Monday, April 26, 2010

My Review for Hush, Hush

Hush, Hush

Hush, Hush

By Becca Fitzpatrick

Becca Fitzpatrick has captured our dark sides with her 2009 release of Hush, Hush. This book has many unexpected dark secrets and also a twist you would never see coming.

Nora Grey was an average teenage girl with friends, a social life and school all until patch arrives in her small town. He will change her life from safe and fun to deadly and dangerous. Now her life is a mystery she can’t solve alone.

Patch is the new kid in school no one knows anything about. He also has the dark secret battle he has been trying do fight for centuries but now Nora Grey has changed his chance for good or bad? Now Patch has a choice to kill her or love her. His heart is a dark place only Nora can be his like to a better life what will he choose?

This couple will draw you into this book heart and soul. It is highly recommended to young teens and people into urban fantasies.

Great book

Rated 4/5

The sequel to Hush, Hush .Crescendo will be released in November 16th 2010

Sunday, April 25, 2010

Chapter 1 Fallen By Lauren Kate

Chapter 1

As they came around the corner of the cinder-block classrooms, Arriane skidded to a halt. “Effect cool,” she said.

Luce nodded, already looking around the grounds. “Cool,” she repeated.

All the other students seemed to be clustered around the kudzu-strangled trees outside the building. No one looked exactly happy to be hanging out, but no one looked ready to go inside yet, either.

There hadn’t been much of a dress code at Dover, so Luce wasn’t used to the uniformity it gave a student body. Then again, even though every kid here was wearing the same black jeans and black sweater, there were still substantial differences in how they pulled it off.

A group of tattooed girls standing in a crossed-armed circle wore bangle bracelets up to their elbows. The black bandanas in their hair reminded Luce of a film she’d once seen about motorcycle-gang girls. She’d rented it because she’d thought: What could be cooler than an all-girls motorcycle gang? Now Luce’s eyes locked with those of one of the girls across the lawn. The sideways squint of the girl’s darkly lined cat-eyes made Luce quickly shift the direction of her gaze.

She noticed that a guy and a girl holding hands had sewn sequins in the shape of skulls and crossbones on the backs of their black sweaters. Every few seconds, one of them would pull the other in for a kiss on the temple, on the earlobe, on the eye. They looked a little rough, but it was obvious how much in love they were. Every time she saw their tongue rings flashing, Luce felt a lonely pinch inside her chest.

Behind the lovers, a cluster of blond boys stood pressed against the wall. Each of them wore a white oxford shirt under his sweater, the collar starched straight up. Their tailored black pants hit the bridges of their polished dress shoes perfectly. Of all the students on the quad, these boys seemed to Luce to be the closest thing to Doverites. But a closer look quickly set them apart from boys she used to know. Boys like Trevor.

Just standing in a group, these guys radiated a specific kind of toughness. It was right there in the look in their eyes. It was hard to explain, but it suddenly struck Luce that just like her, everyone at this school had a past. Everyone here probably had secrets they wouldn’t want to share. But she couldn’t figure out whether this realization made her feel more or less isolated.

Arriane noticed Luce’s eyes running over the rest of the kids.

“We all do what we can to make it through the day,” she said, shrugging. “But in case you hadn’t noticed the low-hanging vultures, this place pretty much reeks of death.” She took a seat on a bench under a weeping willow and patted the spot next to her for Luce.

Luce wiped away a mound of wet, decaying leaves, but just before she sat down, she noticed another dress code violation.

A very attractive dress code violation.

No, attractive didn’t even come close to covering it.

He wore a bright red scarf around his neck. It wasn’t cold outside, but he had on a black leather motorcycle jacket over his black sweater, too. Maybe it was because his was the only spot of color on the quad, but he was all that Luce could look at. In fact, everything else so paled in comparison that, for one long moment, Luce completely forgot where she was.

She took in his deep golden hair and the matching tan. Her eyes ran over his high cheekbones, the dark sunglasses that covered his eyes, and the fullness of his lips. In all the movies Luce had seen, and in all the books she’d read, the love interest was empirically attractive—except for that one little flaw. The chipped tooth, the charming cowlick, the beauty mark on his left cheek. She knew why—if the hero was too unblemished, he’d risk becoming unapproachable. But approachable or not, Luce had always had a weakness for the sublimely gorgeous.

And sublimely gorgeous this guy was . . . but the crazy thing was, it wasn’t the way he looked that kept Luce’s rapt attention. She started to feel that there was something else, something bigger that, after her first glance, almost prevented her from really seeing him at all.

He leaned up against the building with his arms crossed lightly over his chest. And for a split second, Luce saw a flash of herself folded into those arms. She shook her head, but the vision stayed so clear that she almost took off toward him.

No. That was crazy. Right? Even at a school full of crazies, Luce was well aware that this instinct was insane. She didn’t even know him.
He was talking to a shorter, black kid with dreads and a toothy smile. Both of them were laughing hard and genuinely—in a way that made Luce strangely jealous. She tried to think back and remember how long had it been since she’d laughed, really laughed, like that.

“That’s Daniel,” Arriane said, leaning in and reading her mind. “I can tell he’s attracted somebody’s attention.”

“Understatement,” Luce agreed, embarrassed when she realized how obviously awestruck she must have looked to Arriane.

“Yeah, well, if you like that sort of thing.”

“What’s not to like?” Luce said, unable to stop the words from tumbling out. “He’s incredible. What’s his story?”

Arriane cleared her throat. “No one really knows,” she said. “He’s kind of a mystery man. My guess is he’s just your typical reform school asshole.”

“I’m no stranger to assholes,” Luce said, though as soon as the words came out, she wished she could take them back. After what had happened to Trevor—whatever had happened—she was the last person who should be making character judgments. But more than that, the rare time she made even the smallest reference to that night, Luce could feel the presence of the shadows, almost like she was right back at the lake.

Feeling spooked, she glanced back at Daniel. He was the opposite of all the shadows. She watched as Daniel took his glasses off and slid them inside his jacket. He turned to look at her.

His gaze caught hers, and Luce watched as his eyes widened and then quickly narrowed in what looked like surprise. But no—it was more than that. When Daniel’s eyes held hers, her breath caught in her throat. She recognized him from somewhere.

But she would have remembered meeting someone like him. She would have remembered feeling as absolutely shaken up as she did right now.

She realized they were still locking eyes when Daniel flashed her a smile. A jet of warmth shot through her and she had to grip the bench for support. She felt her lips pull up in a smile back at him, but then he raised his hand in the air.

And flipped her off.

Luce gasped and dropped her eyes.

