Fiona McIntosh - Scrivener’s Tale

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An action-packed standalone adventure moving from present-day Paris to medieval Morgravia, the world of Fiona McIntosh's bestselling QUICKENING series.
In the bookshops and cafes of present-day Paris, ex-psychologist Gabe Figaret is trying to put his shattered life back together. When another doctor, Reynard, asks him to help with a delusional female patient, Gabe is reluctant until he meets her. At first Gabe thinks the woman, Angelina, is merely terrified of Reynard, but he quickly discovers she is not quite what she seems.
As his relationship with Angelina deepens, Gabe’s life in Paris becomes increasingly unstable. He senses a presence watching and following every move he makes, and yet he finds Angelina increasingly irresistible.
When Angelina tells Gabe he must kill her and flee to a place she calls Morgravia, he is horrified. But then Angelina shows him that the cathedral he has dreamt about since childhood is real and exists in Morgravia.
Soon, Gabe’s world will be turned upside down, and he will learn shocking truths about who he is… and who he can or cannot trust.
A fantastic, action-packed adventure starting in Paris and returning to Morgravia this is a page turning, epic adventure.

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‘I can’t.’ Angelina shrugged, wrapping her arms around her knees, looking like a child again, and uncaring of her nakedness. ‘But it’s a reason why Reynard keeps me under such close guard.’

Gabe picked up the quill at the mention of Reynard. He stroked the soft swan feather and once again wondered at its significance. ‘I don’t understand,’ he said to her but also to himself about the strange gift.

‘No,’ she said in a slightly bored, dismissive tone, ‘but that’s because you’re not really listening to me.’ Her expression flared into something simmeringly close to anger, and she got up to pace near him. ‘I am not of this world, Gabe. You should trust that now. How else can I take you into your world of dreams and nightmares? I can take you to the cathedral in your mind palace. But you need to believe me when I tell you that it’s not just a dream or a fiction. It is not of your own mind. It is real. And it’s calling to you.’

‘And all I have to do is kill you,’ he said, flatly, his tone now dripping with disdain. ‘Are you aware how your request sounds to any sane person?’

‘You see? You don’t respect anything I say.’

‘Angelina —’

‘Well, Reynard can have me then. That’s his plan. He will kill me and he will travel to Pearlis.’

‘Then why did he involve me?’

‘He needed your skills to unlock what he believes is my mute mind and make it possible. He’s a fool if he thinks he can outwit me. He’s using you, Gabe, not just to provide “access” to me but making sure he can trust my magic. If you now tell him what you’ve seen, he’ll know it’s Pearlis. But he doesn’t want you to be the one to travel. He wants to go. He will be the one who has your cathedral. And the raven spy will have you!’ she snapped viciously, as she turned away from him.

It was too convoluted and so little was making sense. He grabbed her, the quill still in his hand. He didn’t want to lose her even though all of this was wrong; everything about Angelina and his relationship with her was wrong and yet he didn’t want it to end — not like this.

‘Wait! I need to understand, to know about you.’

Before he could say another word, she was holding him again, kissing him again; hard this time and angrily. But the sensation of his lips being bitten and bruised disappeared as he was thrust into the frantically busy market square surrounding … no, it was impossible. Impossible! Yet Gabe stared in hungry wonder at the huge doors and the façade of the cathedral he knew so well.

He felt the instant calm of close proximity to it. It was real. He realised he was walking up to it, desperate to lay his fingers on the stonework but his hand passed through its soft grey shimmering walls. Drifting through the open doors, he found his familiar place. The safe place . He had sat in here so many times in his mind. But it had never been real. Now he could actually feel the worn timber of the pew he sat on, hear the click of the flagstones beneath him, feel the cool of the grey stone around him. It wasn’t imagined. He was actually here! Gabe looked around in awe, but just as his thoughts turned to the famed mythical creatures, he was yanked rudely back to his apartment as Angelina’s lips withdrew from his.

