Excerpt – Roseblood
Despite the growing darkness shrouding me like a
cape, I let my thoughts wander during my walk home. The moon was full, and
clouds spirited in front of the silver ball like
sallow ghouls, and the stars shone with an
incandescence reminding me of the ghouls’ blazing eyes.
In spite of the natural lighting, no streetlights
glowed, but I always expected the sidewalks would carry me home. I rarely ever
walked at night, but my head was still foggy from Skip's kiss. Not to mention
the library wasn’t far from my home, and Heath was late in picking me up, and I
wasn’t a patient person, and I had a headache from all my studying. Fresh air was relieving.
If I was honest, I was just being stubborn wanting
to prove to myself that this was my home and I
couldn’t possibly be in any danger walking in my own town. Besides, I wasn’t
afraid of vampires or werewolves. At least I
shouldn’t be. Should I?
I wasn’t aware of the danger. I wasn’t aware of the
dark figure following me, keeping a safe distance but moving with the shadows.
Then I turned the corner and came face to face with a pair of icy onyx eyes
surrounded by white irises wreathed in crimson lines. Stunned, I took a step
back. I knew full well this was not a denizen of Le Couvènte; this was an
outsider. He looked to be a man in his early thirties. Dressed from head to
foot in black, he was not out for an evening stroll.
He was hunting.
And it seemed he'd found his prey.
How did he get past the Le Couvènte guardians? The
Council’s sentinels?
"Now, there’s no need to run, little
angel," his voice was smooth as churning cream. "We both know I could
track you down within a moment. I’m just passing through, but you smell
delightful. And because you are so lovely, I will kill you swiftly.
And I’ll leave some of your blood for you to die as
a beautiful corpse."
"You don’t want to do this," I warned, but
inside I was shaking. "I’m Reina Caraway.”
"I don’t make it my business to be acquainted
with mere mortals. Now if you run, I can’t make any guarantees my former offer
will be appeased. It is your decision, youngling."
I panicked as he drew a step towards me and fingered
a loose strand of my hair.
Instinctively, I broke into a run hoping to find
some presence of light. Light meant hope, but the park was empty. The street
was at least a hundred yards away. I could get to ten before the hunter would
be on me. As much as possible, I quickened my pace counting the steps till my
imminent death.
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Excerpt - Flesher
I look down at Garrett who has fallen asleep on my
shoulder. Then I glance outside and notice something alarming—the sun is
setting. And I panic.
“Garrett!” I scream at him.
Garrett instantly wakes up throwing himself to a
standing position. He registers the terror-stricken face and then his gaze
turns to the window where he sees the splash of
colors marking the oncoming night.
Unlike me, Garrett shifts into a state of focus.
“Downstairs,” he orders me.
“Now.”
His footsteps are hurried, and I try to keep up with
him as he rushes down the basement stairs. Once he’s there, I watch him tilt
back his head straining the muscles in his neck. The Change is almost upon him.
“Ash!” he yells at me, and I fumble around with the
chains. My fingers are nervous. They keep making mistakes as if they’ve
forgotten how to do this because of the small amount of time Garrett and I
spent forgetting or trying to forget. “Ash!” he yells again and cracks his neck
to the side.
I have one restraint locked in place. But I’m losing
time. His fingers are already craning. Groping, against their will, for my skin
and for the rosy flesh beneath.
“Ashle—” his broken cry transforms into a horrific
moan. I jerk my head upward to see the familiar milky cloud overwhelm his
steely blue eyes.
“No,” I whisper just as his free hand lashes for my
arm scraping the flesh with the raw need.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. I’ve always brought
him down in time. Ignoring the hand that claws for me, I focus on Garrett’s
neck restraints. While the moans continue. He tries to snap at me. Unlike other
fleshers, his teeth have been perfectly preserved due to the mouth guard I give
him every night. But not tonight. How could we
forget the most important thing? He snaps his teeth
at me again as I circle his neck with the metal binding and bolt it into place
against the wall. By now he’s torn the sleeve on
my arm, and a couple of my cuts from earlier have
reopened. Now I place the cuff around his wrist until he’s finally trapped in
the metal device, but his teeth are still snapping. If I don’t do something
about it soon, he could easily lose them. The strain on his jaw will be too
much. Or I could walk away now. Maybe if I’m gone…but I know it’s too late for
that. My blood scent permeates the air, and for him
it will linger. So I take the mouth guard in my hand and approach him.
Everything in my system screams to run even more
so when he tries in vain to struggle, to yank his
head toward mine. I will need to be quick.
Focus on the mouth. Snap, open, snap, open, snap — I
plunge the mouth guard inside, close my eyes when I feel a prick of pain and
then withdraw with the guard in place. He
can’t snap anymore.
My mind registers the tiny burst of pain in my index
finger. There, on the side of its tip, is an opening _ small and running down no more than an inch meeting
the first horizontal skin ridge. So small…but the tiny line of blood indicates
something much greater. Now there is only one thing left to check. I roll my
thumb and fingertip together to check the consistency. Slimy. I look closer.
Yes, there is the unmistakable fluid in the
wound. Saliva with blood.
Am I turning flesher already?
Emily's Official
Biography
 
Emily Beth Shore
understood her desire for writing from an early age. Though she was born in
New York, Emily has lived in scattered states and traveled all over the
country. Due to her continuous moves, she was home-schooled until her high
school sophomore year when she enrolled in part time public school.
During her life, she
was introduced to many different books and developed a fondness for reading
as well as writing full-length fiction at a very young age. And though she
confesses to failing several math courses, Emily always received straight A-s
in English and Writing.
Though she showed
affection for acting, Emily’s true love was devoted to novel writing which
drew her to earn a Bachelor’s Degree in Creative Writing from Metro State
University in St. Paul, MN. While her writing passion is only matched by her
love for children, Emily is content with her position as ‘World’s Best Aunt’,
and her part time status at a Barnes and Noble bookstore where she is
continually inspired by fresh, novel ideas. She now lives in Minnesota with
her husband of two years and a spoiled rotten black cat named Alice.
Random Facts from the
Author:
1. Whenever I write, I
brew myself a mug of tea while my cat jealously looks on.
2. I've been known to
make the best shortbread known to man.
3. The Princess
Bride is my favorite movie.
4. I flunked algebra in
high school.
5. I am a serious
Disney fanatic.
6. I adore wall quotes
:-).
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