Not for Ourselves: a Karmic Romance

  

He slowly walked out of her reach. "I'm sorry."

 

“For what?” Shawn Michael demanded, stepping off the main path. He was quickly followed by Damien MacNab, Richard Connell,  and Keith Connell. “Explain yourself, boy!”

 

“I told you!” Keith volunteered, pointing at Shannon and Michael. “I told you they were together.”

 

Shannon Marie's gaze quickly darted from her father to the smirking Keith. Anger rose within. “Papa. Whatever he told you,” she jutted her chin in Keith's direction, “is a lie.”

 

“Shut up girl!” Richard snapped, sauntering into the glade. “He said you were together.”

 

“Harlot!” Keith smugly pointed at her; the condescension in his voice matched his father. “Just like your Seanhair!”

 

Shawn Michael snapped around; his left hand reaching for the dagger at his belt. “Richard, shut your bastard up!” The warning hung in the air between them, threatening to become more than a verbal battle.

 

“Michael?” Always the gentleman, Damien squared his shoulders and composed himself. With relaxed, yet directed long strides, he quickly crossed the distance between himself and his son. Damien reached out slightly and tilted his head so that their matching deep hazel eyes met. “Why were the two of you here together?”

 

“Father, we always come to honor Bridget.” Michael’s gaze did not waver.

 

Shannon was suddenly aware of how alike in manner and appearance they were. Without Damien’s beard, it was like the men were looking in mirror reflections of themselves; one towards the past and the other toward the future. Both were warriors; but whereas Damien had aged into a statesman, Michael still had the temperament and the physical stamina of a warrior and a hunter. Although their eyes were the same shape and color. Damien’s held wisdom. Michael’s were those of a seer who saw other times and places.

 

“I would never dishonor you or myself.” Michael continued. “Nor would I betray her father’s trust.” He turned toward Shawn. “Sir, your daughter and I have been friends for as long as I can remember. You never questioned us before. Why would you doubt us now?”

 

“We always have been together since we were children. Rachael and Scott used to come with us.” Shannon Marie interceded. “Since Scott was sent to the monastery, Rachael does not come anymore. Michael and I promise to always remember them to Bridget. We are honor-bound. Rachael gave me her offering.” She pulled the coins from her pocket.

 

“Pagan—“

 

“Shut up!” Shawn Michael snapped, cutting off Richard. The anger in his voice was sharper than the blade at his belt. “My daughter does not lie.”

 

“Neither does my”--

 

“Your son?” Richard cut Damien off. “Are you dishonoring your legit heirs by acknowledging your bastard?”

 

Shawn Michael crossed the few yards between himself and Shannon Marie. His voice softened when he spoke to her, yet the anger, which was only inches away, remained directed at the Connells. “Little Elf, what oath did you give.”

 

“The four of us made a blood oath on Bridget’s altar to be each other’s defenders and protectors.” Michael quickly answered, stepping toward the father and daughter pair. “We are one in her name.”

 

“Yes, Papa. It is true.” Shannon Marie looked up into her father’s eyes, trying to get him to understand how she felt about Michael without her being forced to put it into words. They were more than friends, yet they both knew that was all it would ever be. How could she speak what her heart felt in front of all of them when she could not say it out loud to the person who meant the most?  Angrily she looked at the Connells.

 

Arrogantly,  Keith stood beside his father,  his arms folded across his

chest. She hated him the most for his pretense. His parentage was no better than Michael’s, yet he presented himself as a son of rank.

“But it’s none of their concern. Michael is honorable. Neither of us would do anything to disgrace ourselves or our families.” She pointed at Keith. “He cannot say the same.”

 

"There was nothing more?" Damien demanded, stepping back and scratching his graying beard.

 

“Nothing worth speaking of.” Michael whispered and turned toward the altar. “I-we-it doesn’t matter. We have done nothing to shame ourselves or our families.”

 

Damien’s voice softened as he stepped around Michael and lifted his chin as if he were a small boy instead of a nearly grown man. “Speak the words of your heart.”

 

“I can’t Father. I don’t have the right.” Michael turned away and walked back to Bridget's altar. He stood there with his back to them all.

 

Damien's gaze followed his son, but his eyes quickly moved on to the stone formation that honored The Horned One, Cernuous. Scratching his beard, he seemed to be seeking an answer from the God. He blinked and shifted his weight to look at Shawn Michael. He slightly nodded. “Your daughter is an honorable young woman. So is my son. I believe both of them.”

 

Without hesitating, Shawn Michael returned the gesture. He faltered for a moment as if he were choosing his words carefully. “The Clans have their ways for good or bad. They cannot be changed. At least not from the inside. But not all of us are from the inside. Shannon Marie’s Seanhair is not of the Clans. When I married her daughter, we created a new tradition that was not quite Clan, not quite de Medici. I agree to release my claims to my wife’s family possessions. I gave her my family's name. As with the Clans’ traditions, my eldest daughter and her husband would inherit the clan title and honors...but Madam de Medici would name her heir. Do you understand?”

 

Shannon Marie did not. There was no reason for Papa to be speaking about the family business. Especially not now. Besides, Damien was Papa’s best friend. He knew all this already. None of it was a secret.

 

Damien slowly nodded his head.

 

Shawn Michael continued. “Some traditions can be broken without reproach. Others only bent. But some traditions cannot be broken. My daughter is of honorable blood. She deserves all her birthrights. Not everyone will accept Jacqueline De Medici's decisions and choices. They will try to take by force what they can’t have by law.”

