🌟BOOK BLITZ:🌟 Beneath London’s Fog by Iona Caldwell {EXCERPT + GIVEAWAY!}

Beneath London’s Fog by Iona Caldwell

Release Date: October 30th 2019 by Fyresydepublishing

Pages: 174

Genres: Occult Fiction, Ghost Story, British Literature

Jonathan is the immortal master of Raven Hollow Manor - a decrepit mansion riddled with superstition, murder and restless ghosts. Beneath it lies a restless malice.

Its previous owner driven mad, violently kills his guests with a rusted ax, creating the perfect venue for Jonathan to seclude himself in a prison of his own device.

When the streets of London begin to run red with blood; the bodies exhibiting disturbing signs and baffling wounds, the identity of the killer remains elusive to police.

The bodies are just the beginning of Jonathan's troubles. A mysterious letter accusing Jonathan of committing the murders appear, raising suspicion in the police. Hidden beneath the mangled bodies, Jonathan soon realizes he is being forced to face demons he thought died in a forlorn past he attempted to escape.

One thing Jonathan knows for certain: He must deal with the demons of his past if he is to survive his future. Not only him but those he has come to love as well.

For fans of Jim Butcher, Stephen King, Darcy Coates and Nick Cutter.

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{EXCERPT}

II. Annabelle

London, Summer 1565

I stood in the shadows of the balcony in a room full of people in London’s upper class, a glass of champagne in my hand, my eyes following the path of a young woman as she drifted from group to group—her strawberry lips plump and perfect for a summer night’s kiss. I fantasized about what it might feel like to taste her lips beneath the moonlight.

At times I caught the woman glancing at me, a shy smile on her face.

Beneath the ornate feline mask, I caught eyes colored with facial shadow, half-lidded with as much desire as I felt welling up within me. The glances and flirting gestures occurred so often through the night I could take no more and approached her.

The woman covered her face with a frilly, cream fan, gesturing her head towards the opened window panes leading to the granite balcony.

The satin curtains danced in the warmth of the breeze, their soft whooshes unheard by the gossiping guests as the woman moved through them.

With immortal grace, I glided through the bodies, refusing advances from bourgeoisie ladies whose breasts struggled to remain hidden behind their laced corsets.

When I reached the young woman, she stood staring out at the lavish gardens below. My eyes never left her face, entranced by her porcelain skin almost shining in the moon’s light.

Below, gurgling water echoed from the fountain in the middle of the stone pathway, surrounded by beautiful flowers blooming, permeating the air with sensual smells.

“Greetings, my lady.” I took her silken gloved hand and placed a kiss on the back of her knuckles. My hazel eyes locked on her bright green gaze.

We appeared to be studying one another. The sounds of the party faded into nothingness the further we drifted into our own world.

Thoughts of what she might be thinking ran through my mind along with concerns I often held during such encounters. Did she fall victim to my wiles? My natural seduction or did she feel a natural attraction?

A brief sense of ache pushed at the walls of my beating heart. I forced the thoughts away. It could not be. If my seduction did indeed affect her, she would not have teased me as much as she did. Attraction would have been instant as it had been with those other women from the party who shoved their large bosoms in my face as I walked by.

“To you as well, sir,” She replied, gesturing a slight nod.

Her bright smile set my heart ablaze with the desire. I gathered my will and requested her to dance with me, an offer she agreed to, never letting go of the mischievous tease of a grin lighting her lips.

I led us to the ballroom where I proceeded to guide her through the most graceful dance. My hand held firm around her tiny waist while her frilly dress followed each majestic spin with the rhythm of the music.

During a dip, I ventured to ask her what her name could be.

The woman giggled, fanning herself and requesting some fresh air in light of so much dancing. I obliged her and guided her back to the balcony.

In the distance, I could hear the bubbling sound of the water cascading in the fountain. All around the smell of flowers drifted in the cool summer breeze. To give her a rest, I helped her sit on one of the marble benches, joining her.

I repeated my request to know her name.

She pushed one of the loosened curls of her bronze hair away from her face. Her green eyes threatening to delve into the depths of my soul. “I am Annabelle Price. May I ask your namel, my Lord?”

“Jonathan Holloway. It is my greatest pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms. Price.”

Annabelle giggled. “Annabelle, please. To you as well, Mr. Holloway.”

As she had done with me, I corrected her to use my first name.

Little had I known that night would lead to more meetings in the near future only to end in a tragedy which would begin my descent into the darkness of vengeance.

***

Light tapping followed by Holly’s voice calling out to me through the closed door caused me to groan, rising in bed and calling to her to give me a moment. Immense pressure threatened to tear my eyes from my skull as I lumbered over to the rack in the corner of the room where a black, silk robe hung.

I put on the robe, taking in the tangled sandy mess of shortened hair in the mirror before staggering over to the door, opening it.

As usual, Holly managed to make herself look beyond beautiful despite the early hours of the day. Her bouncy honey-blonde curls sat at the top of her head in a formal bun, her cream dress and green overcoat glistening with the light of the sun. Plump cheeks, colored with a slight hint of blush drew up in a deep-dimpled grin.

“Good morning,” She greeted.

Rubbing my eyes, ignoring the annoyance niggling my mind, I returned her greeting. “Holly, you know I am not a morning man. What could you possibly need so early?”

Holly pursed her lips, her blue eyes displaying irritation. “Well, that’s rude. I wanted to have breakfast together like we used to. Were you out late again?”

