PUBLICATION DATE: 28 MAY 2020 | PAPERBACK ORIGINAL | £8.99 | ORENDA BOOKS
The first in the electrifying new Forbidden Iceland series, The Creak on the Stairs is an exquisitely written, claustrophobic and chillingly atmospheric debut thriller by one of Iceland’s most exciting new talents.
When the body of a woman is discovered at a lighthouse in the Icelandic town of Akranes, it soon becomes clear that she’s no stranger to the area. Chief Investigating Officer Elma, who has returned to Akranes following a failed relationship, and her colleagues Sævar and Hörður, commence an uneasy investigation, which uncovers a shocking secret in the dead woman’s past that continues to reverberate in the present day…
But as Elma and her team make a series of discoveries, they bring to light a host of long-hidden crimes that shake the entire community. Sifting through the rubble of the townspeople’s shattered memories, they have to dodge increasingly serious threats, and find justice … before it ’s too late.
In this extract, Thomas and Wulfstan think they might have found two possible candidates for their team of warriors. They’re looking for women who’re tough, smart and determined, and these two look to be all of that…
It was in a manor almost exactly half way between Tamworth and Hengist’s that Wulfstan made his first discovery. Under his guidance, Thomas brought his group off the road down a track that led to an assart in the forest. A small cluster of huts and one modest hall sat near a stream that ran through the open space of farmland and pasture that was bounded by trees. The smell of wood smoke, ever present at any centre of human habitation in this world, hung lightly in the summer air, but here the sharper scent of burnt charcoal got stronger and stronger, the closer they got.
Coming around the corner of the barn into the main yard they saw a brazier, charcoal coals glowing red hot. A man with a grimly determined expression checked the heat of a long handled glowing poker, then plunged it back into the coals. Behind him stood the rest of the village, jabbering and chattering.
Next to the brazier was a strongly built “A” shaped wooden frame, with a young woman bound to it, face in, standing up with her hands tied to the top of the “A”. The new arrivals could see her equally determined face glaring at them through the framework.
It was a striking face. Elfin in structure, framed with straight mousey brown hair. Even more striking was a very similar face standing next to her.
‘Identical twins!’ thought Thomas.
‘Good day to you my friend, from Prince Wulfstan of Mercia.’ he said to the man at the brazier. ‘What is happening here?’
‘I know who you are Your Highness.’ said the man bowing low. ‘Welcome to my home.’
‘Thank you.’ said Thomas. ‘And what home entertainments are you performing here?’ indicating the bound girl.
‘She is a thief! Or her sister is.’ he said pointing to her unbound companion. ‘We can’t tell them apart, but we know one of them stole a whole roast goose last night! She was seen! But each blames the other.’
‘So how do you know you are punishing the right one?’ asked Thomas.
‘We don’t Your Highness. They are both slaves. They are jointly lying to avoid punishment, so we are going to make sure we can tell them apart in future. This one is going to be branded on her right shoulder.’
‘Won’t that affect her work?’
‘Only for a week Your Highness. And if she’s the one we think she is, she doesn’t do very good work anyway, so we won’t notice much difference.’
Thomas nodded. ‘And their work is?’
‘Weavers Your Highness. One does wonderful work, always laughing and smiling. The other, this one, does mediocre work, always being punished, always scowling.’
‘And how do you know they don’t swap roles all the time just to tease you?’ laughed Thomas.
The man smirked. ‘Well if they do that Your Highness, they are very good at keeping up the game! Anyway, this girl was the surly, rude one when questioned about the theft, so she’s the one getting marked. If they are swapping roles, the branding will tell us that too!’
He turned back to the brazier, took out the poker and checked the colour. ‘Not hot enough yet. Another couple of minutes I think.’
‘Or perhaps I can offer you an alternative solution.’ said Thomas. ‘I am looking for slaves to take part in my battle with Lord Grimketil in a year’s time, and these two might be suitable.’
The man raised his eyebrows. ‘You want to buy them Your Highness?’
‘Only if they want to come. They have to know what will be asked of them, what they are risking, and what will be the reward. I can pick only slaves, yet I will choose only volunteers. May I ask them?’
‘Of course Your Highness!’ replied the man, who recognised a good opportunity to get rid of a troublesome slave for good money when he saw it.
Thomas dismounted and went over to the frame, beckoning the other girl closer. Huddling together, there was much low voiced muttering. Thomas returned to the man, took out his money bag and counted out a more than fair value for the two girls. ‘Would that meet with your approval?’
The man beamed. ‘Yes Your Highness! It’s an honour doing business with you.’
Thomas laughed. ‘You mean it’s an honour getting more than you were expecting for them! In this matter I want you to feel you have been treated honourably, and that’s part of the price I pay. I want no complaints later on.’
‘There will be none from me Your Highness, I swear on my mother’s grave.’ said the man.