“What?” Arriane asked, oblivious to what had just gone down. “Never mind,” she said. “We don’t have time. I sense the bell.”

The bell rang as if on cue, and the whole student body started the slow shuffle into the building. Arriane was tugging on Luce’s hand and spouting off directions about how to find her locker, where to meet her next and when. But Luce was still reeling from being flipped the bird by such a perfect stranger. Her momentary delirium over Daniel had vanished, and now the only thing she wanted to know was: What was that guy’s problem?

Just before she ducked into her first class, she dared to glance back at Daniel. His face was blank, but there was no mistaking it—he was watching her go.
Copyright © Lauren Kate 2009. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Friday, April 23, 2010

Spirit Bound Chapter 1 (Vampire Academy 5)

Spirit Bound (Vampire Academy, Book 5)
Chapter 1

There's a big difference between death threats and love letters–even if the person writing the death threats still claims to actually love you. Of course, considering I once tried to kill someone I loved, maybe I had no right to judge.

Today's letter had been perfectly timed, not that I should have expected any less. I'd read it four times so far, and even though I was running late, I couldn't help but read it a fifth time.

My dearest Rose,

One of the few downsides to being awakened is that we no longer require sleep; therefore we also no longer dream. It's a shame, because if I could dream, I know I'd dream about you. I'd dream about the way you smell and how your dark hair feels like silk between my fingers. I'd dream about the smoothness of your skin and the fierceness of your lips when we kiss.

Without dreams, I have to be content with my own imagination– which is almost as good. I can picture all of those things perfectly, as well as how it'll be when I take your life from this world.

It's something I regret having to do, but you've made my choice inevitable. Your refusal to join me in eternal life and love leaves no other course of action, and I can't allow someone as dangerous as you to live. Besides, even if I forced your awakening, you now have so many enemies among the Strigoi that one of them would kill you. If you must die, it'll be by my hand. No one else's.

Nonetheless, I wish you well today as you take your trials–not that you need any luck. If they're actually making you take them, it's a waste of everyone's time. You're the best in that group, and by this evening you'll wear your promise mark. Of course, that means you'll be all that much more of a challenge when we meet again–which I'll definitely enjoy.

And we will be meeting again. With graduation, you'll be turned out of the Academy, and once you're outside the wards, I'll find you. There is no place in this world you can hide from me. I'm watching.



Despite his "warm wishes" I didn't really find the letter inspiring as I tossed it onto my bed and blearily left the room. I tried not to let his words get to me, though it was kind of impossible to not be creeped out by something like that. There is no place in this world you can hide from me.

I didn't doubt it. I knew Dimitri had spies. Since my former instructor-turned-lover had been turned into an evil, undead vampire, he'd also become a sort of leader among them– something I'd helped speed along when I killed off his former boss. I suspected a lot of his spies were humans, watching for me to step outside my school's borders. No Strigoi could have stayed on a twenty-four-hour stakeout. Humans could, and I'd recently learned that plenty of humans were willing to serve the Strigoi in exchange for the promise of being turned someday. Those humans considered eternal life worth corrupting their souls and killing off others to survive. Those humans made me sick.

But the humans weren't what made my steps falter as I walked through grass that had turned bright green with summer's touch. It was Dimitri. Always Dimitri. Dimitri, the man I'd loved. Dimitri, the Strigoi I wanted to save. Dimitri, the monster I'd most likely have to kill. The love we'd shared always burned within me, no matter how often I told myself to move on, no matter how much the world did think I'd moved on. He was always with me, always on my mind, always making me question myself.

"You look like you're ready to face an army."

I shifted out of my dark thoughts. I'd been so fixated on Dimitri and his letter that I'd been walking across campus, oblivious to the world, and hadn't noticed my best friend, Lissa, falling into step with me, a teasing smile on her face. Her catching me by surprise was a rarity because we shared a psychic bond, one that always kept me aware of her presence and feelings. I had to be pretty distracted to not notice her, and if ever there was a distraction, it was someone wanting to kill me.

I gave Lissa what I hoped was a convincing smile. She knew what had happened to Dimitri and how he was now waiting to kill me after I'd tried–and failed–to kill him. Nonetheless, the letters I got from him every week worried her, and she had enough to deal with in her life without my undead stalker to add to the list.
"I kind of am facing an army," I pointed out. It was early evening, but late summer still found the sun up in the Montana sky, bathing us in golden light as we walked. I loved it, but as a Moroi–a peaceful, living vampire–Lissa would eventually grow weak and uncomfortable in it.

She laughed and tossed her platinum hair over one shoulder. The sun lit up the pale color into angelic brilliance. "I suppose. I didn't think you'd really be all that worried."

I could understand her reasoning. Even Dimitri had said these would be a waste of my time. After all, I'd gone to Russia to search for him and had faced real Strigoi–killing a number of them on my own. Maybe I shouldn't have been afraid of the upcoming tests, but all the fanfare and expectation suddenly pressed in upon me. My heart rate increased. What if I couldn't do it? What if I wasn't as good as I thought I was? The guardians who would challenge me out here might not be true Strigoi, but they were skilled and had been fighting a lot longer than me. Arrogance could get me into a lot of trouble, and if I failed, I'd be doing it in front of all the people who cared about me. All the people who had such faith in me.

One other thing also concerned me.

"I'm worried about how these grades will affect my future," I said. That was the truth. The trials were the final exam for a novice guardian like me. They ensured I could graduate from St. Vladimir's Academy and take my place with true guardians who defended Moroi from the Strigoi. The trials pretty much decided which Moroi a guardian would be assigned to.

Through our bond, I felt Lissa's compassion–and her worry. "Alberta thinks there's a good chance we can stay together–that you'll still be my guardian."

I grimaced. "I think Alberta was saying that to keep me in school." I'd dropped out to hunt Dimitri a few months ago and then returned–something that didn't look good on my academic record. There was also the small fact that the Moroi queen, Tatiana, hated me and would probably be going out of her way to influence my assignment–but that was another story. "I think Alberta knows the only way they'd let me protect you is if I was the last guardian on earth. And even then, my odds would still be pretty slim."

Ahead of us, the roar of a crowd grew loud. One of the school's many sports fields had been transformed into an arena on par with something from Roman gladiatorial days. The bleachers had been built up, expanded from simple wooden seats to luxuriously cushioned benches with awnings to shade the Moroi from the sun. Banners surrounded the field, their bright colors visible from here as they whipped in the wind. I couldn't see them yet, but I knew there would be some type of barracks built near the stadium's entrance where novices waited, nerves on edge. The field itself would have turned into an obstacle course of dangerous tests. And from the sound of those deafening cheers, plenty were already there to witness this event.

