Part witch, part demon, Sorcha’s been on the run ever since she escaped Hell’s gates. Bouncing through time, she’s managed to stay one step ahead of Rhea Roskelly, blackest of Black Witches, who wants her for her demon blood. Constantly looking over one shoulder is annoying, but freedom is worth any price.
Tavin used to be a Druid. Actually, he still is, but his magic took a decidedly unDruidlike turn a few years back. Rather than deal with his kinsmen, who’d be convinced he sold his soul to evil, he drops out of sight.
Things have changed since he left. A lot. Roskelly witches are part of the Druids’ community. To his dismay, another witch appears out of nowhere, except this one is half demon. Certain he must be mistaken, he drops his invisibility illusion to take a closer look. If Druids have been corrupted by Black Magic, he’ll have to intervene. The odds are hideous, but he has no choice.
I'm basically a mountaineer at heart. I remember many hours at my desk where my body may have been stuck inside four walls, but my soul was planning yet one more trip to the backcountry. There's a timeless element to the mountains. They feel like old friends as I visit them, and visit them again. There's nothing like standing on a remote pass where I've been before and seeing that the vista is unchanged. Or on an equally remote peak. Mountains are the bones of the world. They'll prevail long after all of us are dust. It feels honest and humbling to share space with them. I hope I'm blessed with many more years to wander the local landscape. The memories are incomparable. They warm me and help me believe there will be something left for our children and their children after them.