Witch
of the Wild Beasts
By
Catherine Stine
When
Evalina is imprisoned for witchcraft, will her supernatural bond with animals
be her curse or salvation?
In
1854, Evalina Stowe witnesses the murder of her brother by Dr. Dowdrick, an
enraged client at the tailor’s where they work. Desperate to stop him, she
rouses a swarm of wasps that sting the doctor while she stabs him with
scissors, and then flees. At a subsequent job when birds race to her defense,
Evalina is declared a witch and sent to Philadelphia’s Eastern State
Penitentiary.
While
imprisoned, Evalina is horrified not only to learn that Dr. Dowdrick is still
alive, but he’s experimenting on inmates. Determined to get inside his Eclectic
Medical School, to expose his nefarious activities, she’s passionate about
protecting fellow prisoners, especially Lewin, a child thief who knew her
brother, and Birdy, a kind, resilient Welsh man serving time for a worker’s
death while blasting granite for the railroad.
Evalina,
her friends and her “wild beasts” work against time to unmask Dowdrick’s crimes
when she participates with him in a symposium, showcasing Philadelphia’s
premium doctors. If they fail, not only will the doctor’s evil deeds continue
unchecked but Evalina and her crew will surely be hung. Actual historical
figures such as Dr. Thomas Mutter and Charles Dickens spice up this thriller,
brimming with historical gems. This novel won a second place prize in RWA’s ‘19
Sheila Contest.
Excerpt
I was curled in
bed resting after a hard afternoon in the heat of the field when I heard a set
of unyielding boot-steps approach. Peeking out of my small window, I nearly
fainted from fright when I saw Mr. Gaul’s large figure silhouetted against the
gilded sunset.
He crooked his
beady-eyed noggin in my half-opened door and pushed his way in. “Evalina
Stowe!” he called.
I had no time to
hide my birds. They’d been contentedly perched in their twig houses, but at the
sound of his shrill voice they began hopping and madly tapping at the twigs
with their beaks. I had a surge of fury, and readied myself for battle.
All at once Mr.
Gaul was by the ledge, toppling my twig birdhouses and smashing my stores of
corn feed. “You loathsome thief! What the Sam Hill have you been doing in my
barn, bird girl? How dare you steal my corn and feed it to these lice-bitten
devils! You should’ve been scaring them out of my fields, not providing them
room and board. Are you mad?” I had leapt off my bed and was desperately trying
to salvage the twig houses, scooping them up in my arms. As fast as I did, Mr.
Gaul rapped them with his cane and they crashed back down to the floor. “You
dare defy me, scalawag!” he yelled, beating me anywhere he could find bare
skin. My birds began to circle him. I sensed their ire rise along with mine.
Moving in, they pecked his ears, his fleshy nose, and his brows, as they closed
in on his eyes.
“Off! Get your
familiars off, witch!” he screeched, and beat me more viciously. I would’ve
tried to run but he gripped me tightly by my arm. The racket was what brought
farmhands and fellow bird flushers running. All the while my birds circled Mr.
Gaul closer and closer until their sharp claws were embedded into his arms,
drawing blood. “Witch, get them off!” he shouted, and as a wave of red hot
anger flew from me, my best bird, Speckle, hovered right above Mr. Gaul,
staring him down like an uncanny human. Mr. Gaul pushed me away. He let fly a
string of horrid curses just as Speckle made a dive for his opened mouth and
hurled herself down Gaul’s throat. Gaul’s face reddened. He turned in frantic
circles and thrust his fingers down his throat as he tried in vain to pull
Speckle out by the tail.
I was in utter
shock, standing rock still with my hands over my mouth. The others too, were
frozen with stares of shocked fascination. During this, Mr. Gaul made ghastly
choking sounds. His face turned chalky, soon followed by a peevish shade of
gray.
Still no one was
helping. Least of all me. Among the farmhands and barn workers there was no
love lost for Mr. Gaul. He collapsed on the floor writhing, hands clamped around
his bulging neck.
Around my brave
Speckle, who had sacrificed her life for mine.
Gaul’s wild eyes
looked over accusingly. He wagged his finger at me. The German farmhand, as if
released from a spell of his own, took a few steps back and uttered, “Die hexe!
Magische
Kraft!”
After this, almost the entire
crowd rallied to the chant. My reputation as witch was set no matter how I saw
myself.
Pick
up your copy of
Witch
of the Wild Beasts
Catherine Stine
Catherine
Stine is a USA Today bestselling author of historical fantasy,
paranormal romance, sci-fi thrillers and YA fiction. She lives in Manhattan,
grew up in Philadelphia and is known to roam the Catskills. Before writing
novels, she was a painter and children’s fabric designer. She’s a visual author
when it comes to scenes, and she sees writing as painting with words. Witch of
the Wild Beasts won a second prize spot in the ‘19 RWA Sheila Contest. Other
novels have earned Indie Notable awards and New York Public Library Best Books
for Teens. She loves edgy thrills, perhaps because her dad read Edgar Allen Poe
tales to her as a child. Catherine loves spending time with her beagle Benny,
writing about supernatural creatures, gardening on her deck, traveling and
meeting readers at book events.
Connect
with Catherine: Website • Twitter • Facebook • Instagram • Pinterest • Bookbub • Amazon Author Page
• Goodreads.
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Thanks, Mary Anne.
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