Award-winning author, editor, and publisher Danielle Ackley-McPhail has worked both sides of the publishing industry for longer than she cares to admit. In 2014 she joined forces with Mike McPhail and Greg Schauer to form eSpec Books.
Her published works include eight novels, Yesterday's Dreams, Tomorrow's Memories, Today's Promise, The Halfling's Court, The Redcaps' Queen, Daire's Devils, The Play of Light, and Baba Ali and the Clockwork Djinn, written with Day Al-Mohamed. She is also the author of the solo collections Eternal Wanderings, A Legacy of Stars, Consigned to the Sea, Flash in the Can, Transcendence, The Kindly Ones, Dawns a New Day, The Fox's Fire, Between Darkness and Light, Echoes of the Divine, and the non-fiction writers' guides The Literary Handyman, More Tips from the Handyman, and LH: Build-A-Book Workshop. She is the senior editor of the Bad-Ass Faeries anthology series, No Longer Dreams, Heroes of the Realm, Clockwork Chaos, Gaslight & Grimm, Grimm Machinations, A Cast of Crows, A Cry of Hounds, Other Aether, The Chaos Clock, Grease Monkeys, Side of Good/Side of Evil, After Punk, and Footprints in the Stars. Her short stories are included in numerous other anthologies and collections. She is a full member of the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers Association.
In addition to her literary acclaim, she crafts and sells original costume horns under the moniker The Hornie Lady Custom Costume Horns, and homemade flavor-infused candied ginger under the brand of Ginger KICK! at literary conventions, on commission, and wholesale.
Danielle lives in New Jersey with husband and fellow writer, Mike McPhail and four extremely spoiled cats.
Mortal. Immortal. Musician. Mage.
On a journey from the boroughs of New York to the heart of Tir na n"g, from innocence to the deepest darkest crevices of her soul, Kara O'Keefe found power and strength in the discovery of self. But with that peace came a hard truth. As a bridge connecting many worlds, none of them held a place for her.
She must find her own way, forge her own path.
To honor a vow to Granddame Rose, a matriarch of the Kalderaš Clan, Kara joins the Romani caravan, only to find herself even more of an outsider than before. While she strives for acceptance, and to honor her vow, little does she know she has once more become a lure to an ancient and deadly enemy, drawing danger into the midst of her unsuspecting hosts.
Once savior of the world, Kara must now save herself and the innocents around her.
She has come into her legacy, but where will destiny take her?
By the time they set camp late that night, Kara was too wiped out to do anything but sleep. When she woke the next morning in the wagon, Sveta and her sons were nowhere to be found.
The same with Beag Scath.
Trying not to worry what mischief the sprite might be up to, Kara helped herself to some oatmeal left warming on the wood-burning stove before slinging Quicksilver's case across her back and venturing out into the cool bright day. It felt like early spring or mid-fall. For all she knew, it could be either. She'd lost all track of time in the Sidhe realm. Drawing a deep breath, she basked in the warm sun and took joy in the bright blue sky, two things to never be taken for granted.
She wandered a while, among the wagons, some brightly painted and built from wood in the tradition of the Romani people, others battered metal caravans traveling under their own power or pulled behind trucks or cars, as you would find at any campground around the world. All of them bore the essence of the Rom, brightly painted, delightfully unique. Each family had set their own camp, with carpets on the ground and cushions for sitting. Some had fire pits, others had portable grills. At some of the hearths, awnings had been raised for shelter from the elements, at others, battery-powered faerie lights had been strung from poles but the space left open to the sky.
As she explored, Kara relaxed into the day, enjoying the real-world magic of the Romani culture, free and untethered from any society but their own. Both the exotic and the mundane mingled as they adapted what they came by for their uses. Kara watched one group of women weaving a rug of intricate geometric patterns out of rags, while another bundled and hung herbs to dry. Some of the men were making horseshoes at a makeshift forge surrounded by smoke and ash and dry heat. If not for their dark scowls, she would have watched them longer, but instead quickly moved along. The sound of their hammers striking steel rang through the camp blending with the women's chatter in an industrious song Kara longed to join.