 

“Strong friends and family alliances are shelter in such storms.” Damien interjected. “An honorable family, we would fight to the death to protect their own whether by blood or marriage. I speak for MacNab Clan and all our kin and all our kin’s kin when I say we are such an honorable family.”

 

“We have an agreement!” The elder Connell angrily barked.

 

“And it will be kept!” Shawn Michael matched his tone as he snapped around. “To bring peace between our clan, my eldest daughter and heir will marry yours. I will keep my word as long as you honor your end of the bargain. Shannon Marie has been and will be Madam de Medici's heir.”

 

“That wasn’t the agreement!” Connell growled advancing on Shawn Michael. "The estates go to the husband of the eldest daughter if there is no legit male heir. My son is entitled--"

 

“To the small estate, my father shall bestow on me.” Shawn Michael cut him off. “And the title.”

 

“Only you and yours thought that there was more. The rest knew the lay of the land.” Damien added, standing beside Shawn. “You were a fool to expect otherwise.”

 

“Tradition is tradition.” The elder Connell snarled. “Eldest child--legitimate child,” he corrected himself, “inherits the family title and property.”

 

Shannon Marie knew there was more to his meaning than his words conveyed. They were talking about clan agreements and marriage as if they were interchangeable. But Seanhair taught her that she would always have the right to choose with whom she shared her bed. Did not her older sister have the same right? Again she had the strange feeling of not being alone within herself--it felt as if a stranger was also looking out of her eyes and hearing as she heard.

 

This was important. Alyssa knew it was a turning point. A path had been chosen, yet she knew not what the options were. Nor was it her right to decide. Something had been just set in motion.

 

Shannon felt the stranger within her. From the beyond, words from another place echoed within her—“To another place to the other time take me back to the beginning of this crime. Let me see and understand the unfolding of this karmic plan. Show me now in this light how to make this wrong a right.”

 

Fear suddenly overwhelmed her. Shannon did not understand why this moment was so important. Why were Damien and Papa talking formally as if they were at court? They were friends. Always. For as long as she could remember, they had spoken openly as brothers. She looked at Michael; he was closed off to her. She wanted to reach out to Papa; she couldn't force her feet to move the few steps between them.

 

“I give you my word.” Damien continued, “The MacNab Clan honors the traditions of the other clans' families. We will respect the understanding between the Cullen clan and Madam de Medici.”

 

Shawn Michael slowly nodded.

 

Damien MacNab returned the gesture. “I'll make the arrangements with Laird MacDonald to make the first announcement.” He turned toward Bridget’s altar. “Michael, come here.”

 

Michael immediately bowed in reverence to Bridget and returned to his father’s side. Damien leaned forward and whispered into his ear. For a moment, Michael stepped back, looking first at Bridget’s altar and then at Shannon.

 

Damien stepped closer and continued to speak in a voice so low it did not carry across the field. As he finished, Michael slowly nodded but said nothing.

 

Shannon Marie saw regret and sadness in his eyes. Their eyes met briefly. Michael turned away and looked at Bridget’s altar. It was like he was mourning part of himself. Disappointment and grief radiated from him.

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Murder leads to karmic justice

 

Again, Rachael was caught off guard. She spun around to face a woman with golden red hair streaked with gray and white. Her face was lined yet appeared vibrant, as was her whole stature. She was slender and strong; her posture carried no signs of the age that her face and hair implied.

"Who are you?" Rachael turned to meet her squarely. "How is it that you appear outside the sacred circle?"

Her arms gracefully spread. "This is-was my home. I could not leave until another had come to be its guardian."

"You’re Kevin’s Grandmother?"

She nodded. "You may call me Grandmother if you wish."

"No. Thank you."

"As you wish. Then Sarah. That is what I was called before I died." She pointed to the kettle. "Your water is nearly ready and my time is short."

"Are you looking for justice?"

Again, she nodded. "That and more.’

read an excerpt on the Author's website

 

Karmic Justice

"Nict For Ure Selfe." (Not For Ourselves)

Theresa Chaze

 

Chapter One

Alyssa struck the match.  Instantly, the end burst into flame.  She held it to the wick of the white candle until it ignited.  Pinching off the match head, she placed on the table. Taking a deep breath, she flipped her long chestnut color braid back over her shoulder; it bounced and swung around her waist. Focusing on her intent, she started the ritual. "Goddesses--Maiden, Mother, Crone I call to thee and ask that you appear to me."

Picking up the candle, she held it above the surface of the water.  Its glow illuminated just beyond the rim of the black bowl and reflected off the clear surface.  "On this darkest of night, grant me the portal to make things right.  Let me see clearly the moments of the past, so that I may understand what is happening at last."

Tapping the edge with the candlestick, the glass on glass echoed throughout the dark

room. The vibration rippled through the water.  "As I created a wave in the glass, so I ask you help me with my task." 

She set the candlestick next to the bowl and placed her hands on either side palms down.  "Let me see where his hatred of me had begun, so that his vengeance can be undone.  Why he stalks me I know not why, yet I know the answer lies in times gone by.  Take me back to the time and place, so that I may end the conflict with haste and grace." 

Picking up the four raven feathers, she held them above the candle.  "Goddesses of the raven and night, who left these feathers as a symbol of your might.  I call you now to come me, to create a justice that even the blind may see.  I call your forth to this land to guide the karmic hand.  For those who have done harm to me, let their reckoning begin now--so mote it be."

