Book Details:
Title: Darkness Calls, A Gray Magick Novel
Author: USA Today Bestselling Author, Kiki Howell
Word Count: 63,790
Genres: Literary, Psychological, Dark Paranormal, with moments of both Romance and Suspense, A Not-So-Cozy Mystery
Additional Genre Key Words: Atmospheric Thriller, Psychological/Motivational Novel, a Not-So-Cozy Mystery, Pagan, Witches, Gray Magick, Literary, Dark Paranormal, Romance
Quick Author Note:
I wrote this novel to keep my sanity during the pandemic. In doing so at the time, I told myself it was never to be published, I was writing for only me, and therefore, I silenced my inner critic, didn’t hold myself back, just truly, in its purest form, let the story of my heart come through in a way that in over fifteen years of writing I had not allowed myself. I had the need at the time to write a deep, more psychological novel involving witches and their internal struggle with their gifts. My inspiration came from an eclectic mix of a meme, of all things, along with issues I had written about in my own personal journal.
Blurb:
Townspeople flock to the O'Quinns to secretly meet with Alannah in the front room of the main house where magick always happens. There, the fire under the cauldron consistently and eternally burns, believed to be kept ablaze by ancestors. These spirits help the four witches who live and run the inn, coffee shop, and gift shop on the property to create spells for those in need.
Life is rather idyllic until one stormy night, a stranger is found dead in the room with ritualistic markings carved into his chest to match the ones circling him on the floor. None of it makes any sense, even to ones who’ve practiced magick for as long as they can remember. To make matters worse, their ancestors have suddenly gone silent. While the fire under the cauldron continues to burn, more fiercely than before, the current spirits become aggressive. Bottles of herbs break on the floor. Books get tossed from the shelves. A darkness stifles the house.
When relatives of the deceased show up, all hell breaks loose. A secret long held by her aunt reveals a curse that ties the families together. The women now have to find a way to work with the two strangers, brothers, they don't trust. In all of this mess, Alannah begins to discover that sovereignty over oneself is a continual process often achieved by diving deep into one’s own shadows while letting in the light of love. When push comes to shove, when darkness calls, all forms of magick take on shades of gray in the end.
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Character Details I worked from when writing the story:
Alannah O'Quinn (Main Character) - oldest sister, 38 years old, lives on main floor of the house, coordinates running of place, but mainly works in front room for those in need. Her parents are John and Nora Morrigan/O’Quinn who were killed in accident in overseas trip when she was young. Witchy Details: Reads celtic dragon tarot cards, Dragon Spirit, Morrigan-Macha, Affinity for horses and water. Physical Details: Wavy Red hair, Blue Eyes, Freckles.
Aine O'Quinn (on-yah) - younger sister, 35. lives in main house, upstairs, runs gift shop. Witchy Details: Knits and sews her magick spells, Morrigan -Anu. Physical Details: Straight Brown hair. Green Eyes.
Kayleigh Morrigan (kay-lee) - Cousin 32years old. Lives in 2 bedroom cabin behind house with mother. Works gift shop with Aine. Witchy Details: Paints and sculpt spells, Makes candles for spells too. Morrigan -. Badb. Physical Details: Midlength, curly blond hair, Blue eyes.
Brianna Morrigan - aunt, (sister of Aine and Alannah's mother, widowed). Works kitchen. Witchy Details: Cooks and bakes her spells. Physical Details: Mid-length silver hair, Blue eyes.
David Mitchell - cop investigating the death. His family has long lived in the town and has had dealing with the O'Quinn family.
Finn Fitzpatrick - victim. Physical Details: Mix of red and blond hair (facial hair too), Blue eyes.
Tomas Fitzpatrick - cousin of Finn. Physical Details: Dark curly hair, Dark brown eyes.
Kane Fitzpatrick (MC Love Connection) - cousin of Finn/Tomas' brother. Witchy Details: Practices openly dark magick. Physical Details: Dark hair, Light brown eyes.
Pinterest Board I Worked from while writing the story
Excerpt from the first paragraphs of Chapter One:
Alannah's intuition registered the darkness, which had nothing to do with the night. A temper of death howled around her, much like the wind outside her bedroom window that brought in the snow at a furious clip. Her thudding pulse noted the warning.
Whatever the source, it didn't approach from the outside, but from within the house. She warred with her mind, wrestling with a never-wrong gift of knowing.