"I'm not giving up hope," Lissa said. Through the bond, I knew she meant it. It was one of the wonderful things about her–a steadfast faith and optimism that weathered the most terrible ordeals. It was a sharp contrast to my recent cynicism.

"And I've got something that might help you out today."

She came to a stop and reached into her jeans pocket, producing a small silver ring scattered with tiny stones that looked like peridots. I didn't need any bond to understand what she was offering.
"Oh, Liss...I don't know. I don't want any, um, unfair advantage."

Lissa rolled her eyes. "That's not the problem, and you know it. This one's fine, I swear."

The ring she offered me was a charm, infused with the rare type of magic she wielded. All Moroi had control of one of five elements: earth, air, water, fire, or spirit. Spirit was the rarest– so rare, it had been forgotten over the centuries. Then Lissa and a few others had recently surfaced with it. Unlike the other elements, which were more physical in nature, spirit was tied into the mind and all sorts of psychic phenomena. No one fully understood it.

Making charms with spirit was something Lissa had only recently begun to experiment with–and she wasn't very good at it. Her best spirit ability was healing, so she kept trying to make healing charms. The last one had been a bracelet that singed my arm.

"This one works. Only a little, but it'll help keep the darkness away during the trial."

She spoke lightly, but we both knew the seriousness of her words. With all of spirit's gifts came a cost: a darkness that showed itself now as anger and confusion, and eventually led to insanity. Darkness that sometimes bled over into me through our bond. Lissa and I had been told that with charms and her healing, we could fight it off. That was also something we had yet to master.

I gave her a faint smile, moved by her concern, and accepted the ring. It didn't scald my hand, which I took as a promising sign. It was tiny and only fit on my pinky. I felt nothing whatsoever as it slid on. Sometimes that happened with healing charms. Or it could mean the ring was completely ineffectual. Either way, no harm done.

"Thanks," I said. I felt delight sweep through her, and we continued walking.

I held my hand out before me, admiring the way the green stones glittered. Jewelry wasn't a great idea in the kind of physical ordeals I'd be facing, but I would have gloves on to cover it.

"Hard to believe that after this, we'll be done here and out in the real world," I mused aloud, not really considering my words.

Beside me, Lissa stiffened, and I immediately regretted speaking. "Being out in the real world" meant Lissa and I were going to undertake a task she'd–unhappily–promised to help me with a couple months ago.
While in Siberia, I'd learned there might be a way to restore Dimitri back to being a dhampir like me. It was a long shot– possibly a lie–and considering the way he was fixated on killing me, I had no illusions that I would have any other choice but to kill him if it came down to him or me. But if there was a way I might save him before that happened, I had to find out.

Unfortunately, the only lead we had to making this miracle come true was through a criminal. Not just any criminal either: Victor Dashkov, a royal Moroi who had tortured Lissa and committed all sorts of other atrocities that had made our lives hell. Justice had been served, and Victor was locked away in prison, which complicated things. We'd learned that so long as he was destined for a life behind bars, he saw no reason to share what he knew about his half-brother–the only person who had once allegedly saved a Strigoi. I'd decided– possibly illogically–that Victor might give up the information if we offered him the one thing no one else could: freedom.

This idea was not foolproof, for a number of reasons. First, I didn't know if it would work. That was kind of a big thing. Second, I had no idea how to stage a prison break, let alone where his prison even was. And finally, there was the fact that we would be releasing our mortal enemy. That was devastating enough to me, let alone Lissa. Yet as much as the idea troubled her–and believe me, it did–she'd firmly sworn she would help me. I'd offered to free her from the promise dozens of times in the last couple months, but she'd stood firm. Of course, considering we had no way to even find the prison, her promise might not matter in the end.
I tried to fill the awkward silence between us, explaining instead that I'd really meant we'd be able to celebrate her birthday in style next week. My attempts were interrupted by Stan, one of my longtime instructors. "Hathaway!" he barked, coming from the direction of the field. "Nice of you to join us. Get in there now!"

Thoughts of Victor vanished from Lissa's mind. Lissa gave me a quick hug. "Good luck," she whispered. "Not that you need it."

Stan's expression told me that this ten-second goodbye was ten seconds too long. I gave Lissa a grin by way of thanks, and then she headed off to find our friends in the stands while I scurried after Stan.
"You're lucky you aren't one of the first ones," he growled. "People were even making bets about whether you'd show."

"Really?" I asked cheerfully. "What kind of odds are there on that? Because I can still change my mind and put down my own bet. Make a little pocket money."

His narrowed eyes shot me a warning that needed no words as we entered the waiting area adjacent to the field, across from the stands. It had always amazed me in past years how much work went into these trials, and I was no less impressed now as I saw it up close. The barrack that novices waited in was constructed out of wood, complete with a roof. The structure looked as though it had been part of the stadium forever. It had been built with remarkable speed and would be taken down equally quickly once the trials were over. A doorway about three people wide gave a partial glimpse onto the field, where one of my classmates was waiting anxiously for her name to be called. All sorts of obstacles were set up there, challenges to test balance and coordination while still having to battle and elude the adult guardians who would be lurking around objects and corners. Wooden walls had been constructed on one end of the field, creating a dark and confusing maze. Nets and shaky platforms hung across other areas, designed to test just how well we could fight under difficult conditions.

A few of the other novices crowded the doorway, hoping to get an advantage by watching those who went ahead of them. Not me. I would go in there blind, content to take on whatever they threw before me. Studying the course now would simply make me overthink and panic. Calm was what I needed now.
So I leaned against one of the barrack walls and watched those around me. It appeared that I really had been the last to show up, and I wondered if people had actually lost money betting on me. Some of my classmates whispered in clusters. Some were doing stretches and warm-up exercises. Others stood with instructors who had been mentors. Those teachers spoke intently to their students, giving last-minute words of advice. I kept hearing words like focus and calm down.

Seeing the instructors made my heart clench. Not so long ago, that was how I'd pictured this day. I'd imagined Dimitri and me standing together, with him telling me to take this seriously and not to lose my cool when I was out on the field. Alberta had done a fair amount of mentoring for me since I'd returned from Russia, but as captain, she was out on the field herself now, busy with all sorts of responsibilities. She had no time to come in here and hold my hand. Friends of mine who might have offered comfort–Eddie, Meredith, and others– were wrapped up in their own fears. I was alone.