Placing the feathers equal distance around the bowl, Alyssa paused for a moment to let their energy settle around her. Stretching her neck side to side, she took a deep breath and allowed her Priestess training to relax her body into a meditative state.  The outer world fell away as she sank deeper within herself and started climbing the stairs to her own soul.  Into the darkness, the staircase spiraled upward, until she reached the iridescent platform where her Akashic record was held. 

Suspended in the darkness of endless time, Alyssa looked for a guide to help her.  But she was alone.  In the past, there had always been someone there to act as a guide to help her face the challenge. Uncertain, she stepped up to the pedestal.  If she was to atone for a past error, she would be give direction.  However, if she was merely a player as another strutted and fretted through a karmic lesson, then she could do little more than watch. 

The book lay open before her.  On it, fate continued to write. "Book of all my lives, show me karmic tie that echoes into this life."  The pages flipped, stopping twice before it came to rest on the life named Shannon Marie Cullen.

The image of an auburn haired young woman lifted up off the page and hovered above. Her heart shaped face still had the softness of youth.  Yet the hazel eyes sparkled with old wisdom.  She wore her hair pulled back into a long, single braid.   Although she seemed familiar, Alyssa felt no emotional connection to her.  There was no bond or sense of being between them.  Only a faint familiarity like a tune whose melody echoes in the back of your mind, yet you cannot remember the words or the context in which you heard it.

She reached out to touch the image; it reached back.  Yet before their fingertips touched, Shannon Marie vanished only to be replaced by a three dimensional screening of wooded forest.  Rich and lush it sported multiple shades of green, tans and browns as the forest became fields and forest once again. 

As her perspective changed, Alyssa felt herself zooming to focus on the scene that was most important.  Yet it was more than just pictures and sounds.  The smell of the fields and rushing of the river below sparked memories and long sleeping emotions. 

No matter where her life led her, she could never find the safe sense of home. Fear always kept her from letting her roots grow too deep.  She had never understood. Her childhood was no better or worse than anyone else's.  Yet as her spirit drew closer, the familiarity once again made her crave the comfort of home.

Through breaks in the leaves, she saw two girls running quickly.  She knew who they were, yet she didn't feel connected.  Instead, like a moderated film, she watched them from above.  Instead recalling her own memories, the information flowed to her in unspoken words and images as if someone was narrating their story to catch her up with the story.

Shannon Marie ran breathlessly up the glen, quickly followed by her younger sister, Rachael.  Although a year and two months younger, Rachael looked more like Shannon Marie's twin. 

Both girls favored their Scottish heritage with their flaming hair and outspoken temperaments.  Their two older sisters, Elizabeth Marie and Katherine Anne favored their mother's French heritage both physically and in temperament.  Fair-haired beauties they openly used their feminine assets to manipulate others to get what they wanted. 

The plain spoken mannerism of the patriarch of the family along with his two youngest daughters frequently came into conflict with the matriarch and the eldest sisters' elitism as they boasted of their unclaimable link to the French throne.   They refused to see that no matter which man laid down with the mother, the child could lay no claim to parentage unless they were acknowledged by both the father and family. Jacqueline Marie Katherine de Medici may have lay with the King of France, but the daughter they created was conceived above the sheets--not beneath them.  Jacqueline refused to be silenced at court about the parentage of her growing child within her.  It was the reason Marie marked her for death. But instead of a curse on mother and unborn child, the midnight escaped to Scotland became a blessing as the people’s revolution sought out the privileged nobles.

In the highlands, Abigail Marie Katherine de Medici was born without a father; the fortune and power of the de Medici family hid the stain, but was never washed away.  Having valuable connections in the English and Italian courts, Jacqueline was received as her family station required.  Eventually she attained a small estate and fitted herself into the region.  

It is  available here on my website  and here as a kindle

The Importance of Editing

Until You Walk The Path, You Won’t Know Where it Goes is hosting author Barbara Ardinger, Ph.D on March 8 at 1 pm eastern. We will be talking her novels and the important qualities of an editor.

Barbara Ardinger, Ph.D. ("http://www.barbaraardinger.com/" ), is the author of Secret Lives, a new novel about crones and other magical folks, and Pagan Every Day, a unique day book of daily meditations. Her other books include Finding New Goddesses, a parody of goddess encyclopedias, and an earlier novel, Quicksilver Moon, which is realistic … except for the vampire. Her day job is freelance editing for people who have good ideas but don’t want to embarrass themselves in print. To date, she has edited more than 250 books, both fiction and nonfiction, on a wide range of topics. Barbara, who is well known for the rihttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.giftuals she creates and leads, lives in Long Beach with her two rescued Maine coon cats, Schroedinger and Heisenberg. She is a CERT volunteer and has been an AIDS buddy.

To learn more about Ardinger’s novels as well as the importance of editing thttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifune into http://www.blogtalkradio.com/theresachaze at 1 pm eastern on March 8.. The phone lines and chat will be available for those who wish to participate. The phone number is (347) 838-9927.

