Beyond the Cogs: A Steampunk Anthology by C. Vonzale Lewis, Elle Beaumont, Nicholas J. Evans
Published by: Midnight Tide Publishing
Publication date: November 17th 2021
Genres: Adult, Steampunk
When a world is reimagined…
This anthology contains three impeccable steampunk stories. Ranging from the gritty tale of battling a creature who steals the souls of others, to dabbling in the taboo art of imbuing a human soul into an automaton, and even a man venturing back home only to discover he’s been demonized.
The Soulless Ones by C. Vonzale Lewis
The Rogue of Vangard by Nicholas J. Evans
Gossamer & Thorns by Elle Beaumont
For those who love adventure in new worlds, gritty stories, and heart-wrenching tales, this collection is sure to resonate with you!
A Beautiful House, A Horrible Death, A Brilliant Revenge
CONSPIRACY OF CATS… a supernatural murder mystery.
An apprehensive Jos Ferguson travels from Edinburgh to Northern Tanzania to visit the house her Uncle Peter built before he died. But Peter isn’t as dead as he should be… he was murdered, and he wants his niece to help him exact revenge upon his killer. With a little Maasai magic and a conspiracy of cats, Jos sets out to do exactly that.
A beautiful house. A horrible death. A brilliant revenge.
Looking back, it was as if Peter had known that he was going to die.
It was as if all of them had known, because the Maasai came prepared for their ritual even though their little brother died only a few hours before they arrived. It was the largest group of Maasai Beola had ever encountered at the white house. At least fifty men, most of them warriors, all carrying their weapons and their shields. Their chests and faces and arms painted as if they were going into battle. She watched them from the master bedroom window, just as she’d watched the police arrive, having gone back up to finish changing the bed so it would be clean and ready when Jude returned. They arrived on foot just before sunset, and it would have taken all day to walk from their village on the western side of Mount Kilimanjaro all the way to the white house.
Some of the warriors carried armfuls of wood, and immediately began building a large fire in the middle of the lawn. The elders, including their bearded laibon, sat down on the porch steps to rest and, when Beola went out to meet them, they asked only for water. When she offered food they politely refused. When Beola moved to go back inside to fetch the water, a young warrior stopped her. ‘We must leave the white house in peace, little sister,’ he told her, and then he and several of his fellow warriors guided her towards the lodge where they fetched enough water for all. When that was done, the young warrior told her, ‘Word has been sent into the park so your husband and your son will come home soon. When they do, you must be ready to leave.’
‘But why?’
‘The laibon wishes to cleanse the white house of sorrow.’
Beola knew better than to argue with the wishes of a laibon, and so she nodded, resigned.
‘How long must we stay away?’
‘Moon die and come back again, man die and stay away. Come back with the new moon, sister.’
Back inside the lodge Beola began to pack, without any clear idea of where her family would go or who they would stay with. By then it was full dark, and the fire was burning so brightly she could see its orange glow above the garage blocking her direct view. Kissi and Ben arrived while she was still packing, in shock at both the death of their friend and the large gathering on the white house lawn. The evening breeze was becoming a wind by then, and the stars were obscured by gathering clouds. The warriors had begun to sing a sorrowful sounding song, their beautiful voices competing with the mounting voice of the wind.
By the time the Nyerere’s were readying to leave, a storm was in full flow.
The perimeter of trees bent and swayed in the wind that had initially made their leaves whisper. That wind was howling and shrilling by then, a tempest that thrashed and whipped the leaves and branches. Storm clouds had gathered so close, they were piled on top of one another, grumbling, rumbling, crashing with thunder directly overhead. Lightening split the night over and over. Up on the roof garden, a solitary figure braved the onslaught.
The old laibon was yelling into the night, his spells snatched away by the wind that seemed, in turns, to want to blow him away and push him down. Rain pelted down upon him, it blinded his eyes, dripped from his beard, soaked his shuka and chilled his bones. He fought against it, at the same time as he embraced it, arms stretched wide and high. Calling out, over and over, to the spirit of his friend.
As the Nyerere’s were loading up their jeep, another vehicle arrived, lights sweeping across the scene as it circled the lawn. Beola thought that it must be Jude, but it was Henk de Vries, pulling up in his flatbed truck. She assumed he’d heard the news and had come to pay his respects. She ran towards him, but half a dozen warriors barred Beola’s way. They told her to go, to never speak of this night to anyone. Beola struggled against them, and called out to Henk in some distress, but either the wind stole her voice, or the Dutchman chose to ignore her. Kissi was next to her by then and had to impel his wife bodily into the back of his Land Rover as Ben sat quietly weeping in the front. He then got in himself and set off for his father’s home in Arusha, having called ahead to stay there were sanitation issues at their home, so they needed a place to say for a while. As they were moving around the lawn towards the drive, Beola watched Henk lower the tail gate of his truck and saw two warriors lift and carry something towards the fire. Meat for the funeral feast, he told her much later.
When Kissi’s Land Rover reached the foot of the hill, he turned north towards the main road that would take them to Arusha. They left the storm behind almost immediately. When they reached the top of the escarpment, he stopped and got out. Ben and Beola joined him. Together they stood atop the ridge, watching a small storm rage over the white house.
Author Interview:
1. Tell us a little about how this story first came to be. Did it start with an image, a voice, a concept, a dilemma or something else?
