over the empty houses. Someone had to beat the drum for those Gozo people and it’s ME!

Rais Dragut was another person left out of the history books I read. I'm glad you are beating the drum for those Gozo people. Someone needs to step forward and let those voices be heard.

What got you into cycling?

My dad had to cycle to travel between his army barracks and home – a round trip of 120 miles every weekend. He couldn’t afford a car and enjoyed the wind in his hair and the sense of achievement of topping the hills. He took me on long rides too and the exhilaration is still there. My legs get withdrawal symptoms after 3-non-cycling days.

What advice would you give someone who's looking to get into cycling?

Assuming you can keep upright at more than walking pace, don’t be afraid of drop handlebars and migrate to using cleats on your pedals as soon as you can. They make your body more efficient and hence enjoyable. Read French Revolutions by Tim Moore (2001) hilarious and inspirational.

Are you currently working on any freelance work? If you are, please tell us about it if you can.

I often write articles for cycling magazines and edit other people’s novels and short stories. I’ve just competed a ghost writing assignment. A cross between Fifty Shades and Gardner’s World. If your mind is boggling, so were my fingers. Luckily, my name won’t feature.

What genres do you write?

With my novels as examples: mostly science fiction as in Exit, Pursued by a Bee and Chaos of Mokii.

Medical mystery / scifi as in the ARIA Trilogy.

Historical fantasy as in Xaghra’s Revenge.

Humorous thriller as in Escaping Reality

Straight thriller as in Hot Air.

What's your favorite genre to write in?

I love taking my imagination into them all but science fiction is where I can escape the most.

If you had to pick one book that you've written for everyone to read, what would it be?

I would say ARIA: Left Luggage is a surprise for non-science fiction readers who think the cover art of an astronaut means it’s in space when really it is a medical mystery on Earth. There’s lust, romance, mystery, adventure, preppers, escape, survival, human relationships and the beautiful scenery of a real but hidden valley in mountainous North Wales.

I was surprised by this answer. I thought it would have been Xaghra’s Revenge. ARIA: Left Luggage sounds like a great book to read also. They are both added to my list to read.

What if… I hadn’t gone to Malta on a holiday and discovered an awful, yet generally unknown truth: the mass abduction of a whole island into slavery? Only a handful of historical novels touched on this event and even the local historians didn’t seem to think it worth shouting about. I did. I wanted revenge for those 5,000 abducted souls and gave it to them in Xaghra’s Revenge.

Xaghra is a real town on the small Mediterranean island of Gozo. I chose it to begin the story because I’ve been there many times. It’s the site of the world’s oldest building, The Ggantija Temple – older than the pyramids and Stonehenge! I’ve hugged those huge limestone blocks and the vibes touched me. I’ve stood in the spot where Stjepan hears the alarm bell, where he sees his friends chased by pirates, and outside his house. It’s personal.

This opening sets the story with a contrast and conflict: an idyllic rural and family scene versus a worrying incursion threatening to disrupt everything.

CHAPTER ONE from XAGHRA’S REVENGE published 15th July 2017 via Solstice Shadows, imprint of Solstice Publishing.

The Mediterranean island of Gozo 1551, July 24th

Stjepan leaned on his hoe and listened. His beans needed rescuing from the bindweed, but they’d have to wait if that was the warning bell coming from the city.

Five… He stepped up onto a low limestone wall and scanned the horizon. A flock of starlings created an air sculpture – God’s chariots chasing each other. It always lifted his heart.

Six… The Citadel topped the hill to the west; the clock tower visible, but he couldn’t see if people were running up the lanes to the city walls.

Seven, eight… He strained to see, but hills prevented a clear view of the ocean even though Gozo was less than a day’s ride across.

Nine… Perhaps a pirate ship had been seen again. The damned Turkish corsairs raided more often these days. Pirate dogs. He spat at the soil. His short sword lay under his cot at home.

Ten... In spite of the heat, he shivered at the thought of his wife and four-month-old son thrown into the dank belly of a corsair galley.

