Annja thought she was the only one. That her sword was unique, one-of-a-kind. But Annja’s about to come face to face with the fact that for everything light, there is something dark.
Annja’s about to meet the Dragon and in doing so will discover that she isn’t the only one who carries a sword…
The Dragon's Mark
THE DRAGON’S MARK release date is only about two weeks away, so I thought it was time to give you a little taste of what’s to come. Here’s an exclusive excerpt from the first chapter…
CHAPTER ONE
Paris, France -Present Day
Annja took the steps two at a time, calling her sword to her hand as she went. The weapon responded, emerging from the otherwhere fully formed and fitting neatly into her grasp as if it had been fashioned for her alone. She remembered the first time she’d seen the sword. It had been in this very house, lying in pieces in the case Roux had fashioned for it. She remembered the heat coming off the pieces of the broken blade and the rainbow-colored light that had exploded off of it when she had grasped the hilt and lifted it free of its case, reformed anew. Then, as now, she knew the sword was hers; knew it down to the core of her very soul. Just having it with her made her feel more confident about the confrontation that lay ahead.
She kept her eyes on the landing above, not wanting to be surprised by the sudden appearance of an intruder, and thankfully she made it to the top without incident. She found herself faced with a long corridor that ran off in opposite directions. She knew the right held a series of guest bedrooms, for she had stayed there in the past and was even using one of them now. The left side of the hallway held a bathroom, an office, and a display room for some of Roux’s art. She ignored all of them; the crash had come from the room at the far end of the hall, the one now facing her, and as she moved toward it, she tried to remember just what was used for.
A spare bedroom?
Another office? Maybe a study?
Then it came to her.
A display room.
The room held a portion of the weapons collection that Roux had accumulated over the course of his extended lifetime; there were more rooms just like it scattered throughout his home. But this room was special, Annja remembered now. She had even spent some time in it during a previous visit, for it contained a certain type of weapon that she had grown rather attached to lately.
Swords.
The collection contained both working blades and a few museum quality relics, but nothing that was overly valuable and certainly not much that could be moved easily on the open market. The thieves, if that was indeed what they were, were in for a rude surprise if they thought differently.
And they still had to contend with her.
She raced to the door and flattened herself against the wall beside it. She put her head against the wall, listening, but Roux’s mansion had been built in the days when they had used quality building materials rather than the cheap substitutes that had become so common today and she couldn’t hear anything but her own breathing.
She was going to have to do this the hard way.
Gripping her sword in one hand, Annja grabbed the doorknob with the other, took a deep breath, and then pulled it open, slipping inside with barely a sound.
She’d been right; it was the one of the display rooms. Swords lined the walls by the hundreds – long swords, short swords, broadswords, cutlasses, epee, scimitars – every make, model, and size it seemed. Their carefully polished blades shone in the spotlights that had been artfully arranged to draw attention to the weapons and here and there the wink of precious gems gleamed back at her from their scabbards or hilts.
But Annja barely noticed the swords on the walls, for her attention was captured by those held in the hands of the intruders facing her.