It was so very long ago that the ideas began to form in my mind, I honestly wouldn’t know how to pin point an actual beginning. I can say that, at that time, I hadn’t visited Africa but really wanted to go there. I daydreamed about going, and so maybe that inspired the beginnings. I have since been lucky enough to visit that amazing place and this reignited the sparks that set fire to the story. After that trip I had real passion for my characters again, but I had to wait many more years before the world stopped for covid, and I suddenly had the time to get it done.
2. What, if anything, did you learn when writing the book?
I learned a lot about Tanzania… the country, the politics, the wildlife. I also learned about the laws of succession, stocks and shares, and what happens inside the human brain when its holder falls asleep.
3. What surprised you the most in writing it?
Probably that it came together so quickly. Before it made it into the real world of words and paper, it was just a jumble of characters and a vague idea about where they would set off from and where they were heading to. Then, when I finally sat down to write it, it all started to fit together and evolved quickly into the complete story. I still look at the copy of my book I keep on my desk, and marvel that it’s real.
4. If it’s not a spoiler, what does the title mean?
The ending of the story relies upon the title. I can’t say any more than that.
5. Were any of the characters inspired by real people? If so, do they know?
No.
6. Do you consider the book to have a lesson or moral?
I admire writers who pen thought provoking tales that stop a reader in her tracks and make her question ethics and morality, and even her own life choices. But, now and then, it’s good to side-step reality and immerse yourself in a world where none of that matters. My own experience of books is largely rooted in escapism and that is what Conspiracy of Cats offers. It’s a story; a journey into a world of magic, murder and revenge… with a little comedy thrown in to lighten the load. My only wish is for my readers to enjoy the trip.
7. What is your favorite part of the book?
I love the scenes between Peter and Jos. I enjoy the tenderness and loyalty they conjure up between them, and also the comedy as they combine.
8. Which character was most challenging to create? Why?
My villain was hardest to create because, in doing so, I had to write a lot of stuff that I found distasteful at best and downright horrible at worst.
9. What are your immediate future plans?
I’ve just submitted a manuscript called Making Sacrifices; another supernatural murder mystery, but a darker tale than Conspiracy. I must now wait to hear if my publisher is interested. In the meantime I’m getting on with a third manuscript and keeping an eye on a fourth. Now I’ve got started I will continue to write. I love it!
About the Author:
B C Harris is a Scot who, at the time of writing, had just finished renovating a farmhouse in France. A labour of love that began from first sight back in 2016. No sooner had the final length of flooring been laid and the last paintbrush dried, than disaster struck in the form of pandemic. France went into a strict lockdown and, with time to do more than simply daydream about writing books, a new project began to take shape.
Writing began as an escape from the fear and isolation that was soon affecting us all, and quickly flourished to become ‘Conspiracy of Cats’. The global pandemic seems to be receding now, but the passion for writing has taken root. Find out more about B C Harris online.
A thirst for revenge . . . Ava is committed to vengeance against the man responsible for the death of her parents. The same man, the Queen’s Herald, kept her prisoner for two years, until she escaped with Luc, a warlord bent on vengeance just as fierce as her own. He’s forged a powerful army of people from all through the region, called the Rising Wave, to march on the Kassian royal family and smash its corrupt power under the weight of their anger. But for Luc, just as for Ava, his true motive is a lot more personal.
A hidden magic . . . Luc suspects Ava has magical abilities, suspects he’s benefited greatly from them, but he’s no stranger to the burdens of power, and he’s prepared to let her tell him in her own time—after all, she’s his heart’s choice and he will give her all the time she needs. Except time is running out for both of them. As they near the Kassian stronghold, forces from within their own camp and without will use every trick they have to stop both Luc and Ava and tear them apart.
A secret laid bare . . . Luc knows Ava has a secret she’s keeping from him—but what he doesn’t realize is she has many. And when those secrets are exposed, everyone will have to grapple with the consequences. Ava is prepared to sacrifice her happiness and even her life to save the Rising Wave and Luc—but she would prefer to use her heart and her head to outwit her enemies instead.
Author’s note: The Rising Wave series begins with a prequel novella, The Rising Wave. It isn’t necessary to have read The Rising Wave to enjoy The Turncoat King, but it will give readers a better grounding in the world of the story.
The guard assigned to lead them to the Skäddar warrior paused to speak to someone in low tones. When he turned back to Luc and Dak, he was grinning.
“The Skäddar warrior is this way. He’s sparring with one of our best fighters and we’re hoping he wins.” His smile widened as he led the way.
“Why are you hoping he defeats one of your own?” Dak asked.
“Because she’s from the mountain border with Skäddar, and has been teasing us steppe-dwellers about how the highlanders are superior. It will be very good to see someone land her on her arse.”
“None of you have been able to?” Dak lifted his brows.
The guard gave a grunt. “Not yet.”
Luc could tell they were close to the sparring match. The sound of cheers and whistles started up, and ahead of them was a circle of soldiers, all looking inward.
The guard led them around the side, to where the crowd wasn’t as thick.
The sun had almost completely set, so two torches had been driven into the ground to illuminate the fighting ring, and the opponents were already circling each other.
The man was obviously Skäddar. Luc had met only a few of the northern dwellers before, but they all had markings on their faces like this one.
The Venyatux highlander was much smaller than her opponent, and had her back to them.
Luc felt the air freeze in his chest and throat as he recognized her hair first—a little longer than it had been since he’d last seen her a month ago but still much shorter than everyone else’s.
Michelle Diener is the bestselling, award-winning author of historical, fantasy and science fiction romance novels. Having worked in publishing and IT, she’s now very happy crafting new worlds for her readers to escape into. She lives in Australia with her husband and children.