Throughout the morning, she remained polite and cheerful, despite the lukewarm reception she received. Everyone seemed wary. Not hostile, but too reserved to be welcoming. Kara asked questions when something puzzled her, even offered to help when she saw them at their chores, but no one would speak to her in English—though she had no doubt the majority of them could—if they said anything at all. She gave up and continued exploring, wandering the camp that was, for now, her home, trying not to get in anyone's way. At one point, she felt eyes focus on her, more so than the wary curiosity she'd met all morning. Her shoulders tensed with the weight of that gaze. Casually looking around, she noticed Markos, the caravan leader, his arms crossed and expression unreadable as he watched her. Though the sun picked out threads of silver woven through the waves of his dark brown hair, she could not tell if age or strain had added the faint webbing of lines across his forehead and around his bright blue eyes.
She met his gaze with a faint smile and nodded respectfully.
Markos's brow dipped into a frown, clearly not happy she had noticed him. He dropped his arms and turned sharply away, heading across the camp to his wagon. Kara waited until he was out of sight then resumed her wandering.
The uncertainty she encountered from the adults apparently did not extend to the children. As Kara explored the camp the sound of muffled giggles and scampering feet followed her until she'd amassed a fair parade of young followers. A smile lifted her lips, and she began to skip and dance with joy at the curiosity of youth, which broke down the walls of reserve. She didn't look too closely, but she noticed a few adult eyes crinkle at the goings-on, even if their lips refused to smile.
The giggles grew louder. Her timid shadows pranced forward to join her as she continued to dance. As they neared the center clearing of the camp, she slowed and tried—though not too hard—to mimic their fluid moves as they twirled and leaped and clearly executed steps unique to the Rom. The children collapsed, their giggles blossoming into laughter at her comic efforts.
Breathing hard more for effect, than from the effort, Kara flopped to one of the rough logs set around the center clearing, where an unlit bonfire sat waiting for the evening. Remembering the night she'd played for these same Rom after the Battle of the Knock, Kara drew Quicksilver from her case and began to tune the violin. That quick, the laughing and horsing around died down. The children turned bright eyes upon her, as did no few of the adults. Drawing a deep, calm breath, Kara allowed a subtle smile to grace her lips, while inside she sang hallelujah. Music truly was the universal language. Not that she expected to be automatically accepted now, but this gave her hope.
Kara allowed herself to savor this moment of happiness and peace. As the children settled in a circle around her she began to play, not bothering with anyone else's composition but allowing Quicksilver's own voice to rise in an unchoreographed song.
As the notes filled the camp, Kara felt Danu's essence stir from where it resided in the violin and wrap around her in approval. Bolstered by the goddess, Kara continued to play through what was left of the morning until her fingers stung and her bow arm burned. The children came and went as they were presumably called to chores, but as the noon hour drew near they wandered back, followed by their parents. With delight, Kara noted that some carried instruments—fiddles and guitars and pan flutes and spoons, but also a darbuka, ukulele, cimbalom, bodhran, and half a dozen other instruments she wouldn't have known the names of if she hadn't studied at Julliard. Others carried food, or drink, or nothing but themselves. However they came, it brought a broad grin to Kara's face.
Not unsurprisingly, Beag Scath came with them, the shameless sprite winding about the ankles of those carrying food, his thatch of unruly curls—a mix of every shade of red, brown and gold—bobbing enthusiastically to the music. Most shocking was the fact that he wore his own form—human in feature and proportion, but about the size of a twelve-inch action figure—rather than the cat seeming he usually favored. Not until that moment had she realized she'd not seen one feline in the camp. She filed that thought away for later consideration and turned her gaze back on her little friend. Kara laughed as he scampered just out of reach of the squealing children, before circling back toward the food bearers. After all, this group of Rom were friend to the Sidhe and surely were familiar with faelings such as Beag Scath.
Kara smiled as she continued to play.
"You they can keep their distance from, easily," a woman spoke softly beside her, "the music, not at all. Smart that you should play. It reminds them you have done so before at our fire as an invited guest, and that they did not mind you so much then."
Kara jumped a little at the unexpected comment, but quickly relaxed. It was comforting to hear words in English after a day of nothing but what she expected were Romani curses. She turned to find Sveta at her side. The woman sat down beside her and held out a mug of some herbal tea. Kara's belly rumbled at the spicy scent mingled with the rich aroma coming from the foods being passed around.
"Thank you." Kara set Quicksilver down beside her as other musicians began to play and accepted Sveta's peace offering, for such it was.
