Today I am happy to share the cover reveal for Of Flame and Fury, Cecy Robson’s newest Weird Girls novel. This is the ninth novel in the Weird Girls urban fantasy series, and the third in the Flame series featuring sister Taran Wird. If you haven’t met this sassy, hot-headed, loudmouth sister yet you’ll want to dive in and begin the series. Action-packed, fans of this series will tell you, it’s addictive and you’ll find yourself rooting for these flawed but lovable characters.
Cover Design by: Sarah Hansen @Okay Creations
Taran Wird, the loudmouth mistress of flame and lightning, didn’t want to attend the formal gathering of the supernatural elite. She did so only to help to unite the supreme beings in attendance in one common goal: protecting Taran’s sister, Celia.
Celia is pregnant with alpha werewolf Aric Connor’s child, the same child prophesized to save the world from uprising evil. Evil wants this child dead before he is born and, more importantly, before he can grow strong enough to stop it.
Taran and her werewolf lover, Gemini, put plans in place to protect Celia. Master Vampire Misha Aleksandr and his clan also swear their allegiance to Celia and vow to keep her from harm. The witches even cast protection spells around the manor to curse anyone with malintent who enters. Nothing was supposed to go wrong, except everything did.
Creatures that shouldn’t exist stalk the grounds and invade the premises, and every curse meant to shield the guests turns against them. No one counted on the powerful being who arrived uninvited. But he’s here, manipulating the magic enclosing the estate to work in his favor.
As body counts rise and allies become enemies, chances are Celia won’t survive the night. But evil never counted on how hard Taran Wird would fight, even at the expense of her life.
She takes off, running.
“Em,” Bren hollers. “God damn it, wait!”
Emme rounds a corner and disappears into yet another hall. I pick up my pace, passing a small meeting room. Emme is moving fast, too fast. What’s happening to her?
My steps to falter when the light scones dim further. I turn around, the rooms we passed are gone. There are no doors or windows, only a long corridor covered with dark paneling remains.
Everything feels off and I can no longer hear the gentle strut of Emme’s feet.
“Bren?” I say.
“She’s gone,” he says.
“I know, but—”
“She’s been gone a while,” he interrupts. He takes a long whiff. “That wasn’t her.”
“Excuse me?” I look back where I thought I last saw her. “Then, who was that?”
“Not Emme,” he says, the muscles along his jaw tensing. He clasps my left arm. “Come on. We have to find her.”
I double back and into a wall.
“What the fuck?” Bren snaps.
The hall narrows, swallowing what used to be the way out in darkness.
Bren’s head jerks up. “Did you hear that?”
“I don’t hear anything,” I respond.
It’s the truth. There is no sound. Just me and Bren and our increasing breaths.
“What do you hear?” I ask, keeping my voice low.
He closes his eyes, listening hard, the rise and fall of his chest growing more pronounced.
A light whisper of wind rustles from the darkness, intensifying into a pained moan as it reaches us.
“Aw, hell,” Bren says. “Stay with me, okay?”
“Ah, sure,” I say, trying to remain calm and more than failing. I turn around when something stirs behind us. “Do you think the spells are just surging now that Celia has arrived? They’re meant to keep her safe. Maybe they’re reacting to her presence.”
I whip around. The wall is gone.
And so is Bren.
I inch backward, my motions dimming the lights further. My right arm shoots up, lighting like a torch and sparing me from the blackness encasing me.
The sound of splintering wood has me lowering my arm. I jump when thin rivers of blood trickle toward my feet.
Blood is never a good sign. It leads from bad to deadly every damn time. Most would run at the sight. Me, being me, and knowing there’s no other recourse, I follow the tiny rivers.
I move carefully, not wanting the thickening fluid to touch me. Dark magic is particularly nasty and usually requires a sacrifice. This blood signifies more than death, it’s a trigger to whatever will fire next.
My light strobes in and out, in tune with my accelerating heart rate, and against the tiny rivers that expand into widening pool. The horrible silence resumes, adding an extra dose of eerie.
Don’t be afraid, I tell myself. It’s quiet. That’s all.
I don’t manage to convince myself. Not when the moaning resumes with the next step I take. It starts out low, almost imperceptible, swelling in volume until it’s loud enough to muffle my rattling teeth.
The temperature drops absurdly low. The chill of death is here, expanding quickly, mingling with spirits and dark magic, and determined to drag me to hell.
Son of a bitch.
I reach another wall, another dead end. I release a breath, cursing when more moans join the first, these much higher pitched and much, much closer.
Frozen fingers drag down my spine. I turn around, ready to blast whatever is touching me only to stop dead. The streaks of blood are moving, swirling in freakish directions to form letters and words.
My light shakes from my violent trembles.
The letters darken to black, smearing the wooden floors.
I jolt when something crashes on the level above. I don’t wait for more of this twisted spelling bee. I take off in a sprint, shaking my right hand. “Get us to Celia,” I tell Sparky. “Get us there now.”
I just miss crashing into a wall that materializes in front of me. I shake my arm harder. I don’t typically order Sparky around. It’s not something I can do. As connected as we are, she’s practically a separate entity with her own set of rules I’ve yet to figure out.
“Come on, girl,” I insist. “Celia needs us.”
More by instinct than anything Sparky does, I spin, startling when a new set of words form along the wall.
About Cecy Robson