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Monday, October 2, 2017

Book Review: Halloween Carnival, Volume 1 edited by Brian James Freeman

Halloween Carnival, Volume 1
Book 1 of 5 in Halloween Carnival (5 Book Series)
Contributors/Authors: Robert Mccammon, Kevin Lucia, John Little, Lisa Morton, Mark Allen Gunnells
October 3, 2017
149 pages
Publisher: Hydra
ASIN: B01NAR7R4W
Robert McCammon, Kevin Lucia, John R. Little, Lisa Morton, and Mark Allan Gunnells put the horror back in Halloween with a quintet of devilishly delightful tales, curated by acclaimed author and editor Brian James Freeman.

STRANGE CANDY by Robert McCammon
Chocolate bars and sour suckers are trick-or-treat staples, but beware the odd sweet at the bottom of your bag. You never know who it’s from—or what it might do to you.

THE RAGE OF ACHILLES by Kevin Lucia
Father Ward should have heeded the warnings about hearing confession on All Hallow’s Eve. Because a man is about to tell him a secret more haunting than any he has heard before.

DEMON AIR by John R. Little
Fear of flying is not uncommon. But on this transpacific airline, the real danger isn’t the flight itself. It’s whoever—or whatever—is up in the air with you.

LA HACIENDA DE LOS MUERTOS by Lisa Morton
Trick McGrew, former cowboy star of the silver screen, has never believed in tall tales. But down in Mexico, the land of La Llorona, he’s about to find out just how real urban legends can be.

#MAKEHALLOWEENSCARYAGAIN by Mark Allan Gunnells
Some people will go to any lengths to rack up retweets, likes, and follows on social media, no matter who they end up hurting . . . or even killing.


It’s that time of the year again, Where the weather is cooler, leaves change color, pumpkins lined front porches, and people filled stores to search for that perfect costume for their kid to trick-or-treat in, or for themselves to wear attending parties. Halloween. Where we read stories filled with ghosts, ghouls, demons, and monsters. Like Halloween Carnival, Volume 1. If you’re looking for a quick or short read, then this anthology fits the bill.

The first story, “Strange Candy,” wasn’t scary to me, as much as truly holding the essence of Halloween. Something Ray Bradbury (who is one of my favorite authors) would have written. A man takes a strange piece of candy found at the bottom of his daughter’s trick-or-treat bag, in the shape of a small hand covered in sugar, and suddenly had to theurge to eat it. Which he did. Suddenly, like Scrooge, he is visited by spirits, by hom going to the place they died, asking him to tell those they’d left behind what happened to them and not to blame themselves. It didn’t scare me, instead, I think it did what the author intended when he wrote it and touched my heart. The second tale is about a priest who hears a confession in the confessional on Halloween. The church was normally closed on that night, but the priest felt the need to keep it open for confessions on that particular Halloween. Even though he might not get anyone, he does when a man fills the small room in the other side of the screen. The man confesses to a guilt that he caused his autistic son, Evan’s death crossing a street and not the drunk driver who hit him. By allowing Evan to cross the street by himself. Except it wasn’t a normal confessional, but this being on Halloween, where the Veil is thinnest and spirits return each year…. #Demon Air” has a young woman named Halle (named for Halloween and not the actress), taking a bargain fare for a plane flight to Australia to find her ancestry after learning she was adopted after the death of her mother. But she will learn that sometimes, the cheapest flight becomes something else when it’s Halloween. The story didn’t do much for me and I felt the ending had no closure. “La Hacienda de los Muertos” is set in Mexico, where instead of Halloween, we get what is celebrated down below the border November, American western movie star, Trick McGraw, in 1958, travels to Mexico City, to work not on a western, but a horror film. The movie would be the first film in six years he worked in, since his horse, Blazer, died. This put me in mind of Roy Rogers and his palomino, Trigger. Not happy to do it, still it is a job and he takes it. Ms. Morton took me back with this story to classic Mexican horror films, where sometimes you might get an American playing a lead part. And when they film the movie on an actual hacienda and another Mexican mythical being, La Llorona, a wailing woman who is looking for her drowned children and causes death to those who encounter her, haunts the nights, making a real-life horror flick for the actors and production company. Trick goes out to stop the ghost from haunting and finds out the truth about her haunting. Not as heart breaking to me as the first two stories in the book, still, it took me back to my childhood, watching these films on TV at night. The last story begins for one town’s Halloween to become one of real terror, when a local horror author posted on his Facebook page about making #HalloweenScaryAgain! Only to maybe get new readers or have people comment, instead someone takes it seriously and the first victim is killed four days before Halloween, #makehalloweenscaryagain scrawled in blue marker across his forehead. Soon, there are other victims, leading up to Halloween and the last victim. Not spoiling for potential readers why the killer is killing, I admit the story felt too cliched, using a horror writer. Though Better than “Demon Air,” this too, disappointed me.

