Woden Stories

Forgotten by her parents. Chosen by the gods. Loved by those who should not exist. Emryn Ava has found herself in a world she does not know. A world, so similar to the comfort from a few hours watching a screen, yet so much darker and real. Creatures with scales and wings, she knows, yet they aren't the same. Men and women she fell in love with, but they are different from what she remembers. The world she travels in is the same place she had grown up imagining, but this was written by a different author. Painted by a different artist. Made by a different hand. lt's new. Dangerous. Deadly, if she doesn't take careful steps.

TBC

The Journal of Conn O'Dowd - A companion diary for Angela McGurk's Bled Dry: Vampire Cohorts Book 5.

You said I'm playing a god's game, but you should be more concerned about playing a monster's. That's a game I'll win... I would go to Beorn to save Conn's cohort; a cohort I'd never asked to be part of. I hadn't asked for any of it. I'd wanted my husband, his child, to live and die a mortal life in a time which was almost beyond memory. I hadn't ever asked for this life. Why did everyone seem so able to forget that? They all wanted to be shocked, to gather around their Sire and shake their heads in disgust at the adulterer. What they didn't get, what none of them understood, was that it was going to hurt me far more than it was going to hurt him. For a millennium, my body was used as a weapon, as a potential way to hurt Leof, or a way to exert control over me, and over Ragnar's terrified recruits. Did they think this was what I wanted? Yet even I underestimated the damage Beorn could do, and my alarm increased when he whispered the very last thing I expected, "Oh no, you're much more than a vampire. That's what makes you so interesting. Do you remember being queen of Ésageard?" How could I predict that what I was mattered little compared to what Beorn was? I didn't realise, even as he insisted, "Fenn. For tonight, you will call me Fenn. I don't expect to tell you again. I want my name ingrained on your consciousness until the day you realise that I'm far stronger than your 'king of the gods' could ever be." VAMPIRE/PARANORMAL/URBAN FANTASY

Leof was gone. I wanted to scream again at the thought. My Leof was dead, laid out in the shrine where I'd left him just before dawn. It hadn't taken an army to kill him, all it had taken was one wolf, one man whom he'd shown mercy to. Fenrir had done his job just as predicted, and I'd lost the only thing that mattered to me, the only thing that had kept me sane after the truth of my past was revealed. Conn was my strength, my heart, the very best parts of me and I'd never see him again. Once his body was given to the sun and his echo vanished I'd never hear him say the three words that were my reason to exist. I love you. I love you. I love you... But I'm not ready to let be alone. I'm not ready for goodbye. Condemning my Leof to Valhalla is something I can't do, but what if there's no way to bring him back? Can I just fade away? Slip into the coma and forget everything? Would it be fair to when the cohort needs me to protect them from Osier, from the Bloodied Hand, and from our ever increasing number of enemies?

I'm a pagan with bipolar disorder who suffers aggravated depression during the winter. In addition to being your usual devotional (to my gods as well as the homeland of my forefathers), this is my response to the question, "How can a guy who hates winter so much worship Viking gods?" Blank verse, 24 lines.

There are many realms. There are many immortal creatures. Gods roam the Earth and sometimes the warriors of Tir Na Nog visit them, but what they bring with them could cause problems for mortals and immortals alike. Find out what happens when Ceana and Castiel from 'Way of the Woad' by @Scottish_Writer pay a visit to Newcastle-Upon-Tyne to meet Conn and Darcy from the 'Vampire Cohorts' series by @ALMcGurk.