The show will be available in the archives at http://www.blogtalkradio.com/theresachaze/2012/03/08/until-you-walk-the-path-you-wont-know-where-it







WHAT READERS ARE SAYING ABOUT SECRET LIVES


In her latest novel, Secret Lives explores woman’s journey through time, culture, sexism, spirituality, aging, and even death. With artful skill and meticulous Neolithic detail, Ardinger’s characters across time show that the ancient feminine journey isn't that different from the modern one.
—HUFFINGTON POST

It is a rare author that can create characters that are so memorable that you hate to see the book end; characters that live on inside your head and your heart; characters that you can actually learn from…. Barbara Ardinger is one such author and her newest offering, Secret Lives, is one such memorable book. Like, Terry Pratchett, Ms. Ardinger has a gift for creating lovable and eccentric crackpot personalities that live on long after you've finished reading the book. The pages of Secret Lives are peopled with a circle of little old ladies who are Witchy eccentrics reeking mischief on those who deserve it. … If you are an older woman you MUST read this book and consider it as a great instruction manual for becoming an outrageous old lady. In fact, if you are human you should read this book. If you aren't human you should still read it because you'll still thoroughly enjoy the read. This is a great book to lift your spirits in these trying times.
—GREEN EGG ONLINE and AMAZON.COM

Author and goddess-worshipper Barbara Ardinger celebrated the publishing of her eighth book, Secret Lives, last month. The novel depicts witches as real women with real-world issues; what’s unique is that those women are endowed with magical powers….
—LONG BEACH GAZETTES

What a remarkable novel this is! … Though it is at times extremely humorous, Secret Lives isn’t a light “fluffy bunny” type novel. Its themes are serious; some passages are grim, strong, written with appropriate toughness. Its character description, use of symbolism, and other authorly techniques, including comedy, are dexterously done.
—Judith Laura, MEDUSA COILS

It is a true gift when the reading public receives a book with wit, charm, and adventure all wrapped up in a plot that speaks volumes about friendship, the twilight years of your life, the power of women, and the way this world looks at its senior citizens—the most powerful guides on the planet who are being treated unforgivably.
—FEATHEREDQUILL.COM and AMAZON.COM

Secret Lives is a collection of short stories, woven together to form a larger, overarching narrative. That makes it a great bedside table book; it’s possible to pick it up, reach a chapter, set it down, and go to sleep—or, as happens as things begin to escalate, one can read on and on without feeling the lurching stop/start that often results from reading a collection of short stories.
—AMAZON.COM
The women in Secret Lives became like family to me, and I’ll miss reading about them and their antics. I hope when I’m their age I’ll be as active and can work with a wonderful group of Crones. This is a book for all women. It reminds us life doesn’t end when we become Crones. It just gets better!
—GLOBAL GODDESS ORACLE

[Barbara Ardinger] presents a massive spectrum of themes and issues that impact a coven whose members include a Rainbow Coalition of ages, colors, professions, backgrounds, and sexual preferences. The storyline threads are spun as social and community issues are juxtaposed with personal and spiritual concerns. Chapters resemble sequential episodes in a top-notch television series… [and] small interpersonal storylines act as a counterpoint to overarching group storylines and themes. The challenges faced by the elderly are central to the book’s overall plot, but are by no means exclusive.
—FACING NORTH and AMAZON.COM

This is not a light novel, although it has plenty of wit. In her beautiful prose, Barbara Ardinger tells a magical story of wisdom, both ancient and modern, celebrating life, death (and beyond), and the life phases in between, from menarche to menopause.
—Miriam Robbins Dexter,
Editor of The Living Goddesses by Marija Gimbutas

Secret Lives is a totally wonder-filled, thought provoking, moving, fun ride…. Get this book! Give it! Read it! You’ll love it! You won't want to keep it a secret!
—ROSWILA’S TAROT GALLERY & JOURNAL

Night after night I savored Barbara Ardinger’s newly-released novel as a comfort and a treat. The women of the circle welcomed me in as I shared their concerns, their joys, their friendships, and their wild and practical magic. Full of wit and warmth, deftly explores a host of timeless and timely issues and in particular gives us an original and compassionate view of older women.
—Elizabeth Cunningham, MAEVE & ELIZABETH

I keep a small shelf of novels I know I’ll want to read again when I want to be entertained, inspired, or sometimes just for comfort when stuck indoors. Among others on that shelf are and There’s so much to like here! Many of our heroines are old, but the word “feeble” never comes to mind; these are powerful women, with incredible resources and friendships. It’s an inspiration to read.
—GODDESS-PAGES.CO.UK

Magical Romance Novel Review

Rave Review: Awakening the Dragon

Best Selling Fantasy Novels for Adults

1 of 1 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars Very entertaining..., October 11, 2008
By BookReviewsByDebra "Book Reviews By Debra" (Hawesville, KY USA) - See all my reviews

Book One of the Dragon Clan Trilogy
Theresa Chaze
Valkyrie Publishing, 2008
Reviewed by Debra Gaynor for ReviewYourBook.com, 10/08
4 Star
Very entertaining...
Rachel felt as though the cottage was calling to her. It was lonely. The church people wanted to burn it down, because a witch once lived in it. They now target Rachel for her beliefs and practices. When she attempts to open a new book story she becomes the mark of bigotry.
This is not the type of book I normally read. Once I began, I could not put it down. There is a strength and yet innocence in Rachel. From the beginning, I sensed she had a secret. I wanted to see romance between Kevin and Rachel. Kevin is a wounded character. While this book is a fantasy and very entertaining, it also has an agenda, to teach the dangers of bigotry, close mindedness, and lack of love for people that are different. Unfortunately, this book needs proofreading. There are a lot of grammatical mistakes. Awakening The Dragon would make an excellent movie. Fans of fantasy will enjoy Awakening The Dragon.



