There once were two children, a girl and a boy. One could create, the other, destroy.
Within every heart lies the power to bond or break.
On an isolated port of floating garbage called Hop, Gaiel Izz and his sister, Lynd, never imagined they’d be able to change anything…
Not their nasty neighbors, not their hungry bellies, and especially not their missing father.
That will change when they discover the power of myracles — magic that either creates or destroys.
As the brother and sister set across Esa to bring their family back together, this power will either unite them or shatter their entire world to pieces.
It will all come down to what truly lies within their hearts…
What a delightful sign to have hanging in front of one’s home — a mix of “watch out” with “you’re on your own.” But that’s living in Hop for ya, a’kay?
As a floating port in the middle of the sea, there weren’t any roads to or from Hop. On their own, indeed. But it wasn’t always so lonely. Fifty years ago, Hop was a bustling pitstop for the hundreds of trade ships sailing across the Domus Gulf every year. A place to “hop” from one side of the gulf to the other. Being a travel hub made it bursting with exotic goods and fresh ideas. But the wild waters of the gulf were hard to predict, and they only seemed to grow more dangerous over time. One shipwreck was enough to send thoughts and prayers, but after ten and twenty ships washed back blown to bits, it started to nip at the profits. Soon traders found alternate land routes that may have taken longer, but at least weren’t so death-y.
Practically overnight, Hop and its people were forgotten like a used hanky in a puddle. Trapped on a floating port amid the unfor‐ giving sea, a stagnant idea stuck to them — anything made would just be unmade. What was to stop anything they worked hard to build from falling to pieces like Hop did? Nothin’ lasts butsalt in yer ass became the most graffitied words on the splintering streets, a series of long planks called “Boards.” Was there any point in shining your shoes, doing your hair, brushing your teeth? They would all end up dirty, tasseled, and yellow. Undone, eventually. Was there any point in building relationships, then? Nothing lasts but the salt in their asses, indeed.
Just behind that friendly “red tide” warning sign on Boulie Board, a skinny wreck of a home rose from the battered planks. Its number, 76, was drawn large and wide on the front and side in “Hopper White,” a local specialty paint whose main ingredient was seagull poop. Nothing could be wasted in Hop, not even waste. The pieces that made up the home had a kind of widely used look about them, like maybe that wall had once been the barnacled belly of a rowboat, and before that, it was a sign that said HOP: POPULATION 600. Its door was a full fourteen shades of a should-I-touch-that sort of green and was cracked at the bottom up to the knob. Its two sea-weathered windows were small and narrow like suspicious eyes squinting at the neighbors. By Hopper standards, the Izz family actually had quite a fine little nest.
The only reason the Izz house somewhat outshined its raggedy neighbors was because of the family’s firstborn, Gaiel Izz. Gai liked to fix things when they broke. Something about broken objects made him queasy, compulsive even; a roar in the belly yapping at him to make it better. As for the things he couldn’t fix, he’d at least insist on putting a sheet of soggy newspaper over it or something. In fact, he patched so many holes in his clothes with newspaper that it became the dominant fabric. It crinkled as he walked.
One special night, this industrious fifteen-year-old was lying motionless on the floor in one of the home’s damp upstairs bedrooms. His right ear was practically suctioned to the floorboards as he listened carefully for any signs of movement downstairs. He’d been listening so long his ear had become a bright, throbbing mushroom. This night, he’d embark on his most ambitious fixing project yet — his twelve-year-old sister, Lynd.
While Gai may have been on the floor, he wasn’t out of bed. The floor was both of the Izz children’s bed. Many, many things floated by Hop in the strong currents, like sunken ship junk or garbage from far off Electri City on the mainland. But few were “cozy” materials for them to scoop out and use to make bedding. Since nothing came in or out of Hop, if a Hopper wanted something new, they’d best grab a scoop and pray to Zeea that whatever they needed happened to be floating by that day. Gai once scooped an armful of braided anchor rope and wove it into a nice blanket. He looked over at Lynd sleeping on it, snoring like a ship headed out to sea
— Twaahhh! Peaceful as she seemed, her little hands kept pulling at the fraying edges of the rope-blanket, almost like tearing it apart soothed her as a babe suckling their thumb would. She was definitely not a fixer like her brother. Truly, she was quite the opposite.
