The Bones of War (The Immortal American) by L. B. Joramo Excerpt

The Bones of War (The Immortal American) by L. B. Joramo
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Historical/Paranormal:
The anticipated Immortal American series continues with THE BONES OF WAR.

It began with the ripple of rebellion, but ended in eternal change.

Cannonade erupts as the Battle of Bunker’s Hill commences, where Violet Adams is disguised as a soldier. She’s joined the sieging militia, surrounding Boston and the British redcoats, to run from her grief and from her affections toward the dark French spy, Jacque Beaumont—the ripple in her life that gave her an undying heart. To flee is the only choice she could think of, soldiering the only act that seems to bring her any comfort.

Then again, mayhap it isn’t the soldiering that gives her comfort, but more one of the soldiers. While trekking north to invade Canada with other Continentals, Violet finds herself drawn to a man who turns out to be more than just a friend—another immortal. From 1775 to 1776, through all the battles, Violet finds her mourning heart healing, only to discover it’s done the most inexplicable! It’s set its sights on another.

Like Violet’s phoenix-like heart, America’s War for Independence burns to ashes before the Battle of Trenton, where Violet spies for her Patriots and must choose between old flames or the revolution that never dies—love.

Excerpt:

“You know Voltaire?” I couldn’t help but repeat.

I had thought—I had assumed that philosophy, science, and math were wrapped in a dark blue shroud. It was far behind me, not standing beside me in leather leggings and wearing a hunter’s shirt.

Emilie du Châtelet was convinced that within fire was a light so bright that we humans couldn’t see it. Well, humans couldn’t see it. But I wondered if I was as lucid as the radiation she wrote of. I was so elated my new best friend, Mac, knew philosophy.

“Aye,” he said quietly, blinking as he gazed down upon me, almost like he was looking at the sun. “I’ve read Voltaire, the bigot.”

“Right. You’re completely right. He had odd thoughts regarding race . . . but I mean you read—”

“Philosophy? You like philosophe?” His French accent on the last word almost made my knees give way.

Did I like philosophy? Until my grief had consumed me, I had been in love with it, as one might love a daughter. Now, though, all I thought about was the bright invisible fire Marquise du Châtelet wrote about, and how it licked my body hot. I nodded and my damned eyes moistened again. I didn’t trust my voice. It was thick and tight. Again! Blasted emotions.

He smiled then leaned closer to me. “But, Violet, there are matters in this life you cannot rationalize, as much as Voltaire tried to encourage it. There is magic that cannot be explained. I met you, that is magic enough, aye? And as much as I believe in searching for the truth, sometimes, more often than not, it lies in our hearts. We must listen to our hearts.”

A tear dropped from my eye.

He wiped it away. “Are you offended . . .?”

I clutched at his hand, keeping it close to my cheek. “That’s what my sister told me. She just said that in my dream.”

His eyes widened. I’d never seen him with such an open expression of shock. He blinked, but then swept the back of his fingers gently over my cheek again. I thought to wipe at another errant tear of mine.

“Wise words,” he finally whispered.

He pointed his head south, to where we were supposed to be marching with the cow that carried a cart of oat flour. His hand left my visage, and he unhurriedly walked to where the bovine stood sentinel over the rope that controlled her. He fetched the lead and then began to stroll south. He looked over his shoulder at me with a mischievous grin.

“Do you know Diderot?”

“Do I know Diderot?” I hollered and skipped to catch up with him, my heart aching with flames. “I love him. Love Diderot.”

Mac let loose a wild smile, looking more handsome than I’d ever seen him, even with the straggly beard. “Of course you do.” His eyebrows danced. “I met him.”

I realized that my cheeks were dry. I hadn’t had an extra tear for Mac to wipe away. My heart hammered at the thought, so I clutched onto Mac’s arm and jumped while we walked. “Tell me everything!”