4.0 out of 5 stars Follow your heart, awaken the dragon., November 3, 2008
By Reader Views "www.readerviews.com" (Austin, Texas) - See all my reviews
Reviewed by Danelle Drake for Reader Views (10/08)

Rachel lives her life by what leads her. She landed in Coyote Springs by asking the Goddess where she wanted her to go, then threw the dart. It is there in Coyote Springs where she will open her "New Spirituality" store, Dragon's Den. Being drawn to a small cottage on the outskirts of town she crosses paths with Kevin Mitchellson. Kevin is the owner of the home in which his grandmother was killed.

Being like many small towns, Coyote Springs is a place where everyone knows of, or about, everyone there. In this town there is great turmoil between the House of Christ church and those who choose to follow otherwise. "Book One of the Dragon Clan Trilogy" focuses on this turmoil and resolution prior to the opening of Dragon's Den....I eagerly await "Book Two" to continue the story.

"Awakening the Dragon" is quite intriguing and will have you also waiting to see what happens next. With few editing errors that do not distract, this story is raw energy. "Theresa Chaze and her writing are based on her philosophy that all people live together in peace as long as we come from respect, not only for ourselves but those who follow different paths or beliefs." This is such a profound philosophy that would greatly benefit many. I often ask myself, "How does one know if what they personally believe is correct?" Life would be much less negative if everyone just accepted what the other believe to be correct for them and our own belief is correct for us, there is no wrong. In "Awakening the Dragon: Book One" you find yourself compelled to root for the characters and look at your own actions toward others.



5.0 out of 5 stars Magic, suspense and Karmic Justice Combine in a tale of Horror, October 10, 2007
By Theresa Chaze "Please visit my site at www.th... (Michigan) - See all my reviews

By Wixa (Acworth, Georgia United States) - See all my reviews

When I started reading this book I didn't realized how quickly I would be caught up in the lives of the characters. I found myself feeling how the characters felt. Their anger and their joys. I laughed at how perfectly Theresa Chaze described the cats personalities. It is so obvious that she has furry children. I finished the book in two days and was disappointed when I realized I had reached the end of the book! I want more. Thank you for writing this book.


By Catherine J. St Amour "Kate St.Amour" (United States) - See all my reviews


Magic, Mystery, and Murder. The three M's! Ms. Chaze shows colorful, visual language that will even keep the romance novel buff obsessed in finishing this novel in one read! The pacing is excellent the main character strong and likeable, and the hint of romance to come in the final installments of the trilogy. I must say I'm already addicted to Ms. Chaze's writing style! A guaranteed page turner! Bring on the rest of the trilogy!

Truth in Fiction!, July 31, 2006
By Cate Cavanagh (USA) - See all my reviews

Ms. Chaze sustains what is now a proven trademark of excellency in plot and story development. This taut final book will continue to hold readers within the grasp of danger as the finely realized characters fight to sustain themselves against the evil that would destroy them. A must read book by breakout author Theresa Chaze who continues to weave suspenseful storylines while developing authentic characters. No fluff here! As an author in the genre I attest to the truth in Ms. Chaze's writing as she writes of Witches, evil and spells! If you want truth in fiction, Ms. Chaze is a must read! Fans of the genre will not be disappointed and will experience hours of being drawn into the reality of Witchcraft as never before depicted.

Kudos, Ms. Chaze! Fine work!


Buy this book! I found myself smiling when I finished the last page of Awakening The Dragon--Book One of the Dragon Clan Trilogy (formally Dragon's New Home), by Theresa Chaze. I've read a pretty good number of books in my life, but none have given me quite the mix of emotions that this books has. Let me explain.
The Dragon Page reviews science fiction and fantasy from large publishing houses, small houses, and self-published authors. With few exceptions, a wide gulf separates the large houses' books from the others in terms of the quality of prose. Even when large publishers send me books I don't like, from a purely technical standpoint those books tend to be far better written than the small press stuff. Even the small press books that I like.
Now, Dragon's New Home isn't a well-crafted book. But the book has something that most small press books don't even have a sliver of. Potential. Dragon's New Home feels like a diamond in the rough. I think that given a few hundred thousand more words, Ms. Chaze will become one damn fine author. She's just not quite there yet with this book.
The Gist: Kevin Mitchellson's mother murdered his grandmother. His guilt for letting her get away with the crime is eating him alive, but he will not break his word to his father to protect her secret. So, one night, under the influence of potable spirits, he beckons spirits of another sort to take the problem out of his hands, and expose his mother in a way that cannot be denied. And damn if they didn't hear him.
Rachael Franklin, a Wiccan Priestess, has just won the lottery, and has an inclination to set up a New Age bookstore called Dragon's Den (great name.) She calls on the Goddess to send her to a new home where she can make a difference. She throws a dart at a map and eventually finds herself on the front step of Kevin's grandmother's abandoned house with the local agent from Century 21.
So, in one corner, wearing the red trunks, we have Rachael and her three cats: Merlin, Tara, and Ralph. In the other corner, wearing the blue, is Lady Katheryn, the murder, and the House of Christ, the local Christian cult that thinks that whole "live and let live" thing is for sissies.
And the bell rings.
The Good: Is it right to point out the good points of a novel by pointing out the mistakes the author could have made, but didn't? Forgive me if it's not kosher, but as I write this I can't stop making comparisons in my head between this book and other small press books I have reviewed.
For instance, most first time, small press authors try to tell big stories, and tell them too small (all life on earth my be destroyed by a world wide phenomenon. Let's tell the story of one family driving across country.) Ms. Chaze's story, on the other hand, has a simple, relatable plot, and doesn't skimp on the ensemble needed to tell the story.
Most genre books in general are plot based. This story is character driven, which I have firmly come to believe is the better route to take. Every plot-advancing decision Rachael Franklin makes comes from who she is as a person, not from what decision needs to be made to advance the plot in a certain direction. This gives the book a believability that many sci-fi and fantasy stories lack.
And, finally, it doesn't hurt that the reader might be learning something new. Not being knowledgeable about Wicca myself, I enjoyed reading a book told from the perspective of a philosophy I'm not accustomed to.
The Bad: The book suffers mostly from what most first time authors suffer from - amateur writing syndrome. The dialogue has no real spark. It's too on the nose. The story has no irony. In what could have been a very scary and engrossing story, there was only occasional suspense, and not very strong suspense at that.
Not only that, but the author tends to write too much about things that are obviously important to her, but are not important to the story. At all. Not even a little. It is not hard to see that Ms. Chaze loves animals, but why do why have to plod through pages and pages of Rachael feeding the cats, sleeping with the cats, potty training the dog, etc? Dragon's New Home is the first book of a trilogy. I have the sneaky suspicion that once the series is done, it will be apparent that instead of three short novels, the book could have been one moderately-long novel, if the writing were more focused on the story and less sidetracked by animals, visions, astral projection trips that don't really go anywhere, and the like.