Eleven, twelve… He held his breath as if that aided hearing. The starlings swirled around the citadel as if they knew something. His heart sank.

Thirteen, fourteen… curses.

He drove his hoe into the stony soil, wishing it was Dragut’s black heart. Stjepan picked his way through berry bushes and olive trees until he reached his village, Xaghra. Karlu, his neighbour, called as he walked in the opposite direction towards the capital, Rabat.

“Ho, Stjepan, you’ll get fined again.”

“I’m not going without Lidia and my son. Your wife?”

Karlu stopped, scratched his head and twitched his moustache. “In Rabat, staying at her mother’s. She’s been coughing up hairballs.”

“That’s cats. Ah, you never liked Senora Angelina. I’ll see you there.”

In spite of the humour, panic tightened his chest as he ran across the central square. Stjepan saw his marmalade cat, its tail upright. She possessed a sense for trouble. “Heket, you’re supposed to be Lidia’s guardian.”

He frowned pushing past neighbours then saw Lidia waving at him outside the church.

“Father’s tripped on the steps. He can’t walk to Rabat.”

“He’ll have to go on the priest’s cart.”

“Already gone.”

Stjepan gnawed on a knuckle while his brain raced. He couldn’t afford another florin fine, yet the alert was probably another false alarm.

“I’ll carry your father.” Blood seeped through Alfredo’s grey robe from his knee. His eyes apologised.

Stjepan crouched before the old man. “Come on, I’ll carry you on my back.”

They crossed the wide village square. Stjepan found the old man lighter than he expected. Nevertheless, he stopped.

“What about Calypso’s Cave?”

“No.” Lidia breathed heavily carrying infant Pietru. “It’d be too obvious a hiding place. Keep going.”

He did, with increased pace until he reached the top of the steep scarp slope. The lane wriggled as it fell to the valley floor before climbing the Citadel’s slopes an hour’s walk away. They could see the exodus along the most direct route from Xaghra to Rabat.

Lidia stopped. “No.”

“What?” He followed her free arm pointing to the north. A dozen men ran along the valley floor lane. Their scimitars flashed in the midday sun, and their white turbans gave them away as Turkish corsairs. Stjepan put the old man down, then cupped his hands.

“Karlu!”

A mistake. Noise travelled far in this rock-lined valley. Karlu stood and turned to others around him, who’d also stopped. Instead of rushing on to the safety of the huge stone-walled Citadel, they walked back towards Stjepan, but it was too late. The Turks reached the escaping group. The Gozitans were overpowered in moments.

Now that route was barred, Stjepan picked up Alfredo and walked back to the deserted village.

“There might be more of them.”

“Then we’re not safe here either.” Lidia sat on a stone block.

“I know a place big enough for Pietru and your father.” No one else in the village knew about a discovery he’d made a year ago in a pile of rubble to the southwest of the village. He was digging out a well. Tingling had travelled up Stjepan’s back when he was a couple of spade lengths down. At night he began having dreams of discovering a jewelled cave. All he found was a dank, dark hole, and yet there was something special down there. He’d kept it quiet. It was Stjepan’s magic place, because he always sat with a calm, relaxed air down there. Maybe it was because he couldn’t see poverty, and in the cave he’d found a small figurine of a reclining woman–all breasts and buttocks. His elation at his private find continued that night during his lovemaking with Lidia. He’d convinced himself that Pietru was conceived as a result of magic emanating from the fertility goddess, if that was what she was. Tzabib, the mythical Spirit of old Gozo.

“So this is where you sneak off to when you’re supposed to be working,” Lidia said, after Stjepan pulled back shrubs to uncover the laddered hole.

“By keeping it a secret, none of the villagers will be able to lead the pirates to us.”

* * *

To read more of this chapter head over to Amazon Kindle http://myBook.to/Xaghra Free on Kindle Unlimited

There’s another excerpt from Chapter two where two modern young lovers have their inauspicious and suspicious first meeting.

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