Yay for guests! Erik never fails to make me laugh and/or think. For the record, I love both platypuses (or is the plural something else? :D) and unicorns. And here is Erik!
I love trying to write in various genres to keep my storytelling fresh. I previously dipped my toes into the paranormal arena with Fracture: Divergence. This book smacked of the Dresden Files across parallel dimensions. With magic, fay and epic witch battles.
I thought that was fun so I decided to try the shape shifter end of paranormal with Drakon: Awakening. The story plays around with myths and legends. It features a fiery redheaded Irish woman named Myra with a sharp wit. She is researching myths and legends when she finds that she is actually one of the legends she is researching.
Agent Quinn Trask, finds her hands full trying to protect Myra and her team of researchers as they battle a magic wielding madman. Only the dragons can stand against him.
The epic battle at the end and the blooming romance between Myra and Quinn will leave you wanting more.
Excerpt from Drakon: Awakening
It was so exciting as I crested the peaks of the Rocky Mountains and saw the ocean of lights of Denver, spreading out before me, and twinkling to the horizon. I may have squeaked a little in my excitement. Here I was, Myra O'Connell, going to Denver on my very first research grant.
I still couldn't fathom the fact, that at twenty-six, I had my Doctorate in Mythological Studies now! It was a hell of a thing, handing in my dissertation on the Dublin Fire Stone and then waiting. The waiting was the worst. Finally I was awarded my doctorate, and I applied for a research grant to study shards of the Fire Stone and other associated scrolls and writings pertaining to medieval mythical creatures.
Now if only I had a fecking place to live until the grant money came through at the end of the month. Ma and Da would tell me to suck it up and do what I must. I patted the steering wheel of dependable ol' Maggie, my white Toyota Prius, a gift from my parents on my first day of college eight years ago. “Looks like it's gonna be you and me for a stretch, all close and intimate like. Us Betty's gotta stick together ya know?”
I descended into the city and pulled my thick glasses down to the end of my nose and looked over them at the GPS on my smart phone. The museum should be the third exit. It was past eight, and they would be closed, but I wanted to familiarize myself with the area ahead of time.
My unruly mass of curly red hair fell in front of my eyes as I looked back before getting onto the off ramp. I indignantly tried to blow it off to the side but had to reach up and push it back over my shoulders. Why couldn't I have straight hair like my Da? 'Twould be much easier to manage. But noooo, it has to be this fiery mess like Ma.
I drove slowly past... the Denver Museum of Nature and Science twas huge. I noticed the reserved lot for staff, that would be where I would park. I glanced over at the parking permit sitting on the top of the packet I had received from the museum last week.
I smiled to myself, trying not to get excited again. Come on Myra! Get a hold of yourself you're supposed to be professional now, not a fecking archeology fan girl. I snorted at the memory of the poster I had in the dorms in school, Indiana Jones. He was what I envisioned myself to be, an adventurer sifting through the past and finding connections between myth and reality. Plus ya know... yum!
I pulled over and looked over my glasses at my phone again and pulled up the location of the nearest YWCA, at least I could get a shower there in the mornings until the money came through. I had to really ration what I had for the next few days. I navigated the roads, which were surprisingly still quite busy as the rain started falling.
Well Denver is such a huge city, so I guess that makes sense a lot bigger than the tiny, in the pale, coastal town of Wicklow, Ireland. We had moved to Seattle when I was seven. Da was a tenured archeology professor at the University of Washington. Ma used to run a bakery in Wicklow, and they fell for each other when he was in Ireland doing some research. We'll that's Ma's story anyway, Da just agrees to keep her fire branded temper at ease. I grinned at that, besides my hair and the rake of freckles over my entire body, I got Ma's hair-trigger temper.
I drove past the Y and nodded to myself as I continued on down the lane until I came upon a park. I pulled into the lot to the farthest corner from the road and settled in as the rain started sheeting. I ate a few snacks from my travel bag and reclined the chair as I removed my heavy glasses then set my alarm on my phone. I really hated being nearsighted. Once my research is done here I think I'll get that laser eye surgery everyone is always babbling about.
I took a minute to look over the packet the museum had sent and to run my finger over the picture of the Fire Stone shard in their collection. This was a dream come true for me to actually see a piece of it. Literally, the stuff of legends. The shard and some associated scrolls were on loan from Dublin to the Denver museum.
It was unearthed in a dig near Dublin eighteen months ago. A perfect orb of red crystal. Some gobshite at the dig had dropped it, and it shattered into hundreds of pieces. Analysis of the shards dated them to around 450 AD. The most curious thing about them were that they glowed slightly at night, though compositional analysis showed them to have no impurities whatsoever. They were pure silicate glass, there was no explanation as to how they glowed or why they appear red when there was nothing in them that would cause the effect. Nor were there any explanation as to how the glass was so pure when it was beyond anything that the people in the middle ages could possibly produce.
My research for my dissertation actually lead me to an obscure writing about Saint George, the dragon slayer, that mentioned the Fire Stone that allowed him to trick and destroy the last of the dragons. It was described as a red orb of fire. Most scholars discounted that writing because it was not mentioned in any of the other Saint George tales. But the discovery of the Dublin Fire Stone changed all of that. And suddenly, wee Myra O'Connell is the leading “expert” on the stone. I snorted at that, like I knew anything more than the poor eejit that broke it. There were some Gaelic scrolls that were unearthed along with it, that needed restoration. They might shed more light on the artifact. Those scrolls were what had my knickers all damp.
I grinned and looked into my rear view mirror. I was knackered and weak as a kitten. It was a very long drive, there was no way I'd chance one of those flying metal death traps! My emerald eyes didn't have their normal sparkle. They're my best feature if I didn't say so myself. I sighed and patted the steering wheel again. “Well Mags, it's you 'n me now, ya know.” I locked the doors and let myself drift off, wondering what mysteries would be revealed on the scrolls. It was surely going to be an exciting new chapter in my life.