Come on, it’s almost Halloween and you want scary fiction to set the mood for you. I think this will be that quick fix you need.

I give Halloween Carnival, Volume 1 4 spooky sheep.





Pamela K. Kinney


Be sure to check out all five volumes

Excerpt Spotlight: The Bloodprint (The Khorasan Archives) by Ausma Zehanat Khan + giveaway

The Bloodprint (The Khorasan Archives) 
by Ausma Zehanat Khan
October 3, 2017
Publisher: Harper Voyager
Genres: Science Fiction & Fantasy
Touring: October 2-October 13, 2017

The author of the acclaimed mystery The Unquiet Dead delivers her first fantasy novel—the opening installment in a thrilling quartet—a tale of religion, oppression, and political intrigue that radiates with heroism, wonder, and hope.

A dark power called the Talisman has risen in the land, born of ignorance and persecution. Led by a man known only known as the One-Eyed Preacher, it is a cruel and terrifying movement bent on world domination—a superstitious patriarchy that suppresses knowledge and subjugates women. And it is growing.

But there are those who fight the Talisman's spread, including the Companions of Hira, a diverse group of influential women whose power derives from the Claim—the magic inherent in the words of a sacred scripture. Foremost among them is Arian and her apprentice, Sinnia, skilled warriors who are knowledgeable in the Claim. This daring pair have long stalked Talisman slave-chains, searching for clues and weapons to help them battle their enemy’s oppressive ways. Now, they may have discovered a miraculous symbol of hope that can destroy the One-Eyed Preacher and his fervid followers: The Bloodprint, a dangerous text the Talisman has tried to erase from the world.

Finding The Bloodprint promises to be their most perilous undertaking yet, an arduous journey that will lead them deep into Talisman territory. Though they will be helped by allies—a loyal ex-slave and Arian’s former confidante and sword master—both Arian and Sinnia know that this mission may well be their last.



EXCERPT:
Did the Bloodprint represent deliverance or deception?

There were only three among them who would be able to read it, even if by some fortuitous working of fate, Arian was able to find it. Herself, Ash, and Ilea.

And why would the Black Khan help them? Solely for the sake of the Sacred Cloak?

She raised her eyes to his face.

“You do not seek the Bloodprint for yourself, Excellency? You were the one who thought to—intercept it.”

Thief, her eyes called him. And liar, as well.

“Rukh,” he reminded her.

She pretended to soften. “Rukh, then. You said you have proof of the Bloodprint. Are you able to read the Claim? Is it true you were schooled in the High Tongue?”

A glimmer of amusement in his eyes suggested he fully understood the things she hadn’t expressed, her private dismissal of his character.

“I’m not as fluent as the Companions of Hira.” He made a small bow to Ilea. “But neither am I ignorant.”

No, Arian thought. He wouldn’t be. And he’d evaded the more important question. She returned to it.

“You do not expect to retain the Bloodprint, if I am able to retrieve it?”

“If you are able to retrieve it, all of Khorasan will be at your feet.”

“That is not why I pursue it.”

It was important to her that she convince him of this, though she couldn’t have said why.

His eyes narrowed, as if he’d grown tired of her.

“A Companion who does not seek power, perhaps because she wields it so wholly.” There was a caustic note in his voice. “The Bloodprint doesn’t matter to me. I have taken the Cloak as payment, it will serve me well enough.”

