Another great teaser...

...which KMM posted on her blog in october. for those who have not read it so far - enjoy!

"
Few have ever seen the Seelie, save the rare mortal stolen away and kept at the Fae court, and, of course, Barrons who once spent a great deal of time there, sleeping with a princess, before killing her and pissing off V’lane for all eternity.


I’ve seen thousands of Unseelie but until now, even I—sidhe-seer extraordinaire—have seen only a single Seelie.

I’d begun to wonder why.

In the dark hours of the night, I’d wondered if maybe he was the only one left, if he was hiding something, if perhaps he wasn’t Seelie at all, despite evidence supporting his claim.

Seeing him as he is now, all my doubts evaporate.

Here are the Seelie.

They’ve finally gotten off their asses and started paying attention to the mess they’ve made of my world. I guess they couldn’t be bothered before now.

Even filled as I am with hatred for all Fae, I can’t deny that V’lane looks like an avenging angel, charging down from heaven to set my world back on its axis and clean this whole mess up. Radiant, golden and mesmerizing, he leads an army of angels.

Tall, gracefully muscled, they stand shoulder to shoulder with him, filling the street. Stunning, velvety-skinned, dusted with gold, they are so chillingly exquisite that I have a hard time looking at them—and I’m immune from having been Pri-ya, a Fae sex-addict. They are otherworldly, divine.

There are dozens of V’lane’s caste, male and female. They possess a terrifying eroticism that makes them deadly to humans. If a scientist managed to get his hands on one to study, I wouldn’t be surprised to learn their skin exudes a pheromone we crave.

The perpetual promise of a smile hovers on irresistible lips, below ancient, alien eyes. Despite all I’ve suffered at their hands, I want to rush forward and fall to my knees before them. I want to slide my palms over their flawless skin, discover if they taste as amazing as they smell. I want to be gathered into a Fae embrace, yield my memories, my mind, my will and be carried off to a Faery Court where I could stay forever young, cocooned by illusion.

Flanking V’lane’s caste—which I assume is the highest ranking by how the other castes seem to protect it—are the stuff of fairytales. There are rainbow-colored, delicate Fae that dart like hummingbirds on gossamer wings; silvery nymphs that dance on dainty feet; and others that I can’t even see, except for blinding trailers of light they leave behind as they move. They’re so brilliant and fiery, they could only be earthbound stars.

I scoff at the delicacy of his army. They’re ethereal, born to wisp about, seduce, and be served.

Mine is earthy, solid. Born to gorge, kill, and rule.

We stalk toward each other, down a snow-filled street.

Where Seelie feet touch the earth, the snow melts with a hiss. Steam rises and flowers push up through cracks, blooming brilliantly, anointing the air with the scents of jasmine and sandalwood. The Seelie end of the street is bathed in golden light.

Where my army’s hooves and scaled bellies pass over the stones—a crust of black ice forms. The night embraces us; stealthy shadows, we ooze forward from the blackness.

Only once before have Seelie and Unseelie met like this—and on that day the Seelie Queen died. This is the stuff of legends, never seen by humans, except perhaps in our dreams.

Deformed monsters and hideous demons stare with baleful, hate-filled eyes at their perfect, golden counterparts.

Angels glare with disdain at abominations that should never have been born, who blemish the perfection of the Fae race, tarnish their existence simply by being.

I wonder what Darroc was thinking bringing them together like this.

We stop a dozen paces apart.

Ice and heat slam together in the street.

My breath frosts the air then turns to steam as it passes an invisible demarcation. Eddies swirl on the pavement between us, gathering the indigestible rinds of people the Shades left behind, and tiny tornados begin to form.

Whoever began the fairytales that Fae don’t feel was selling pure bullshit. They feel the entire range of human emotion. They just handle it differently; with patience born of eternity. Schooled by courtly manners, they don masks of impassivity because they have forever to play out their games.

As we study each other through the rapidly growing tornados, I remember V’lane telling me that they destroyed their own world by fighting. It cracked from end to end. Was this why? Will the weather disturbance that’s being generated by the clash of these two mighty Courts continue to grow if they fight, and tear this world apart, too? Not that I’d particularly mind since I intend to re-create it with the Book, but I need the Book before this world is destroyed.

Which means this stormy posturing really needs to stop.

“Enough with the melodrama, V’lane,” I say coolly.

His eyes are those of a stranger. He regards me with the same expression he turns on the monsters at my back. I’m a little irritated to realize he doesn’t look at Darroc. His gaze slides over him as if he’s not even there. He’s the fallen-Fae, traitor to their race, the one responsible for tearing the walls down. I’m just a sidhe-seer trying to survive.

The gold-dusted Greek god standing on V’lane’s right sneers, “That…thing…is the human you said we need to protect? She consorts with abominations!”