Without her or Dimitri–or, well, anyone–I felt a surprising ache of loneliness flow through me. This wasn't right. I shouldn't have been alone. Dimitri should have been here with me. That's how it was supposed to have been. Closing my eyes, I allowed myself to pretend he was really there, only inches away as we spoke.
"Don't worry, comrade. I can do this blindfolded. Hell, maybe I actually will. Do you have anything I can use? If you're nice to me, I'll even let you tie it on." Since this fantasy would have taken place after we'd slept together, there was a strong possibility that he would have later helped me take off that blindfold–among other things.

I could perfectly picture the exasperated shake of his head that would earn me. "Rose, I swear, sometimes it feels like every day with you is my own personal trial."

But I knew he'd smile anyway, and the look of pride and encouragement he'd give me as I headed toward the field would be all I needed to get through the tests–

"Are you meditating?"

I opened my eyes, astonished at the voice. "Mom? What are you doing here?"

My mother, Janine Hathaway, stood in front of me. She was just a few inches shorter than me but had enough fight in her for someone twice my size. The dangerous look on her tanned face dared anyone to bring on a challenge. She gave me a wry smile and put one hand on her hip.

"Did you honestly think I wouldn't come to watch you?"

"I don't know," I admitted, feeling kind of guilty for doubting her. She and I hadn't had much contact over the years, and it was only recent events–most of them bad–that had begun to reestablish our connection. Most of the time, I still didn't know how to feel about her. I oscillated between a little girl's need for her absent mother and a teenager's resentment over abandonment. I also wasn't entirely sure if I'd forgiven her for the time she "accidentally" punched me in a mock fight. "I figured you'd have, you know, more important things to do."

"There's no way I could miss this." She inclined her head toward the stands, making her auburn curls sway.

"Neither could your father."


I hurried toward the doorway and peered out onto the fields. My view of the stands wasn't fantastic, thanks to all the obstacles on the field, but it was good enough. There he was: Abe Mazur. He was easy to spot, with his black beard and mustache, as well as the emerald green scarf knotted over his dress shirt. I could even barely make out the glint of his gold earring. He had to be melting in this heat, but I figured it would take more than a little sweat for him to tame down his flashy fashion sense.

If my relationship with my mother was sketchy, my relationship with my father was practically nonexistent. I'd met him back in May, and even then, it wasn't until after I'd gotten back that I found out I was his daughter. All dhampirs had one Moroi parent, and he was mine. I still wasn't sure how I felt about him. Most of his background remained a mystery, but there were plenty of rumors that he was involved with illegal business. People also acted like he was the kneecap-breaking type, and though I'd seen little evidence of this, I didn't find it surprising. In Russia, they called him Zmey: the serpent.

While I stared at him in astonishment, my mom strolled over to my side. "He'll be happy you made it in time," she said. "He's running some big wager on whether you'd show. He put his money on you, if that makes you feel any better."

I groaned. "Of course. Of course he'd be the bookie behind the pool. I should have known as soon as–" My jaw dropped. "Is he talking to Adrian?"

Yup. Sitting beside Abe was Adrian Ivashkov–my more-orless boyfriend. Adrian was a royal Moroi–and another spirit user like Lissa. He'd been crazy about me (and often just crazy) ever since we first met, but I'd had eyes only for Dimitri. After the failure in Russia, I'd returned and promised to give Adrian a shot. To my surprise, things had been...good between us. Great, even. He'd written me up a proposal of why dating him was a sound decision. It had included things like "I'll give up cigarettes unless I really, really need one" and "I'll unleash romantic surprises every week, such as: an impromptu picnic, roses, or a trip to Paris–but not actually any of those things because now they're not surprises."

Being with him wasn't like it had been with Dimitri, but then, I supposed, no two relationships could ever be exactly alike. They were different men, after all. I still woke up all the time, aching over the loss of Dimitri and our love. I tormented myself over my failure to kill him in Siberia and free him from his undead state. Still, that despair didn't mean my romantic life was over–something it had taken me a while to accept. Moving on was hard, but Adrian did make me happy. And for now, that was enough.

But that didn't necessarily mean I wanted him cozying up to my pirate mobster father either.

"He's a bad influence!" I protested.

My mother snorted. "I doubt Adrian will influence Abe that much."

"Not Adrian! Abe. Adrian's trying to be on good behavior. Abe will mess everything up." Along with
smoking, Adrian had sworn he'd quit drinking and other vices in his dating proposal. I squinted at him and Abe across the crowded stands, trying to figure out what topic could be so interesting. "What are they talking about?"

"I think that's the least of your problems right now." Janine Hathaway was nothing if not practical. "Worry less about them and more about that field."

"Do you think they're talking about me?"

"Rose!" My mother gave me a light punch on the arm, and I dragged my eyes back to her. "You have to take this seriously. Keep calm, and don't get distracted."

Her words were so like what I'd imagined Dimitri saying that a small smile crept onto my face. I wasn't alone out here after all.

"What's so funny?" she asked warily.

"Nothing," I said, giving her a hug. She was stiff at first and then relaxed, actually hugging me back briefly before stepping away. "I'm glad you're here."

My mother wasn't the overly affectionate type, and I'd caught her off guard. "Well," she said, obviously flustered, "I told you I wouldn't miss this."

I glanced back at the stands. "Abe, on the other hand, I'm not so sure of."

Or...wait. An odd idea came to me. No, not so odd, actually. Shady or not, Abe had connections–ones extensive enough to slip a message to Victor Dashkov in prison. Abe had been the one to ask for info about Robert Doru, Victor's spiritwielding brother, as a favor to me. When Victor had sent back the message saying he had no reason to help Abe with what he needed, I'd promptly written off my father's assistance and jumped to my prison-break idea. But now–

"Rosemarie Hathaway!"

It was Alberta who called me, her voice ringing loud and clear. It was like a trumpet, a call to battle. All thoughts of Abe and Adrian–and yes, even Dimitri–vanished from my mind. I think my mother wished me good luck, but the exact wording was lost on me as I strode toward Alberta and the field. Adrenaline surged through me. All my attention was now on what lay ahead: the test that would finally make me a guardian.

Burned Chapter 1 (HON 7)

Burned (House of Night Novels)  Chapter One

Kalona lifted his hands. He didn’t hesitate. There was no doubt whatsoever in his mind about what he had to do. He would not allow anything or anyone to get in his way, and this human boy was standing between him and what he desired. He didn’t particularly want to kill the boy; he didn’t particularly want the boy alive, either. It was a simple necessity. He didn’t feel remorse or regret. As had been the norm during the centuries since he’d fallen, Kalona felt very little. So, indifferently, the winged immortal twisted the boy’s neck and put an end to his life.