His words challenged her to deny him.

Arian didn’t think twice.

“It isn’t a prize to be bartered.” She turned to Ilea, prepared to risk the High Companion’s wrath. “And the Cloak isn’t yours to cede. It belongs at Hira. We are its rightful guardians.”

An indefinable expression crossed Ilea’s face.

“It was the price I paid for the Black Khan’s counsel. A counsel we desperately need.” There was a bitter edge to her voice. “You’ve been away too long, in pursuit of your misguided quest. I’ve had other priorities at Hira.” She made an impatient gesture with her hand. “Either accept your Audacy, or refuse it. I will not countenance further debate.”

Why not? And then realization struck Arian. For all of her discouragement of Arian’s efforts with the slave-chains, Ilea had expected Arian to bring the Cloak to Hira. How else could she have known to make her bargain with Rukh?

She had known Arian would seek it. And she had meant to trade it away.

She was swamped by a feeling of grief. How had she and Ilea come to this point?

“Why do you look so betrayed? You chose to pursue the Cloak for your own ends. I understood it would serve a larger purpose.”

“What purpose?” Arian whispered.

“The defence of Hira. The defence your actions made necessary.”

“My actions?” Arian echoed the words without understanding their meaning.

Ilea’s response was cruel. She had found a way to strike back.

“Yes, your actions. Your unceasing war against the slave-chains has put the Citadel at risk. The One-Eyed Preacher brings his war to Hira. And when he comes, the Citadel will fall.”

Arian blanched at the words. Was the High Companion right? Had she brought destruction to the Citadel? When everything she treasured was at Hira?

“No,” she said, grief in her voice. “That cannot be true.”


The Black Khan murmured something to Ilea, and the waters of the All Ways resumed their careful dance. Ilea crossed her arms, pressing both hands to her circlets. She waited impatiently for Arian to mimic the gesture.

“This is not an Audacy to undertake only as it suits you. Our very survival is at stake—the lives of the Companions, the sanctity of the scriptorium, the Citadel itself. Will you accept this Audacy? Or does your courage forsake you at the outset of the war?”

This isn’t the outset.

I’ve been waging this war for a decade.

At too great a cost, she now realized. But Arian accepted the Audacy’s rites. The time for dissent had passed. She had no choice but to seek out the Bloodprint.

Or face the end of the world.

About the Author:
Ausma Zehanat Khan is the author of The Unquiet Dead, published by St. Martin's Press/Minotaur Books, and winner of the Barry Award, the Arthur Ellis Award and the Romantic Times Reviewers Choice Award for Best First Novel. Her widely acclaimed second novel, The Language of Secrets, was published in 2016. Among the Ruins, her third mystery was published in February 2017. She is also at work on a fantasy series, to be published by Harper Voyager, beginning October 2017. The Bloodprint is Book One of the Khorasan Archives.

A frequent lecturer and commentator, Ms. Khan holds a Ph.D. in International Human Rights Law with a research specialization in military intervention and war crimes in the Balkans. Ms. Khan completed her LL.B. and LL.M. at the University of Ottawa, and her B.A. in English Literature & Sociology at the University of Toronto.

Formerly, she served as Editor in Chief of Muslim Girl magazine. The first magazine to address a target audience of young Muslim women, Muslim Girl re-shaped the conversation about Muslim women in North America. The magazine was the subject of two documentaries, and hundreds of national and international profiles and interviews, including CNN International, Current TV, and Al Jazeera "Everywoman".

Ms. Khan practiced immigration law in Toronto and has taught international human rights law at Northwestern University, as well as human rights and business law at York University. She is a long-time community activist and writer, and currently, lives in Colorado with her husband.

