In canon? Gabby and Peggy.

I’m working on Gabby’s Moments of The Adept Universe short this weekend as a bit of a brain break from the Archivist series in between drafts. [I finished the first draft of Archivist 1 yesterday]. I’m trying to figure out if the age the Talbot twins were adopted is ‘in canon’ or just a note I made for myself (and therefore put in their ‘official’ bios). I’d like them to be older than age seven for the short. If possible.

Gabby’s short details an exceedingly important moment in the twins’ background, feeding into the idea I’m working on for the Misfit 4 storyline. When I outlined the story for Michael, he was a little doubtful I could fit it into a ‘short’ format. So … challenged accepted!

A series of Adept Universe notebooks and a touch of inspiration in the art of Jessica Growling (aka Nature’s my Friend) – an Iris for the month of February.

The first scene I found was, of course, the very first time we meet the twins through Jade’s perspective. Lots of great info in the scene – and some fantastic dialogue, if I say so myself – but no mentions of the age they were when adopted!! So now I scour Misfits 1!

***

Excerpt from Champagne, Misfits, and Other Shady Magic (Dowser 7):

“Introduce yourselves,” Kandy said, seriously peeved. “Then let us know why the hell you’re in a storage room with eight mundanes only one door over.”

The amplifier opened her mouth — but then snapped it closed after a look from her sister. They stared at each other for a moment, and a tiny taste of tart jam shifted between them.

“Communicating telepathically,” I said for Kandy’s benefit.

Kandy snorted. “Don’t make me teach you to obey your elders, my pretties.”

“We know.”

“We understand.”

They overlapped each other, nary a pause between one speaking and the other taking over.

“You first, sis,” the telepath said.

“I always go first.”

“You’re the eldest.”

“So they said.”

“Why would they lie?”

“I’m not having this conversation —”

“You!” Kandy jabbed her finger toward the amplifier.

The telepath flinched. “She’s even more growly than Bitsy.”

“She’s older.” The amplifier shrugged, eyeing the pissed-off werewolf at my side.

“I swear to God,” Kandy growled. “I’m going to teach them some manners.”

I quashed a grin, looking pointedly at the amplifier. She squared her shoulders, intoning with exaggeration. “Gabrielle Talbot. Commonly known as Gabby. Amplifier. Sister of Margaret.”

“Talbot?” I asked. “Daughter of Angelica?”

Gabby scowled. “Adopted daughter of the sorcerers Stephan and Angelica Talbot.”

“Margaret Talbot,” the telepath said, picking up practically on top of her sister’s final word. “Known as Peggy. Telepath … truth seeker.”

Gabby shot her a look.

“Well, there’s no point in lying to a dowser, is there?”

I didn’t correct Peggy’s assumption that I could wield my skills to distinguish magical abilities that finely.

Gabby looked from me to Kandy belligerently. “We won’t be used. The Talbots won’t allow it. Never again.”

Kandy cackled. “You think two sorcerers could stand against Jade Godfrey, dowser, alchemist, wielder of the instruments of assassination, if she wanted you?”

“Plus, I’m not interested in using anyone,” I said mildly.

“Not the point,” Kandy said. “It’s the principle. They come into your territory and question your authority.”

Peggy looked stricken. “We certainly weren’t.”

“Henry Calhoun said we’d be safe here,” Gabby said quietly.

That gave Kandy pause. She glanced over at me.

I nodded.

“Henry sent you to Vancouver?” the werewolf asked.

Gabby and Peggy nodded in perfect unison.

Kandy grumbled under her breath, retrieving her phone from her back pocket and opening her texting app. I had a feeling there would be T-shirts for the amplifier and the telepath in the near future.

Kandy’s self-assigned pack was rapidly expanding. First Rochelle and Beau, then Mory — though the necromancer might have nominally been under the werewolf’s protection first. Then a fledgling vampire, and now an amplifier and a telepath. If Kandy ever needed to invade a small country, she was collecting the army with which to do so. With at least a dozen more years of training, of course. And that wasn’t even including Drake, Warner, and me.

Either that or the US Marshal, Henry Calhoun, who most assuredly belonged to Kandy by way of her bite and the transfer of magic that had come with it, was about to get an earful.