The anguish of that one word froze Kalona’s heart. He dropped the boy’s lifeless body and whirled around in time to see Zoey racing toward him. Their eyes met. In hers were despair and hatred. In his was an impossible denial. He tried to formulate the words that might make her understand— might make her forgive him. But there was nothing he could say to change what she had seen, and even if he could work the impossible, there was no time.

Zoey threw the full power of the element spirit at him.

It hit the immortal, striking him with force that was beyond physical. Spirit was his essence— his core— the element that had sustained him for centuries and with which he had always been most comfortable, as well as most powerful. Zoey’s attack seared him. It lifted him with such force that he was hurled over the huge stone wall that separated the vampyres’ island and the Gulf of Venice. The icy water engulfed him, smothering him. For an instant the pain within Kalona was so deadening that he didn’t fight it. Perhaps he should let this terrible struggle for life and its trappings end. Perhaps, once again, he should allow himself to be vanquished by her. But less than a heartbeat after he had the thought, he felt it. Zoey’s soul shattered and, as truly as his fall had carried him from one realm to another, her spirit departed this world.

The knowledge wounded him worse than had her blow against him.

Not Zoey! He’d never meant to cause her harm. Even through all of Neferet’s machinations, through all of the Tsi Sgili’s manipulations and plans, he’d held tight to the knowledge that, in spite of everything, he would use his vast immortal powers to keep Zoey safe because ultimately she was the closest he could come to Nyx in this realm— and this was the only realm left to him.

Fighting to recover from Zoey’s attack, Kalona lifted his massive body from the clutching waves and realized the truth. Because of him, Zoey’s spirit was gone, which meant she would die. With his first breath of air, he released a wrenching cry of despair, echoing her last word, “No!”

Had he really believed since his fall that he didn’t truly have feelings? He’d been a fool and wrong, so very wrong. Emotions battered him as he flew raggedly just above the waterline, chipping away at his already wounded spirit, raging against him, weakening him, bleeding his soul. With blurred, blackened vision, he stared across the lagoon, squinting to see the lights that heralded land. He’d never make it there. It would have to be the palace. He had no choice. Using the last reserves of his strength, Kalona’s wings beat against the frigid air, lifting him over the wall, where he crumpled to the frozen earth.

He didn’t know how long he lay there in the cold darkness of the shattered night as emotions overwhelmed his shaken soul. Somewhere in the far reaches of his mind, he understood the familiarity of what had happened to him. He’d fallen again, only this time it was more in spirit than in body— though his body didn’t seem his to command any longer either.

He felt her presence before she spoke. It had been like that between them from the first, whether he truly wished it or not— they simply sensed one another.

“You allowed Stark to bear witness to your killing of the boy!” Neferet’s voice was more frigid than the winter sea.

Kalona turned his head so that he could see more than the toe of her stiletto shoe. He looked up at her, blinking to try to clear his vision.

“Accident.” Finding his voice again he managed a rasping whisper. “Zoey should not have been there.”

“Accidents are unacceptable, and I care not one bit that she was there. Actually, the result of what she saw is rather convenient.”

“You know that her soul shattered?” Kalona hated the unnatural weakness in his voice and the strange lethargy in his body almost as much as he hated the effect Neferet’s icy beauty had on him.

“I imagine most of the vampyres on the island know it. Typically for her, Zoey’s spirit wasn’t exactly quiet in its leave- taking. I wonder, though, how many of the vampyres also felt the blow the chit dealt you just before she departed.” Neferet tapped her chin contemplatively with one long, sharp fingernail.

Kalona remained silent, struggling to center himself and draw together the ragged edges of his torn spirit, but the earth his body pressed against was too real, and he had not the strength to reach above and feed his soul from the wispy vestiges of the Otherworld that floated there.

“No, I don’t imagine any of them felt it,” Neferet continued, in her coldest, most calculating voice. “None of them are connected to Darkness, to you, as I am. Is that not so, my love?”

“We are uniquely connected,” Kalona managed, though he suddenly wished the words were not true.
“Indeed . . .” she said, still distracted by her thoughts. Then Neferet’s eyes widened as a new realization came to her. “I have long wondered how it was that A-ya managed to wound you, such a physically powerful immortal, badly enough that those ridiculous Cherokee hags could entrap you. I believe little Zoey has just provided the answer you’ve so carefully withheld from me. Your body can be damaged but only through your spirit. Isn’t that fascinating?”

“I will heal.” He put as much strength as possible in his voice.

“Return me to Capri and the castle there. Take me to the rooftop, as close to the sky as I can be, and I will regain my strength.”

“I imagine you would— were I so inclined to do that. But I have other plans for you, my love.” Neferet lifted her arms, extending them over him. As she continued to speak she began weaving her long fingers through the air, creating intricate patterns, like a spider spinning her web. “I will not allow Zoey to interfere with us ever again.”

“A shattered soul is a death sentence. Zoey is no longer any threat to us,” he said. With knowing eyes, Kalona watched Neferet. She drew to her a sticky blackness he recognized all too well. He’d spent lifetimes battling that Darkness before he embraced its cold power. It pulsed and fluttered familiarly, restlessly under her fingers. She shouldn’t be able to command Darkness so tangibly. The thought drifted like the echo of a death knell through his weary mind. A High Priestess shouldn’t have such power.

But Neferet was no longer merely a High Priestess. She had grown beyond the boundaries of that role some time ago, and she had no trouble controlling the writhing blackness she conjured.

She is becoming immortal, Kalona realized, and with the realization, fear joined regret and despair and anger where they already simmered within the fallen Warrior of Nyx.

“One would think it would be a death sentence,” Neferet spoke calmly as she drew more and more of the inky threads to her, “but Zoey has a terribly inconvenient habit of surviving. This time I am going to ensure she dies.”

“Zoey’s soul also has a habit of reincarnating,” he said, purposefully baiting Neferet to try to throw off her focus.

“Then I will destroy her over and over again!” Neferet’s concentration only increased with the anger his words evoked. The blackness she spun intensified, writhing with swollen power in the air around her.
“Neferet.” He tried to reach her by using her name. “Do you truly understand what it is you are attempting to command?”

Her gaze met his, and, for the first time, Kalona saw the scarlet stain that nested in the darkness of her eyes. “Of course I do. It’s what lesser beings call evil.”

“I am not a lesser being, and I, too, have called it evil.”

“Ah, not for centuries you haven’t.” Her laughter was vicious. “But it seems lately you’ve been living too much with shadows from your past instead of reveling in the lovely dark power of the present. I know who is to blame for that.”

With a tremendous effort, Kalona pushed himself to a sitting position.

“No. I don’t want you to move.” Neferet flicked one finger at him, and a thread of darkness snaked around his neck, tightened, and jerked him down, pinning him to the ground again.