GIVEAWAY
15 trade paperback copies of The Bloodprint by Ausma Zehanat Khan

Monday, October 2

Book reviewed at Reading Reality
Interviewed at Mythical Books
Book featured at I Smell Sheep

Tuesday, October 3
Book featured at CGB Blog Tours
Book featured at T's Stuff

Wednesday, October 4
Book featured at Comfy Chair Books
Interviewed at I'm Shelf-ish

Thursday, October 5
Book reviewed at Books for Books
Book featured at The Dark Phantom
Book reviewed at Good Family Reads

Friday, October 6
Book reviewed at Portrait of a Book
Book reviewed at BTH Reviews
Interviewed at Leigh Anderson Romance

Monday, October 9
Book reviewed at Bibliophile Ramblings
Book reviewed at BookStopCorner
Book reviewed at Ashley's Bookshelf

Tuesday, October 10
Book featured at The Bookworm Lodge
Book featured at A Title Wave

Wednesday, October 11
Book reviewed at Morbid Romantic
Book reviewed at Natural Bri
Book reviewed at Thoughts on Books

Thursday, October 12
Book reviewed at Okbolover
Book reviewed at Lauren's Crammed Bookshelf
Book featured at The Bookworm Chronicles

Friday, October 13
Book reviewed at GothicMomReviews
Book reviewed at Good Choice Reading
Book reviewed at Books Are Love

Sunday, October 1, 2017

Book Review: World Tree Girl: A Shadow Valley Manor Novel (Book 2) by Kerry Schafer

World Tree Girl: A Shadow Valley Manor Novel (The Shadow Valley Manor Series Book 2) 
by Kerry Schafer
August 8, 2017
Diversion Books
280 pages
“If you like X-Files and Ilona Andrews, you'll love this awesome, well-crafted and unusual tale!” —Patricia Briggs, #1 New York Times bestselling author

The girl with the full-body tattoo of a world tree is not just another runaway. She's dead, for starters, and her veins are emptied of blood and oozing a strange, jelly-like substance. To Maureen Keslyn, seasoned paranormal investigator, former FBI agent, new owner of the Shadow Valley Manor Retirement Home, this isn’t just a corpse. It’s a sign that the Medusa, a dangerous paranormal hybrid, is on another killing spree.

Maureen and her team—Jake, the local sheriff, Matt, the Shadow Valley Manor cook with knife skills that extend beyond the kitchen, and eighteen-year-old Sophronia, who has an uncanny affinity for ghosts—are determined to hunt down and eliminate the creature.

Their case is complicated by the ghost of Maureen’s former partner, Phil Evers, who refuses to cross to the other side, and his very much alive daughter Jillian, who shows up demanding to know how Maureen inherited the Manor. When Sophronia uses her power to try to help Phil across, a huge spirit storm blows up at Shadow Valley Manor, and she disappears. With the life of one of their own in deadly peril, Maureen and the team have a ticking clock to find Sophronia and bring down the Medusa.

World Tree Girl is the second installment in the Shadow Valley Manor series. The series follows retired FBI agent Maureen Keslyn, reluctant proprietor of Shadow Valley Manor, a retirement residence willed to her by her deceased former partner/lover. Having spent most of her career investigating the paranormal, Maureen is on high alert knowing all too well that sometimes mysterious occurrences have fantastic explanations. When a local morgue worker with connections to Maureen’s previous case turns up dead, she and her partner Jake are immediately plunged headlong into an investigation that defies logic and reason. Once again, the manor becomes the epicentre for paranormal activity; a quirky backdrop for a supernatural thriller.

Amidst the main mystery are several interpersonal entanglements rounding out the story. Maureen and her crew face constant danger, the origins of which remain largely unknown. As a main character, Maureen kicks ass. She’s middle aged; a touch I find refreshing and honest. In a genre dominated by 20-something heroines, I respect Schafer’s bravery in choosing to work outside of the norm. Maureen is tough, smart, and witty. Her attraction to Jake also reminds readers that older characters can also be attractive, sexual beings.

I’m excited to see where this series goes. For every answer uncovered, a slew of new questions arise. World Tree Girl has elements of government conspiracy giving it a definite X-Files vibe. Shadow Valley Manor is proving to be an intriguing, original series. Let’s hope it’s got some longevity as well.

