The
Part That Doesn’t Burn
Goetia
Series
Book
One
Sam
Poling
Genre:
Dark Fantasy
Publisher:
Tirgearr Publishing
Date
of Publication: March 23rd, 2016
ISBN:
9781310401916
ASIN:
B01BW0Q2Y4
Number
of pages: 319
Word
Count: 97,000
Cover
Artist: Cora Graphics
Book
Description:
In
an overpopulated city-state where technology and magic are forbidden
by the corrupt church, young witch, Mirabel Fairfax, plots the
creation of a deadly plague to cull the burdensome rabble.
That
is, until she falls in love with the very alchemist she has been
deceiving.
Now,
with soul-hungry geists flooding the city, the church scrambling for
their prey, and her own mind at war with itself, Mirabel must decide
what she's fighting for before she loses everything to the evils of
Autumnfall.
Excerpt:
Mirabel
waited in the darkness. Each passing second made it exponentially
less likely the power would return.
“Mirabel?
Did we lose power?” Felix’s voice quivered in the darkness.
“It
should return momentarily.”
They
waited. Mirabel could practically feel Felix’s demeanor
evaporating.
“M-Mirabel?”
“Unbelievable,
the singular time I am protecting company on the geistlines, a train
dies. We are not coal powered. We are coming to a stop. Perhaps your
pessimism rang true. Sour fortune must have followed you from Haugen.
We need to leave.”
“L-leave?
As in, leave the train, and go out there?”
“Felix,
without power the only thing stopping a geist from swooping in here
and taking your face off is nothing. One hundred percent nothing.
Essentially, we already have the cons of being outside, along with
the narrow space of being inside. Not a survivable combination.”
Without
hesitation Felix took to gathering his tools, and corralling them
into his bags.
“No
time for that.”
She
tugged him out of their room and through the train car. One side of
the car featured the cabins. Asleep and unaware, no one else left
their rooms. Windows with their blinds drawn and a faint cyan
shimmering through adorned the other side.
“They’re
lining both sides of the tracks. How long do we have?” said Felix.
“Geist
behavior is a constant mystery, even to me, but eventually some will
strike. Even those with eternity run out of patience.”
They
reached the door to the next car and Mirabel mashed on the panel.
Nothing. No power, no doors. She tried the manual handle, but it
wouldn’t budge. If only Miss Perfect-Priestess were here, then the
door wouldn’t be able to fly open fast enough.
“Oh
bother,” she said.
“Door
haunted too?”
“Handle
denies me. Seems rusted, and I wonder if they automatically power
lock.”
She
could barely make out Felix’s nervous wince. “I wouldn’t expect
that, Mirabel. Emergency situations would turn fatalities.”
“That
is not happening with us.” She put her weight on the lever. It
didn’t amount to much, and the lever knew it.
“Let
me try.”
Felix
consisted of average build and height, if not a tad lanky. Certainly
not the strong type. Petite Mirabel stood quite small, a whole head
shorter, also not the strong type, but she expected she could
generate more strength. The alchemist didn’t have the mind for it.
“Felix,
darling, put your hands here.” She directed his hands next to hers.
“Press down on three, yes?”
Violet
light washed over the handle they gripped before she got to “one.”
She didn’t have to turn around to know its source. It traveled up
her arms and across the door. If another passenger had opened a
blind, the light source wouldn’t be nearing them.
“Three-three-three,”
she shouted.
Felix
threw down on the handle alongside her. Perhaps he did have the mind
for it when terrified. With a shriek the lever punched into the open
position, and the partners threw their hands into the crevice at the
door’s left.
“Get
the blasted thing open. Pull, Felix, do not look back.”
She
made a mistake. Everyone looks back when instructed not to. He turned
his neck and got an eyeful of something that forced a spate foul
language. Such words didn’t suit him. Pulling with whatever force
her slender arms could muster, she joined his blunder and looked over
her shoulder.
A
geist, two-thirds down the corridor, drifted closer. Its face
partially lifted from its head, hanging a few inches from where it
belonged. The glowing wisp mimicked the body it used to have, but
poorly. The translucent skin melted and slid ever downward. She knew
the face would contort any moment: the precursor to assault. And it
had the gut-wrenching violet hue. Of all the geists to enter first,
it had to be a damned giftgeist. She had no hope of generating enough
magic to destroy it before it reached them.
The
broken door started to grind open. She fit her thin body part way
into the opening. Her heels dug into the carpet and her back braced
against the door’s narrow edge, with her hands pressing against the
wall. “Felix, pull.”
The
geist twisted into a monster far fiercer than before; its face warped
into elongated grief and its jaw stretched to the side to give a dry,
raspy howl. Passengers meandering into the hall heard it. They slung
their own screams and ran the opposite way. The worst decision during
a geistline incident: running toward the rear of the train. They
wouldn’t live long.
She
reached above her head and flicked her fingers. “You want
electricity, you fromping door? H-have some.” More white flashes
fluttered between her fingers with each flick. “Come on, I had this
spell mastered yesterday.”
“Mirabel?
Mirabel,” yelped Felix. “It’s-it’s coming.”
“Simmer.
I am focusing.”
“Focus
faster!”
With
a final flick, current rushed from the witch’s fingertips up into
the door mechanisms. She had no idea what it accomplished, but the
lights around the immediate vicinity flashed, including the door
panel. Her left hand dropped and swatted it. The door grinded opened
halfway before its lights died again. Halfway gave them more than
enough space. The partners darted through into the next car. Glancing
back, Mirabel saw the geist stop and turn to its side. Another
passenger had peeked out of their cabin an arm’s length from the
specter. It shot from Mirabel’s view before the rattled cries of a
man and woman reached her ears.
Felix
stopped as abruptly as the geist had. “It’s attacking someone.”
“Keep
moving.”
“Mirabel,
you’ve got to do something, there are three cars full of people
back there.”
“And
we are the only valuable ones.”
About
the Author:
Sam
Poling has been writing fantasy and science fiction for the thrill of
it his entire life, from short stories to screenplays. His love for
each of the subgenres led to dedication to writing genre-skirting
fiction with all the elements that make up the human condition. He
holds a strong enthusiasm for medical studies and currently works as
a medical assistant in a large clinic while taking classing for
nursing. He also serves on a health and safety committee, including
disaster preparedness and infection control. His interest in
epidemiology and medical science tends to spill over into his writing
endeavors.
Author’s
site: www.samuelpoling.com
Twitter:
@SamuelPoling
Thanks for featuring my novel!
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