The gilt-skinned goddess to his left hisses, “Destroy her now!”

Hundreds of Seelie, walking, dancing and flying, begin to clamor for my death.

Without taking my eyes off them, I snap at Darroc, “I could really use my spear right now.” I assume he still has it, that V’lane hasn’t somehow plucked it from him the same way he takes it from me.

As the tiny, dainty Fae begin proposing methods for my execution, each one slower and more painful than the last, the god and goddess bracketing V’lane hammer him.

“She is human and has chosen the dark ones! Look at her! She wears their colors!”

“You said she worshipped us!”

“And she would obey us in all things!”

“They have touched her! I smell it on her skin!” The god looks revolted….and aroused. Iridescent eyes glitter with gold sparks.

“They have used her!” the goddess snarls. “She is soiled. I will not suffer her at court!”

“Silence!” V’lane thunders. “I lead the True Race for our Queen. I speak for Aoibheal!”

“This is unacceptable!”

“Outrageous!”

“Beyond bearing, V’lane!”

“You will do as I say, Dree’lia! I decide her fate. And only I will carry it out.”

I hiss at Darroc, “You need to make a decision and fast.”

“They always over-react,” Darroc murmurs. “It is one of the many things I despised at court. A session in High Council could go on like this for several human years. Give them time. V’lane will bring them to heel.”

One of the tiny, winged Seelie breaks formation and darts straight for my head. I duck, but it whizzes around me.

I’m startled to hear myself burst out laughing.

Two more of them break rank and begin to zip tight circles around my head.

As they buzz past me, my laughter takes on a hysterical edge. There’s nothing funny about what’s happening—still I hoot and snort. I can’t help it. I’ve never been so amused in my entire life. I hold my sides and double over, chortling, guffawing, choking on sobs of forced gaiety, as they weave closer and closer around me. I’m appalled by the sounds coming out of my mouth. I’m horrified at the uncontrollable nature of it. I hate the Fae and their way of stripping away my will.

“Stop laughing,” Darroc growls.

Hilarity has me on the edge of hysterics and it hurts. I manage to raise my head from my knees just enough to shoot him a dirty look. I’d love to stop laughing. But I can’t.

I want to tell him to make the damned things go away except I can’t breathe, I can’t even close my lips long enough to grit consonants. Whatever these lovely little Seelie-monsters are, their specialty is death-by-laughter. What a hellish way to go. After only a few minutes, my sides ache from heaving, my gut burns, and I’m so breathless I’m light-headed. I wonder how long it takes to die of forced mirth. Hours? Days?

A fourth tiny Fae takes up the game, and I brace myself to dive inward, to find a weapon in my dark, lake-filled cave when suddenly a long tongue, dripping venom, whizzes past my ear and plucks the dainty Seelie straight from the air.

I hear crunching noises behind me.

I snicker helplessly.

“V’lane!” The golden goddess shrieks, “That thing, that awful thing, it ate M’ree!”

I hear another snap, followed by more crunching noises and a second one is gone. I cackle madly.

The remaining two retreat, shaking tiny fists and screaming in a language I don’t understand. Even angry, the sound they make is more beautiful than an aria.

My laughter loses its forced edge.

After a long moment, I’m able to relax, and I stop making crazed sounds of amusement. Peals fade to moans to silence. I release my sides and gulp cool, soothing air.

I stand, suddenly furious, and this emotion is all mine. I’m sick of being vulnerable. If I’d had my spear, those nasty little death-by-laughter fairies would never have dared approach me. I’d have skewered them mid-air and made Fae-ka-bobs out of them.

“Friends,” I hiss at Darroc, “trust each other.”

But he doesn’t. I see it in his face.

“You said you would give it to me so I could defend us.”

He smiles faintly and I know he’s remembering how Mallucé died; slowly, gruesomely, rotting from the inside out. The spear kills all things Fae and because Darroc has been eating so much Unseelie, he’s laced with veins of Fae. One tiny little prick of the tip of my spear would be a death sentence. “As yet, we are not under attack.”

“Who are you talking to, human?” the goddess demands.

I look at Darroc who shrugs. “I told you the first Seelie that saw me would try to kill me. Hence they do not see me. My princes keep me concealed from their vision.”


Now I understand why V’lane’s gaze slid over him like he wasn’t there. He’s not. “So it looks like I’m the only one standing here? They think I’m running your army!”

“Never fear, sidhe-seer,” V’lane says coldly, “I smell the foulness of what was once Fae and now cannibalizes our race. I know who leads this army. As for his being your friend, the one you so unwisely walk with has no friends. He has always served only his own purposes.”

I tilt my head. “Are you my friend, V’lane?”

“I would be. I have offered you my protection repeatedly.”