An old lady came up quietly behind him. ‘May I remind you Egbert, that I am not yet dead.’
On the Road Not Taken is a memoir about the transformational power of music. It begins with a boy growing up in a small town on the Kent coast in the 1970s, who learns to play the guitar and dreams of heading out on the open road with a head full of songs. But when the moment comes to make the choice he is not brave enough to try and do it for a living.
Time passes but the desire to explain the world through music never goes away. And as the years go by it gets harder and harder to risk looking like a fool, of doing the very thing he would most like to do, of actually being himself. Eventually, thirty-five years later, when it feels like time is running out, he walks out onto a stage in front of 500 people and begins to sing again.
What follows is an extraordinary period of self-discovery as he plays pubs, clubs, theatres and festivals, overcoming anxiety to experience the joy of performance.
The Inheritance by Anne Allen is one year old. To celebrate all the seven books in The Guernsey Novel series will only be £1.99 on Kindle for a limited time. Each of the books can be read as a standalone too.
Tess stared in horror at the face of the young boy on the trolley. It was clear he was dead.
‘You all right, Doctor? It’s not someone you know is it?’ The paramedic’s voice sounded concerned.
Tess looked at him, trying to stay calm, but struggling. Surrounded by the perpetual noise of Accident and Emergency with the constant flow of trolleys carrying patients of all ages and injuries, the sight of the dead boy had hit her like a physical blow.
‘No, not really. He…he came in last week after a road traffic accident, knocked off his bike by a car. Nothing serious. What…what happened?’
The paramedic, known for his cheerfulness, looked solemn.
‘He was playing in a football match at school and, according to whoever called us, just keeled over as he was about to score.’ He touched the boy’s head. ‘There was nothing we could do, Doctor. Poor kid. But we had to go through the motions, like. Recorded as DOA, I suppose.’ She nodded as he handed her his report.
‘What about the parents?’ She held her breath, knowing she would find it difficult to face them now. What if it was her fault?
‘Away. The lad’s been staying with friends.’ He nodded towards an ashen-faced woman with her arms around a boy wearing the same football kit as Gary. Both looked as if they were about to be sick. Tess called a nurse over and asked her to take them into a private room and give them tea.
‘Thanks, Tom, would you mind taking the…body – Gary – downstairs? I’ll just sign the report and they can carry on from there.’ She dashed her name at the bottom of the report, trying not to look at the pale, unmarked face of the thirteen-year-old boy who had been so chirpy only a week ago. And alive.
Anne was born in Rugby to a Welsh father and an English mother. As a result, she spent many summers with her Welsh grandparents in Anglesey and learned to love the sea. Now she is based in Devon to be near her daughter and two small grandchildren. Her restless spirit has meant many moves, the longest stay being in Guernsey for nearly fourteen years after falling in love with the island and the people. She contrived to leave one son behind to ensure a valid reason for frequent returns. Her younger son is based in London – ideal for city breaks ☺
By profession, Anne was a psychotherapist who long had a desire to write and Dangerous Waters, her first novel, was published in 2012. It was awarded Silver(Adult Fiction) in TheWishingShelfAwards 2012. Since then she has published six more books in The Guernsey Novels series; Finding Mother, Guernsey Retreat, The Family Divided, Echoes of Time – winner of The Diamond Book Award 2017, a finalist in Readersfavorite awards and granted a ChillWithABookAward, The Betrayal, and The Inheritance, published April 2019.
For lovers of crime fiction and the allure of the Greek islands, Fire on the Island is the perfect summer read.
FIRE ON THE ISLAND is a playful, romantic thriller set in contemporary Greece, with a gay Greek-American FBI agent, who is undercover on the island to investigate a series of mysterious fires. Set against the very real refugee crisis on the beautiful, sun-drenched Greek islands, this novel paints a loving portrait of a community in crisis. As the island residents grapple with declining tourism, poverty, refugees, family feuds, and a perilously damaged church, an arsonist invades their midst.
Nick Damigos, the FBI agent, arrives on the island just in time to witness the latest fire and save a beloved truffle-sniffing dog. Hailed as a hero and embraced by the community, Nick finds himself drawn to Takis, a young bartender who becomes his primary suspect, which is a problem because they’re having an affair. Theirs is not the only complicated romance in the community and Takis isn’t the only suspicious character on the island. The priest is an art forger, a young Albanian waiter harbors a secret, the captain of the coast guard station seems to have his own agenda, and the village itself hides a violent history. Nick has to unravel the truth in time to prevent catastrophe, as he comes to terms with his own past trauma. In saving the village, he will go a long way toward saving himself.
A long time devotee of the Greek islands, Smith paints the setting with gorgeous color and empathy, ushering in a new romantic thriller with the charm of Zorba the Greek while shedding bright light on the very real challenges of life in contemporary Greece.