By "gemstonedeva" (the Netherlands) - See all my reviews

Theresa Chaze has written the first part of a magickal tale. I could hardly put the book down once I had picked it up and am looking forward to the sequel to this intriguing tale of magick


"Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live." Words the members of the House of Christ live by, and killed by.

Rachel Franklin knew from the first moment she laid eyes on it that the cottage was hers. She felt its pull, could sense the magic within its walls. She was home.
However, the members of the House of Christ church had different ideas. The cottage was evil, the home of a witch, and all good Christians know that witches are evil beings, consorts of the Devil; their houses are evil and should be destroyed.
But, the cottage's owner, Kevin Mitchellson would not allow that. He forbids any member of the church to set foot on the property left to him by his grandmother, Sarah, and the conflict rages, as Wicca and Christians team up, prepared to do battle with the bigotry and ignorance of the House of Christ fanatics.
Therese Chaze draws her readers in from the first page and refuses to release them until the last word of this fantastic tale of witches, magic, love and betrayal.
Set in the village of Coyote Springs, Dragon Domain is a book of lessons; lessons on love, forgiveness, and above all truth to oneself.
In the grand traditions of Anne McCaffrey and Marion Zimmer Bradley, Therese Chaze captures the imagination as well as the heart of her readers.
Dragon Domain is an open door to a world of wonder, and from the first page to the last, you will be hard pressed to put it down.

Linda Rucker


4.0 out of 5 stars Dragon "drama" for Coyote Springs, November 19, 2008
By Reader Views "www.readerviews.com"
Reviewed by Danelle Drake for Reader Views (11/08)

"Awakening the Dragon: Book One of the Dragon Clan Trilogy" was a very intriguing book and had me eagerly anticipating "Dragon Domain: Book Two of the Dragon Clan Trilogy." As I became familiar once again with the interesting characters in the series I was once again drawn into their lives and was gripped with anticipation in their trials.

Coyote Springs is a town torn. Reverend Marshall and the House of Christ church have helped to turn this quite little town upside down. The forces collide, leaving the town in turmoil and hatred for each other. As the story of Coyote Springs continues we learn more about life on the farm that Celeste, Cheyenne and Jane call home. Dominic (the same Dominic that gave you a not-so-good "vibe" in "Awakening the Dragon") becomes more and more controlling of Celeste and brings out the worst in her. He awakens the evil dragon within her and many dark events follow. They find that their hatred destroys, but not in the manner they thought.

Much darker than the first installment of the "Dragon Clan Trilogy," you will again find yourself engulfed in the writing of Theresa Chaze with "Dragon Domain: Book Two of the Dragon Clan Trilogy." Being described as a woman that plays with dragons, especially the dragons of the mind, she takes this book beyond the realm and runs with it. I truly enjoyed this book just as much as the first book; please overlook the very few editing hiccups, and just enjoy a good gripping read. When you read the final paragraph, you will probably wonder as I, what will happen next? Will book Three follow Cheyenne, Rachel and the gang into lighter times or will Coyote Springs continue down the path of darkness? Like the author's bio reads in the closing of this book: "Her work is based on her philosophy that all peoples can live together in peace as long as we come from respect, not only for ourselves but those who follow different paths or beliefs." Here's hoping Coyote Springs can resolve their issues of hate and live in peace.....or would that be a fairy-tale.

4.0 out of 5 stars Fans of the Dragon Clan Trilogy..., October 16, 2008
By BookReviewsByDebra "Book Reviews By Debra" (Hawesville, KY USA) - See all my reviews

Book Two of the Dragon Clan Trilogy
Theresa Chaze
Valkyrie Publishing, 2008
ISBN: 9780979840616
Reviewed by Debra Gaynor for ReviewYourBook.com, 10/08
4 Stars
Fans of the Dragon Clan Trilogy...
The lead character in Dragon Domain is Cheyenne. Her past comes back to haunt her. Dominic speaks of love; he turns her against those that care for her.
This is the second book in the Dragon Clan Trilogy. In the first book, Awakening the Dragon, the focus was on struggle between Reverend Marshall, his church, and Rachel. Rachel is a minor player this time. The struggle is between forces of evil and the Dragon. I enjoyed the first book, but found Dragon Domain lacking the same attraction. This book is much darker. Fans of horror will enjoy this book. The interrelationships between the characters make this book. The characters are strong and well developed.

