THE END
If you enjoyed Thunder Moon, I would be honored if you would tell others by writing a review on the retailer’s website where you purchased this title.
Thank you!
Lori Handeland
Read on for an excerpt of
IN THE AIR TONIGHT,
the first novel in Lori’s Sisters of the Craft witches trilogy
IN THE AIR TONIGHT
Lori Handeland
Prologue
Scotland, four hundred years ago
Three men with large, hard, dirty hands lifted three infant girls from their cradles.
“No!” Prudence Taggart cried, and a crockery bowl fell off the table, shattering against the floor.
Roland McHugh, the king’s chief witch hunter, flicked a finger in her direction, and two other dark clad men dragged her out the door of the cottage. Several more yanked her husband, Henry, along behind. Those not occupied hauling the five Taggarts from their home built a pyre. From the speed at which they completed their task, they’d done so before.
“More than one soul in a womb is Satan’s work.” McHugh’s lip curled as he contemplated the sleeping children. “How many lives did you sacrifice so your Devil’s spawn might be born?”
Both Henry and Prudence remained silent. There was nothing they could say that would save them, and they knew it.
Since King James had nearly been killed, along with his Danish queen, in a great storm he believed had been brought about by witchcraft, his majesty had become slightly obsessed on the subject of witches.
However, as he didn’t want to seem backward and superstitious to his English subjects, who had very little regard for the Scots in the first place, he had been forced to commission a secret society, the Venatores Mali, or Hunters of Evil, to do his bidding. In McHugh the King had found a leader who hated witches as much as he did.
Their captors lashed Henry and Prudence back-to-back against the stake then formed a circle around them. McHugh snapped his fingers, and two lackeys appeared with torches.
The witch hunter removed a ring from his finger and a pincher from his wool doublet then held the circlet within the flame until it glowed. He pressed the red hot metal to Henry’s neck. The scent of burning flesh rose, along with a nasty hiss, and the livid image of a snarling wolf emerged from Henry’s flesh.
“Are you mad?” Henry managed.
“Sometimes the brand brings forth a confession.”
“Shocking how pain and torture makes people say anything.”
“It did not make you.” McHugh shoved his ring back into the flames, and his gaze slid to Prudence.
“I did it,” Henry blurted. “I sold to Satan the lives of your wife and child to bring forth our own.”
“Of course you did,” McHugh agreed.
He was convinced magic, sorcery, witchcraft had been involved in the deaths of his loved ones. Nothing would change his mind. Not even the truth.
Some things could not be healed. McHugh’s wife had been one of them. By the time he had fetched Prudence, the woman had lost far too much blood, and the child was already dead.
McHugh pressed his ring to Pru’s neck. She stiffened until the stake creaked. Lightning flashed, and somewhere deep in the woods a tree toppled over. Wolves began to howl in the distance—a lot of them—and the circle of hunters shifted uneasily.
“I confessed, you swine.”