Excerpt: Paoletta: An Eye for an Eye by J.R. Powell
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- 1 day ago
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Book details:
Book Title: Paoletta – an Eye for an Eye
Series: Paoletta
Author Name: J.R. Powell
Publication Date: 28 November 2024
Publisher: Self-published
Pages:421
Genre: Historical thriller
Any Triggers: Violence, sexual assault and rape, drug and alcohol abuse, and language and attitudes that reflect the time and culture in which it is set, but which may be considered outdated and offensive today.
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Exiled to a Caribbean island, Paoletta Cadoville and her family cling to the hope of one day returning to their Parisian home. But in a single, devastating moment, that dream is shattered. Alone and horrifically scarred, Paoletta embarks on a perilous quest to uncover the truth behind her family’s tragic fate, only to become entangled in a web of political intrigue, secret societies, and dangerous alliances.
In a Paris overshadowed by the guillotine, Paoletta must decide how much of her humanity she’s willing to sacrifice in pursuit of vengeance. Will she achieve justice for her family or lose herself to the darkness that threatens to consume her?
Paoletta – An Eye for an Eye is a gripping historical thriller set during the French Revolution and a stark reminder that in times of upheaval, innocence is the first to fall, and revenge demands a price paid in blood.
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My uncle’s face flushed with surprise and guilt as he rounded his eyes on me. He lay sprawled on the bed, half-naked and glistening with sweat, wearing only his breeches for modesty. The pitiful sight filled my eye with tears and caused a lump to throb at the back of my throat. His lover, her back striped with scars from a past beating, crawled out of the bed naked. I averted my gaze to let her slip into a shift in peace and stood aside to let her leave.
“My dear!” he exclaimed, scrambling to his feet like a spider trying to clamber out of a porcelain dish. “What brings you here?” The stench of his breath assailed me before I was even within reach of him, the smell of a thousand rotten casks of rum and spirits climbing up my nostrils. His speech was slurred, and he oozed strange sounds like a serpent’s hiss. I followed the stench to the empty bottles lying discarded beneath the shutters. “Forgive my manners; I must introduce you to this girl; delightful, full of the joys of spring –” His eyes searched the room.
“She’s gone, Uncle.” My tone was hard, the words sticking in my throat.
“Gone?” He glared askew at me with rounded eyes as I told him that I had asked her to leave.
“Ah!” Blurted Uncle Stefano, his words loosely strung together in a drunken mess, and his nose scrunched up. “My gracious niece being the woman of the house. Very good! Well done!” he applauded clumsily and hiked up his breeches, tangy and potent with gin. “Your mother was quite the woman of the house. Indeed, she was! A firm, firm hand, gentle but firm, and never let anyone say otherwise! Lord, I miss her so much!”
As Uncle Stefano began weeping into his elbow, his words little more than noises tumbling from his mouth, I pinned him with a searing scowl, pleading with him to tell me the truth for once.
“Did Papa have any enemies?” I demanded, my voice steady and resolute. But, of course, I was met with the jester’s mask, his eyes twinkling with false cheer.
“No, of course not. What soul could dislike your Papa?” But Uncle Stefano’s jovial tone quickly turned sour when I pulled out Papa’s letter and held it in front of his grey, rum-soaked face. He tore it from my hand and stumbled back onto his bed, his eyes welling with something I needed to know.
“Uncle, please,” I implored, my voice barely cutting the air. “My family is in the ground. I’ve become a monster fit only for nightmares. I need to know. What is this note about?”
He opened his mouth, but no sound emerged, gasping for air like a fish out of water. His hands shook as he reached for the nearby bottle and took a swig, gulping it down in one go. I stepped closer to him, determined to get to the bottom of this.
“You’ve no idea what you’ve done, my girl,” he said with harsh breaths, the blood draining from his waxy cheeks as he glowered at me. “Curiosity is like a maggot. It eats and gnaws away at you until there’s nothing left but an empty husk. I’ve seen it before, my dear, in men who went searching for gold and treasure, fuelled by unquenchable curiosity. And you, my girl, you’ve got it bad!” he glugged the bottle again.
“Nonetheless,” I replied with conviction, “who was hunting us?” I stepped toward him, showing him I was determined. “Why were they after Mamma and Papa?”
“I don’t know!” he snapped, batting away imaginary flies in the air, his movements wild and clumsy like a marionette. He stumbled, tripping over his own feet, and hammered into the wall. The bottle clattered to the ground, spilling a pool of amber. “I don’t know their names. I don’t know who they are. I know nothing. And that is the truth, gold-plated and stamped with God’s official seal!”
He sat quietly, panting. The faint noises of the market below were the only sounds while we both caught our breath.
“And if I were to mention the Confrérie de Gruyères, would it ring any bells?”
Uncle Stefano’s eyes flickered with recognition at the mention of the name, and he hesitated for a moment before finally responding. He looked up at me with a pained expression, his eyes glassy and unfocused.
“Your Papa,” he began, his voice strained and raspy and his words becoming less intelligible with every utterance. “He was involved in some...bad business. Things that made enemies. Dangerous enemies. Things that should never have happened… The Confrérie didn’t lift a finger.”
I kneeled in front of him, my knee soaking up the pool of rum, and lifted his chin so his heavy, pale eyes met mine.
“Tell me,” I said, my voice faltering with a mixture of fear and urgency.
“He never wanted to hurt you,” he uttered, his words barely carrying a sound. He glanced at the bed, then back to me, his eyes shimmering with sorrow and desperation. “Shhh, shhh…we’ll go away from here soon, somewhere far, far away, safe,” Uncle Stefano’s voice trailed off as though he were trying to speak with his mouth full of scalding soup. Then he fell silent – only heavy sighs, the knock of timbers, and the hum of the marketplace below. He looked up at the shutters, roasting sunlight beaming through the cracks between them, casting jagged rays across the room.
“Are we still in danger?” I whispered, my voice trembling as a chilling realization formed in my mind like shards of ice. “That’s why you’ve given me a grave, isn’t it? To tell the world I’m dead, too.”
“Danger, amore, lurks around every corner,” he mumbled, falling prey to a creeping slumber, a slug of drool sliding down his chin. His eyes peeled open again, his attention moving to the bed, and he seemed to giggle and weep at the same time as he tried to turn to me.
Originally from the UK, J.R. Powell lives in Germany, where he works as a translator and editor.
His debut novel was published in 2024, marking the first instalment of a new historical thriller series. Paoletta – an Eye for an Eye follows Paoletta Cadoville, a young woman driven by vengeance after the murder of her family during the French Revolution.
Drawing inspiration from his time living in Paris, Powell immersed himself in the city’s rich and brutal history to craft a story that brings a lesser-explored period to life with the momentum and intensity of a gritty, modern thriller.
Author Links:
Linktree: https://linktr.ee/J.R.Powell
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/author_j.r.powell/
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/stores/J.R.-Powell/author/B0DNG27M7X
Tour hosted by: The Coffee Pot Book Club
Thanks so much for hosting J.R. Powell today, with a compelling excerpt from his intriguing novel, Paoletta: an Eye for an Eye. Take care, Cathie xx The Coffee Pot Book Club