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    The Angel of Torin Woods: Betwixt the Sea and Shore, #0
    The Angel of Torin Woods: Betwixt the Sea and Shore, #0
    The Angel of Torin Woods: Betwixt the Sea and Shore, #0
    Ebook109 pages1 hour

    The Angel of Torin Woods: Betwixt the Sea and Shore, #0

    By Claire Kohler

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    Scotland, 1731.

    A boy trying to reconcile with his brother. His mysterious neighbor who can't let anyone close. Could a trip to the Fairy Realm solve their problems?

     

    The day Vincent McLaren glimpsed an extraordinary creature in Torin Woods was the day his brother lost all faith in him. Since then, he's tried to convince Tam of the truth countless times and done everything he could to make amends. Everything, except the one thing he's terrified of: returning to the forest to find proof.

    But when his father forces him to go collect firewood, a chance encounter with an enchanting singer makes him more certain than ever of the forest's magic. His brother doesn't believe him, but he says he'll give Vincent a chance to earn his trust again—if he captures the singer, so Tam can see it for himself.

     

    Bethany Fairborn knows better than to trust the humans in her village. Her bitter mother made sure she learned that at an early age. Her days are focused on following in her family's footsteps to become Everton's next midwife, and she only uses her magic when she's alone—until the annoying fisherman's son invades her refuge.

     

    When Vincent takes Tam up on his offer, Bethany makes the impulsive decision to join him on the hunt, figuring he'll give up after a few hours. She didn't expect they'd wind up trapped in the Fairy Realm—or that she'd start wishing Vincent could become more than a friend.

     

    To get home, they'll have to trust each other, but if Bethany reveals her secret, Vincent may become a bigger threat than anything they'll find in the Fairy Realm.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherClaire Kohler
    Release dateSep 19, 2024
    ISBN9798227646101
    The Angel of Torin Woods: Betwixt the Sea and Shore, #0
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      Book preview

      The Angel of Torin Woods - Claire Kohler

      Claire Kohler

      The Angel of Torin Woods

      Copyright © 2024 by Claire Kohler

      All rights reserved.

      No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior written permission of the author. NO AI TRAINING: Without in any way limiting the author’s exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to train generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.

      This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

      First edition

      Editing by Sarah Everest

      Cover art by MoorBooks Design

      This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy

      Find out more at reedsy.com

      Contents

      Dedication

      Acknowledgments

      Prologue

      Mistakes

      An Enchanting Encounter

      An Unlikely Companion

      Silence Most Unbearable

      A Trick of the Light

      Trailing Danger

      Caught

      A Touch of Magic

      A Disguise Most Beautiful

      A Promise to Keep

      Conflicted

      Burning

      Cornered

      Exposed

      Shattered

      A Hidden Key

      Forever Changed

      The Power of Uncertainty

      Fury

      Smothered

      Light in the Darkness

      Settling Dust

      Holding on Tightly

      Epilogue

      About The Secret of Drulea Cottage

      Author’s Note

      To the Christian Mommy Writers group:

      Thank you for your generosity, kindness, and love. You’re the kind of community every writer should have.

      Acknowledgments

      Thank you to Jesus for giving me the energy, motivation, creativity, and endurance to put this story together. May it help those who need it.

      Thank you to my family for their patience and support as I worked to make this story a reality.

      Thank you to my beta readers, Dani and Amber. You really helped tighten up this story to make it even better!

      I also want to give a special thank you to my ARC team. I am so grateful all their excitement and efforts to share this story. Megan Barnes, Kailey Bechtel, Anneka Bell, Carrie Bleak, Becky Briggs, Cailyn Brooks, Stephanie Cotta, Aubrey DeBaar, Hunter Duran, Erin Dydek, Natalie Ehinger, Kiana Gerhart, Susan Gist, Carla Harding, Annalise Healey, Karla Holdier, Angela R. Hughes, Ami Jacobs, Amanda Keller, Sarah Kretzer, Abigail Langton, Jennifer Macaulay, Sherry Marlowe, Iris Maya, Megan McLellan, Sara Noelle, Aaron Polish, Alexis Rippy, Sara Rosevear, Connie Schreiner, Emma Seay, Mel Seeley, Sarah Stasik, Stephanie, Erika Stohlberg, Ridaa Sultan, Summer, Tami Willard, and Sydney Winward, you are all so appreciated!