“What is it you want of me?” he rasped.

“I want you to follow Zoey’s spirit to the Otherworld and be sure none of her friends”— she sneered the word—“manage to find a way to coax her to rejoin her body.”

Shock jolted through the immortal. “I have been banished by Nyx from the Otherworld. I cannot follow Zoey there.”

“Oh, but you are wrong, my love. You see, you always think too literally. Nyx ousted you— you fell— you cannot return. So you have believed for centuries that is that. Well, you literally cannot.” She sighed dramatically as he stared at her blankly. “Your gorgeous body was banished, that’s all. Did Nyx say anything about your immortal soul?”

“She need not say it. If a soul is separated from a body for too long, the body will die.”

“But your body isn’t mortal, which means it can be separated indefinitely from its soul without dying,” she said.

Kalona struggled to keep the terror her words filled him with from his expression. “It is true that I cannot die, but that does not mean I will remain undamaged if my spirit leaves my body for too long.” I could age . . . go mad . . . become a never dying shell of myself . . . The possibilities swirled through his mind.

Neferet shrugged. “Then you will have to be sure you finish your task soon, so that you may return to your lovely immortal body before it is irreparably damaged.” She smiled seductively at him. “I would very much dislike it if anything happened to your body, my love.”

“Neferet, don’t do this. You are putting into motion things that will require payment, the consequences of which even you will not want to face.”

“Do not threaten me! I released you from your imprisonment. I loved you. And then I watched you fawn over that simpering teenager. I want her gone from my life! Consequences? I embrace them! I am not the weak, ineffective High Priestess of a rule- following goddess any longer. Don’t you understand that? Had you not been so distracted by that child, you would know it without me telling you. I am an immortal, the same as you, Kalona!” Her voice was eerie, amplified with power. “We are perfectly matched. You used to believe that as well, and that is something you will believe again, when Zoey Redbird is no more.”

Kalona stared at her, understanding that Neferet was utterly, truly mad, and wondering why that madness only served to feed her power and intensify her beauty.

“So this is what I have decided to do,” she continued, speaking methodically. “I am going to keep your sexy, immortal body safely tucked away underground somewhere while your soul travels to the Otherworld and makes sure Zoey does not return here.”

“Nyx will never allow it!” The words burst from him before he could stop them.

“Nyx always allows free will. As her former High Priestess, I know without any doubt that she will allow you to choose to travel in spirit to the Otherworld,” Neferet said slyly. “Remember, Kalona, my true love, if you ensure Zoey’s death, you will be removing the last impediment to us reigning side by side. You and I will be powerful beyond imagining in this world of modern marvels. Think of it— we will subjugate humans and bring back the reign of vampyres with all the beauty and passion and limitless power that means. The earth will be ours. We will, indeed, give new life to the glorious past!”

Kalona knew she was playing on his weaknesses. Silently, he cursed himself for allowing her to have learned too much about his deepest desires. He’d trusted her, so Neferet knew that because he wasn’t Erebus he could never truly rule beside Nyx in the Otherworld, and he was driven to re- create as much of what he’d lost here in this modern world.

“You see, my love, when you consider it logically, it is only right that you follow Zoey and sever the link between her soul and her body. Doing so simply serves your ultimate desires.” Neferet spoke nonchalantly, as if the two of them were discussing the choice of material for her latest gown.

“How am I even to find Zoey’s soul?” He tried to match her matter of fact tone. “The Otherworld is a realm so vast, only the gods and goddesses can traverse it.”

Neferet’s bland expression tightened, making her cruel beauty terrible to behold. “Do not pretend you don’t have a connection to her soul!” The Tsi Sgili immortal drew a deep breath. In a more reasonable tone, she continued, “Admit it, my love; you could find Zoey even if no one else could. What is your choice, Kalona? To rule on earth at my side, or to remain a slave to the past?”

“I choose to rule. I will always choose to rule,” he said without hesitation.

As soon as he spoke, Neferet’s eyes changed. The green within them became totally engulfed in scarlet. She turned the glowing orbs on him— holding, entrapping, entrancing. “Then hear me, Kalona, Fallen Warrior of Nyx, by my oath I shall keep your body safe. When Zoey Redbird, fledging High Priestess of Nyx, is no more, I swear to you I will remove these dark chains and allow your spirit to return. Then I will take you to the rooftop of our castle on Capri and let the sky breathe life and strength into you so that you will rule this realm as my consort, my protector, my Erebus.” As Kalona watched, helpless to stop her, Neferet drew one long, pointed fingernail across the palm of her right hand. Cupping the blood that pooled there, she held her hand up, offering. “By blood I claim this power; by blood I bind this oath.” All around her, Darkness stirred and descended on her palm, writhing, shivering, drinking. Kalona could feel the draw of that Darkness. It spoke to his soul with seductive, powerful whispers.

“Yes!” The word was a moan torn deep from his throat as Kalona yielded himself to the greedy Darkness.
When Neferet continued, her voice was magnified, swollen with power. “It is your own choice that I have sealed this oath by blood with Darkness, but should you fail me and break it—”

"I will not fail.”

Her smile was unworldly in its beauty; her eyes roiled with blood. “If you, Kalona, Fallen Warrior of Nyx, break this oath and fail in my sworn quest to destroy Zoey Redbird, fledgling High Priestess of Nyx, I shall hold dominion over your spirit for as long as you are an immortal.”

The answering words came unbidden by him, evoked by the seductive Darkness, which for centuries he’d chosen over Light. “If I fail, you shall hold dominion over my spirit for as long as I am an immortal.”

“Thus I have sworn.” Again Neferet slashed her palm, creating a bloody X in her flesh. The copper scent wafted to Kalona like smoke rising from fire as she again raised her hand to Darkness. “Thus it shall be!” Neferet’s face twisted in pain as Darkness drank from her again, but she didn’t flinch— didn’t move until the air around her pulsed, bloated with her blood and her oath.

Only then did she lower her hand. Her tongue snaked out, licking the scarlet line and ending the bleeding. Neferet walked to him, bent, and gently placed her hands on either side of his face, much as he had held the human boy before delivering his deathblow. He could feel Darkness thrumming around and within her, a raging bull waiting eagerly for his mistress’s command.

Her blood-reddened lips paused just short of touching his. “With the power that rushes through my blood, and by the strength of the lives I have taken, I command you, my delicious threads of Darkness, to pull this Oath Bound immortal’s soul from his body and speed him to the Otherworld. Go and do as I order, and I swear I will sacrifice to you the life of an innocent you have been unable to taint. So thee for me, I mote it be!”