I gestured toward the green-haired werewolf. “Kandy, enforcer of the West Coast North American Pack.”

Gabby and Peggy exchanged another look. Then, by seemingly mutual decision, Peggy spoke. “The pack has a presence in Vancouver?”

Kandy paused her texting to growl. “Why do you care?”

Neither Gabby or Peggy answered.

“Can you tell us why your magic went … awry?” I asked.

“It didn’t. Not really. It was just intense and out of the blue.”

“And you normally have trouble getting it under control? Or mitigating its effects?”

Another glance passed between the twins.

“No. Not for a long time, I guess.” Peggy twisted a large moonstone ring on her left index finger. Gabby wore the same ring on her right index finger, making me wonder if that indicated the twins had different dominant hands.

They spoke with American accents, completely different from Angelica Talbot’s. Gabby’s intonation was more abrupt, while Peggy had a softer, smoother tone.

“I have a brown spot in my left eye,” Peggy said. “If you’re trying to tell Sis and me apart.”

I smiled. “Your magic tastes different.”

“Yeah,” Kandy said. “You can’t fool anyone who can smell magic, fledglings.”

They glanced at each other, and this time even I could see the look of disappointment that passed between them. Maybe tricking people into thinking you were your twin was a fun game?

“You haven’t been by the bakery yet,” I said.

Gabby shifted uncomfortably. “We were going to come …”

“Mory said we should …” Peggy added.

“But we were waiting until everyone was in town, like officially, so we could all come together. As a family. You know? But Stephan is still transitioning his work.”

“No one is going to hurt you in Vancouver,” I said gently. My odd conversation with Angelica Talbot was suddenly showing itself in a new light.

Peggy nodded. “That’s why we’re here … Because we were bred for our magic …”

“… and whored out.” Gabby twined her fingers through her twin’s, but she kept her steady gaze on me.

“Mother … fecker,” Kandy snarled, modifying her language at the last moment.

Gabby narrowed her sky-blue gaze at the werewolf. “We aren’t seven.”

“Yes.” Peggy nodded helpfully. “We just look young for our age.”

“A bonus for our breeders.”

“You mean it would have been a bonus, Gabby. If the Convocation hadn’t rescued us.”

“Eventually.”

“It was a large prostitution ring, difficult to track and crack.”

“We agree to disagree.”

“Yes, we do. Anyway, we were pretty damaged by then, as you can imagine.”

“So no one wanted us.”

“Except the Talbots.”

“Yeah, except Stephan and Angelica.”

The twins looked at each other for a moment, then turned their expectant gazes on us.

I stared at them, processing this new inundation of information — and catching Kandy doing the same thing in my peripheral vision.

***

In other news, before I quit work for the day I’ll schedule the next audiobook giveaway – Tangled Echoes (Reconstructionist 2) – so check back at 2 pm PST tomorrow to grab a copy!

Archivist 0: it’s vintage.

I dropped the prequel to the Archivist Series in the editor’s inbox yesterday for line and content edit, which means I’m not allowed to make any more major changes to the storyline. So there you go … my quiet ‘what happens in the moments before the series begins’ prequel novella that wasn’t supposed to be more than 30k is now a novel of 53k, and is on track for a January 2021 release.

I’ll be releasing the book – as a serialized freebie, as I did with Amplifier 0 – on my blog but I’ll also put up the preorder ahead of time for those of you who don’t want to read online. I’m actually hoping to drop the first section on January 1, 2021, but with the holidays coming up I need to check to see if I can get on Pauline’s schedule (aka the proofreader). I’ll keep you posted.

To celebrate getting the book into the editor I’m posting a sneak peek of the book cover over in the Facebook fan group. And I’ve added an excerpt below that totally highlights how Dusk’s mind works.

Scene set-up: Dusk is wearing a sweater with a patterned yoke as well.

The woman was wearing a pretty red sweater with a Fair Isle pattern on the yoke. Her light blond hair coiled into curls that barely brushed her shoulders. So unlike my own wild mane that I felt momentary … frumpy.

She caught me looking, glancing at my own outfit. “Oh, does your grandmother knit?” she asked in English.

In English!

Sigh.

