Cynthia and Gus have solved a lot of mysteries across time, but something is seriously wrong and things are beginning to unravel.
Aunt Belle is missing…again! Cynthia’s great-grandfather, Beau, was never found! And now they are wondering if Blackie is still making life miserable for Lilly and Annie.
This time, the twelve-year-old girls journey into a strange woods full of frightening creatures and dark secrets in search of answers.
From Aunt Belle's cottage to a small village in France, they meet new friends and discover a connection to New Orleans that may lead to the devious source behind these alarming developments. Or bigger trouble.
Excerpt from Cynthia's Attic: The Legend of Lupin Woods (Book Five)
Gus slips through a portal in an old French monastery and finds more trouble than she ever imagined.
Covered in darkness, tree branches slowed my fall until one foot became ensnared, halting my descent. I pulled up–thanks to my expertise on the uneven bars during Phys. Ed–onto the branch of a large tree. I twisted my foot free and wondered how far I was from the ground. My eyes adjusted to the darkness and I spotted two thick shapes–bushes I guessed–a mere ten feet below. I swung down and dropped with a thump praying the sound didn't alert some wild animal.
Clearly, this was not another brightly colored fairyland like the one Cynthia and I discovered during our previous trip. For one, very little light filtered through my squeezed-tight eyelids. Animals trampling through dried brush and howling in the distance made for a less-than-welcoming setting.
I forced my eyes open once again, and my first impression was validated. Blackness everywhere. I wanted to scream, but fear of signaling every horrible beast known to man, kept me silent. Were those eyes behind that bush? I hoped not because they were yellow, and therefore, not human.
My back pressed against a small tree as I peered over one shoulder, then the other. More blackness. I pulled my knees tight to my chest to create as small a target as possible. If I could keep still until morning, this place might be less formidable.
Those eyes …did they just move? Hair stood straight up on my neck as a low growl inched ever closer. I sucked in one last breath and hid my face waiting for a fatal blow or bite.
"Well, well. What do we have here?" My head jerked skyward. Yellow eyes hovered over me. "Cat got your tongue?"
The creature bent down and poked my upper arm with a furry finger, then chuckled. "I'm not planning to hurt you, but what are you doing in Lupin?"
Lupin? Dryness gripped my throat as if I'd swallowed an entire sandbox, and an ominous word jumped into my brain. I'd heard something that sounded a lot like lupin once before, at the movies! Wolfman. Lupine is another name for wolf!
My eyes scanned the treetops. I might be saved if the sun rose soon, but light would have to pass through the dense canopy, and from where I sat, that seemed doubtful.
"If you're waiting for sunrise, you'll be disappointed." It smiled–or made a weak attempt–revealing huge, pointy teeth. "Instead of night and day, around here we have night and black."
Thanks, Chris, for hosting me!
Mary Cunningham, author
- Cynthia's Attic Series
- The Missing Locket
- The Magic Medallion
- Curse of the Bayou
- The Magician's Castle
- The Legend of Lupin Woods
- WOOF: Women Only Over Fifty
Bio: Like Cynthia and Gus, my childhood best friend, Cynthia and I grew up in a small, Southern Indiana town…the setting for the series. Not one summer day passed that we weren’t playing softball, hide and seek, badminton, or croquet with friends in the vacant lot behind Becky’s house.
In my attempt to grow up, I joined The Georgia Reading Association, and the Carrollton Creative Writers Club. When giving my fingers a day away from the keyboard, I enjoy golf, swimming and exploring the mountains of West Georgia where I live with my husband and adopted furry, four-legged daughter, Lucy. Together we’ve raised three creative children and are thrilled with our 2 granddaughters.
At last count, I’ve moved 9 times to six different states (all after the age of 36), and aside from the packing and unpacking, it’s been a great experience, having made some very dear and lasting friendships. My non-writing time is spent showing power point presentations on gathering ideas and the writing process to schools and libraries.
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