Description:
Selene is slowly dying...too
bad that’s the least of her problems.
You could say that Selene
Vanream has a lot of problems. First there’s the Rot that’s slowly killing her,
despite everything Ilyse and Micah are doing to find a way to save her.
Then there’s Andrew, the
ghost of her boss who is anchored to the living world. Selene would like to
ignore him, but anchored ghosts with unsettled business turn into anchored
beasties, so she can’t write him off. The government has sent a team to post up
at Affairs of the Dead and keep an eye on her, which includes making sure she
plays up to Andrew to keep him from turning.
On top of that, someone is
using Selene’s new power to create anchored ghosts for their loved ones to keep
around. Not good since the culprit doesn’t have a clue about that whole
anchored beastie angle. Now Selene has a criminal to catch while trying to stay
out of the hands of government goons who have stripping her reanimation power
on their agenda.
When Micah and Ilyse finally
find a way to save her, Selene thinks she can cross one bad thing off her
list--until she learns the terrible price that must be paid to keep her alive.
Full plate doesn’t cover it. Overflowing plate doesn’t cover it. Selene’s plate
has damn near exploded.
Excerpt:
There were
a few things that made me feel like my day was not off to the best start. For
starters, I had overslept by an hour and a half so I was monstrously late for
work. Then there was the scent of smoke creeping into my bedroom accompanied by
loud swearing, which meant my ghost roommate had made a disaster of whatever he
was trying to procure for breakfast. The sky was overcast so it’d probably be a
rainy day. I had a slight headache…and oh yeah, I was looking into my backyard
at my Yorkie, Luna, digging furiously in the dirt. I was almost certain what
she was trying to unearth wasn’t one of her toys.
I stood
there for a few moments more, trying to decipher what it was that Luna was
pawing at, then shook my head and ran out of my bedroom. I almost collided with
Ethan, who was on his way to my room with a frying pan in his gloved hand and
the charred remnants of what he’d come to dub the wake-up bacon.
“It’s
burnt, but I figured waving it under your nose would still get you out of bed
any—Hey, what’s wrong?”
I brushed
past Ethan and ran into the yard where I snatched up Luna, then had a good,
hard look at what she’d been wrestling with. I’d been hoping that it was some
oddly shaped root or five fingered toy I didn’t remember buying for her, but
no, it just had to be the worst possible thing.
A human
hand.
A.J. Locke
is originally from Trinidad and Tobago but has resided in New York City for
over ten years. She knew early on that she wanted to be a writer, penned her
first novel at fourteen, and hasn’t stopped since. Creating is her passion, and
other than writing she enjoys drawing, painting, graphic design, and any other
creative whim that may take her.
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