“Um,” I responded slowly. My maternal grandmother, Ruth, had died before I was born, having ventured into sixteenth century China in pursuit of a bashe that — having gone insane and decided it was a dragon — was obsessed with reclaiming a pearl it claimed contained a prophecy. Since my grandmother had inadvertently released the gigantic snake from a misfiled artifact in her own archive, she’d been responsible for its release and therefore its recapture.

My grandmother’s ashes — authenticated, so my mother could claim her inheritance of the estate — were housed in an ornate urn on the mantel in the library. The pearl was safely housed in the treasure keeper’s personal collection where all the exceedingly dangerous artifacts were stored. Pulou, aka the treasure keeper, aka the guardian dragon who oversaw all the dragon archivists, had personally returned my grandmother’s remains. And the prophecy was a separate thing altogether.

That either the pearl or the prophecy even existed was knowledge that wasn’t mine to collect. Yet. But the family library yielded things to my touch it shouldn’t, including personal family journals. And my mother hadn’t caught me. Again, yet.

The woman was staring at me. Her eyes widening as my silence discomforted her.

I touched the neckline of my sweater. “It’s vintage.”

“Oh!” She smiled broadly. “Good find.”

– Awakening Infinity (Archivist 0), fourth draft

Coming January 2021

Archivist 0: the damn egg

The book cover is only a couple of tweaks away from being ready and I’m putting the finishing touches on the edit for Archivist 0 this week. But, before I spend the rest of the afternoon writing a ‘missing’ scene, I decided I was totally overdue to release an excerpt.

I mean, you know I’ll use any excuse to share.

I touched Sisu’s shoulder, worried about how long he’d been in the nexus without me, and possibly not knowing where I was, but his attention turned back to the golden egg as if it was somehow compelling him. And maybe it was. I couldn’t feel anything specific from the egg, but the press of the library’s energy was intense.

Jiaotu reached over his son’s head, plucking up the object of my brother’s obsession. He narrowed his bright blue eyes at the artifact, which was only slightly larger than a regular chicken egg, then he shrugged and handed it to Sisu.

An entire world of hurt and terror could be hidden in that shrug.

Sisu cupped the egg in both hands, grinning. Then he whispered, “Hello, there.”

And … that was way worse than a casual shrug.

Jiaotu was watching me with one eyebrow slightly raised as if he expected me to protest.

I could handle anything that came out of the damn egg. I held the guardian’s gaze, silently letting him know that.

– Awakening Infinity (Archivist 0), fourth draft.

To be released chapter by chapter in January 2021.

Archivist 0: wanton destruction

When Michael beta reads for me – usually after the third draft, before a book goes to the story editor – he mostly highlights typos and anything he feels is awkward. But he also tags favourite bits, usually with a laughing or crying emoji.

I thought you might find this excerpt as amusing as Michael apparently did.

“The fact that we can feel [her power] so acutely should remind us all that Dusk is seventy-five years away from her majority.” Jiaotu pronounced each word precisely. It was the most vivid display of emotion I’d ever heard or seen from him. And I’d placed Sisu into his arms only moments after his birth. The guardian’s only child. A child whose existence was already a rarity in a world more and more filled with environmentally destructive technology.

“So is Drake.” Suanmi tapped her long fingernails on the arm of her chair. They were filed into slightly rounded points, painted bright red. “Yet he is perfectly capable.”

“Of utterly wanton destruction,” Haoxin said gleefully. As if wanton destruction was a good thing.

– [title redacted] (Archivist 0), third draft

Archivist 0: I just recorded it all.

Dragons didn’t tremble. Dragons didn’t beg for forgiveness or break under pressure. Dragons walked through magical maelstroms, quashing demon uprisings and thwarting world invasions before stopping off for dim sum for breakfast. In Shanghai.

Well, guardian dragons did that sort of thing.

I just recorded it all.

– [title redacted] (Archivist 0), third draft

He hadn’t noticed that I’d just been trying to decide when I was going to murder him.

Idols and Enemies (Amplifier 4) is one week and one day old! Yay!! Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read, review, and share. It is so, so appreciated (and helps with visibility). I’ve pulled back from email/social media a bit to make more time for writing new words, so I’ve been a little quiet, but next weekend is my birthday! And, as you probably already know, that means a lot of random, flash giveaways will be happening (usually over on my Facebook page)!!!

