On the west side of Storm Lake in the middle of a super pulse of leylines lies Destiny, home to the Destiny Paramortals, a group of tempestaeries, fae, djnn, and others who are bound by an ancient pact to protect weaker species – like humans. Unknown to the other communities outside of Destiny is the role the Paramortals have in keeping them safe.
The Destiny Paramortals series is southern urban fantasy/romance and should be read in order as it is the continuing saga of the recurring characters. In each Paramortals book, questions are answered and new ones arise but it’s romance so you know my heroes and heroines will get their happy ending…eventually.
In order, the books are:
My name is Tempest Pomeroy, and my human job is delivering the mail in Destiny, Louisiana. I’m also a Paramortal like my family, or I’m supposed to be. If I didn’t have a few little talents, I’d think I was adopted. To say I was having a bad day would be like saying Katrina dropped a little rain on the Gulf Coast.
First, River’s amphora went missing—that’s genie bottle to you mere-mortals. Then, one of my customers had a stroke while reading me the riot act over a piece of mail, but I saved the old grouch with a zap of my Zeus juice! It was the first time I’d actually called my power on purpose, and Destiny’s hunky new sheriff almost saw me use my magic—big no-no. He showed up again when the local florist filed a complaint against me for dropping a seventy-five pound box on his foot. Yeah, I did it, but it was kind of an accident. He put his hand where it didn’t belong, and my fingers… sorta slipped. Then, I discovered a dead body in the clubhouse and rescued my brother’s amphora from a locker, bashing it in with a Greg Norman wedge. Guess who showed up? Again. You guessed it.
Now, my brother is missing, my mother’s AWOL, and the sheriff and my ex-lover are squaring off like yard dogs staking a claim over a poodle. I am no one’s poodle. Is it any wonder I’m calling this the worst M.A.L.E day of my life?
Oh, and the sheriff? He thought he’d settled in a normal small town to raise his teenage daughter—like Mayberry?! We’ll see how that turns out… Things better settle down soon, ‘cause I’m about to go Storm Crazy.
Excerpt: Caught in the Act
“What happened here, Ms. Pomeroy?”
“Uh-oh, yer mad, huh?” One polyester clothed hunk blurred into two. I blinked quickly.
“Are you…” His eyebrows crashed together into downward dogs as he stepped closer to me, put his face next to mine and sniffed.
“Jesus, you’re drunk.”
He looked over at the wet bar, his eyes hardening to unfriendly gray steel. “What’s the matter? Murdering someone a little too much for you?” He grabbed for the vase and got a hand on it.
I clasped it tighter as his words sank in. “What are you talking about?” I shrieked.
“No,” but I dared not tug too hard. “It’s mine—well, River’s.”
At the risk of damaging the irreplaceable vessel, I relinquished it. “Please, please, be careful with it. It’s…” I shook my head. Sober up, Tempe. I willed clarity to return. It ignored me.
“Is this what you hit the guy with?”
“You know, the nude dead guy in the other room? The one with his face smashed away? Ring any bells?”
“Oh, him.” My head spun worse now that I’d given up the amphora. “I gotta siddown.” I did—hard, on the bench in front of the lockers. I pressed my fingers to my temple and closed my eyes. Bad move. I opened them again. “I remember now… ”, the fae, the blood… the smell. “I think I’m going to throw up.” Gagging, I bent over and a plastic lined trashcan appeared in front of me.
Think of something else—River, on his first day as a Djnni, Phoebe on my ninth birthday, Dutch… I stifled a whimper. I would not lose it in front of this man. He’d already seen me in too many compromising situations today. It would be one embarrassment too many.
He placed his gun into its holster and reached for my elbow. “Come with me.”
I rested my forehead in my palm as he pulled me up. My words kept getting tangled around my tongue. If I just concentrated harder, I could prom-pron- prolly…figure out what to say. I waved a hand toward the door. “Why don’ you jus’ go do what you have to do? I’ll be here… when you get back.” I looked up at his narrowed eyes and grim face. Mad again.
“Nope. You’re coming with me.” With one hand wrapped around the neck of the bottle and the other grasping my elbow, he pulled me along with him to the entryway, stopping by the man on the floor. This time the stench was more than my roiling stomach could handle.
“Ag—” I turned just far enough away from the body in front of me to let loose in the direction of the sheriff’s trousers and shiny black work boots. So much for pride. Only his strong arm around mine kept me from collapsing on top of the body. Which was probably what he was trying to protect.
