Lisas World of Books

Excerpt:

The ground gave a sudden, violent shake. Kari and Essie stumbled, but managed to stay standing. All around people and demons staggered, fell, or bumped into each other. South of where they stood came a hoarse scream. Dust clouded quick and fast, obscuring the view of the southern gate and guard towers. The buildings around them quivered, shaking from left to right.

Kari held onto Essie as the ground continued to vibrate. Her teeth clattered. “What in the Yutemi is that?!”

Guine had his hand on Rathik’s shoulder to steady both of them. “Feels like a quake,” he said solemnly. “Have you had one on Taris before?”

“Not in my time!” Ari answered.

“We have to get everyone away from the buildings,” Guine said. “If one collapses—”

Rathik knocked Guine’s hand off and spun to the south gate. “NO!”

As he broke into a run, Kari, Guine, Essie, and Ari whirled. The dust cloud quickly thinned, revealing a messy shamble of splintered wood that had been Freehaven’s southern gate. And the guard tower, set beside it—

“The tower!” a demoness yelled. “It’s falling!”

Essie sprinted after Rathik.

“Essie, wait!” Kari shouted, then cursed. “Tell the council!” she ordered of the nearest townspeople before she, Ari, and Guine raced after Essie and Rathik.

The vibrations made it difficult to run; Ari grabbed Kari’s hand when she stumbled. The southern gate wasn’t far, but every shiver of the ground forced them to slow and regain their balance before they could go on. Kari’s mind roared as they ran. What was happening that could make the very ground move like this?

When they reached the south gate, they stopped and stood in silence. Essie and Rathik stood at the bottom of the guard tower, or what was left of it. The ground had cracked and lifted, and the tower had toppled, crushing part of the gate. Through a miasma of dust, splintered wood and slabs of stone made an incomprehensible pile of rubble.

“Killia!” Rathik dove for the rubble and hefted shattered planks of wood and cracked stone. Even as he coughed and waved away the dirt clouding around him, he dug for the young guard. Essie joined him, shoving slabs of rock out of the way as fast as she could.

Kari stood frozen, mind a whirl and blank all at once. Ari joined Rathik. Together they shoved aside a thick beam of wood that had snapped in half.

What is this? Why is this happening?

“They’re probably dead already,” Guine said. “That much weight…there’s no way.”

Something dark and heavy sank deep into Kari’s stomach. “Help them.”

With a short sigh, Guine stepped forward. He knelt and touched the rubble—at his fingertips, wood and stone crumbled, adding to the dust already fogging the air. Essie glanced up at him, then she and Ari pulled Rathik away. Rathik visibly trembled from head to foot before he dropped to his knees.

The new dust was grittier; Kari sputtered a short cough and waved a hand in front of her face. Maybe Killia would be okay.

 

 

Book Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QGIl0E7DhC4

Excerpt: CHAPTER 1

 

No sharp objects. Pack light.

My instinct is to run, but I don’t know how far my sore limbs will carry me.

Apathy is my last line of defense.

I reach for a baggy sweatshirt and leggings. This has become my uniform when I go away, not for any fashion statement but its functionality—it can be easily taken off before my body is searched by a nurse’s gloved hands. The pressure from the fabric causes me to hiss in pain. I carefully step each leg in to cover the tender scrapes and deep purple bruises along my pale white shins and thighs. The bruises are a reminder that I’ve messed up again.  

I drag my worn leather suitcase that’s on its last leg away from our cottage and into the trunk of Olga’s station wagon. She doesn’t say a word as we head out of our driveway and onto the tree-dense highway. The branches are grayer than normal, though it could be my mood filtering the world in a cloud of indifference.

Olga rolls every window down even though it’s a brisk fifty-two degrees. Long drives make her sweat. I think she would never leave our small town if it were up to her, but I remain her forcing agent.

My eyes wander from the pastures filled with cows and horses to Olga and her wild blowing hair that is unusually more silver than black for someone in their thirties.

“So, what’s this ward like?” I ask, trying to break the tense silence.

“Don’t call it that. That’s not what it’s called. This is a treatment center.”

She turns up her classical piano playlist, the one she plays to calm her nerves, then hands me a folded piece of stock paper filled with smiling faces of young adults—those who, like me, are not teenagers anymore but not quite what I would consider adults either. Much like our mental state, we’re something in between.

The brochure states this center isn’t government funded. By the looks of it, it seems far out of the budget of Olga’s ballet studio salary and my unemployed status, but it claims as part of their philosophy that they take on special cases free of charge. Just my luck, they happened to have room for a last-minute drop-in.

After the stunt I pulled last night, I’m sure Olga would be willing to pay any price.