***

Kader transferred his smile to me. “Just magnificent. Though I wouldn’t expect anything less from you, amplifier.”

“You don’t know me well enough to make that assessment, sorcerer.”

“No?” He arched an eyebrow.

The expression was disconcertingly reminiscent of Aiden’s. I’d seen a disturbing echo of the sorcerer I loved in his brother’s face as well. Thankfully, the feeling of familiarity quickly faded, because I was already feeling off. I wasn’t remotely acting how I’d assumed I would react to meeting one of my makers — specifically, with my blades in hand and that maker’s life blood marking their edges just moments afterward.

“I suppose not,” Kader said despite my silence. “It has been over eight years.”

He hadn’t noticed that I’d just been trying to decide when I was going to murder him.

When.

Not if.

Of that, I had no doubt.

New to the Amplifier Series? The prequel The Amplifier Protocol (Amplifier 0) is free! But only for a limited time. Or click here for the reading order of the entire Adept Universe.

Amplifier 4: Chapter One, Part One

And the one-week countdown beings! If you aren’t a fan of spoilers and are behind in reading the Amplifier Series (starting with the Amplifier Protocol, which is currently free on all retailers) then please continue reading with caution.

*Cover design by:* Gene Mollica Studios Models: Devon Ericksen and Jonathan Cannaux

Idols and Enemies (Amplifier 4): Chapter One:

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED ABOUT SPOILERS!!!

A dark-haired, dreadfully sexy sorcerer sat in the copper-edged pentagram inset into the white-painted wood-slat flooring of the barn loft. Aiden had been fortifying the rune-etched, five-pointed star for the last three months, starting by adding smaller pentagrams at each point. At the beginning of May, he had embedded a black gemstone — obsidian — in the heart of each smaller star, then conducted tests for two more weeks. It had taken most of those first months to source the volcanic rock in a size and quality that satisfied the sorcerer. More glyphs had been carved into the stones themselves.

Dark-blue magic gleamed from the runes inked across Aiden’s bare chest, shoulders, back, arms, and legs. I’d been exceedingly helpful with the hard-to-reach areas. Then — again, terribly helpfully — I had powered up the sorcerer until he’d groaned and panted under the onslaught of my touch. My magic.

Crouched an arm’s length away with my blades at the ready, I grinned at the remembrance. The lingering pleasure still warmed my own limbs.

Aiden laughed at me huskily, flashing a toothy grin. His bright-blue eyes blazed with power. He was holding an envelope sealed with dark-blue wax in both hands. His long, dexterous fingers were each tipped in sparkly pink nail polish.

The manicure was a remnant of our most recent visit from Opal. The young witch had insisted she needed to practice casting during a break from the Academy, and Aiden was perpetually obliging when it came to the dream walker’s wants and needs. My own fingers and toes were currently bright green. And I’d been completely — irrationally — upset when I noted upon waking that morning that two of my fingernails had been chipped.

No matter how much I adored my life in general, Opal’s absence always left me feeling a little hollow.

Drawing my attention back to the present, Aiden muttered an arcane word in that unique language he used. Magic snapped into place, sealing him within the main copper pentagram. The sorcerer quietly voiced another command, and the black stones in the five outer pentagrams flared with power.

Opal was safely at the Academy. Christopher and Paisley had left two days previously to join Samantha in Budapest. The telekinetic had been tracking Bee — aka Amanda Smith, aka one of the Five — across Eastern Europe for weeks now, but the path was cold, and the telepath was still missing. Daniel had surfaced long enough to check in, confirm that he didn’t know where Bee was either, and then go dark again. He was on his own separate mission.

In the end, Christopher had wanted to help make certain that Bee was okay, and I wasn’t his keeper. Paisley seemed amenable to doing some tracking, and I trusted that she would listen to the clairvoyant. So other than the chickens and the cows, the sorcerer and I were the only ones remaining on the property.

Which was good. Because it was time to deal with Kader Azar.

Aiden’s father, and a key member of the former Collective — aka one of my creators.