The goddess gasps. “You offered our protection and she refused? She chose those… things… over us?”


“Silence, Dree’lia!”

“The Tuatha de Danaan do not offer twice!” she fumes.

“I said ‘silence!’” V’lane snaps.

“Clearly you do not under—”

I gape. Dree’lia has no mouth. There is only smooth skin where her lips used to be. Delicate nostrils flare beneath ancient, hate-filled eyes.

The golden god moves to embrace her. She rests her head in the hollow of his neck and clutches him. “That was unnecessary,” he tells V’lane stiffly.


I’m struck by the absurdity of the moment. Here I stand, between opposing halves of the most powerful race imaginable. They are at war with one another. They despise each other and are vying for the same prize.


And the Seelie—who have enjoyed absolute freedom and power their entire existences—are squabbling among themselves over trivialities, while, the Unseelie—who’ve been imprisoned, starved and tortured for hundreds of thousands of years—patiently hold formation and wait for Darroc’s orders.


And I can’t help but see myself in them. The Seelie are who I was before my sister died. Pink, pretty, frivolous Mac. The Unseelie are who I’ve become, carved by loss and despair. Black, grungy, driven Mac.


The Unseelie are stronger, less breakable. I’m glad I’m like them.

Something to make you happy...

The august teaser is just great.......

“I heard Cruce hated the king, wanted his concubine, and cursed the Silvers to keep the king away from her, that he planned to take the king’s woman, and all the worlds inside the Silvers for himself,” I said.


V’lane shook his head, golden hair shimmering in the sun. “It was not so simple. Things rarely are. To use a human word, Cruce loved the king, first and above all. The creator of the Unseelie is a being of unbearable perfection. If he is indeed Fae, he is from the most ancient, most pure line that ever existed. Some say he is The Father of All. Some say he had outlived hundreds of queens before the time of the queen he slew. Many of the forms he can take are beyond even Fae ability to absorb. He has been described as having enormous black wings that can enfold the entire Unseelie Court.”

I shivered. I’d seen the hint of those wings in the White Mansion. I’d felt the concubine’s awareness of them, had empathically shared her fascination with their feathery touch on her naked skin. “I thought the queen was the most powerful of your race.”

“The queen is heir to the magic of our people. It is a different thing. That magic has never accepted a male of The True Race, although…”

“Although what?”

He gave me a sideways look from beneath his lids. “I tell you too many things.” He sighed. “And enjoy it too much. It has been a long time since I knew another worthy of confidences. There is an ancient myth that should all the contenders for the matriarchal throne be no more, the magic would likely gravitate toward the most dominant male of our race. Some say our rulers are your Janus head, your yin and yang: the king is the strength of our people, the queen is wisdom. Strength draws from brute force, wisdom draws from true power. In harmony, the king and queen lead a united court. Opposed, we war. We have been opposed since the day the king killed the queen.”

“But other queens came along. Couldn’t the king make peace?”

“He did not try. Again, he abandoned his children. Upon finding his concubine dead,
through his act of atonement, he did what he had sworn never to do. By pouring all his dark knowledge into the pages of an ensorcelled tome, he inadvertently created his most powerful “child” yet. Then he vanished. It is rumored among Seelie and Unseelie alike that he has been trying to—as you humans would say about a lame horse—put it down ever since. The Hunter you saw the other night was allegedly the kings’ own for hundreds of thousands of years. It carried him from world to world, hunting his nemesis. The king, like any Fae, loves nothing so much as his own existence. As long as the Book is free, he knows no peace. I suspect if his Hunter is here in your city, the king is, too.”

I gasped. “In Dublin?”

V’lane nodded.

“In human form?”

“Who could say? There is no predicting one such as he.”

and another teaser...

...that just makes me crazy. Enjoy!

“You killed my sister!” The dark lake in my head begins to boil. I hear rustles behind me, leathery wet sounds and I whirl. The freaks that killed my sister are taking advantage of the distraction and trying to leave.


Not a chance in hell. This is what I’ve been living for. This moment. My revenge. First the ones that killed her. Then the one who delivered her to them.

I lunge for them, screaming my sister’s name.

I slice and rip and tear.

I begin with my spear and end with my bare hands.

I fall on them like the beast-form of Barrons. My sister died in an alley with these monsters working on her and now I know it wasn’t fast. I can see her, white-lipped with pain, knowing she’s going to die, scratching a clue into the pavement. Hoping I’ll come, afraid I’ll come. Believing I could succeed where she failed. God, I miss her! Hatred consumes me. I devolve into vengeance, I embrace it, I become it.


When I finish there are no pieces larger than my fist.


I’m shaking, gasping, covered with bits of flesh and gray matter from smashing their skulls.


I double over and hit the pavement, puking. I puke until I dry-heave then I dry-heave until my ears ring and my eyes are stinging.