He looked at the ceiling for a good five seconds, then led me through the dining room toward the restrooms. He pushed me down in a chair and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. “Here.”
What a swell guy, I thought as I closed my eyes, the world spinning behind my lids.
The snick of metal caused me to look up but not before he’d handcuffed my wrist to the seat back and walked out the front door, taking River’s amphora with him, leaving me sitting eye level with the long silver utility handle on a door marked, “Men”.
My sentiments exactly.
Cry Me a River
As the Paramoon approaches, time is running out for River, and the attraction that was growing between me and Sheriff Jack Lang derailed after he got his first glimpse of my Paramortal “talents” – a few measly bolts of lightning aimed at his—in his general direction. In the course of the investigation we’ve gone from attraction to suspicion, support to friendship, romance to oh-my-god-get-away-from-me revulsion. Jack says he wants to know “everything”. After we answer all his questions, he’ll either join us or grab his daughter and take the first jet out of Middle Earth.
He might help me save my brother and discover the whereabouts of my parents, but he probably won’t still want to take me to the Mardi Gras ball, once he knows “everything”. There’s a lot of “everything”.
Excerpt: Jack Light Years from Mayberry
“What’s a Tempest fairy?” I asked her finally.
“Tempestaerie,” she corrected. “A major Tempestaerie can control the elements, air and water, though they will have some influence over fire and earth. Thus—my rain and lightning bolts, such as they were. Minor Tempestaeries like Paige have no significant talent.”
“Is that an honest assessment or just two kittens fighting over the milk?” I asked.
“Tempe’s understating her potential, Jack.” Dylan said, “In the past they’ve been known to call down asteroids.”
That got my attention.
Tempe shrugged. “It’s not all catastrophic drama though. A storm faerie, as we’ve been called, can turn into anything associated with weather.” She was quiet for a minute then her gaze met mine, her voice turned soft, sad. “I just remembered—when I was in my first week at school I think, it had been raining for days—the principal’s assistant came to my teacher and handed her a pair of black boots. There was a note in them from my mother. It said, “So your little feet will be dry and I can keep my girl close.” Her eyebrows dipped as tears flooded her eyes. “She’d turned into a pair of boots, and I walked around with her on my feet all day… long.”
Aurora said, “It was all Phoebe could get away with—”
A few splats of water were the only warning we had before a gentle rain began to fall on every surface of Aurora’s workroom. “Oh, dear. It’s getting quite unpredictable,” Aurora said as she wiped the rain from her eyes.
Dylan seemed to be out of patience. He rose advancing on me, staring me down with just a hint of grizzly-face. I rose standing toe to toe while the anger in his eyes sparked. I suspected it was directed mostly at himself. He cared for Tempe and the people here. I respected that. “You in or out, Lang?”
I knew my answer but I had a statement to make as well. “Show me your other—what did you call it, your Para—” The air bubbled around Dylan making it hard to discern any of his features, then the dressed in black, dark and deadly man standing eye to eye with me blurred once again into an eight-foot shaggy Sasquatch. His huge paws hung at his side, level with my shoulders.
I studied furry-face, the slavering mouth, the intelligent black eyes. “Turn around,” I ordered.
The creature’s head tilted as if to say, Really? but turned as I reached out and tugged on his fur. A sound like a growl escaped and an image from the previous week resurfaced. “I saw you on Grand Pied Boulevard the morning after… damn,” I shook my head. “Grand Pied. French, for big foot—”
A bark escaped the massive jaws and the Finrir’s eyes glinted with laughter.
The air shifted as Dylan turned back, and I was face to face with the man again.
“So, you’re in.” Dylan’s voice sounded deeper, as if his vocal chords hadn’t quite made it from growl mode to human. Scratch that, not human.
“It’s a lot to take in…”
“And no time to play catch up,” said Dylan.
Tempe had stiffened, but visibly relaxed when I asked, “Where do we go from here?”
“We find River and take care of whoever is responsible.”
“Who do you think killed the Nucklevay?”
Dylan corrected, “Nucklavee. I’m not sure. Paige and her partners, Phoebe’s protectors, some other entity—human even—though not likely.”
“A human, go figure,” I muttered. I’d come a long way in two weeks… Light years.