Neferet drew in a deep breath, and Kalona saw the dark threads she’d summoned slither between her full, red lips. She inhaled Darkness until she was swollen with it, and then she covered his mouth with hers and, with that blackened, blood- tainted kiss, blew Darkness within him with such force that it ripped his already wounded soul from his body. As his soul shrieked in soundless agony, Kalona was forced up, up, and into the realm from which his Goddess had banished him, leaving his body lifeless, chained, Oath Bound by evil, and at the mercy of Neferet

Storm Glass Chapter 1

 Storm Glass (Glass, Book 1) Chapter 1

The hot air pressed against my face as I entered the glass factory. The heat and the smell of burning coal surrounded me in a comforting embrace. I paused to breathe in the thick air. The roar of the kilns sounded as sweet as my mother’s voice.
“Opal!” Aydan yelled above the noise. “Are you going to stand there all day? We have work to do.” He gestured with a thin gnarled hand.

I hurried to join him. Working in the heat had turned his gray hair into a frizzy mop on his head. Dirt streaked his face and hands. He grimaced in pain when he sat at his workbench, rubbing his lower back with a fist.

“You’ve been shoveling coal again,” I admonished. He tried to look innocent, but before he could lie, I asked, “What happened to your apprentice?”

“Ran off once he figured out how hard it is to turn fire into ice.” Aydan grunted.

“Well, I’m here now.”

“You’re late.”

“Sorry, I had a…test.” I sighed. Another frustrating, fruitless endeavor. Not only had I failed to light the fire, but I knocked over the candles, spilling hot wax all over my classmate Pazia’s clothes and burned her skin. Her expensive silk tunic was ruined. She sneered in distain when I offered to replace her shirt. Nothing new. Pazia’s hostility spanned my entire four years at the Keep. Why would I expect my last year to be any different?

After starting my fifth year of lessons at the Magician’s Keep, I had hoped to be able to do more with my magic. Pazia’s abilities had grown so much since we sat next to each other during our very first session, the Master Magicians were considering allowing her take the Master-level test.

I’d learned about Sitia’s history, politics, how to fight and about the uses for magic, but my ability to tap into the power source remained elusive. Doubts flared and the nagging feeling of being limited to one magical skill churned in my chest. And it didn’t help my confidence when I overheard my fellow students calling me the One-Trick Wonder.

“Jealousy,” Aydan had said when I told him about my nickname. “You helped save Sitia.”

I thought of the day—over four years ago—when I helped Liaison Yelena capture those evil souls. She had done all the work, I was merely a conduit. I tried to downplay my involvement, but Aydan remained stubborn.

“You’re a hero and those children can’t stand it.”

His words made me smile. Calling fifteen to twenty-year-olds children was typical for Ayden, a proud curmudgeon.

He tapped my arm with a blowpipe. “Stop daydreaming and gather me a slug.”

I grabbed the hollow rod and opened the oven. Intense light burst from the furnace as if a piece of the sun was trapped inside. I spun the end of the rod in the molten glass and twisted it up and out, removing a taffy-like ball before my eyebrows and eyelashes could be singed off again.

The cherry-red slug on the end of the iron pulsed as if alive. Aydan blew through the pipe then covered the hole. A small bubble appeared in the molten glass. Resting the pipe on the metal arms of his gaffer’s bench, Aydan rolled the pipe back and forth as he shaped the glass.

I helped him as he created an intricate vase with a twist at the bottom so the piece actually rested on its side yet could still hold water. In his hands, turning glass into art appeared to be an easy task. I loved the unique properties of molten glass which allow it to be molded into such wonderful objects. We worked for hours, but it flew by in minutes.

When he finished his artwork, Ayden stood on creaky legs and said the words that were the reason I came to help him after my Keep classes. “Your turn.”

He exchanged places with me and grabbed a hollow pipe. While he gathered a slug, I made sure all the metal tools lying on the bench were in their proper places. All I needed was my annoying younger brother telling me to hurry, and my patient older sister helping me to complete the feeling of being in my family’s glass factory.

Sitting at the bench was home—familiar and comfortable. Here and here alone, I was in control. The possibilities endless and no one could tell me otherwise.

All thoughts fled when Aydan placed the pipe in front of me. Glass cooled quickly and I had no time to dwell on anything but shaping the molten ball. Using metal tweezers, I pulled and plucked. When the slug transformed into a recognizable image, I blew through the end of the pipe. The piece’s core glowed as if lit by an inner fire.

My one magical trick—the ability to insert a thread of magic inside the glass statue. Only magicians could see the captured light.

Aydan whistled in appreciation of the finished piece. Technically his ability to light fires with magic made him a magician, but since he didn’t posses any other talent he hadn’t been invited to study at the Keep. I shouldn’t have been invited either. I could make my special glass animals at my home in Booruby.

“Damn, girl.” Aydan slapped me on the back. “That’s a dead on copy of Master Jewelrose’s red-tailed hawk! Did you make that for her?”

“Yes. She needed another piece.” I never knew what I would create when I sat down at the gaffer’s bench, but my time spent helping Master Jewelrose care for her hawk must have influenced me. The core glowed bright red and called to me with a song of longing. Each of my creations had a distinctive voice that sounded inside me. No on else could heard its call.

“See? That’s another talent you have.” He bustled about and placed the hawk into the annealing oven so it could cool slowly. “Magicians can now communicate over vast distances with these animals of yours.”

“Only those who have the power of mental communication.” Another skill I lacked, mind reading. For those who possessed the ability, they only needed to hold one of my animals and they could “talk” to each other through the magic trapped inside. I’d admit to feeling a measure of pride over their usefulness, but I would never brag about it. Not like Pazia who flaunted everything she did.

“Pah! It’s still one of the most important discoveries of recent years. Stop being so modest. Here…” He handed me a shovel. “Put more coal in the kiln, I don’t want the temperature to drop overnight.”

End of pep talk. I scooped up the special white coal and added it to the fire under the kiln. Since Aydan sold his glass pieces as art, he only needed one—a small shop compared to my family’s eight kilns.

When I finished, my garments clung to my sweaty skin and strands of my brown hair stuck to my face. Coal dust scratched my throat.

“Can you help me mix?” Aydan asked before I could leave.

“Only if you promise to hire a new apprentice tomorrow.”

He grumbled and grouched, but agreed. We mixed sands from different parts of Sitia. A secret recipe developed generations ago. It would be combined with soda ash and lime before it could be melted into glass.

As I tried to trick Aydan into telling me where the pink-colored sand came from, a messenger from the Keep arrived. A first year student, he wrinkled his nose at the heat.

“Opal Cowan?” he asked.

