Title: The Monster Within
Author: Marguerite Labbe
Publisher: NineStar Press
Release Date: 10/15/2024
Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex
Pairing: Male/Male
Length: 121200
Genre: Horror romane, 19th century, Paris, French countryside, chevalier, tinker, fey, magic, monsters, ancestral spirits, orphanage, horror, thriller
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Description
For centuries, the Chevaliers de Rouen pledged to fight the monsters that inhabit France until their last breath. In the mid 1800s, Michel-Leon Parisee is the last of his line. The whispering memories of the chevaliers who passed before him offer help but have also driven other chevaliers mad with their constant advice, so Michel-Leon is forced to maintain a careful balance. When an ancient hunger threatens Paris, Michel-Leon must gather every tool he has to fight a terrifying threat that has eluded destruction before.
Constantin Severin is fey kissed, a man who walks the line between the fantastical and the mundane. He is determined to kill the magicman, the monster who destroyed his childhood, and rescue its young victims. In doing so, Constantin is in danger of becoming what he hates most. He needs a chevalier, but Michel-Leon is consumed with his own battle. Constantin must set aside old suspicions and his wandering ways if he is going to bargain for the help he needs.
Together, they can find the strength they need to battle their respective demons. They can learn they don’t have to fight alone, but it will take trust. It will take letting down long erected barriers, and it will take love. If they fail, Paris will be destroyed by the creatures that threaten it when the swarm hatches and decimates the city.
The Monster Within
Marguerite Labbe © 2024
All Rights Reserved
Constantin returned to the workshop. It was unlikely he’d get any other information at this time. The chevalier appeared content to focus on his strange experiments instead of doing something active of actual worth. It was infuriating. Constantin wanted to shake the man out of his preoccupation and haul him off to help.
He studied the chevalier a moment longer, flexing his fingers. The thought had possibilities. Constantin may appear young and slim, but he was far stronger than he appeared. He had years of living on the streets behind him. There were no guards, only one old man, another who preferred the stables, and a few women here.
“Stop nattering at me!” the chevalier snarled, making Constantin start. He stared at the man with widened eyes and a pounding heart, sure he’d been caught. But the chevalier waved his hand in the air, while examining something through a microscope. “I can’t concentrate. All you do is natter.”
Mystified, Constantin glanced around the room to be sure no one else had slipped in, but the only occupants were the two of them. The chevalier was crazed. He definitely needed to find someone else to aid him. This one didn’t have a firm grasp on his sanity. Maybe he didn’t comprehend the evil of the magicman.
“What do you mean ‘the watcher is watching?’ What nonsense is that? It doesn’t mean anything. What else would a watcher do? Sweet Saint Jeanne!” the chevalier snapped, and then he straightened, his eyes narrowing as he examined the room. All traces of the preoccupied scholar were gone. His gaze had gone cold and hard as he reached for a cane with one hand and drew a sword from it before grabbing a pistol from a drawer with his other hand. “Who are you? Watcher, show yourself.”
Constantin froze. This was a man who would cut down any intruder before they had a chance to explain themselves. Maybe he wasn’t so much crazed. Something warned him that Constantin was here, and he’d better get out fast before they told the chevalier how to locate him.
He inched toward the open workshop door as the chevalier moved around the worktable, his eyes constantly searching the shadows. “Where are you? Bon sang, where is it? How do I make it visible? Is it a spirit?”
Constantin barely dared to breathe as he took another step backward, fumbling behind him for the opening. As the chevalier moved straight toward him, Constantin’s heart jumped. He’d never been seen before. Not by any mark. Not unless they’d run into him first. Then he realized that the man was trying to cut off his escape route.
“Where is it? What is it?” the chevalier demanded, still talking to himself, and Constantin skirted around him and made his way toward the door in the study on silent feet. There was another door there. One that presumably led to a hallway instead of the secret stairway. The chevalier would hear, no doubt, and give chase, but it may give him the lead he needed.
To his intense relief, the door in the study was unlocked. Constantin cracked it open, and the hallway was clear. He eased it open more, his heart pounding again when it squeaked. A crash and a cry came from the workshop. “Non, you fool. Don’t go there!”
Unnerved by the chevalier’s conversation with people that Constantin could neither see nor hear, he abandoned caution and plunged down the hallway draped with shadows as ominous as the château’s name.
“Wait!”
Constantin glanced over his shoulder at the outline of the chevalier in the doorway. He reached a stairwell and grabbed the oaken banister as he rounded onto the treads. The floor rumbled beneath him, and Constantin caught the balustrade as the stairs fell away. Catlike, he clambered up on the narrow rail banister. This was faster anyway. He slid down the slippery wood, racing so fast he barely heard the heavy crash behind him.
There was no way to stop at the bend and Constantin tumbled off, his body skidding along the landing and down the other flight. He felt bruised all over and his glamour fell away with the impact of his rough landing.
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Marguerite Labbe loves to spin tales that cross genre lines, where stubborn men build lifelong ties of loyalty, friendship, and family no matter the odds thrown against them, and where love is found in unexpected places.
When she’s not working hard on writing new stories, she spends her time reading novels of all genres, enjoying role-playing and tabletop games with her friends, and taking long walks with her dog.
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