Eve of Chaos
“You vill meet a dahk dangerrous strangah…”
…Aurora had predicted at the Mardi Gras ball, and as if someone left their Swords of War videogame on “share” in a parallel universe, the Dark Knight had walked in. Conor de Sept Flambe´ with the distinctive leathery tattoos spanning his muscular shoulders and magnificent flashing swords. “Where did he get those swords?” Montana drooled. He’d offered to prepare her for the Chaos, twenty-four hours when many Paramortals would lose their power.
With crazies coming out of the woodwork, Paramortals losing their abilities, personalities going AWOL, Sheriff Lang needs to know who will be left standing with him when the Para-moon begins. If Flambe´ is what Jack thinks he is, Destiny might have a chance. If not, they’ll be in deep… trouble.
Excerpt: Montana Wants to Ride Conor’s Dragon
The Knight’s handsome face broke into a grin. Which alternately made Montana want to kick him in his metal plated shins or clear off the bar and have him right there. The sword fighting last night had been exciting; for a warrior almost as good as sex, but—who was she kidding—she didn’t want to fight with him, not with hands, feet or swords. She wanted him under her. But first, she looked around to see if Liam was listening, then leaned in. His head tilted to match the angle of hers. Curious, he leaned in as well.
“I want to ride your dragon.”
His chin dropped, both eyes flashed then reduced to gold slits, as they’d done in his dragon form, but the heat receded when he got her true meaning. “This is not a carnival, and I am not your carousel horsey.”
Montana waved her hand. “Well, don’t get all offended like. I’ve just been daydreaming about seeing Destiny from the back of a magnificent fire-breathing dragon such as yourself, but…” she shrugged. “You’re not the only dragon in the sky.”
She willed herself to keep a straight face as tendrils of smoke oozed from his ears and nostrils, escaping in small erratic puffs as if his fire was percolating like Kilauea. His irises changed to the color of orange flame, and the temperature in the bar rose about ten degrees. Hers widened when the tattoos on his back seemed to swell like the molten cap on a volcano before it blows. So, she smiled and said, “You need to lighten up, Conor. Can’t you take a joke?”
She found herself upside down over two very wide shoulders sharing the space with those glittering swords, watching rocks skidder away from under his metal boots. Mother of Zeus, but he was strong. As her hair flopped against his back she called over her shoulder, “Um, drago, where are we going?” No response, but his steady march toward… she raised her head to watch the retreating landscape. He was eating up the distance between the bar and wherever he was headed.
To pass the time, she began counting his steps but got bored and gave up. Finally, the road, the trees began to look familiar.
“Conor, where are you taking me?” She wiggled in his grasp, trying to get free.
“Quit, Dinnshencha. You will appear undignified,” he growled.
“Well, you’re the one who put me this demeaning position.” There was silence on his end for three long strides while he thought about that. “If I had my Dinnshencha power you would not get away with this.”
Conor slowed and his broad hands, which had been holding her tightly to him, softened their hold, moved down her spine, cupped her butt lowering her very very slowly, until they were eye to eye.
“Which is why we must prepare. And then, tonight…” sigh, “we will fly, if it is your heart’s desire, Victoria.”
“Dammit, it’s Montana.”
“You are much too extraordinary for such an impuissant—inadequate—name.” Well, when he put it that way, Montana thought. “What is your real name, little dragon?”
She was sick of the little dragon moniker so she steeled herself, breathed it out with a disgusted sigh. “Branislava.”
“Ah, Glorious Protector… that suits. I get excited just thinking about it.”
Montana’s eyes widened at the fire leaking from his nostrils. “Well, we’ll have to see what we can do about that, fire-breather.”
Blame It on the Moon
It’s the height of the Para-moon and Sheriff Jack Lang is up to his ‘6’ in alligators. Defending those weaker than himself is in his DNA which is what drove him to become a Navy pilot. Who is he kidding? Alligators he could handle! But supernatural bad guys… and ragtag doesn’t begin to describe his band of temporary ’heroes’. If he has to go to war with the group that showed up at dawn, he might as well start cutting up white sheets and attaching them to garden stakes.
With Tempe and the other Paramortals ill or incapacitated and the sudden appearance of beings he’s never heard of, will Jack be able to keep Destiny out of the hands of their enemies for the rest of the power down? It’s only twenty-four hours.
If worse comes to worse, he has a dragon on his side and a few surprises up his sleeve. “Yippe, ki, yi…” But a lot can happen in twenty-four hours and things don’t always go as planned.