She called upon the knowledge of her magick, on the strength of what made her a woman, a witch. Fight or flight—a burgeoning need—would not be silenced. Breathing in the power of her ancestors, always present, she struggled to stay still.
That is all about to change, hissed a voice in her head. She flinched at the sheer volume of the spirit.
Regardless of her valiant disposition, her heart beat frantic in her chest, a notable noise, as she fought for the tranquil composure she needed. The scent of the holy basil, skullcap, damiana, spearmint, and licorice, infused with a hunk of both rose quartz and amethyst, she'd chosen to brew to calm her before bed, hit as a question of foreshadowing. She endeavored to let the powerful combination bring both safety and ease, to center her back into her body as it began to tense.
An aura of depraved magick slithered around her like a ghostly snake. Cold. Slimy. Constricting. The strangling vice of nefarious energy terrified her only in the sense of the unknown. She stilled her mind to hear the guidance of the spirits. Only, as time ticked by, not in any hurry today, the ancestors didn't answer with the whisper of a comforting phrase in her mind, the knock of a needed book over on the shelf, or the scoot of a required crystal across a surface as they usually did. They offered her nothing outside of her own resources, her own knowledge, her own reasoning.
Thus, a lesson cometh, she heard in her head, merely a memory of her mother's voice.
Fine. So be it, her brain hissed back.
Shaking herself, straightening her back, she pushed her hands out to steady the air. With a deep breath, she grappled with her fumbling confidence, the idea irking her more than anything else. I have all I need, the familiar refrain rang out in her mind. Confidence shivered around her as a false bravado took her back in time to the timid little girl she’d once been, the frail child who'd lost her parents. Her early years had given her quite the schooling in the ways of the world. Since then, she walked like a tightrope on the balancing act of living: going with the flow, knowing when to go forth, when to hang back, as well as the need to feel and release the emotions of it all without harsh, stereotypical judgment.
She co-existed with her sister, her aunt, and her cousin within a world she would forever be grateful to not fit into. Her way of seeing through the bullshit to what marked life as important was a blessing bestowed upon her by her Aunt Brianna who had, with a benevolent and gracious heart, taken over her upbringing. The four of them became a force to be reckoned with, and thus, feeling them near, she turned from her errant thoughts to focus on her erratic breathing.
The empty hush that followed worried her, though she fought the temptation to give in to the nothingness, the lack. Grim thoughts attempted to fill the void. Her mind raced, if only to get past the cruel, bleak, and ominous foretelling of the savage silence before the storm, so to speak. Weighted down by the space it bore, an immense chill climbed into her body. It sought to bite muscles and shake bones, as wayward emotions swirled in the emptiness, ravaged the vacancy.
She knew how desperate one could grow in true silence, maddened by the beat of their own heart, the growing unsteady rhythm of their breaths. Some had called quiet a canvas for dreamers, or a place where one could find the true colors of their soul, but this loss of sound bore no such riches, no peace. Instead, it shattered any hope of them as easily as a boulder dropped upon glass.
Looking back out the window, a band of snow had coated the drenched yard with another uneven layer of white as surfaces froze at varying rates. Not a streak, but a burst of fuzzy light illuminated the lines of trees and bushes covered in powder. Another out-of-place clap of thunder struck seconds later. While a thundersnow event such as this was not unheard of in Ohio, she jumped, nonetheless, undoing the cozy cocoon she'd made for herself in her bed.
Layers of colorful blankets shifted as her hands flailed for freedom. As her thick socks hit the wooden floor, she slipped into her attempt to stand, before she found herself upright. Her hands remained out to her sides as she moved in a graceless dance toward the door. The whimsy failed to bring a smile. Still, she half-stepped, half- slipped, half-danced forward to answer the knock that had yet to sound upon the wooden surface. Her fingers gripped where her hands rested on the vintage five-panel door, the markings left reminiscent of days gone by. In this moment, the emotions of such memories raced through her, offering comfort and courage for whatever battle awaited them. The house had survived so much meant to weather it. She would too.
With a flash of thought to the contrary, her nails scratched over the old wooden surface, until they found purchase on the smooth doorknob. Her tight grasp of cooler metal, the fitful turn, allowed a tiny relief in the expenditure of mounting intensity. Pulling it open with a trembling hand, air pushed from her lungs at a violent speed. The force of it registered as did the pale face of her sister, Aine, who stood there, the same knowledge coursing through her blood. Unable to ignore the knowledge of death anymore, they moved together to explore the old farmhouse they’d turned into an inn.
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