Review: Dead Before Dying: A Shadow Valley Manor Novel (Book 1)

Five Sheep






Bianca Greenwood


About the Author:
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Kerry Schafer writes fantasy with its teeth sunk into reality, mystery that delves into the paranormal, and women’s fiction that embraces the dark and twisty realms of humanity. The first two books of her Between trilogy (Between and Wakeworld) were published through Ace Books/Penguin. Due to the ever-shifting landscape of publishing, the concluding book of the trilogy - The Nothing - was released as an Indie book, thanks to a successful Kickstarter campaign. The first book in Kerry's Paranormal Mystery series, Dead Before Dying, will be released by Diversion Books on Feb 9, 2016. She also writes Women's Fiction as Kerry Anne King.

Excerpt Spotlight: To Guard Against the Dark (Reunification #3) by Julie E. Czerneda + 2 giveaways

To Guard Against the Dark (Reunification #3)
by Julie E. Czerneda
October 10, 2017
443 pages
DAW Hardcover Original
“The final book in the hard science fiction Reunification trilogy, the thrilling conclusion to the award-winning Clan Chronicles

Jason Morgan is a troubling mystery to friends and enemies alike: once a starship captain and trader, then Joined to the most powerful member of the Clan, Sira di Sarc, following her and her kind out of known space.

Only to return, alone and silent.

But he's returned to a Trade Pact under seige and desperate. The Assemblers continue to be a threat. Other species have sensed opportunity and threaten what stability remains, including those who dwell in the M'hir. What Morgan knows could save them all, or doom them.

For not all of the Clan followed Sira. And peace isn't what they seek.”



About the Series:
The Clan Chronicles is set in a far future where a mutual Trade Pact encourages peaceful commerce among a multitude of alien and Human worlds. The alien Clan, humanoid in appearance, have been living in secrecy and wealth on Human worlds, relying on their innate ability to move through the M’hir and bypass normal space. The Clan bred to increase that power, only to learn its terrible price: females who can’t help but kill prospective mates. Sira di Sarc is the first female of her kind facing that reality. With the help of a Human starship captain, Jason Morgan, himself a talented telepath, Sira must find a morally acceptable solution before it’s too late. But with the Clan exposed, her time is running out. The Stratification trilogy follows Sira’s ancestor, Aryl Sarc, and shows how their power first came to be as well as how the Clan came to live in the Trade Pact. The Trade Pact trilogy is the story of Sira and Morgan, and the trouble facing the Clan. Reunification concludes the series, answering these question at last. Who are the Clan? 
And what will be the fate of all?



Chapter 1
STARS.

Fingers interlaced, her hair stroking his cheek, they’d walked the nights of ninety-nine worlds. Floated in space to watch planets spin. Lain naked on mossy ground, lost in one another, under so many stars—

Those had been real. These couldn’t be. The ceiling lay be­neath a covering of formed concrete, plas, and a significant amount of natural stone, a roof he’d built to keep out more than the night sky. Could be a dune curling overtop as well, it being sandstorm season.

Yet, still, stars twinkled overhead, wheeling in formation as if he watched them through time.

A dream. That was it. He shut his eyes, fingers straying to the cool metal band around his wrist. Touch seemed odd, for a dream.

He opened his eyes. Looked up. Surely only in a dream could a segment of that starry scape flex . . .

Bend . . .

Lean down, closer and closer, those stars about to crush him—

/need/~location?~/urgency/

For the— “No more!” he shouted, furious. “Get out of here!”

A heavy arm—something arm-ish— lopped across his chest and slid away. Jason Morgan squirmed in the opposite direction. “On! On full!”

The portlights obeyed, blazing into every corner of the room.

He was alone.

***

“I heard you the first time.” Huido Maarmatoo’kk emphasized the “first.” “A Rugheran was on your ceiling. The starry kind, like the ones you saw on Cersi, not the dark greasy kind here. Your shout woke me from a most pleasant dream, you know.” A sigh like rain on plas.

His hands wanted to tremble. Morgan wrapped them around his warm cup, guiding it to his lips with care. The kitchen felt strange. Too bright. He hadn’t, he thought abruptly, sat at this table for— e hadn’t, since, that was it. Hadn’t left his quarters.

Hadn’t bothered to move, in case it hurt. Fine plan, that was. All of him hurt.

