Albert Camus

Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend.

Sunday, December 5, 2021

Some stars aren’t meant to be followed.- The Magi Menagerie (The Magi Menagerie, #1) by Kale Lawrence

"It was a fun read with an interesting plot, that make me hooked from the start. The characters were very lovable and easy to get attached to." Liliana S., Goodreads


Publication date: September 7th 2021

Some stars aren’t meant to be followed.

For seventeen years, Ezra Newport and his parents were habitual immigrants, traveling from their Ottoman Empire home across 20th century Europe. As the Newports migrate to Belfast, Ireland, Ezra wants nothing more to settle into a consistent life and lay the foundation of his architectural dreams. But after a strange, mechanical bounty hunter murders his mother and prompts the disappearance of his father, Ezra discovers that his parents had actually been on the run. Now, their enemies are targeting him, and they won’t stop until he is dead.

In a moment of desperation, Ezra’s fate collides with the Third Order of the Magi, a secret society dedicated to using their supernatural powers to protect their communities. With increasing violence around the world, the Magi are fairly certain they know who’s behind the attacks on Ezra and his family since the same group could also be threatening their own existence.

Both Ezra and the Magi’s survival hinges on knowledge only Ezra’s father has and the key to saving them could be buried within history itself. In a race across continents and time, both Ezra and the Magi must secure an ancient Babylonian artifact before hell is unleashed on the world. And, against all odds, Ezra must decide where his allegiances truly lie, despite what is written in the stars.


Not very many things had the power to piss off Diego Montreal.
Disloyalty? Naturally.
Being held back? Of course.
Jonas’ embitterment toward his relationship with Stella? Without question.

Failure had to be the worst offender. Nothing could make him feel more incompetent than defeat, especially if that defeat had anything to do with Time Manipulation.

Diego screwed up his face in concentration, squeezing the edges of the quartz wand into his palm. Usually illuminated with natural light, the chief constable’s office was now shrouded in shadows, too tenacious for the weak desk lamp bulb and the evening gloom. The Souvenirs—the ring and the electric torch—had been laid out before him, alongside Norman’s heavy scrutiny.

This time, it had to work.

“Forgive me for my lack of understanding, but I honestly don’t see why this situation is different than the rest,” the constable grumbled as he lit a cigar and propped his feet upon the desk. “This should have worked the first time. After all, you’ve managed to view crime scenes before.”

Diego lifted his burning gaze to his boss.

Despite his flagrant tone, the constable spoke the truth, as much as Diego hated to admit it. Previous attempts had gone without a hitch. But for some unknown reason, these crime scenes proved resistant to his abilities. What seemed like the simple work of a madman with a fondness for the word “quietus” had an impenetrable exterior. Every time Diego turned back Time to view these events, a thick darkness cloaked whatever evidence remained. He had never seen anything quite like it in any of his Time Excursions.

Either his abilities were somehow being drained or someone was erasing history. Both scenarios did not sound particularly thrilling.

“Yes, well, I wouldn’t expect you to understand the technicalities of it,” Diego muttered.

“No, I don’t,” huffed Norman, “but there’s something I do understand, and it is that now, we aren’t the only ones dealing with this madness.” The constable reached into his top drawer and dropped a newspaper on the workspace, further disrupting Diego’s focus.

His eyes skimmed the recent headline but backtracked when he realized it was in French. What Diego could not ascertain from the print, he translated from the front-page photograph.

Plumes of fire and coal dust disrupted what once was a mining operation. Lifts, splintered planks, and glass fragments littered the work site, while flocks of ravens dotted the chaotic skyline. While the photograph neglected to show any of the dead or injured, it did provide a glimpse of something far more impactful: the painful emotion in their comrades’ faces, streaked amongst the grime.

Whatever had just taken place not only rattled the northern French countryside. It had shaken survivors to their cores.

La catastrophe de Courriéres.

“They’re saying more than a thousand people are dead,” said the chief constable. “What they are not saying—in the papers, at least—is that authorities discovered the word quietus painted in red across one of the communal shacks. I suppose you can understand why this is a bit higher of a priority now that it has crossed international boundaries.”

Diego gritted his teeth and pushed the newspaper away from the Souvenirs. “So, the Irish Republican Brotherhood is out of the question, I assume?”

Norman narrowed his eyes. “Most likely.”

“Right. Well, there’s only one thing we can do,” Diego began, once again tracing the Star of David in the air with his quartz wand. “Pray my theory will hold strong enough for me to bring something back.”

“Best of luck, kid,” Chief Constable Norman said through a puff of smoke. “Do me proud.”

Diego saluted him and pressed the crystal tip to the face of his pocket watch. Focusing on the time and date written on the scraps of paper beside its corresponding Souvenir, Diego internally beckoned the power of the stars to navigate to the exact moment when the Dunmurry boy lost his life. The clock hands wound backward in a savage spiral. The present world faded away, like streaks of paint drowned in torrents of water. He was now a sailor amongst the Sea of Time, directing the helm toward imminent disaster.

About the author:
Since the early age of 6, Kale Lawrence knew she either wanted to be an astronaut or an author. Obviously, the astronaut gig didn’t work out, so instead, Kale turned to fantastic fictional worlds. When Kale is not writing creatively, she works as a Marketing Manager at a pet product company, and pretends she’s an Olympic swimmer at the gym. She has also served as a board member for the South Dakota Writes organization.

In addition to books, Kale has lent her writing prowess to television, and her writing has been featured on nationwide PBS television programming, NBC newscasts, ABC newscasts, and the Travel Channel.

Kale currently lives in Sioux Falls, South Dakota with her feisty tortoiseshell calico cat, Emma Bug and sassy Siamese, Seattle Bean.

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