I don’t have to look behind me to know the street is empty. My sister’s murderer is gone.


I finally got what I came to Dublin for.


I know who killed my sister.

I curl in a tight ball on the cold pavement and cry.

A big questionmark??????

I  am one big questionmark after having read the latest teaser! I just hate these teasers! I really do! And couldn't survive till january without them! :0)

Read for yourself:

My ghosts whisper to each other across me but I can’t hear them. There’s only one way I’ll ever be able to hear them again.


I turn my head for Darroc’s kiss.

As his lips close over mine, the duality inside me threatens to tear me in half, and if it succeeds, I will lose my best chance at accomplishing my mission.


I hurt.


I need punishment for my sins.

I bury my hands in his hair, and channel all those feelings into passion, pour it into my touch, kiss him hard, violently. I turn us both around and slam him up against the wall, kissing him like he’s all that ever existed, kissing him with a full measure of humanity. It’s a thing a Fae can never feel, no matter the form they wear—humanity. It’s why they crave us in bed.


He staggers for a moment, pulls back and stares down at me.


My eyes are wild. I feel something inside me that terrifies me, and I just hope I can hang on to the edge of this cliff I’m on. I make a sound of impatience, wet my lips and shove at him.


“More,” I demand.


When he kisses me again, the last part of me that could stand myself dies.

Shadowfever...third teaser!

Wow, this one really got me thinking!!!!! Especially why everything turns to ice when V'lane is displeased about something????? And that Jasmine and Sandalwood scent thing. Has this scent been mentioned in combination with Barrons? I seem to remember, yes, but am not sure. If this scent is a definite attribute to a Seelie, then, Barrons must be a least part Seelie. But has this scent really been mentioned together with Barrons? I have to check this - or does anybody know it?

"
Flanking V’lane’s caste—which I assume is the highest ranking by how the other castes seem to protect it—are the stuff of fairytales. There are rainbow-colored, delicate Fae that dart like hummingbirds on gossamer wings; silvery nymphs that dance on dainty feet; and others that I can’t even see, except for blinding trailers of light they leave behind as they move. They’re so brilliant and fiery, they could only be earthbound stars.


I scoff at the delicacy of his army. They’re ethereal, born to wisp about, seduce, and be served.


Mine is earthy, solid. Born to gorge, kill, and rule.


We stalk toward each other, down a snow-filled street.


Where Seelie feet touch the earth, the snow melts with a hiss. Steam rises and flowers push up through cracks, blooming brilliantly, anointing the air with the scents of jasmine and sandalwood. The Seelie end of the street is bathed in golden light.


Where my army’s hooves and scaled bellies pass over the stones—a crust of black ice forms. The night embraces us; stealthy shadows, we ooze forward from the blackness.
"

Shadowfever: second teaser...

Am so busy with other projects and still, Barrons and the others are all the time very present! Especially when I get some sneak preview into the new book!! I hate to wait for december, I really do!

See for yourself...

"
Her pace quickens and she races down the corridor, passing soundlessly over obsidian floors, laughing with joy.


I know that sound. I love that sound. It means her lover is near.
He is coming. She feels his approach.
He is so powerful! It's what first drew her to him. She’d never encountered anyone like him.
She was awed that he chose her.
She is awed every day that he continues choosing her.
The stuff of him explodes through from his side in the Court of Shadows, telling her he comes, filling her home (prison) where she lives a fabulous life (a sentence not of her choosing) surrounded by everything she wants (illusions, she misses her world, so far away and all of them long dead) and waits for him with hope (ever growing despair.)


He will carry her to his big, dark bed and do things to her until his black wings open wide, so wide, eclipsing the world, and when he is inside her nothing else will matter but the moment, their dark, intense lust, the endless passion they share.


No matter what else he is—he is hers.


What is between them is without blame.


Love knows no right or wrong.
Love is. Only is.

"

Shadowfever: first teaser...

Here is the first teaser that Karen M. Moning released for Shadowfever! Enjoy it!

"It's funny the things people say when someone dies.


He/she is in a better place.

How the f#ck do you know that?

Life goes on.

That's supposed to comfort me? I'm excrutiatingly aware that life goes on. It hurts every damned second. How lovely to know it's going to continue like this. Thank you for reminding me.

Time heals.

No, it doesn't. At best, time is the great leveler, sweeping us all into coffins. We find ways to distract ourselves from the pain. Time is neither scalpel nor bandage. It is indifferent. Scar tissue is not a good thing. It is merely the wound's other face.


I live with the specter of Alina every day. Now I will live with this ghost, too. Walk between them, one on my right, one on my left. They will talk to me incessantly. I'll never escape, bridged between my greatest failures."

I want more....now....!