After enduring Delphine’s dangerous training regimen, the young gods and demigods embark on a mission to take down the corrupt shipping company once and for all, to liberate victimized communities up and down the Mediterranean and nearby seas. But unforeseen conflicts cause the young gods and demigods to question the nature of their mission, their purpose, and their relationships with one another.
In the face of impossible choices, how important are love, loyalty, and friendship? Moreover, how far should one go to defend those who can’t defend themselves? Should one sacrifice everything?
Read the surprising conclusion of The Vampires and Gods Series. For lovers of Greek mythology, paranormal romance, and action adventure stories.
Gertie stood in the foyer of the great hall on Mount Olympus, waiting for Hector to finish his tour with Hephaestus. Hector had invited her to join him to see the magical forge, but she’d wanted him to have this chance to be alone with his father. She hadn’t thought about her own comfort—or lack of it as she stood there with the Olympians on their thrones only a few yards away. Although she’d earned their respect in the battle with the old man of the sea and his entourage of monsters and was about to become a goddess herself, she didn’t dare presume that she was free to speak with them.
She pushed a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear and glanced nervously at the gods before averting her eyes to her boots. Her stomach hurt, and her heart wouldn’t slow down no matter how deeply she breathed. An eternity seemed to pass when Hector finally emerged with his father.
Just seeing Hector’s face again made her less nervous. Although people often mistook them for brother and sister because they both had blond hair, blue eyes, and fair skin, fortunately for them, they weren’t, even though they were both descended from gods.
“Are you ready for the council meeting?” Hephaestus asked her.
Gertie took a deep breath. “I think so.”
“Of course, she is,” Hector said. “She hasn’t stopped talking about it for days. Have you, Gertie?”
“Are you sure you’re ready?” Hephaestus asked again.
“Yes,” she said, this time without hesitation. “I’m just a little nervous about how it will feel and how I’ll adapt. There isn’t much written about apotheosis. I feel unprepared.”
Hephaestus laughed. “Preparation has its virtues, but surprises make life exciting.”
“I like that.” Hector beamed up at his dad.
Gertie would rather be prepared.
“Good luck,” Hephaestus said as he turned to walk away.
“Thanks again for showing me around, Father,” Hector said. “I hope I’ll have the chance to see you again soon.”
The god gave Hector a polite, if not distant, nod before taking a few strides to his throne, next to Apollo and across the white marble floor from Aphrodite.
“How did it go?” Gertie whispered to Hector, who hadn’t stopped smiling since he’d emerged from the forge.
“I’ve never felt happier,” he said, his blue eyes bright. “My father has finally acknowledged me publicly and has given me more than a moment of his time. It’s a dream come true.”
“Oh, Hector.” Gertie squeezed his hand. “I’m really happy for you.”
“Thanks. Being here has made it easy for me to make a decision.”
Gertie tilted her head to one side. “What decision?”
“I want to be a god, and I’m ready to do whatever it takes to prove I’m worthy.”
Gertie’s mouth dropped open, and she felt like jumping up and down with joy. “What?”
“I know . . . I was against it before. I wanted a normal life, so I could give my kids a better childhood than the one I had. Now I know things don’t have to be the way they were with my mom—alienated from my father and from the other gods.” He circled his arm around Gertie’s waist. “We can be a part of this life here on Mount Olympus. We can be gods together.”
Gertie thew her arms around him. “Really?”
“Really.” He reached down and kissed her.
As much as Gertie enjoyed the kiss, she soon came to her senses and noticed that some of the Olympians were watching her. “I’ll make my acceptance conditional. If they want me to become the goddess of vampires, they’ll have to make you a god, too.”