Aiden had invested three months into fortifying the pentagram just so he could open the letter that his brother, Isa Azar, had hand delivered last February.

“Ready or not,” the sorcerer said. Then he winked at me.

A flicker of warmth — desire mixing with a gleeful anticipation — flitted through my stomach. My magically sharpened, black-coated steel blades sat by my knees on the wood-slat flooring. The open loft was at my back, with the barn doors thrown wide open below. Aiden’s SUV was still parked beside the barn, but I’d moved the Mustang out, parking it by the house. It was likely that a ton of magic was about to be tossed around, and Lani Zachery would not be pleased if we ruined the car’s paint, which was still the original clearwater aqua. Or the aqua vinyl seating, for that matter.

Each time Lani caught me driving around with Paisley, I could tell that the full-time mechanic, part-time intuitive had a difficult time not losing her mind. Lani’s latent witch magic manifested in an innate sense of when something needed to be fixed and how to fix it. More so since I’d amplified her.

Aiden held the envelope forward, his attention riveted to the rune-embossed wax seal. He murmured quietly under his breath, repeating a short phrase that stirred the magic within the pentagram. Power I could see but not feel.

I had another chance to wish that Aiden had agreed to have me in the pentagram with him, amplifying him at the same time as he opened the missive from his father.

We had fought over it.

Concern had sharpened my words, but experience tempered Aiden’s response. In the end, experience won, and I’d agreed to the sequence of events we were about to execute.

Aiden snapped the wax seal. It sounded like the explosive concussion of a high-caliber gun, discharging close enough that I expected to be winged by a bullet.

Nothing else happened.

Aiden laughed, quietly relieved.

Then a dark, shadowy pulse of power reached out from the broken seal, striking Aiden’s chest.

He grunted, pained. Magic flared through the runes inked across every bare section of his body.

My blades suddenly appeared in my hands. I wrapped my fingers around the hilts on instinct, though I hadn’t consciously reached for them. Damn it. I must have inadvertently triggered the intricate retrieval spell that Aiden had fixed in one of the three raw-diamond gemstones embedded in each of the hilts, wasting the energy it had taken him to cast it in my momentary rush of panic.

The shadowed spell expanded across Aiden’s chest. He snarled, dropping the envelope to reach for the magic. The malicious shadow stretched, expanding until it looked suspiciously like a hand with five digits. A hand trying to grab the sorcerer?

All at once, the obsidian stones in the outer, smaller pentagrams flared, becoming brighter and brighter until I had to narrow my eyes against their intense blue glow.

The black stone nearest Aiden’s right knee cracked.

Then another stone. And another.

Five loud, sharp pops.

The magic died within each obsidian gem.

“Fuck!” Aiden snarled. Shuddering with the effort, he cupped his hands before him, fingers spread wide as he began muttering a melodic phrase over and over. The ink-etched runes on his upper chest and shoulders shifted, as if they were being pulled into or siphoned by the shadow hand.

No.

Not siphoned.

Aiden was somehow using the inked runes to feed the spell trying to grab hold of him. More symbols slid up and over the sorcerer’s shoulders and arms, leaving the deeply tanned skin of first his wrists, then his forearms bare.

Sweat broke out on his forehead.

I shifted, bringing my blades forward.

“No, Emma,” Aiden grunted. “I’m handling it.”

I stilled, trusting his expertise. Trusting him.

Even I could learn. It was just that the lessons involving Aiden, involving any of those I cared about, took longer to absorb.

My heart hammered annoyingly in my chest. But as I watched, the shadow hand was drawn from Aiden’s chest. It coalesced into a dark, seething ball of power suspended between the sorcerer’s outstretched fingers. More runes were quickly stripped from Aiden’s legs, abdomen, and lower rib cage, running up to his shoulders and then down his arms as he continued to feed the spell. The sphere darkened, simmering between Aiden’s hands but no longer touching his skin. I could see lightning strikes of power coursing within it, emanating from Aiden’s fingertips.

With his body now completely stripped of the magical protections we’d spent hours putting in place and powering up, Aiden began condensing the spell he now held firmly, compressing it between his palms. Then, his chest heaving with the effort, he folded the spell in on itself.

The now-tiny black sphere dissolved with an audible snap.

