Tag Archives: supernatural

THE SWORD UNSHEATHED ~ Release Date and a Sneak Peek Inside

29 Sunday Mar 2020

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My publisher finally gave me a release date for The Sword Unsheathed, the third book in my Guardians of Erin young adult paranormal fantasy series.  June 1, 2020 is the big day, which also happens to be the date when Return of the Raven (the fifth and final book in The Novels of Ravenwood series) is due to my editor.

Here’s a sneak peek between the pages of The Sword Unsheathed.  Hope you enjoy it!

That night found me hovering above a massive, semicircular prehistoric fort at the edge of a cliff roughly 300 feet above the swish and swoosh of the ocean. Three concentric, terraced stone walls enclosed it, and beyond the third ring, an army of jagged stone slabs stood vigil. A large, tan tent dominated the innermost enclosure.

The all-encompassing twilight was telling, as were my bare feet and blue satin nightshirt, which I’d worn to bed. I was in the Otherworld, courtesy of an astral trip. But where exactly?

I had to know.

Determined, I floated to the ground in front of the tent’s entrance. A curious sense of déjà vu washed over me, and every inch of my flesh tingled with a hidden memory.

I’ve been here before. I’m sure of it.

I entered the tent, and a plush Persian carpet cushioned my feet as I explored. Sumptuous in texture and color, the interior seemed strangely familiar. There were silks, satins, and velvets in shades of gold, burgundy, ruby red, dark blue, and emerald green. Curtains, cushions, and pillows aplenty. Spherical, perforated hanging lanterns. There was even a Moroccan tray table of polished brass decorated with an arabesque pattern; atop it sat two crystal glasses and a matching decanter filled with brown liquid, as well as a compote containing what appeared to be cocoa-dusted chocolate truffles.

“I could get used to this,” I said aloud.

“Could you?”

I jumped, then whirled around. Lorcan stood an arm’s length away. As always, he wore his black, Regency Era greatcoat, breeches, and riding boots. A question, deeper than the one he’d asked, glowed in his ice blue eyes.

I trembled.

His eyes darkened. “Are you cold?”

“No. Are you?” A heartbeat after I spoke, I cringed inwardly. What a stupid reply!

He shook his head. Glossy black hair swayed, teasing his broad shoulders. “Not particularly.” A smile tugged at his full, sensuous lips as he gestured to the table. “Chocolate? Cognac?”

I clenched my fists, steeling myself against his charms. “No, thank you, and you can wipe that smile off your face. How can I trust you after what happened Christmas Eve?”

“What do you mean?”

“You left me alone in Aoife’s castle. Where did you disappear to?”

He blinked, and for a moment, his long eyelashes stole my focus. “Ashling, you know I went to investigate the noise we heard.”

“And never came back.”

“I did come back.”

“Really?” I tilted my head to the side. “Funny that I didn’t see you. Aoife said you brought me to her, like some kind of warped Christmas present or—”

“Aoife lies.”

“I’m sure she does, but she also spoke a lot of truth. Are you still working for her?”

“How can you ask that?”

“Easily.”

He sighed: a sound of impatience and annoyance, both of which I, too, had felt over the past few months. “As I told you before, when I met Caer—you—I left Aoife and planned to live the rest of my days in the Middleworld…here, with you. Then you disappeared on me.”

“So Christmas Eve was payback for something I did centuries ago?”

“It wasn’t. By the time I returned to the dungeon, you were gone. Then I sensed you were in danger. Of course, Aengus did too, and I arrived just in time to watch him save the day.” A shadow crossed his features.

I’d seen that look before, whenever he compared himself to Aengus. Sympathy surged within me, but I expelled it with a huff. “Why didn’t you come and tell me all this before?”

“I didn’t think you’d listen. I knew Aengus would poison your ears with lies about me. How can I compete with such a paragon?” He twisted his lips, and a hint of humor restored light to his face. “Perhaps if I wore only my long drawers.”

“Your what?”

“I believe you’d call them underwear.”

The image of a bare-chested Lorcan flashed in my mind and set my pulse racing. “No. Clothes are a good thing.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Are they? Still, my attire is outdated.”

I shrugged. “A little.”

He furrowed his brow, then it smoothened. “I’ve got it.” Before my eyes, his clothing morphed into black jeans and a black T-shirt. “Better?”

Holy hell, he was sexy! Unfortunately, his new look emphasized the toned physique I’d only imagined till then.

I swallowed hard. “I don’t care what you wear.” It was true. He could dress in Super Mario footie pajamas, and I’d still think he was hot.

“Don’t you?” He inched toward me.

I took two steps back. “I…I wanted to ask…where are we? This place seems so familiar.”

“It should.” His eyes smoldered. “We made love here.”

My stomach dropped, and I fumbled for a reply. “You and Caer, you mean. How long were you together?”

“One perfect night.”

“That’s it?”

He stepped closer. “Even one moment of bliss can feel like an eternity. Caer and I created a heaven of our own. All. Night. Long.”