Hector furrowed his brows. “What if they refuse?”
“They won’t, especially if your father speaks up for you.”
He kissed her once more, and, together, they made their way to his father’s side, to await the others.
After earning her Ph.D. in English and teaching writing and literature for over twenty years, Eva Pohler became a USA Today bestselling author of over thirty novels in multiple genres, including mysteries, thrillers, and young adult paranormal romance based on Greek mythology. Her books have been described as “addictive” and “sure to thrill”–Kirkus Reviews.
That’s what the police found after Penelope spun her bizarre tale. In a hysterical state, she said her father was butchered and eaten by a mob of birds ~ in her bedroom.
They claim she’s crazy. That she suffers from delusions. Penelope is dead set on proving them wrong.
After being institutionalized for eight months, Penelope is out and more determined than ever to find answers to her so-called hallucinations. With her father’s untimely disappearance, she’s convinced her family is hiding something sinister.
THE OMEN OF CROWS NEST is the latest masterpiece by the award-winning author Cathrina Constantine, and is sure to leave fans of fantasy gasping!
I returned to Crows Nest searching for hope, only to find ghosts.
Gone for eight months, give or take a few weeks, there had been a drastic change in the house. Perhaps, I’d overlooked the turrets I once imagined as a stairway to Heaven were scarred— like me. Cylinder peaks somewhat askew and shingles hanging in disarray correlated with my life thus far.
Some things remained the same. The worn exterior didn’t discourage flocks of birds to hover above and roost on the turrets and power lines.
Dad declared he was the cornerstone of the household, but we all knew it was Gramma. When her fancy tickled her, she told us myths and legends whence our house got its name because crows infested the land. Circling crows, like today, was an omen of death. I shivered. Heedful of that premonition all too well.
“Crows are inherently clever, intelligent,” Gramma would say, “Pay attention, they bring messages. They’re a symbol of magic, mystery, and destiny.” Her fowl wisdom had been indoctrinated in me since I toddled around the Nest.
What message are they bringing today? Welcoming or cautioning?
I should’ve carried a machete to cleave through the scrub, yellowing stalks. Snaking ivy coiled the pillars and canopied the second story balcony, which precariously bowed. On the long drive, Dean had informed me that the unforgiving winter had taken a toll.
My boots crunched on mulch and brittle leaves as I stepped onto the wraparound porch. It had been my responsibility to sweep it, a chore that should have been handed down to my younger siblings. The ornate beveled picture window was cracked. Something had smashed into it, creating jagged veins in the glass.
Planting indecisive legs at the front door, my toes grew into unyielding roots, wrestling into the tongue and groove boards. Heartier roots to replenish those that had been trimmed, uprooted, and torn to shreds.
Will my brother and sister despise me? Considering all those weeks before I was sent away, they’d never given me any reason to doubt their trust or their love. Nevertheless, in all these months, I seldom saw them. Gramma could have brainwashed them against me. She maintained that kind of authority.
I stared at the tarnished door knocker. Still scary and still life-like. A crow’s head with a gaping beak. Emotionally fraught, I turned, searching for Dean. He was body-deep in the trunk of the car grappling with my baggage.
“Need help?” I asked, voice squeaky.
He peeked his head around the car. His expressive, honey-amber eyes flashed as he flicked his arm, a signal to go in. Many nights I’d dreamt of him and those eyes. It shouldn’t be this hard. I veered to the door and thought, I’m home.
I am blessed with a loving family and forever friends. My world revolves around them.
I grew up in the small village of Lancaster, NY, where I married my sweetheart. I’m devoted to raising 5 cherished children, and now my grandchildren.
I love to immerse myself in great books of every kind of genre, which helps me to write purely for entertainment, and hopefully to inspire readers. When not stationed at my computer you can find me in the woods taking long walks with my dog.
