Wednesday, September 19, 2018

*~Book Birthday Blitz: Three Bloody Pieces~*


Three Bloody Pieces

A dead king, a queen who is more than she seems, and a witch who uses the dark arts to entrap her.
Queen, widow, beggar – Lady Caitlyn is all three, and now she can add murderer to the list.
When death and treachery propel her south to Normandy, to seek sanctuary with the exiled Prince Alfred, visions of a woman with ancient eyes travel with her.
Herleva is a woman filled with ambition and greed. A woman who intends to be more than a commoner. A woman who gets what she wants by whatever means possible, even if she has to practice the dark arts to achieve her goals.
A woman who is a witch.
Caitlyn finds herself caught up in a magic which changes her very being. A magic which produces a king to change the lives of every man, woman, and child in England.




Three Bloody Pieces Extract

Caitlyn has recently had a spell cast on her, giving her the ability to transform into a cat. She is now a witch’s familiar and is trying to come to terms with her new situation.


I ran, flattened against the ground with my tail streaming out behind, until my breath rasped harshly in my throat and my sides heaved. When I came to a halt, Falaise was out of sight and I was in the middle of a small clearing deep in the woodlands of the gentle slopes which lay to the west of the castle and its town. 
Now what was I supposed to do? What did cats normally do? Catch mice, sleep in the sun? I had no idea how to be a cat. A scent wafted across my nose and I lowered my head to the dry earth. Last year’s fallen leaves tickled my face, and the smell they held was enticing. 
All at once I knew what it was – another cat. A large male had sprayed here at the base of a birch. I followed the aroma with my nose, tracing it from the leaf litter to a good two feet above my head, reaching up to place my front paws on the rough bark for a better sniff. Dominant, in his prime, he advertised his prowess for all to witness.
The part of me which was all cat and feline instinct found it intriguing. The human part was both disgusted to find piss so fascinating, and incredulous that so much information could be gleaned from a spray of urine.  ‘You are Caitlyn in your head,’ Herleva had said. I might be, but I was Cat too, else I would not have been able to read the smell. There was more cat inside me than she realised. I would have to consider if this knowledge could be used to my advantage. 
I moved away from the tree and crouched in the undergrowth, thinking. A woman was considered old by the time she reached her fifth decade, though many did live beyond, and even to their allotted three score years and ten. A cat, however, was much shorter lived. I could only guess, not having paid a great deal of attention to cats before I was forced to become one, but I suspected they lived not much more than ten years.
So, which part of me had the most influence – the cat part or the human part? Did it depend on how long I remained in one particular form?  If I stayed as a cat for the next ten years, would I age as a cat does, or would I continue to age as a woman, regardless of the form?
I needed to find out the answer. I did not wish to die, but I did not wish to continue living under Herleva’s spell for the next thirty years either. 
Another thought occurred to me. When I transformed I became a fully grown adult feline. Did that mean I was at the same stage of life as a cat, as I was as a woman? I had already lived roughly a third of my natural span; if I was the same distance along the path of life when I became a cat, it meant I might only have seven or less years to endure.
Yet another thing to consider – when my cat years were up, would the cat part of me die, and the woman part carry on, free of its feline burden? Hope flared. The spell may very well wear off at the point where the cat should die. 
I had to ask Herleva. I had to know, one way or the other. There was a risk she would lie to me, and I would be none the wiser, but I had to ask nevertheless.
I did not want to slink back to her on all fours and suffer the indignity of her watching me squirm and writhe in pain. I wanted to return as a woman. Would the magic work without her to command it?
I crept out from the undergrowth and found a patch relatively clear of brambles and low-growing shrubs, for there would be enough to put up with without becoming a woman and finding myself in the middle of a briar patch. Sitting on my haunches, I waited expectantly for something to happen.
And waited.
Nothing. 
Not even a twinge to tell me the change was coming.
Herleva said I needed to practice transforming from one to the other, which must mean I had the ability to do so on my own, without a command from her. I waited some more, trying to ignore the sounds and smells all around. 
A squirrel chattered high above, and the sharp aroma of mouse wafted on the breeze, too far away to bother stalking.
Concentrate, Caitlyn. 
The shrill call of a hunting eagle raised the hairs on my back, an instinctive reaction to another predator. Cat claws and teeth were no match for a bird of its size. It would literally eat me for supper. I crouched low, flattening myself against the ground, not daring to breathe. It was unlikely he could see me through the canopy, but instinct proved to be more powerful than common sense, and I remained motionless for a long time after his calls faded into the distance.
And still I waited, sending thoughts deep into myself. 
I want to be a woman, I want to be a woman.  I visualised myself with hands and feet, with smooth skin, standing on two legs not four. I pretended my shape was changing, elongating and growing, so desperate to be me again that it hurt. 
Ah, the hurt was real. The change was coming, finally. For the first time I rejoiced in it, even as the agony burned me with brimstone and hellfire. The caterpillar would become a butterfly once more.


Author Bio – 
Elizabeth Davies is a paranormal author, whose books have a romantic flavour with more than a hint of suspense. And death. There's usually death...

Social Media Links – 
Twitter  - @bethsbooks
Instagram - @elizabethdavies.author




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