Dear God. I cleared my throat. “So you live here?”

“Ah. We’re going to have a safe conversation.”

“Yup…if you want me to stay.”

“I do, and yes, I live here. This is Dun Aengus on the isle of Inishmore. Once upon a time, it was Aengus’s home, hence the name which means ‘fort of Aengus,’ but he abandoned it. I’ll admit, I felt a perverse pleasure when I claimed it as my own.”

Doubt and distrust gnawed at me, and I frowned. “Did you feel the same way when you took Caer away from him?”

“That was different.”

“How?”

He reached for my hand and enfolded it with both of his. Everywhere his flesh touched mine, a subtle vibration took hold. “I wanted you more than anything else in the Otherworld, or any world. I still want you.”

“I’m with Aengus now.”

“But you were once with me.”

“I don’t even remember that.”

His gaze held mine. “Your soul remembers. It went looking for me tonight. That’s why you’re here.”

My heart raced. My hand tingled. The tent and all its luxuries seemed to close in around me. How easy it would be to lose myself in sensation and…

To be continued!  I’ll let you know when the book is available for preorder.  Happy Sunday!  🙂

A Valentine’s Surprise

13 Wednesday Feb 2019

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I just noticed that Amazon still has the first three books of my medieval romance series, The Novels of Ravenwood, on sale, and just in time for Valentine’s Day!  It’s a surprise to me but good news for you, so get ’em while they’re hot!  The fourth book in the series, Night of the Owl, is with my editor now, and I’m currently writing a detailed outline of the fifth and final book, Return of the Raven.  Big reveals lie ahead!

Amazon https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B01MT3KB7L

Amazon UK (for 99 pence) https://www.amazon.co.uk/Novels-Ravenwood-3-Book/dp/B079J1QGV1

Amazon CA (for $1.32) https://www.amazon.ca/Flight-Raven-Judith-Sterling-ebook/dp/B01JVH2GFO

Serendipity and the Supernatural at The Witch House

23 Tuesday Oct 2018

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Every October in Salem, Massachusetts is interesting, but this one stands out, especially where I work: The Witch House, the home of 17th-century witch trials judge Jonathan Corwin. My connection with the place started years ago.

When I was ten years old, living in central Florida, the Salem Witch Trials of 1692 fascinated me. I vowed to go to Salem one day, and when I was 25, I simply packed my bags and moved here. The bus I took into town stopped right in front of The Witch House, and when I alighted, I smiled, for it seemed a perfect introduction to the “Witch City.” Everything fell into place.  Within two days of my arrival, I secured a place to live and four part-time jobs.

After five wonderful years in Salem, I regretfully moved away. But five years ago (15 years later), it called me home again. My husband Dan, a museum professional, was looking for a job, and something told me to check the New England Museum Association’s website. When I did, I learned The House of the Seven Gables was hiring. Dan applied for the job, and they immediately flew him up for an interview. Less than a week later, he was hired, and we moved to Salem. We searched high and low for a place to live, in and around Salem. The only place available that we could afford was a condo right across the street from The Witch House. And wouldn’t you know…the first new friend I made once moving back to town happened to be the director of said house.

In March of this year, for the first time since my twins were born, I sought a job outside the house. I’d made a little money as an author but needed a real paycheck. Lo and behold, The Witch House needed tour guides. I love history, so the job was a perfect fit.

I knew the place had paranormal activity even before I started working there. Nothing negative and not all the time, just someone (or many “ones”) making their presence known from time to time. I’d heard the stories from other employees, and once I spent a little time upstairs in the two bedrooms, I felt a quiet companionship with whomever popped in and out. Then a month ago, things took an intriguing turn.

Each bedroom has a fireplace and a bed warmer hanging in front of it. They hang straight and still, no matter what happens around them. A month ago, I saw the bed warmer in the children’s bedroom move by itself in a continuous circular motion. Two days later, the bed warmer in the master chamber followed suit. That second time, I grabbed the handle, stopped it, and walked away, only to turn back around and find it circling again. I checked with the other tour guides, and no one had ever seen that happen. I figured someone just wanted me to know he/she was there.

A little over a week ago, my husband and I took our fourteen-year-old boys to the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston. We explored the galleries for hours, reveling in paintings and artifacts and a special exhibit on Winnie the Pooh. Eventually, we grew tired and started to leave, but as we passed a sign for the Lower Ground level exhibits, I stopped short.

I had to go down there. I didn’t know why, but the urge was overwhelming.

We went downstairs and found 17th-century artifacts, including a room from the period which felt like “home” to all four of us. Then I turned and did a double take.

Before me hung two portraits from 1670: one of Robert Gibbs; the other of seven-year-old Margaret Gibbs (shown below). A thrill ran through me, for I see small copies of these portraits every day at The Witch House. (The children’s mother, a wealthy widow named Elizabeth, married Jonathan Corwin in 1675, and they moved into the Essex Street house in Salem. Soon afterward, twelve-year-old Margaret died.) When we went to the MFA that night, I had no idea the portraits were there. I was beyond grateful for the impulse which sent me down the stairs to find them.

