Below is a preview of the romantic urban fantasy, Chaos and Harmony, the first book in The Witch's Descendant series that I'm pitching to agents and publishers right now.
Chapter One
Julian Foster, a witch of chaos, stood outside of the Fellowship Hall of a community church in the Appalachian Mountains of Kentucky. He had been summoned by the families in the area and was thankful they wanted to meet here and not inside the church, where he was sure he’d burst into flames upon entering. Voices from inside drifted outside. Julian couldn’t make out what they were saying, but he was sure if they wanted to talk with him, it couldn’t be good. He stepped through the door, only about fifteen minutes late.
The room became still when they saw him. Julian looked to his right and saw at least one friendly face. Rowan Murphy, healer witch, sat in the back row of chairs. Although maybe not as friendly as he hoped. As with most of the other witches in the coven, Rowan was not a fan of how he sometimes used his magic for the greater good, which for him was usually evil.
Pastor Michael Sayler, standing at the head of the room, welcomed Julian to the meeting. “Mr. Foster, please join me.”
Julian’s muscular frame stood straight and tall with skin that was tanned, almost a toffee color. He ran his hand down his long black hair and across his neatly trimmed beard, a gold signet ring was on one finger. He was dressed in a black shirt and black pants. “I think I’m fine where I am. Why was my presence requested tonight?”
The pastor seemed a little stunned. He swallowed and continued, “Very well. As you know, the area is suffering through a drought right now. The mountain people, the farmers, the families, all want to ask you to use your magic to bring rain to our area.”
Julian didn’t even have to think. “No.”
The crowd began mumbling. “What do you mean, no?” one gentleman stood up and asked.
“If Mother Earth challenges us with a drought, it’s not my place to interfere. Nature will balance out in the end,” Julian said.
“Our crops and animals will die. There ain’t enough water in the streams to keep ‘em alive,” another man said.
“Have you not prayed to your own God for rain? He has not answered how you hoped, has He?”
Julian turned to leave, but a woman holding an infant stood and pleaded. “What about us? What about our children? Our springs and wells are goin’ dry up. We need water to live.”
He turned around. “I’m sorry, but I cannot, will not, alter nature’s destiny.” He looked at Rowan still sitting. She was expressionless. He couldn’t tell if she agreed with him, or not.
Four men standing along the back row stepped in front of the door, blocking his exit. “We ain’t done with you yet,” one of them said angrily.
“Maybe not, but I’m done with you.” Julian raised his hand toward them, sending their bodies flying to the floor, allowing him to step past.
Gasps sounded inside the room. “Mr. Foster, please,” the pastor begged.
Julian, hearing the angry words coming from the Fellowship Hall, kept walking. Outside, his familiar, a large gray wolf, waited. He turned and followed Julian as they walked up the dirt road toward home. Lastly, Julian threw his arm upward sending a bolt of lightning down from the sky and striking the tree next to the Fellowship Hall. Startled screams erupted from inside.