Excerpt: I am Dragon. I Will Pause While You Behold My Awesomeness
Jack watched them saying, “She’s a Vouivre. At least, we think it’s a she. She was displaced to the Storm Lake tributaries through a crack in the ocean bottom caused during the Gulf oil disaster. The short of it is that we have an operation to remove her and take her back to the Gulf. Then…”
Tank shook his head in disbelief. “How are you going to move several tons of deadweight without getting a crane. That thing’s got to weigh—” His eyes widened as a dark shadow enveloped the landscape and the answer to his question flapped its wings overhead.
Slade reacted with lightning reflexes, the flat of his huge hand pushing Tank’s gun aside to keep him from throwing down on our dragon. Slade was the only one whose mouth didn’t drop open. Except for Lola, who wasn’t even looking.
We could have been on the moon for all the sound that accompanied Conor’s soft landing. For a few minutes he just stood there, facing Ridge’s soldiers—the big showoff—and taking part in a time-honored male tradition…the pissing contest.
And seriously? It was no contest. Forty-foot fire breathing dragon on one side, three little gun wielding soldiers on the other. Dragon—three, soldiers—zip.
“Gawddang!” was all Tank could say. With a glance at Tank, Montana walked over and stood beside Conor, as if to say, you mess with me, you mess with my dragon.
Tank looked at Slade. “Dang, Slade. He makes your dragon cloth look like cheesecloth.” Slade didn’t seem to find that very funny and raised his fire hose a tad in Tank’s direction. Tank shrugged and mumbled, “Just sayin’! Maybe you should negotiate your ‘look’ with Ridge.”
I introduced our dragon. “Meet the Dragon Knight, Conor de Sept Flambé.”
“Flambé,” muttered Slade. Guess a fire man would key in on that.
“Conor, meet Tank, Smoke, Slade, and Lola. My friend Ridge,” I pointed in his direction next, “brought them to help us out.”
Conor’s dragon brow rose and he looked at me as if to say, You’re kidding right? You’ve got me, what do you need them for?
I said, “Don’t forget we won’t have you to defend the airways and take down goofus while you’re relocating Vivie.”
Conor grunted, sat on his haunches like a four-story tall puppy, and changed. As he morphed into his knight form, for the first time since I’d seen him do it, the swords that were normally sheathed were extended in a defensive stance between the couple and our new arrivals.
I sighed and cut my eyes at him. He shrugged and sheathed his swords with a flip of his armored wrists creating awed sighs from at least one of the soldiers.
I gave them a quick primer on the dynamics of the power down. “Beyond that, I guess you could say, prepare to be surprised and react accordingly. Right now the only sure beings with power except for Conor, are the bad guys, but I hope our Paramortals will regain their abilities soon.”
Smoke asked in that silky quiet whisper, which still managed to make an impact, “What about the fairie?”
The way he put it—the fairie—I got the feeling he was acquainted with some. “The good Fae—they call themselves Bright Fae—will be guarding the Forge and leylines around the lake as well as Harmony. I can’t tell you there are no bad fairies. Far as I know there’s bad everything. Anyone or anything that’s attacking humans, or any of our citizens, is fair game.”
*** Coming this winter. Book 5 continues with more of Tempe, Montana and Katerina and their ‘men’, Jack, Conor and Dylan. How will they deal with the changes the Moon has brought about? ***
Hi, I’m Livia Quinn. With a life long fascination (read that:phobia) of storms, and living in Louisiana where severe weather is a part of life, it was only natural that it would play a big part in my world. The farther east you go the more weather you see and the less paranormal the stories are. But that doesn’t mean there’s no magic. What would life be like without a little magic?
Visit the world of Storm Lake on my website and view a glossary of terms, character list, map and a tourism brochure. But please note: Storm Lake exists only in my fertile mind.
Storm Crazy http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00L02VHE0
Cry Me a River http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00O2I8X8M
Eve of Chaos https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00Q39GBS2
Blame it on the Moon http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B012X9HWJC
Author Central http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00KPDXXE2
Social Media Links
Sign up for my newsletter at http://liviaquinn.com to be included in prizes and news and see the Storm Lake pages to view a map of Storm Lake as well as a Glossary of terms, Character list and Paramortal language.
Independent Author Network http://www.independentauthornetwork.com/livia-quinn.html