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The Perilous Prophecy Haunted London Blog Tour: Day 6 {by Leanna Renee Hieber} + A Giveaway!

About the Haunted London Blog Tour: The Haunted tour has become tradition to celebrate release week of my Strangely Beautiful series of Gothic Victorian Fantasy novels. Here I introduce the real, documented London haunts who “ghost-star” in the latest book. Special thanks, as always, to Richard Jones, www.haunted-london.com, for being my foremost ghostly resource! About this prequel novel: The Perilous Prophecy of Guard and Goddess features a young Beatrice Smith grappling with her duties as leader of The Guard of spectral police, while a faltering Goddess of beauty and light sacrifices all for a snow-white child of destiny to be born into the gilded Victorian Age. For all involved in the making of delicate Prophecy, the answers to divine questions lie in passionate, imperfect mortal hearts. -- I write Gothic novels, so prepare a capital D for Drama, set your sights on ghosts and myth, prophecies and fraught perils, all manner of intense characters, and come along for the ride!

Guard upon Guard ghost-busting…

Earlier in the tour I alluded to a ghost of my own making, a ghost that has effectively followed the Guard from Cairo and will continue to ‘pop-up’ making omens or grim tidings. This spirit even is the cause for Guard upon Guard ghostbusting, an unprecedented event in the history of the Guard of spectral police, Beatrice’s Guard utterly unable to help Alexi and his new Guard with this irascible spirit. Here’s how it begins to play out:

From The Perilous Prophecy of Guard and Goddess:

Beatrice held her breath. A young man, tall and black-haired, striking-featured and dressed in fine but austere clothes, made his entrance.
A wind picked up all around, a strange music in her mind that Beatrice knew well. The newcomer charged forward, blue fire trailing from his outstretched hands. So, they had come. The new Guard. Dear God, they were young, even the leader. Fourteen, fifteen, perhaps? But his spirit was strong, Beatrice could tell. There was something timeless about him. Blue fire poured from his hands, and his fellows stared at him in a mixture of awe and fear.
New. It’s so new and will take some getting used to, she wanted to say, but her breath remained stilled in her throat. She couldn’t even hail the newcomers, so entranced was she by the Leader. Beatrice wondered for a moment if she had ever looked that fearsome, so full of power, so unbelievable. Perhaps the Grand Work would always amaze, no matter who wielded it. She hadn’t ever seen herself charge onto a scene, but she had to admit this was impressive.
“Luminous,” the leader murmured, “I believe we call this a luminous case. A possession with intent to harm.” The five youngsters gathered around, terrified acolytes.
Beatrice opened her mouth to say, Yes, luminous! Help us, you hapless fools, then run for your lives! Damn this work, it’s nothing but a curse! But again, no words escaped her.
She glanced at her fellows, but all they could do was stare, too, at these newcomers, Guard to Guard. Ahmed and Ibrahim stepped back from Verena’s bedside, as if clearing the way. Beatrice tried to get Ibrahim’s attention, to see if he could shout the declamation she herself could not, but he was staring at the tall, spindly brunette at the new Leader’s side who was assessing the situation with a sharp, undaunted gaze. The Thompson girl was Intuition indeed.
A thin blond boy in fine if foppish clothes stepped close and stared with apprehension at each of Beatrice’s assembled company, and at the two baffled nurses. “And I make them forget we’re here…how?” he asked.
“I wasn’t given a guidebook, Lord Withersby. Use your hands,” the leader retorted.
Beatrice smirked despite herself, staring as the young lord waved a hand in front of them. It didn’t really do anything, but seeing as the Cairo Guard were all frozen and strangely unable to participate, that was a moot point. Perhaps it was best, after all, that they were pacified, standing there staring like dullards. Beatrice had received no help when leading the Grand Work for the first time, so why should they?
A dark-blonde woman in a plain dress, blushing, knelt by Verena’s bedside. “I’m so sorry for yer pain,” she murmured in a soft Irish brogue. “My name is Jane, and I’ll try an’ help you like Alexi said.” She rallied herself with a meek smile and held up her hand, which glowed with a slight white luminescence.
Though it was pale, new and untrained, Verena seemed to recognize the light. She likely wanted to welcome this young woman as a sister but was kept a world away. Still, her pained expression eased, as did the tears coursing from her eyes.
The healer, Jane, put her hand on Verena’s forehead, and Verena’s body was racked with a new seizure—the London Guard had hardly come to their first charge as experts. The work was progressing, however, and Alexi urged his power outward, commanding the phoenix fire to contain and extract the offending spirit. Beatrice prayed he could finish the job.
She wanted to assure this young Alexi to stay steady, to tell him that results were not immediate. The impassivity of his face was belied by his eyes, the expression in those coal black pools indicated a riptide joy of newfound power.
She couldn’t possibly know what he was thinking, feeling or expecting, of course. Nor could she really help. No one could tell you about the Grand Work. You had to feel it. You had to own it for yourself. Beatrice was suddenly sure this was why none of them could come forward offering instruction, guidance, encouragement or reprimands; that would only get in the way. Because, as the goddess had said, there were never two Guards. A Guard was always on its own. Something had stilled their tongues to make sure of it.
The Intuition glided forward, a surprising air of elegant, refined grace about her for one so young. The Grand Work had aged them years in a single day, severed their innocence and youth. Beatrice remembered the very same happening to her.
“Lord Withersby,” the Intuition began crisply, “if you and your touch might offer us some clue about the offender, I might be able to wield my newfound library to best effect.”
Lord Withersby glanced down and said, “Indeed, Miss Thompson, indeed.” He took a step closer to Verena, angling past Jane and bending over her to speak softly to the charge. “My, you are beautiful, miss! Whatever brought you to England, this land of dreary grey, when you are a queen of a golden kingdom?”
“Miss Belledoux,” Alexi called, “as you’ve not had time to produce a studio full of fine work, what do your Artistic instincts tell you about how you might be of service?”
A gorgeous brunette had come forward, staring at Withersby but snapping to attention as Alexi addressed her. She thought a moment, smiled and darted out of the clinic. Returning swiftly, having procured a golden icon of a dove from the adjoining chapel, she kissed it softly and rejoined the circle.
Beatrice watched, fascinated. She glanced at Belle, who was furrowing her brow as the Memory touched Verena’s hand and winced in pain.
“Victim’s name? Verena. Attacker violent,” Withersby murmured. “Towers, shouting from towers… It’s so angry, it has followed us, waiting for us…”
It was a muezzin, Beatrice yearned to say. It followed us here, here where everything changed, here where the dead so terribly outnumber you… You should run…

-- (End of Excerpt)

To Enter:

Leave a comment for your chance to win either a download code or a print copy of one Strangely Beautiful book from the series (winner’s preference)!

Follow along the rest of the tour for more ghost stories and chances to win! Tour schedule available via the Haunted London Tour page of my website: http://leannareneehieber.com where you can also find the archives from Haunted Tours past! I also hope you’ll join me for the launch of my new MAGIC MOST FOUL saga of Gothic Victorian Paranormal novels set in 1880s NYC with Sourcebooks Fire. DARKER STILL (Magic Most Foul #1) hits the shelves 11/11!

Happy Haunting!

Leanna Renee Hieber