Author Guest Post with Patrick LeClerc: The Beckoning Void

Can Emelia and her band of plucky outcasts save the world from a cult of fanatics intent on unleashing an ancient horror?

Welcome to one of the August 6th stops on the blog tour for The Beckoning Void by Patrick LeClerc with Silver Dagger Book Tours (schedule linked.) Be sure to follow the rest of the tour for more excerpt features, reviews, and a giveaway! More on that at the end of this post.

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Author Guest Post

Why Did I choose an Alternative Victorian Era for “The Beckoning Void?”

Mostly because it’s a mashup of all my favorite things. History and sword fighting and adventure stories and old Hollywood banter all rolled into one. With airships.

The Victorian Era is great story fodder. You have enormous technological and societal changes going on, and that’s really where science fiction as we know it today was invented. Look at Mary Shelley’s “Frankenstein” (which is probably technically Georgian, not Victorian, but on the cusp) and Edgar Allen Poe and Jules Verne and H G Wells. This is where authors started looking at technology and asking, “What if?” which is the basis of all science fiction.

Plus, you can still combine all that tech with swashbuckling swordfights.

In addition to the science fiction possibilities, I wanted a diverse, eclectic cast, and that fits the era better than people think.

Emelia was raised in poverty, but had a talent for immitation that allowed her to find success on the stage, reinventing herslef as an actress and then a spy.  The colonialism of the age creates the perfect circumstances for a character like Alyah. Mixed race, Afghan-English, raised by a father who taught her swordplay and riding who doesn’t really fit into either world, so she finds her own way. The realities of the Famine and the new mobility . Connolly and Count Roderick are both products of the Wild Geese, Irish exiles turned soldiers in foreign armies, albeit with varied success. Captain Little is a great character. Escaped slave turned airship captain.

I drew inspiration for all of these characters from historical examples. None are exact analogues, but they certainly all have precedents.

One thing they all have in common, regardless of which side they wind up on, is that they are all outsiders. Whether due to race or class or gender, each of them has to find their way in a world that doesn’t accept them. The social, political, and technological upheaval of the Nineteeth Century gave me a terrific canvas to work with.

Not to say this is a book primarily about social issues. At its heart, it’s an action adventure swashbuckler with a touch of horror.  Think the plot of the 1999 version of “The Mummy” with the banter of  “The Princess Bride” and a dash of social commentary. Plus, a bit of mad science and airships.

About the Book

The Beckoning Void
by Patrick LeClerc

Published 31 October 2021
Ink and Bourbon Publishing

Genre: Gaslamp Adventure Horror
Page Count: 626
Add it to your Goodreads TBR!

Emelia DuMond is an actress, her skill at adopting and changing her identity lifting her from her humble beginnings to success on the stage of Victorian London. And to the attention of the Ghost Society, a secret organization who work to defend the world from threats of the paranormal. After centuries of seeking, the sinister Disciples of the Void have obtained an arcane book of great power. A power that could tear the veil between dimensions and plunge the world into a dark, unspeakable future.

Now she has recruited an aging soldier of fortune burdened by a conscience, the sword wielding daughter of an Afghan brigand and an airship whose captain escaped slavery during the Civil War by stealing a Confederate vessel.

Can Emelia and her band of plucky outcasts save the world from a cult of fanatics intent on unleashing an ancient horror?

“The Beckoning Void” is a tale of cunning plots, flashing swords, skillful piloting, witty repartee and eldritch dread.

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Excerpt

The crowded Theatre Royal Adelphi erupted in applause. Emelia DuMond curtseyed deeply as the curtain descended, basking in the adoration of the audience. She was born for this.

No, she corrected herself. She was reborn for it. Emma O’Grady had been born to scrub floors and take in laundry. But once she had shed that husk, Emelia had sprung forth fully formed, like Athena from the head of Zeus. Witty, sophisticated, and charming. Able to change emotions like costumes, and, more importantly, to evoke those emotions in others. She had discovered a talent for imitation, making the other laundry girls laugh at her impressions of the wealthy clients, and saw in that talent a way out of poverty. She observed and perfected mannerism and accents and learned the secrets that the upper class spoke freely in her presence, taking no more notice of servants than of furniture.

As she made her way to the wings, a stagehand spoke to her. “Mister Dickens wishes to see you, miss.”

“Thank you, William,” she replied. She wondered what Charles could want. It was unusual for him to call on her at a show. Especially one he hadn’t written. Nor was it opening night or some other occasion where he could be expected to congratulate her. They had known one another for some time, as he was a patron of the theater, but eventually their relationship had come to revolve more around his other passion: the occult.

She opened the door of her dressing room and found the author standing stiffly, fidgeting with the top hat in his hands.

“Charles,” she said with a radiant smile, giving the man a kiss on his cheek. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

“Emelia, my dear,” he replied. “I’ve come on behalf of the Society. It is a matter of grave concern.”

“Sit, Charles, please,” she said, dropping onto a stool. “And please, do unburden yourself of this urgent matter.” Her smile took on a wry twist. “It must be truly dire for you to forget to compliment my performance.”

The man reddened. She knew how highly he valued propriety and manners, and for a gentleman to show up in the dressing room of an actress without a gift or even flattery was not the done thing. Behind her amused smile she felt a quiver of concern.

“I apologize, my dear. I forget myself. You were stunning, as always.”

“You are too kind.”

“But let me offer a sorry excuse for my haste. Dr Carmody is in hospital in Vienna. He was attacked. Worse even than that, he was in possession of a book which was stolen. A book of great eldritch power. I can only assume it is in dangerous hands.”

Emelia’s smile vanished. “There’s no chance this was random coincidence? A mundane robbery?”

Dickens shook his head. “Nothing else was taken. Whoever attacked him knew what they were after. And he was distracted.”                                                          

“Distracted?”

The author shifted uncomfortably. “Yes. It seems that there was a woman.”

“Dr Carmody was robbed by a woman?” she asked with an incredulous smile.

“By her accomplice. The woman was a wh—a lady of easy virtue. Probably didn’t know anything of the book or the plan. Just used to cloud his judgment while he was set upon.” Dickens began to twist his hat in his hands, then realized what he was doing and set it down on her dressing table with care. “I’m surprised the doctor was taken off guard. The man is normally a committed professional.”

“I’m sure the young lady was skilled in distraction,” Emelia replied. “And many committed, professional men tend to underestimate a pretty young woman and lower their guard.”

“A mistake I hope never to make with you, my dear.”

“What would you have me do?”

“You’ve a talent for investigation, and, as a celebrated actress, the perfect cover. I’d like you to go to Vienna and see what you can discover.” He handed over a packet. “Here are letters of introduction to the proprietors of several theaters in Vienna, as well as money and bank drafts should you need more. I would suggest you hire an airship and a pair of bodyguards and use the rest to loosen lips.”

“Did Dr Carmody tell you the name the young lady gave him?”

“No,” said Dickens. “I think he was embarrassed at the whole affair and didn’t think it important. Why?”

“Well, the name she gave is probably an alias, but it’s a thread to pick at. A place to start. If she was hired to distract him, she might know who hired her. And she might be willing to divulge that information for money.”

“You think so?”

“Charles, darling, we already know what else she’ll do for money. Providing us with a name seems like a reasonable request. And I think right now this is our best lead.”

About the Author

Patrick LeClerc makes good use of his history degree by working as a paramedic for an ever- changing parade of ambulance companies in the Northern suburbs of Boston. When not writing he enjoys cooking, fencing and making witty, insightful remarks with career-limiting candor. In the lulls between runs on the ambulance –and sometimes the lulls between employment at various ambulance companies– he writes fiction.

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