Lucinda, a psychic, undertakes a quest for the Lords of the Path of Purest Light to locate two missing nails – relics from the Crucifixion Cross – with immense power for good or evil. Her adversary is the Ninth Master – a psychic working for the Fallen Lords of the Paths of Darkness. Will the nails be found in the Egyptian desert or Skellig Michael, an island off the south-west of Ireland? If she finds them, what must she do with them? Will the Ninth Master succeed in preventing her? The fate of the world rests on the choices that Lucinda makes.
Here is an excerpt from Lucinda: Nails of the Crucifixion:
Jacinta had a disturbed night. To save money, she had chosen to stay in a three-star hotel. This had been a mistake. The quality of the evening meal had much to be desired and her bed’s mattress had sagged alarmingly. But that was not all that had disturbed her. She had to catch a flight to Ireland the next day and Lucinda was booked with her on the flight. She was not sure if Lucinda would accept the Lords’ request for her to work for them; and, if she did accept, would she be prepared to leave so quickly? There was no time for delay. Already Jacinta had heard from her colleagues that the Fallen Lords had wind of what was happening. They were sure to contact Lucinda, maybe even physically prevent her from assisting the Path of Purest Light. Jacinta would have to warn her.
Jacinta paced her small bedroom, glancing again at her watch. It was nine o’clock, still an hour to go before the scheduled meeting with the young psychic. She picked up the telephone and arranged for a taxi to collect her from the Museum at eleven o’clock to take her to Gatwick Airport. Everything now hinged on her getting Lucinda to the south-west coast of Ireland for an important meeting with one of the Lords of the Path of Purest Light. Such meetings between the Lords and a human being were almost unheard of. Realising that, Jacinta felt a tremor of excitement pass through her: a delicious, shivering feeling. They were all depending on her. At last, she felt she was playing a pivotal role in determining the future of the world. Her train of thought was interrupted by a loud knock on the bedroom door. She frowned; she wasn’t expecting anyone. The only people who knew she was in this hotel, even that she was in London, were her minder and some of those higher up. The knock came again, sounding more insistent. Jacinta unlocked the door and opened it. A man stood in front of her. He wore a long, black over-coat with the collar turned up. On his head was a wide-brimmed hat that was pulled down over his forehead so that it was difficult to see his eyes clearly.
“Jacinta Halpenny,” he said. It was not a question but a statement of fact.
Jacinta nodded. Then, suddenly alarmed, she tried to shut the door but she was too late. The man stepped into the room, pushing her back with an outstretched hand. He closed the door behind him and locked it. If anyone had been passing outside the bedroom door, he might have heard a muffled scream. But no one passed by; and the cleaning staff were working at the far end of the corridor, well out of earshot.