Crossroads (Red Ghost Trilogy Book 2)

A New Pantheon Rises in the Ashes of Old Earth

In Crossroads, the second book in Gerry Eugene’s Red Ghost Trilogy, the end of the world is only the beginning. When clairvoyant Emerson Beekman and a crew of young demigods save a legendary Victorian time traveler from a shadowy assassin, they trigger a war that stretches across time, myth, and the broken remains of Earth.

Ancient gods awaken. Monsters return. And amid the ruins, a new generation must decide what it means to inherit power in a world still bleeding from the past. At the heart of it all stands Pirate Genevieve Cocklin—Admiral, sorcerer, and commander of the Red Ghost—who must steer her ship and her people through the mists of creation to stop an enemy determined to erase them all.

A sweeping blend of science fiction, fantasy, and myth, Crossroads continues the epic saga of gods, demigods, and the fragile hope of a reborn world.

Start reading Crossroads today and journey to the edge of time.

Excerpt from the book

Helena Blavatsky came to her senses. Once again, she stood in a lonely, triple-wide diner. Was this the sixth time she’d found herself here in the Sonoran Desert? Any minute now, Aleister would appear. She would manage to kill him, or he would manage to kill her. Until he arrived, she would be unable to break through the exits or smash the windows. She tried anyway.

After those attempts, she went into the kitchen and pulled her usual weapons from a drawer: a chef’s knife, and an ice pick. This time she took the wicked tenderizing hammer down from its hook over the butcher block and placed it in her belt. She stepped back into the dining room. From the window, she saw that the day looked beautiful. This time there were no ominous, black-green shelf clouds spawning evil twisters. From this view, the Sonoran stretched on forever.

Every time she materialized here, Helena had a better sense of herself. Those little bits of memory she was able to claw forth toward the end of each episode now were in her mind as soon as her vision cleared. She was Helena Blavatsky, who, at twenty-seven, was already a famous polyglot. She was a young Russian aristocrat, much traveled. Her parents owned great tracts of land, and she had summered since childhood in camps along the borders of Tibet, as well as Prague, Paris, Moscow, and London. At seventeen, she married a Russian count and abandoned him the next day.

Her mother was a novelist. Helena was an autodidact, theologist, philosopher, translator, spiritualist, historian, renowned raconteur, and founder of religions. In 1891, at fifty-nine, she died of the flu. That was a horrible experience—she had stood in the doorway and watched her future self die. In 1851, leaving a theater in London, she encountered The Masters of Wisdom. At that point, her life, already remarkable beyond belief, became a journey of wonders.

From those special Tutors, she learned to travel in time. Her first explorations had carried her into the past. As a fly on the wall, she saw Ivan Vasilyevich take the Ivory Throne. She watched the Sea People sack Knossos. She stared into Michelangelo's eyes as he painted that little space between the finger of Adam and the finger of God.

People traveled from afar just to chat her up. She was the epicenter of every soiree. When she was fifty-four, she was having luncheon with William Yeats at Simpsons in the Strand. Yeats was a very young poet who displayed an explosive Talent in verse and a huge appetite for every little scrap of metaphysical wisdom she tossed his way. They had finished the main course and had just tucked into the charlotte russe. A commotion arose near the door to the dining room. They both looked up.

Their maître d' stood blocking the doorway. He had his arms out. He said, in almost a shout, “Sir! I must protest! Without reservations, you really cannot enter the dining room!”