Excerpt from Awakening The Dragon

CHAPTER THREE

Exhausted, Rachael pulled up in front of the shop. Between the arguing with secretary at the real estate office to find out what they did with her car and rushing to get it out of the impound before it closed, all she wanted to do is go home, drink tea and play with the kids. But that would have to wait until after she convinced Norman and his crew to work on the cottage next. She had a fairly good idea of what she wanted and they would be stripping the old wallpaper while she decided on the specific paint colors. They could also check for the electrical and plumbing problems everyone had been telling her about. But not if she didn't get it into gear and get out of the car. Today was the last day they'd be working on the store. Tomorrow Rachael and her new staff started stocking the shelves and setting up displays. What a ride, she thought. It's been quite a month.


Looking out the open car window, through the newly stenciled window of Dragon's Den, she felt proud and nervous. So much happened so fast. Inside she watched the carpenters and painters clean up. Several of them were on the path; two were curious. One quit the first day, calling her a heathen bitch. She thought it was a strange way for a Christian to act, but let it go.

Opening the car door, she stepped onto the curb and closed it. For the first time she noticed the long scratch along the side of the car. They couldn't stop themselves from doing damage, having it ticketed and towed wasn't enough. She'd deal with it and them tomorrow. At this moment, she simply didn't trust her temper.

She spun around on her toes and walked to the door. Before opening it, she took a deep breath to center herself. She was angry, but the people inside didn't deserve to hear about it. She brushed back her hair and opened the door, the smile already in place. "Hi, guys. Looks fabulous."

"Thanks." Was the common response as they rush to clean up and remove their tools.

"Where's Norman?"

Meredith, a petite painter, pointed toward the back room. No doubt she was rushing to pick up her kids from day-care before the rate changed to the evening billing. A divorced mother of three girls, with an ex who didn't know when it was over, was how Meredith described herself. He didn't pay child support and refused to acknowledge the divorce or restraining order against him. Meredith still occasionally had her tires slashed and on at least two occasions in the past month she came to work with visible bruises.

Walking past her, Rachael wondered what she would do in that kind of situation. Quickly she banished the question; she didn't need those particular challenges added to her life. Part of her wanted to be able to help, especially the children. She knew what it was like to grow up in a household where love equaled pain and respect was non-existent. Meredith had options, but the children didn’t. Rachael recognized the look of fear and sadness in their young eyes. She saw in the mirror ever day until she moved away to go to college. It was only then did the healing start and she found the beauty of her own soul.

She walked down the hallway, looking in the office and the classrooms. Norman was no where to be seen. He must be in the storeroom or the mediation center, she thought, continuing through the store. The storeroom was empty. She moved to the end of the hall. Knocking on the door, she waited for a response. After a moment, she heard, "come in."

Norman was sitting lotus position on the futon. His hands, supported by his knees, were in the position representing peace. His eyes were closed. He looked like Buddha only with a crew cut.

Rachael never would have thought it of him. But he looked completely comfortable in the position; this wasn’t something new to him. Waiting for him to open his eyes, she walked quietly around the room as not to disturb him. Carol had finished the murals. Each of the four walls had a different motif.

East represented spring with new growth and rainbows with storm clouds in the distance. Rachael couldn't tell if they were coming or going. The flowers were those of spring. In the center, a lilac bush was in full bloom. She wondered if Carol had known about the cottage before she had found it. Birds were building nests. In the stream, a fish jumped after an insect. It all had a sense of movement.

On the Southern wall, it was summer. The colors were more vivid, almost three-dimensional. The sky was a blue Rachael had only seen before in the sky on a hot, summer day. She was impressed. A doe with her twin fawns walked out of the lush forest onto the field. The wheat reached for the sky. Blueberries hung heavy on the bush and a bird, Rachael didn't recognize, sat on a limb posed ready to pluck a berry.

Fall was represented on the Western wall. The colors were darker; the leaves had taken on the yellows and reds. The sky had a gray cast. A flock of geese flew in formation. The harvest had been collected. Nature was preparing to sleep. Yet it felt active and alive. To look at the wholeness of it gave the impression of prosperity and good fortune.

The Northern wall was different. It represented winter, yes, but it also departed from the nature theme. The centerpiece was a castle, a steel, cold gray, but every window held a light burning, waiting to welcome the visitor from the approaching storm. A path wound up from the door she entered and crossed the floor to the drawbridge painted on the wall. It was darker than the others, yet it was the one that seemed more comforting. The motif was that of a safe home where all were welcome. The lights were on and soon the traveler would be protected within it’s walls. It was the philosophy behind the room and the store. Everyone was welcome; everyone was safe.

"Impressive isn't it."

Rachael turned to face him. "You've been holding out."

"Not even my wife knows."

"Why?"

"She'd thump me with her Bible."

"Sorry." She leaned forward against the back of a chair. "How'd you like another job? Starting tomorrow."

"Another store already?"

"A house. I found one."

Norman scratched his thick mustache and waited.