Tim has traveled the world collecting stories and characters for his novels and screenplays which have received high praise. Fire on the Island won the Gold Medal in the 2017 Faulkner-Wisdom Competition for the Novel. He won the Paris Prize for Fiction for his first book, A Vision of Angels. Kirkus Reviews called Cooper’s Promise “literary dynamite” and selected it as one of the Best Books of 2012. Tim was nominated for the 2017 Pushcart Prize for his short fiction, “Stolen Memories.” His recent novel, The Fourth Courier received tremendous reviews. His screenplays have won numerous international competitions. Tim is the founder of the Smith Prize for Political Theater. He lives in France.
Macy Shaw, a journalist, has become obsessed with Jelvias—another species living alongside the human—and is certain they aren’t the heinous assassins the media claim them to be. For research purposes, on a story she hopes to write, she travels to the famous ‘Jelvian Caves’ in Cornwall. She shouldn’t have entered the cave, but being impulsive is one of her faults and it is there she meets a man who isn’t human—a Jelvia. Her obsession turns to devotion very quickly. Is she being played?
She smiled into the dark. She felt his fingers touch her face, and her chin was tipped up, and his lips brushed her mouth.
‘The majority of the Jelvian community have no problem with humans. I can’t say that about humans liking Jelvias, however,’ he said. ‘We’ll just have to tread carefully, and yes, we’ll have to be a secret, to begin with. But let’s see how you feel when we’re out of this cave.’ He sounded guarded. ‘Your feelings may change the moment we’re in daylight.’
‘They won’t.’
‘They might.’ He turned back, and began to walk, his hand holding hers behind him. His stride matched hers.
‘Can you see?’ she asked.
‘I can,’ he said. ‘You weren’t far from the entrance. The bats nest here, so it’s easy to tell when you’re almost there.’
Macy looked up at the roof area, but couldn’t see anything. She could hear them from time to time though.
‘Does it bother you that I’m a reporter?’
‘No, but be careful of anyone who wants you to work alongside Jelvias. There have been, er, problems in the past where humans have placed other humans in danger for the advancement of knowledge on the Jelvian community. Keep an open mind on things this friend William may tell you about us.’
‘Do you know him?’
‘Never heard of him.’
‘He’s on your side.’
‘If you’re willing to tell me, I’d like to know what he wants you to do.’
She hesitated, and he squeezed her fingers again. He said, ‘You don’t have to tell me.’
‘I’ve just signed a data protection clause, that’s all. I’m unable to discuss the whys and hows, and I can only tell you that I’d like to interview Jelvias. Aldarn is in charge, I believe? I’d like to interview him first.’
Narcifer stopped to look at her. ‘At Springfield’s insistence or yours?’ he asked, the twin beams of light on her face.
‘Mine.’
‘Yet you told Aldarn that you wanted to interview me,’ he said, catching her out on her fib. He turned back, and they began walking again. It was still very dark, and walking was slow as she had to hold his coat to avoid tripping over the ends. ‘You’re too trusting of this William Springfield,’ he added.
‘I’m an excellent judge of character. I’m not too trusting!’
Macy felt Narcifer squeeze her hand. ‘Are we having our first argument?’
‘No, I’m just saying I’m not too trusting.’
‘Okay, I believe you. I just want you to be careful. Springfield shouldn’t have allowed you to come to these tunnels. You could have died, Macy.’
‘He didn’t know what I planned. He knows I’m in Cornwall and that’s all. Christ, I didn’t know I was going to follow a Jelvia into the caves, either!’
‘But if I hadn’t heard you scream…’ His fingers rubbed the base of her wrist. ‘I couldn’t get to you fast enough!’
‘Hey, the dark is lifting. I can see outlines now,’ she said. ‘And I’m sure I can hear the sea again.’
‘Yes, not long now. The opening is just around this corner,’ he said and pulled her in front of him. Then daylight swamped them, and the sound of the sea crashing against the shore reached Macy’s ears.
Macy tried to turn around to look at Narcifer, but his hands on her shoulders wouldn’t let her. His breath fanned her cheek as he said in her ear, ‘Once you see me, you’ll be afraid again.’
‘No, I won’t.’
‘You will. I’ll see fear and mistrust in your eyes, and I think that will break my heart.’
‘You’re just going to have to trust me.’ She reached up and took his hands away from her shoulders and then turned around to face him. He was as she remembered: tall, beautiful, completely black eyes—but there was no grin this time. He looked serious, and for the first time Macy noticed his uncertainty, but it endeared him to her. The sound of the ocean and its light spray added to the surreal moment Macy found herself in—staring into a black cave and straight into the eyes of a Jelvia. His expression was impassioned, and his fingers brushed the side of her cheek.
‘I’ve dreamed about you every night since we met,’ he said, ‘and I’ll always be your hero, Macy Shaw, whether you reciprocate my sentiments or not.’
Everything Is Better With Dragons 