I nodded and he huffed. “Finally! I’ve been searching the Citadel for you. You’re wanted back at the Keep.”


“I don’t know.”

“Who wants me?”

His face glowed with an almost gleeful expression as if he were my younger brother delivering news of my impending punishment from our parents.

“The Master Magicians.”


I had to be in big trouble. No other reason for the Masters to send for me. As I rushed after the messenger—an ambitious fellow to be running errands for the Masters in his first year, and who already decided I wasn’t worth talking to—I thought of the mishap this morning with Pazia. She had been wanting to get me expelled from my first day. Perhaps she finally succeeded.

We hurried through the Citadel’s streets. Even after four years, the city’s construction still amazed me. All the buildings had been built with white marble slabs streaked with green veins. If I was alone, I would have trailed my hands over the walls as I walked, daydreaming of creating a city made of glass.

Instead, I ran past the buildings as the brilliant color dulled with the darkening sky. The Keep’s guards waved us through—another bad sign. We vaulted up the stairs two at a time to reach the administration building. Nestled in the northeast corner of the Citadel, the Keep’s campus with its four imposing towers marked the boundaries. Inside, the buildings had been constructed from a variety of colored marble and hard woods.

The administration’s peach and yellow blocks used to soothe me, but not today. The messenger abandoned me at the entrance to the Master’s meeting room. Hot from my sprint, I wanted to remove my cloak, but it hid my sweat-stained shirt and work pants. I rubbed my face, trying to get the dirt off and pulled my long hair into a neat bun.

Before I knocked, another possible reason for my summons dawned. I had lingered too long at the glass factory and missed my evening riding lesson. In the last year of instruction at the Keep, the apprentice class learned about horse care and riding to prepare us for when we graduate to magician status. As magicians we would be required to travel around the eleven clan’s lands of Sitia to render aid where needed.
Perhaps the Stable Master had reported my absence to the Masters. The image of facing the three magicians and the Stable Master together caused a chill to shake my bones. I turned away from the door, seeking escape. It opened.

“Do not hover about, child. You’re not in trouble,” First Magician, Bain Bloodgood, said. He gestured for me to follow him into the room.

With curly gray hair sticking out at odd intervals and a long blue robe, the old man’s appearance failed to equal his status as the most powerful magician in all of Sitia. In fact, Third Magician, Irys Jewelrose’s, stern demeanor hinted at more power than Master Bloodgood’s wrinkled face. And if someone passed Second Magician, Zitora Cowan, in the street, that person would not even think the young woman possessed enough talent to pass the Master-level test.

Sitting around an oval table, the three Masters stared at me. I quashed the desire to hide. After all, Master Bloodgood had said I wasn’t in trouble.

“Sit down, child,” First Magician said.

I perched on the edge of my seat. Zitora smiled at me and I relaxed a bit. We were both members of the Cowan clan, and she always made time from her busy schedule to talk to me. And, at twenty-five years old, she was only six years older than me.

I glanced around the room. Maps of Sitia and Ixia decorated the walls, and an oversized geographical map with its edges dropping off the sides covered the mahogany table.

“We have a mission for you,” Zitora said. She had twisted her honey-brown hair into a complex braid. The end of the braid reached her hips, but she fidgeted with the end of it, twirling it around and through her fingers.

A mission for the Masters! I leaned forward.

"The Stormdancers’ glass orbs have been shattering,” Master Jewelrose said.

“Oh.” I relaxed in my chair. Not a magical mission.

“Do you know how important those orbs are, child?” Master Bloodgood asked.

I remembered my lessons about the Stormdance Clan. Their magicians, called Stormdancers had the unique ability to siphon a storm’s energy into an orb. The benefits were two-fold; tame the storm’s killing winds and rain, and provide an energy source for the clan’s other industries. “Very important.”

“And this is a critical time of the year. The cooling season is when the storms from the Jade Sea are more frequent and strong,” Zitora said.

“But doesn’t the clan have master glassmakers? Surely they can fix the problem?”

“The old glassmaker died, child. Those left behind were trained to make the orbs, but the glass is flawed. You need to help them find and correct the problem.”

Why me? I was still learning. “You need to send a master glassmaker. My father—”

“Is in Booruby with all the other experts, which is a seven-day ride away from them. And besides…” Master Jewelrose paused. “The problem might not be with the glass. Perhaps the old glassmaker used magic when he crafted the orbs. Perhaps magic similar to yours.”

My heart melted as if thrown into a kiln. Events had become too hot too quick and the results could have cracks. I had worked with glass since I could remember, yet there was still so much to learn. “When…when do we leave?”

“Today,” Zitora said.

Alarm must have shown on my face.

“Time is of the essence, child.” Master Bloodgood’s expression saddened. “When an orb shatters, it kills a Stormdancer.”

OK Book Time

Sorry I have not posted in a while my laptop decided to break. I had to get it fix. Any way It is book time where I will be posting release dates of new books. Exciting new is that "Stromglass" by Maria V Snyder is now available from all good stores also "Radiant shadows" by Melissa Marr.
So last night I went shopping and got the book "Iron King" by Julie Kagawa and i had it read within 2 hours of buying it. My mum was shocked i could read that much so fast. I apparently have a promising career in book editing. Except the fact I can't spell or correct grammar. So I'll try to post my book review of "Iron King" on here as soon as I can. Also I have found out that Iron King is a series i will post all available information and keep you updated. On the progress of the Julie kagawa's workings. Also there have been a few new books out this month. At the end of the month I'll give you a full list of released books. OK so now i have a few websites that might be useful to you.
Maria V Snyder's Official Website for more details.
Melissa Marr's Official Website for any book details.
Julie Kagawa's Official Website for her new Iron King Series.

Sunday, April 11, 2010

Im back

Hello Everyone

I got home late last night sorry I didn't post then, but I was very tired... Any way i had a great time... With my boyfriend and his great family... They were so nice I cant wait to visit again... I have a feeling I'll get to see them all again... I have plenty of pictures... The beach was lovely and only a short 2 minute walk away from the house where I was staying... I went shopping... I got many great shirts... I also go a great maxi dress for $6 I love it... My boyfriends mum took us shopping yesterday before we left and I found the best out cult shop... Next time i go down there I plan to go to that shop with heaps of money and get a lot of books on different religions... OK so I promised you all book reviews... I will start on them as soon as I can which will be tonight after my family visits today... My family is so sweet... Any way i better get the first review started... I think I'll do the book which started my reading... Promise of the wolves... or maybe... The City of bones... They are all part of my collection that I love... Have a great day... Be safe and have a good read...

Lyra Jane Peta