‘Do you believe me now?’

In spite of himself, he nodded, lost for words, staring at her as though she were an alien.

‘I can take you there. I can put you physically into the cathedral you yearn for.’

He shook his head like a child trying to blot out a nagging parent. ‘I built that place. Its architecture is mine! My specifications … simply to please me.’

‘No, Gabe! If it was just a product of your imagination, how can I know it so intimately? You have never discussed it with anyone, have you … least of all me?’

‘It is private,’ he murmured.

‘Exactly!’

‘I don’t know,’ he bleated, confused, frustrated.

‘How can I know exactly the scene of your car pile-up if I was not able to tap into your mind?’

He shook his head. He could feel a migraine coming on and dropped the swan quill onto the bed. He rubbed at his temples.

‘Touch me,’ she demanded, pulling one of his hands to her and placing it on her chest. He could feel her breastbone and her heart thumping. ‘Do I feel real?’

‘You are real,’ he answered.

‘You’re a sane, smart man, Gabe. You know I’m real so I can’t be in your imagination. Even if you think I’m delusional, you know you’re not. How can I show you what I just have and not be telling you the truth? I have no reason to lie to you.’

‘Let me be clear about this … I will not be killing anyone or anything, Angelina,’ he said, flicking her hands away.

‘It’s ridiculous!’ he snapped, coming back to himself, regaining his equilibrium. This wasn’t the way to speak to a patient, but then neither was being naked alongside her. He’d broken every sacred rule of being a clinical psychologist.

Gabe hadn’t realised he’d aired this thought aloud.

‘Gabe, I seduced you. You didn’t ask me to do anything that I wasn’t already planning to do with you,’ she said in a soft tone, snuggling close. Angelina had a knack for wrapping herself around him in such a way that he felt owned by her.

It may have been a hollow reassurance but he was grateful to hear it all the same. Its effect was momentary, though, for he could feel a sinister and familiar sense returning, bringing with it all those old feelings of despair that he’d kept at bay for so long.

‘What’s wrong?’ she shook him.

‘It’s happening again. I’d escaped the accident, rebuilt my life, walked away from it all,’ he said, drawing back from her. He ran a hand through his hair again and stood in his apartment, naked and trembling — but not from the cold.

‘Gabe, I can make it all go away.’

He flicked his gaze to her, filled with mistrust and a new sense of loathing as she offered herself to him. He wished Angelina had never come into his life, but even now, he felt desire stirring. She was impossible to resist … for him, anyway. ‘All I have to do is kill you, right?’ he said scathingly.

‘It is my way back.’

‘Your way out, more like,’ he sneered.

‘Your raven has returned,’ she taunted him, pointing out the window.

True enough, the bird was there, black as night, staring at him as it perched on his tiny balcony’s railing. It fleetingly occurred to him to wonder precisely how she knew the family of Corvidae. Most people would have called it a crow.

‘What does it want ?’

‘He’s your enemy. He’s keeping you under observation.’

‘My enemy,’ he said, with a cold smirk. ‘Now I must fear even the birds. Why is he my enemy, Angelina?’

‘He’s following you. It’s his role. He is the observer … the messenger.’

‘You’re amazing. Do you just make things up as you go along?’

‘You don’t believe me,’ she said, disappointed.

‘I know you believe it, and I know how powerful that can be. I’m sorry that I can’t see what you do. I live in Paris, you live in a world of your own making.’

‘Is that so?’

He shrugged. ‘We should never have had sex. It’s my fault —’

It was Angelina’s turn to laugh and it sounded bitter. ‘I’m not talking about sex, you fool.’ She crawled forward on the bed. ‘I’m talking about knowledge. Things that can’t be explained, like showing you your own dreams.’ Gabe began to shake his head and he could see it infuriated her. ‘All right, what if I told you that in three seconds the phone will start to ring, there will be a banging on the door and you’d —’

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