I waited, blades still poised to slash and rend. All my senses were on alert, reaching through the stillness of the loft, of the upper suite behind Aiden, and of the barn around us. Waiting for the next assault.

Nothing else happened.

Aiden raised his head, grimacing. Power brought forth by his anger blazed in his eyes. Tension was etched through his stubbled jaw. He locked me in place with a soul-searing gaze.

Sometimes he was so breathtakingly beautiful that my heart actually stuttered at the sight of him. Not that I would ever voice such an outrageously idiotic thought out loud.

“Well …” Aiden’s voice was husky, as if he had torn his throat raw while dealing with the magic, even though he’d barely spoken. “He knows where I am.”

COMING SEPTEMBER 29, 2020

PREORDER NOW

– AMAZON – KOBO – APPLE BOOKS – BARNES & NOBLE – SMASHWORDS –

Amplifier 4: Paisley wants to play.

I’m working through the editor’s line edit on Idol and Enemies (Amplifier 4) and since I’m refining the text, etc, I thought it would be fun to share a short snippet. When I asked for requests over on Facebook and Twitter, the overwhelming majority voted for more Paisley content. So here you go!

Warning: it’s rather difficult to pull chunks out of Amplifier 4 without spoilers, so there are characters in this snippet that you haven’t met yet.

Aiden released my hand, stepping over to the kitchen island. “Whose turn is next?”

Khalid cleared his throat, eyeing Paisley and then glancing over Aiden’s shoulder at me. “Mine. If I step back, will Paisley try to rip my throat out?”

“I never really know,” I said casually. “Shall I ask her not to eat you, sorcerer?”

“You haven’t already?” Ocean cried. Then she blushed fiercely.

I didn’t answer.

So apparently, I could play games. For my own pleasure, at least. Though by the look Aiden angled at me, I’d managed to amuse him as well.

Aiden took Khalid’s spot at the island. Paisley hooked paws that were too big for her current body on the edge of the speckled quartz counter and pulled herself up. Her nose skimmed the low edge of the magical grid. Sickled claws shot out from her paws.

Across from the demon dog, Sky meeped.

I wasn’t certain I’d ever heard a human make that particular sound before.

“Paisley,” I said in a warning tone.

The demon dog retracted the claws, laughing at me with her eyes.

– Idols and Enemies (Amplifier 4)

Amplifier 0: Flynn

I’m working my way through the Amplifier books today, making sure all the ‘marketing’ bits are in place as I ready for the upcoming push through to the release of book four (preorder TBA). And I happened upon this scene (and the scene right before), and – once again – blubbered through it. Ugh. So much heartache on the Five’s path to freedom of choice.

We were about three-quarters of the way along the corridor when Flynn unleashed his death curse in the northeast stairwell.

By succumbing to death.

Magic slammed against Fish’s nullifying field. It actually shoved him forward into Knox and Bee.

The concrete floor rumbled under our feet. Anyone in the path of the spell, whatever team was blocking the northeast stairwell and whoever had hit Flynn with the spell that had killed him, wouldn’t be left standing. In fact, based on the light display pulsing across Fish’s shield, I doubted whether the stairwell would even be passable.

A sorcerer of Flynn’s caliber held a lot of magic in his blood, in his life force. Enough to wipe out many enemies.

But then, if you were willing to die to do so, you could wreak a lot of vengeance.

Waiting for the residual to fade before moving, we all turned to look at Zans.

She was standing a couple of steps ahead, head bowed, hands clenched at her sides.

Flynn’s magic faded.

Zans glanced back down the corridor, snarling and laughing at the same time. “I bet that stung them. And I haven’t even gotten started yet.” She pinned her dark gaze to me. “Are you with me, Socks?”

She didn’t have to ask. Truthfully, she really shouldn’t have asked, because there was wild magic embedded in vows — when the words were wielded by those such as us.

“To the end,” I said.

“To the end.” Knox, Bee, and Fish echoed the words behind me.

Magic shifted around us, then settled. We were already tied. By birth, by blood, and by magic. Those bonds might have been forced upon us, but we had no one else. No reason not to die for each other.