Most of him stank.

Not that it mattered.

“Yesterday, you saw a Rugheran in the accommodation. You shouted then, too. And threw a jar of something at it, making a mess, at which point it disappeared. Can’t say I blame it.”

Morgan glowered through the steam at his companion. Gleam­ing black eyeballs, each on their stalk, lined the opening between the gently pulsing disks that served as a head. Unblinking eye­balls. He should know better by now than try to stare down a Carasian. “It’s not my imagination. They travel through—” the M’hir, he almost said, and flinched. “They don’t use doors. You know that. They’re here and they’re real.”

Unlike what else he saw when alone: the curve of a smile, the luxurious flood of red-gold hair, somber gray eyes flashing with sudden heat—

Sira.

Always, always, no matter how he tried to stop there, stay, the ending followed. The furious boil of waves on an unreal beach—

Her fingers, letting go—

That hollow, inside, where she’d been.

He’d curl into a ball and shiver until he fell asleep or passed out, always cold. So very cold—

A soft chink as clawtips met under his nose. Morgan refocused. “What?” He tried not to snap, wearily grateful Huido bore with his tempers and accepted his silence. He wasn’t ready to talk.

They hadn’t spoken in what might be days, come to think of it.

Something was different. He blinked. His friend’s massive car­apace was peppered with gleaming metal fragments, between the usual hooks for weaponry, the fragments from a groundcar that had exploded too close. Huido’d removed the largest to keep as souvenirs—but that wasn’t it.

The black shell was a maze of fresh scrapes and gouges, some deep. “What happened to—” Morgan’s voice broke. Gods. “What did I do?” a whisper.

“You weren’t yourself,” Huido informed him. The big alien eased back, wiggling the glistening pink stub of what had been his largest claw. “Nor am I. After molt, I will be magnificent once again! We need more beer.” In a confiding tone, “Beer speeds things up.”

He’d hit bottom, that’s when they’d last spoken. When he’d— Morgan’s face went stark with grief. “I cursed you. Ordered you to leave.”

“Bah. Why would I listen? Your grist wasn’t right.” The intact claw, capable of severing his torso in half, tugged gently at his hair. “Better. Still stinks.”

“I attacked you.” Morgan remembered it all now, too well. He’d been wild, raving. Huido had squeezed himself into the door opening to seal him in his quarters. Morgan had struck out with whatever was in the room—until he’d collapsed, sobbing, at Huido’s feet.

Eyestalks bent to survey the marks. “You tried,” the Carasian corrected smugly, then chuckled. “I’m glad you didn’t hurt your­self.”

Morgan reached up. After a second, the centermost cluster of eyes parted, and deadly needlelike jaws protruded, tips closing on his hand with tender precision. “Huido—”

The jaws retracted and Morgan found himself reflected in a dozen shiny black eyes. “The past.” The lower claw snapped. “The present! Why are the Rugherans here?”

The Human dropped his gaze, staring into the sombay. “They’re looking for—” His sigh rippled the liquid. “For her.”

“To the Eleventh Sandy Armpit of Urga Large with them!” Huido roared, shaking dishware and hurting Morgan’s head. “Tell them I said so!” After a short pause, he went on in his nor­mal voice. “You can talk to them, can’t you?”

“I don’t want to.” It sounded sullen even to him, but Morgan couldn’t help that, any more than he couldn’t help but hear the Rugherans: their matrix-like speech, emotion blended with sin­gle words or the simplest of phrases, flooded his mind despite his tightest shields. Cruel, to come to him here—

—where he came for peace.

It hadn’t always been so. The first time Morgan set foot on Ettler’s Planet, he’d been dumped there. His own fault, having yet to gain the most rudimentary knowledge of what offended non-humans. The Trants could have removed his limbs for suggesting—well, being dumped had been the best option, suffice it to say, and one reason he’d gone on to learn everything he could about the manners of others.

That sorry day, he’d prided himself on a close escape. Instead, he’d been left in the worst place for a telepath, even one of his latent ability, for this world’s Human population contained more than its share of the minimally Talented: those whose thoughts leaked constantly, without self-awareness or restraint. Morgan’s natural shields protected his mind from others.