Fast forward to three nights ago. I dreamt that I was walking through The Witch House.  I sensed a young girl of the period (late 17th century) hovering in the corners of the rooms, then drifting beside me.

“I love this house,” I said aloud.

Invisible yet palpably present, she laid her hands on my shoulders and spoke in a soft, sweet voice. “And I love you.”

A rush of love, well-being, and “rightness” washed over me. When I woke, I knew I’d experienced more than a mere dream.

Then yesterday, while I was working in The House, a tourist approached and asked if I’d experienced any paranormal activity there. I told her about the circling bed warmers. She revealed she was a psychic medium and had sensed heightened energy in the house. She’d communicated with the spirit of a little girl named Margaret who felt particularly drawn to me. She asked if I wanted to go upstairs so we could make contact together. Of course, I said yes!

Up in the children’s bedroom, we stood in front of the fireplace. The medium spoke. “Margaret, Judy’s here. Will you move the bed warmer again for her?”

Slowly but surely, the bed warmer moved.

The medium turned to me. “She says she likes you because you’re so kind. She’s not here all the time but comes and goes. She was happy here.”

Two things more I confirmed: (1) Margaret had encouraged me to find her portrait in the MFA; (2) she had visited me in my dream. Later in the day, I was back upstairs and felt drawn to the children’s bedroom. When I stepped inside, I knew I wasn’t alone. The bed warmer moved yet again.

It was an eventful day! I connected a few dots and felt embraced by history, welcomed by a past inhabitant of the home I adore.

Phantasmic Friday ~ Week One

06 Friday Oct 2017

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October has arrived!  It’s my favorite month for so many reasons:  the glory of autumn, the magic of Halloween, my wedding anniversary, etc.  I could go on and on but instead, I’m instituting “Phantasmic Friday” for the entire month.  Over the next four Fridays, I’ll share brushes with the supernatural I’ve been fortunate to experience.  One occurred when I was six years old.

On the night in question, I woke with a start. I lay nestled against a white, life-size teddy bear, so my vision was limited to a patch of faux fur illuminated by the nightlight’s glow. I couldn’t see a change in my world, but I could sense it.

Something was off.

The next instant, I heard confirmation. Slow footsteps clunked down the hall toward my bedroom, crossed the threshold, approached my bed, and halted beside it.

My ears pricked up. Every hair stood on end. Somehow, I knew the presence was an adult male; I also knew it wasn’t my father. I lay still as a board, feigning sleep, hoping the man would go away. Yet he remained poised at the left side of my bed.

Swallowed by a deafening silence—and partly, by my stifling, stuffed bear—I began to sweat. I waited for another movement, another sound, anything to help me gauge my visitor’s intent.

Nearly ten minutes of stress, heat, and uncertainty reigned before action’s inevitable coup. It was my bed and my room. I would confront the man and stake my claim. Will and courage surged within me, and I flung myself up and around to face…

Nothing. Diddly-squat.

I scanned the room, analyzing storybooks, dolls, and the familiar landscape of furniture. I frowned, for the atmosphere was still thick with something other than Florida’s trademark humidity.  Beyond the open door stretched the dim hallway.

“Is anyone there?” I called.

Dead silence. (Pun intended.)

At length, the air thinned. I shrugged and snuggled back under the covers and into the bear. I took a deep breath and expelled it with a smile.

Tired and craving sleep, my eyes closed. Then they shot open. Distinct, measured footfalls tracked out the door and disappeared down the hall.

Now, years later, I understand the event better. In the field of paranormal investigation, there are two types of haunting: intelligent and residual. With an intelligent haunting, the entity is aware of your presence and may try to communicate. A residual haunting is more like a recording—of energy and event—which replays itself again and again, and the entity involved is unaware it has company.

My first ghostly encounter seems to fall under the second category. The unexpected footsteps sounded like hard-soled shoes tramping on wood. Our house, built in the 1940s, did have wooden floors, but they were carpeted at the time of the event. The previous owners of the house were an elderly couple who preferred separate bedrooms, and guess which one used mine: the man. (I knew none of this at the time, though.)

He and I shared the same space in different times and should’ve been oblivious to one another. But could it be, when conditions are just right, two such individuals can perceive one another’s presence?

If linear time is an illusion, as many believe it to be, this type of awareness might occur more often than we suspect. Who knows? I might even have sensed a man who would occupy my bedroom in the future. In any case, I know what I felt and heard, and from that point on, my interest in the supernatural was as fervent as it was fixed.

If you’re as drawn to the paranormal as I (and/or it’s drawn to you!) you might enjoy The Cauldron Stirred, the first book in my Guardians of Erin series. I’m currently writing Book Two, The Stone Awakened. Happy October, everyone!

 

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