I nodded.

My body ached from fatigue, the muscles heavy and throbbing with want to go back to bed.

When she continued to plead, I sighed and asked her for some time to allow me to get a bath and join her downstairs.

Despite my belief to the contrary, Holly’s dimpled grin grew wider, eyes shining with excitement.

It made me regret all of those mornings I sent her away, choosing to sleep until after sunset.

Holly placed a kiss on my cheek, thanking me, prancing off like a deer through a field of grain back down the stairs.

I returned to my room to procure some clothes for myself and mosey into the bathroom where I ran a hot bath, letting the warm water fill the tub and ease my aching body. I added some of the scented oils and foreign bath salts I purchased during one of my rare visits to the bustling London market.

They eased the stress and lingering pain, allowing me to relax into a peaceful state of mind. My head lulled back to stare at the ceiling as I thought about the dream recounting the time I met Annabelle, the woman I loved more than my own life. The woman I watched helplessly murdered with my own eyes.

I remembered the crimson streams of blood, the life leaving her eyes as she reached out to me, gurgling out my name before she fell to the ground.

Never before had I felt such pain. Such loss.

Not now. I cannot allow myself to drift into despair. Not when my daughter waits for me. I rose from the bath, dried myself with one of the soft cotton towels.

I dressed to join Holly in the kitchen, stopping by my dresser to look at a small, ornate box. I opened it to find a necklace and a ring, sighing at the memories they held. Its bronze hinges creaked when I closed the lid and left the room to go downstairs.

Holly sat at the table, standing when she saw me, moving like the wind to prepare me a plate containing a full English breakfast and a cup of tea with cream and sugar.

Holly joined me, her head turned away towards the table, hands twiddling in her lap.

I opened the paper she got me and proceeded to read, ignoring her since I knew the behavior to mean she had something she wished to ask.

I sighed, unable to handle her less than subtle attempts to get my attention. “What is it? I know you have something you wish to say,” I asked, lowering the paper.

Biting her lower lip, Holly whimpered. “I wondered if you would be okay with me attending a dinner party with one of my best friends. I know how you are about me going out after dark without you.”

Knowing what lurked in the shadows and our affinity for young men or women, I often forbade Holly from roaming the streets after sunset.

Seeing the look of desperate longing on her face proved holding my resolve more difficult the longer she did so. I gave in, making her promise not to leave her friend’s house alone or at all, provided she complete her chores both in the house and outside of it.

With more vigor than I would have liked, she repeated “yes” and “thank you” so many times I lost count.

“Oh! That reminds me. The groundskeeper is doing wonderfully with the gardens,” Holly said with glee.

My eyes never left the paper, particularly one story involving the man from last night. “You hired a groundskeeper? I take it he has no fear of this place’s reputation then?”

Holly pushed the paper down to capture my gaze with hers. “Of course he is but I promised him decent pay so he’s willing to overlook it.” She sauntered around me, wrapping her arms over my shoulders.

“I worry for you being alone so much. Why must you be such a recluse? I know you still hurt for Anna but--”

“That will be enough.” I said. My voice a tone not to be questioned. “As far as anyone knows, I do not exist and I am more than fine with it. Finish your chores. I have a delivery for you to make before you leave. As always, be discreet.”

Once again, Holly’s lips pursed. She huffed, took the dishes to the kitchen and prepared to go about her daily business.

I retired to my study to ponder the story of the man’s murder and Inspector Abrams’ mention of another mangled corpse.

It soon became obvious, what with the memories of Anna resurfacing and my mind’s endless pursuit of answers, that sleep would remain elusive.

Knocking on the door interrupted my thoughts. Holly threw it open, almost allowing it to slam against the wall.

“I almost forgot, I think Inspector Abrams’ son has taken a fancy to me.”

Oh dear. I thought. “And do you find yourself attracted to him?”

She shook her head.

“Then there is no need to worry. Let him down easily but be polite. The inspector has done much to dissuade the general public from their thoughts about you.”

A thick silence lingered in the air.

“I heard another poor person was murdered,” Holly finally said. She hesitated at the last word, her voice barely a whisper.

I kept my focus on the spire of Big Ben above the treeline.

“So I can put my heart at ease, it wasn’t you, was it?” Holly asked.

“No, dearest. I do not kill unnecessarily. Now, go finish your chores and enjoy your evening. I will be out late tonight and will be checking on you.” I grinned at the look of defiance on her face.

With a sigh, I lowered my head. Somewhere in my daughter’s heart, she still feared me, seeing me as a monster.

AUTHOR BIO:

Iona Caldwell is the lover of all things arcane, folklore, nature and magic.

She is the author of the British Occult Fiction, Beneath London’s Fog set to be published by FyreSyde Publishing October 2019. Her second title, Hell’s Warden is forecasted to release in February of 2020. When she’s not busy weaving worlds of the arcane and dark, she’s spending time out in nature. An avid lover of books, Iona claims her biggest inspirations are H.P Lovecraft, Stephen King, Neil Gaiman and Edgar Allen Poe.

She believes storytellers should tell the stories they want to tell. As such, most of her titles are stand-alone novellas she hopes will leave her readers immersed in magical worlds.

She is also an extremely active book blogger who will review primarily horror, suspense, supernatural thriller, mystery, and occult/gothic fiction.

Website, Goodreads, Twitter, Instagram

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