      Prologue

      The mad fisherman took another bite of apple pie, savoring its sweet, crunchy goodness before sipping his freshly brewed tea. The innkeeper’s daughter had made it special for him since he liked to come by on Wednesdays, but Vincent knew everyone else in Everton loved her baking just as much as he did. If he hadn’t come by early, it would have been gone by the time he’d arrived.

      He sighed, letting his eyelids close. It may still be early for most of the village, but it was fishing season, so Vincent had been up since before daybreak. The innkeeper’s daughter must have noticed his drowsiness, for she and her friend Briony Fairborn were chatting in the kitchen instead of the dining room where he now sat, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

      Vincent still had a few places to go today, but no one was expecting him for a little while. Perhaps I’ll go take a nap before heading up to Torin Woods. . . .

      The door creaked as it opened, interrupting his solace. A young woman wandered inside, her expression guarded. She scanned the room as though searching for the quickest exit, then took a seat in the chair farthest from him. Long blonde hair draped over her petite frame like a cloak in which she could hide from the world, but her furtive manner put Vincent on edge. Though she looked as harmless as a dove, he got the distinct impression that it was only a front.

      I better make sure she’s no threat.

      Greetings, my friend. His voice was raspy, but he hoped the stranger wouldn’t be put off. He flashed a warm smile, but she winced before giving him a slight nod.

      Hmm. Is she just na friendly, or is she hiding something?

      Vincent wasn’t the most handsome fellow, what with his untamed blond curls and yellow teeth, so perhaps she simply didn’t like what she saw. That, or she didn’t care for the fishy odor that clung to him like a second coat.

      He tried again. Welcome to Everton Inn. You look like you could use a hot drink and a generous slice o’ apple pie. Would you like me to ask Adaira to get you some?

      The woman shook her head. Nay . . . I’d just like to sit. She spoke softly, with a strange accent unlike anything he’d ever heard before.

      Well, in that case, let me tell you a story to take yer mind off yer troubles.

      Vincent was the greatest storyteller in Everton, sharing magical tales so effortlessly one might almost think he’d lived them himself. The children loved listening to them, and anytime he met a visitor, he always made a point to weave one into the conversation.

      One could learn a lot about how someone listened to a story, if you only knew what to watch for.

      The woman frowned, then smoothed out her lips. If you’d like.

      Vincent leaned forward. Stories are a powerful thing. Used wisely, they can inspire someone to great and noble deeds. Used poorly, they can make us see enemies where there are none. He lifted his eyebrows. And those are the deadliest o’ all. Believe me, I know.

      Her jaw tightened, almost as if she were thinking of some sad stories of her own, but then she said, What is your name?

      I didn’ introduce myself? Vincent rubbed the back of his neck as though embarrassed, but internally, he noted how she’d changed the subject. My apologies. I’m Vincent McLaren, better known around these parts as ‘the mad fisherman.’

      When curiosity flickered in her eyes, he knew just what story to tell her.

      There’s an interesting story behind that nickname, if you’d like to hear it. He raised his eyebrows in challenge.

      Please share, the woman replied.

      Vincent clapped his hands together, making his companion jump. Excellent. In that case, make yerself comfortable. I became known as ‘the mad fisherman’ many years ago, back when I was just a lad o’ fifteen. . . .

      Mistakes

      Orkney Islands¹, 1731

      Vincent’s heart was in his throat as he opened the door and tiptoed inside. It was still early; everyone should be asleep. If he was very careful, he could get back to bed without anyone discovering he’d been gone.

      CREAK.

      He grimaced, hand clenched against the traitorous wooden door. He waited a few seconds, but when he didn’t hear movement, he let out a breath and eased the door closed.

      His feet padded silently over the cold stone floor, his heart racing in his chest. All he had to do was get through the main area, then he’d be at his bedroom. Ten more steps, he told himself. He’d perfected the art of getting in and out unnoticed over the years. He hadn’t been caught in a very long time.

      Father and Mother had been sleeping soundly when he’d left—he’d checked just to be sure. He hadn’t needed to check on his older brother. The snores

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