He didn’t know how to keep their minds out of his.

Half-maddened by the bedlam, somehow Morgan had taken an aircar and flown out into the desert, unable to stop until he reached quiet.

There—here—he’d stayed to recover. Only Huido had been welcome, the painful maelstrom of Carasian thought patterns at a level easy to avoid.

Later, healed, and having traded with Omacrons, non-human telepaths, for their mind-shielding technique, Morgan was able to protect himself. In space, in the Fox, he hadn’t needed shields at all.

With Sira, he’d wanted none. Her thoughts had been his—her mindvoice the last he’d heard. The last he ever wanted to hear. He’d never open his mind to another’s again.

Till the Rugherans, who had no right—

The Human set down his cup. It tipped, spilling dark liquid. Unfair. Huido kept the kitchen spotless. “I’ll get that.” He rose and was forced to grip the table to steady himself. It took longer than he remembered, walking to the counter, and he had to con­centrate: pick up the wipe, return, clean the mess.

Eyestalks twisted, following his slow progress. “You need a molt, too.”

“Wish I could.” Something about molting— “Order as much beer as you want.”

A chuckle. “Fear not, my brother, I’ve taken care of it—and a case of Brillian brandy, for variety.” A less happy, “If not the storms.” The Carasian loathed sand, claiming grains worked into the seams of his shell. He cheered. “While we wait, I could take care of your unwanted visitors.” With a disturbingly coy tilt of his carapace, Huido indicated the weapons, most illegal even here in the Fringe, housed on the pot rack.

Morgan shook his head. “Let them poke around till they’re satisfied.” No need to point out the unlikelihood of any weapon affecting beings of the M’hir.

As for the Rugherans’ reaction . . . should more than a jar be tossed at them?

He’d prefer not to—

The kitchen tilted. The Human lurched into his chair, sending the rest of his sombay, and cup, to the floor. He cursed under his breath. A newly hatched Skenkran was stronger. “What’s wrong with me?” under his breath.

Shiny black eyes converged on him, then aimed idly—and simultaneously—anywhere else: the weapon-containing pot rack, the ceiling, the floor, the walls.

Done it to himself, that meant.

Morgan let out a slow breath, tasting the stink on it, the truth.

He’d ignored his body’s needs. Refused food. Drank himself to sleep. Refused to move. He’d a vague memory of feeling the pinch of shots. Stims, likely.

For how long?

Judging by the tremor in his hands, it could have been weeks.

Neglect? Cowardice. He winced. Hadn’t he told Sira: Let go and live?

Hadn’t she asked the same promise of him?

Shouldn’t have taught her to be a trader, he told himself, meaning not a word.

Morgan summoned his remaining strength and stood. “To­morrow,” he announced.

One eyestalk swiveled back to him.

“Tonight, then.” Three more joined the first. Doubt, that was. “Some supper—just not—make anything,” he capitulated. “I’ll eat it.” No guarantees it would stay down.

The full force of the Carasian’s gaze returned. “At the table?”

“Don’t rush me.” The Human pretended to squint at the lights. “Too bright. And the Rugheran ruined my sleep.”

But his lips cracked, stretched by the ghost of a smile. The first—since.


About the Author:
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For twenty years, Canadian author/ former biologist Julie E. Czerneda has shared her curiosity about living things through her science fiction, published by DAW Books, NY. Julie’s also written fantasy, the first installments of her Night’s Edge series (DAW) A Turn of Light and A Play of Shadow, winning consecutive Aurora Awards (Canada’s Hugo) for Best English Novel. Julie’s edited/co-edited sixteen anthologies of SF/F, two Aurora winners, the latest being SFWA’s 2017 Nebula Award Showcase. Next out will be an anthology of original stories set in her Clan Chronicles series: Tales from Plexis, out in 2018. Her new SF novel, finale to that series, To Guard Against the Dark, lands in stores October 2017. When not jumping between wonderful blogs, Julie’s at work on something very special: her highly anticipated new Esen novel, Search Image (Fall 2018). Visit www.czerneda.com for more.



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