– The Amplifier Protocol (Amplifier 0)

Reconstructionist 1: favourite scene

“She’s found us,” Kett said.

Something shifted in the air around me, stirring the strands of hair that had loosened from my French twist. It wasn’t magic. Or, rather, it wasn’t magic I’d ever felt before.

I straightened, following Kett’s gaze back toward the main path. “What do you mean?”

“Apparently, Garrick blood runs true.”

The grass to my immediate right heaved upward, dirt churning and wooden shards thrust to the surface as the occupant of the grave wrenched itself free of its earthy confines.

I stumbled back, slamming against Kett and bruising my left shoulder.

The corpse pulling itself free of the grave was fresh enough that it still had hair and sinew attached to its graying skeleton. Then the sod and soil churned to our left. A thick-boned arm thrust free of the ground, clawing forward as it dragged a head and upper body into the night air.

Both zombies homed in on us. With the crypt behind us, our only clear route was back toward the main path.

“Oh, Jesus,” I whispered. “Oh, mother of God. Please, Lord.”

Nothing like a zombie rising to convert a witch to Christianity.

“Don’t fret,” Kett said, patting my shoulder awkwardly. “I doubt she can raise more than two or three at a time.”

Jesus Christ. I was cowering against a vampire like some damsel in bloody distress.

I pushed away from Kett. He let me go.

I was a witch. Witches didn’t cower in the face of magic. I was a Fairchild — whether I wanted to be or not. Fairchilds didn’t hide from the darkness —

The earth churned above four more graves. And those were only the ones I could see in the intermittent moonlight.

I sidestepped the nearest zombie to my right, zigzagging through the corpses freeing themselves from their graves all around us as I ran for the main path.

Kett moved with me.

We were past the last row of headstones, four or so feet from the pavement, when something grabbed my ankle.

I shrieked despite my resolve as I almost went down. Kett caught me. I twisted to look behind me. I was held fast by a rotting arm. A zombie had grabbed me even before wrenching itself free from its grave.

Looking back was a mistake. Dozens of zombies had freed themselves from the earth and were shuffling their way toward us. Still more corpses in various stages of decay were pulling themselves from their final resting places.

Kett snapped the arm holding my ankle in two, then flicked the severed limb back behind us. It slammed into the bony forehead of the walking corpse nearest us. The zombie’s head snapped back with the force of the blow, bone splintered. The vampire had broken its neck with a flick of his wrist.

The zombie stumbled, but it kept moving in our direction.

Kett was smiling. Actually smiling. Not smirking, not curling his lip, but a full-on, joyful, thrilled smile.

“Stop smiling!” I shouted.

He laughed. A breathy, rushed, eager laugh. He sounded human. Specifically, he sounded like a human who was about to do something incredibly stupid.

The sound chilled me through. “Smiling and laughing isn’t appropriate in this situation!” I yelled, completely losing my own connection to what was appropriate.

Kett picked up a headstone as if it weighed nothing to him. He tossed it up in the air.

I cranked my head up, unable to do anything but watch as the vampire went mad in a graveyard teeming with zombies.

The stone flew straight up, appeared to hang in the air above us, then spiraled down straight for my head.

“Hang on,” Kett murmured against my craned neck.

I threw my arms around his shoulders. He spun, taking me with him. Outstretched bony fingers brushed my cheek.

We stopped spinning.

The headstone crushed the zombie that had been about to grab me.

Kett threw his head back and laughed again.

Jesus. It was a game. The vampire was … playing.

I was going to die.

I had fought, then bargained for my life at the tender age of sixteen. I’d earned my emancipation, protecting myself from anything or anyone who could possibly have hurt me in any way since then.

And now I was going to die in the arms of a deranged centuries-old vampire, eaten alive by zombies.

– excerpt from Catching Echoes (Reconstructionist 1)

Audiobook cover by Damonza. Narrator TBA!

Last night I sent this scene to the narrators I’ve called back for the Reconstructionist audiobook auditions. And, listening to these exceptionally talented narrators reading it reminded me just how much I love this moment between Kett and Wisteria!!

Coming soon to a pair of headphones (earbuds?) near you. I mean, they have to be near you … otherwise, you wouldn’t be able to hear anything through them. Never mind. You know what I mean!