"I need the electrical, plumbing and heating checked. And some God awful wallpaper removed."

He laughed. "For you, we'll juggle. When, where, and how long do we have?"

"Start tomorrow. Four days." She hesitated.

On of his bushy eyebrows arched. "And?"

"It might be difficult. It used to belong to Kevin Mitchelson's Grandmother."

"Sarah." The word was soft, almost like a prayer.

"You don't sound surprised."

"Knowing her and you. I'm not." He uncrossed his legs and stretched. "I helped her design it. A special picked crew built."

"So the energy level won't be a problem?"

Again his eyebrow arched. "Don't worry 'bout me and mine. I know how to take care. Several of the original crew are still available. I’ll call them tonight." He chuckled. “She loved that wallpaper. It nearly blinded me every time we had tea together.

Rachael breathed a sigh of relief. “I didn’t want to spend every day at the cottage watching you work.”

His eye brow arched. “What colors do you want?"

"I haven't decided yet."

"Make it difficult to paint."

She shrugged. "It'll take you at least one day to remove the wallpaper. I'll decide by then."

"You want it done in four days." He planted his hands firmly on his hips. "Paint by three o'clock tomorrow. Got the keys?"

"Yes."

"Let's have'em." He held out his hand. "It’s been a while since I been there. I want to see what I'm getting into. We might have to start tonight."

"It's in good shape."

"That's what you said about this place. It took us a week longer than expected."

She dropped the keys into his palm. "Point."

His fingers curled around the keys, which seemed child size in proportion to his hand. "Besides there's something I need to check out."

"What?"

"The railing. They say it gave way and that's why she fell."

Rachael's curiosity was sparked. "That's not true. The railing was solid."

"I know. I put it there myself."

"Tell me about her."

He smiled. "She was a true lady. She always had a dignity, even when she was being silly. To describe her in one word--tireless. She loved the fact she had the resources to make a difference. But unlike some,” a tint of anger crept into his voice, “she could help without intruding. Sarah wanted to help others find their best and highest path without forcing her beliefs on them." He paused to enjoy a private memory, but the smile changed to a frown. "When she died,” the tone of his voice again changed, adding subtle unspoken meanings to the word died, “many of us became angry. It wasn’t time for her to cross over and we knew it.”

"We?"

"Everyone who knew and loved her." He sat in the chair next to his shoes and reached for one. "Almost everyone did."

"Except the members of the House of Christ."

Norman bolted upright. "Don't mention those bigots. I'm a Christian. They're an obscenity! They simply don‘t understand what Jesus tried to teach. The Christian faith is built on wisdom, tolerance, hope and love. People like those in the House of Christ simple don‘t get it. When they promote fear and bigotry, they corrupt the word of the Lord. The best example is the story of creation. God created Adam and Eve. It is a genetic impossibility for a single couple to populate a planet. And if you really think about it, the concept promotes incest. The tale is a parable. The true meaning is that we are all family and all Divinely created. There are no special groups, countries or beliefs In God‘s eyes we are all equally loved and cherished. When we harm each other, for whatever reason, we are actually doing harm to the God who created us all!"

Rachael was taken back by the rage in his voice. He did not leave the chair, but his tone pushed her backward.

"Sorry. Even after all these years it‘s still a sore spot for me" He continued putting on his shoes. ‘It’s just that until justice is served many of us will continue to be ethically challenged. I--and others nearly did things that….” His voice trailed off. “But then I remembered what Sarah tried to teach us.” He fumbled tying his left shoe and snapped the lace to pull out the loose bow. “I prayed for hours on hours over these past years to find an answer. All I found were wonderful memories and the smell of vanilla. It was her favorite.”

She stared at the top of his head, wondering about the man of many contradictions. He looked like an army sergeant. He meditated like a holy man. His voice had been always calm and loving, even when they debated abortion. Where did the nearly uncontrollable rage come from?

He stood and took a deep breathe. The fire still burned in his eyes, but he was able to control his anger.. "I'll go out when I leave here. Will you be here or at home?"

"Home." She didn't want to press the issue. The intensity of his fury was still close surface. She wasn’t afraid of him, yet she knew that she wasn’t to be involved. Norman had issues to work out within himself. No one could help him. After the past few moments, she didn’t think anyone would even be brave enough to try.

"I'll call you there." He turned quickly and exited.

Rachael breathed a sigh of relief. What in the Goddess's name was she doing here? She sat on the edge of the futon. Covering her eyes with the palms of her hands, she rested her elbows on her knees, trying to re-energize her own systems. This was crazy. Even in the occult world, when things weren’t always as they seem, this was beyond strange. She had asked the Goddess for simple and uncomplicated, but instead she got in a multi-dimensional, multi-personality game where everyone else knew the rules and wouldn’t share.

"Rachael?"

Betty Williams stood in the doorway. The person she needed to see. She was best described as clairvoyant, healer, and all around warm, fuzzy grandmotherly type. The latter is what she needed at the moment. "Come in."

"Are you all right?"

"Just leaping tall buildings at a single bound again. And running into the fifty-second floor."

"Again?" She walked into the room and embraced Rachael. "You promised you'd stop doing that."

"I know." With the older woman so close, Rachael realized her hair actually was red, not just a magic potion. She found that strange; red was usually a recessive trait, but not in this town. She slowly pulled away from her warmth. "Ever feel like you are playing a game where you don’t have a clue, but everyone else does?“

“You are far from clueless.”