The Chrysomelia Stories (Book Three)
Sophie Darrow said yes once to a young man offering a realm of Greek gods and immortality. Now her home has been shattered, and her friends and family pulled along with her as they run from an evil cult and take shelter in the gloomy Underworld. To love, trust, and smile again seems almost out of Sophie's reach. But remembering the life of the original Persephone and her fellow immortals long ago may prove the best therapy, as well as their key to victory.
In ancient times too, the murderous cult Thanatos attacked and eventually wiped out the Greek immortals who sought to bring good to humankind. But those immortals planted seeds in both their realm and ours to ensure that their season would bloom again someday. And spring is finally coming.
ISBN Trade Paperback: 978-1-77168-040-0
FICTION | Mythology
List Price: $16.95
Published: June 1, 2016
"The lion’s share of this final volume is a slow boil, but while there’s more introspection than in previous volumes, Ringle provides a thoroughly satisfying thread-tying conclusion." ~ Publishers Weekly
"Immortal’s Spring pulls readers right back into this reimagining of the Greek myths and emergence of modern-day gods and goddesses, and this novel is just as hard to put down as the previous two." ~ San Francisco Book Review
"If you want a book that will challenge, excite and enthrall you, then this might be the book for you." — Long and Short Reviews
"This was a beautiful story, and I'm really excited to see how it unfolds in future installments of the series." — Kaitlin Bevis, author of Persephone
“Captivating from start to finish, as fraught with intrigue as it is with romance, this is the perfect end to an unforgettable trilogy.” —Jamie Deacon, Author of Caught Inside
"I read Persephone's Orchard a year ago and it still remains one of the most unique and engaging retellings of the Hades and Persephone myth I've ever read." — Rachel Alexander, Author of Receiver of Many
Landon Osborne dumped his bag on the motel bed, his limbs shaking. He made sure the door's deadbolt was locked and its security chain fastened. As if that would help. He turned on the lamp at the bedside table, for it was the middle of the night and the room would be pitch black without it. But he wondered, with the same sickening dread that had chased him all day and night, whether he should turn it off and hide in darkness.
Would that keep the immortals from finding him? Would anything? The immortal man--the one who had almost certainly killed Landon's grandmother last night--had said he would find them. But he could have been bluffing, only trying to scare them. Maybe.
He slumped to his knees on the carpet beside the bed, resting his dizzy head on the comforter. It smelled of stale cigarettes, like the rest of the room. When you checked in under a false name, paying with cash, you couldn't choose the finest accommodations.
He did need to rest. As the leader of Thanatos now, he had a difficult road ahead, perhaps one every bit as deadly as his grandmother's had been. And though he longed to slide onto the mattress and sleep--even with the likely nightmares--he had a task to accomplish first.
He raised his head. Tension throbbed from the base of his skull to the bridge of his nose. He opened his laptop computer, and while it booted up he dug out the notebook his grandmother had given him. It was small, with worn gray cloth binding. Her precise, antiquated handwriting filled half the pages, in ballpoint ink of blue and black. The sight sent a pang into his heart. He longed, for about the hundredth time, to race back to the site of the cabin and look for her, because what if she was still alive and needed help?
But chances were a hundred to one the man had killed her. And since he'd probably done so in their other realm, Landon would never find her. He pulled off his glasses and pressed finger and thumb to his aching closed eyelids. Then he opened his eyes, slipped his glasses back on, and logged in to the email account written in the notebook.
He addressed the email to the ten recipients she had written down, all supposedly safe accounts to send such a message to. Still, he was careful not to include specifics of location, and began with the established SOS phrase she had taught him. It meant "horror and fear" in ancient Greek, which fit his current mindset all too well.
Daimos kai Phobos. My name is Landon Osborne. Betty Quentin has mentioned me to you. She was my grandmother. I say "was" because last night in our attempted job the opposing faction captured her. I am almost certain they've taken her to their other home and that we'll never see her again.
This places me, by her wishes, as the new head of operations. But I will need as much help as you all can give me.
My coworker Krystal was injured last night and is being cared for by one of our team. We will need your guidance in sheltering us and discussing our next steps. Our job failed to achieve its target, or at least I don't know yet if it succeeded. But I do know collateral damage was sustained in the family of the central young woman being recruited by the others. The opposing faction will definitely wish to retaliate, and Krystal and I need your protection urgently.
Anyone who can help, please respond.
He sent off the message, changed his sweat-soaked shirt, and flopped onto the bed. While his mind whirled in a cyclone of fear, he prayed for safety, for just enough strength to face the next day. And the next. And the next.
By Molly Ringle