A
Jubal Van Zandt Novel
Book
Two
eden
Hudson
Genre: Fantasy – Cyberpunk /
Dystopian / Post-Apocalyptic
Publisher: Shadow Alley Press Inc
Date of Publication: June 9, 2017
ASIN: B072M1HVRG
Number of pages: 167
Word Count: 52,000
Cover Artist: Katherine Kalymniou
Book Description:
The best thief in the history of
the Revived Earth is back, and this time it's personal.
A deadly plague is ravaging the
world's population and threatening to kill the only person Jubal Van Zandt
cares about—himself. If he doesn't find a cure soon, he's dead.
The most promising lead is buried
in the ruins of an ancient sunken city stalked by savage predators, cunning
parasites, and the twisted souls of long-dead mages. It would take an army to
get Jubal inside ... or just one of the most renowned knights in Guild history.
The one Jubal betrayed and left for dead eighteen months ago.
First Jubal has to convince her
not to kill him. Then he has to convince her to help save him.
EXCERPT
FROM CHAPTER ONE
I motored
the Mangshan between
a pair of
thorny locust trees that
served as the
end posts for
the fence marking
the southern boundary of
the Xiao family’s
ancestral holdings.
Carina thought
she could avoid
me by ignoring
my messages and staying
holed up out
here in the
middle of nowhere.
Pretty ridiculous
considering how well
she knew me.
At the
end of the
driveway, the trees
pulled back to
reveal a traditional wet-country
house—long and low,
enclosed by a weathered
wooden porch complete
with steel sliding-panel
storm walls. Today the
storm walls had
been thrown open
wide, letting the meager
sunlight shine onto
the house’s creamy
parchglass and wood exterior
walls.
I parked
the ’Shan at
the end of
an ancient stone
walkway that had been
buckled by the
unpredictable water table,
and hooked my helmet
and ventilator over
the handlebars. It had
taken me
almost an hour
to get way the hell
out here from
Taern— and that was
running the ’Shan
wide open, without
any traffic.
Why Carina
would want to
live so far
out in the soggies that
she could smell the fishshit, I
couldn’t fathom.
Fire threw
open blast doors
all through my
body. Heat, the most
perfect heat, swirled
in my veins,
warming me inside
out. There was even
a taste, sweet
and spicy and
a little ashy,
like ember dust mixed
with wrackrath smoke.
My eyes flew open
and I sucked
in a damp
lungful of country air,
trying to catch
up on the oxygen I’d
missed while I was
out. I
checked my wristpiece.
The attack had
only lasted a few
seconds. Less than
a minute, definitely.
The PCM fits
were getting more frequent,
but they weren’t
getting longer. Yet.
If Carina had been
watching me out
one of her windows or
via a security feed,
she would think
I’d just been
taking in the scenery.
I headed
up the walk,
careful not to
trip over the
uneven stones, and stepped
onto the porch.
One very handsome
devil with sculpted stubble,
perfect skin, and
dark, piercing eyes
looked back at me
from the reflection
in the house’s
parchglass walls. I admired
his striking features
as I knocked.
Not that
I needed to
knock with the
number of early
warning systems Carina probably
had set up
around her house.
But I’m nothing if
not polite. Especially
when I want
something.
From inside
came the unmistakable
sound of someone
kicking something heavy across
the room.
“You better
pray to God
I never make
it to this
door, Van Zandt,” Carina
yelled from inside.
Paperinas flitted
around my stomach,
and a crazy
grin stretched across my
face. I hadn’t
felt much of
anything but the PCM
attacks in such
a long time
that the excitement
was making me giddy.
“Are you
seriously still mad?”
I’m not always
great with time, but it felt
like centuries had
passed since I’d
last seen Carina. I
took a guess.
“Soam was like…a
year ago?”
There was
another crash inside.
Then the house’s
door roared open on
its track and
I was staring
down the business
end of Carina’s well-worn
knuckgun. She grabbed
me by the
jacket collar and slammed
me against one
of the porch’s
thick wooden columns, then
jammed the knuckgun
up under my
jaw.
“Eighteen months,”
she said. A
muscle in her
mahogany- colored cheek ticked.
If the symmetrical
muscle under her
other cheek hadn’t been
trapped in all
that shiny pink
scar tissue, it probably
would’ve tocked.
Our time
apart had not
been good to
Carina. Since the
last time I’d seen
her, crow’s feet
had etched themselves
into the dark skin
at the outside
corners of her
green eyes. She’d
been athletic and sleek
before, a very
successful feline predator.
Now shadows
stood out below
her high cheekbones.
Where her long sleeves
rode up, I
could see the
veins in her
wrists and thin straps
of muscle in her forearms.
The past eighteen
months had whittled her
curves and soft
places down to
hard angles and razorblades. She
looked sharp. Painfully
so.
Apparently, in
spite of Soam’s nationwide
obesity epidemic, good eats
were not a part of
their prison system.
“It took
you eighteen months
to break out
of a prison
pit?” I squinted at
her in disbelief.
“In Soam?”
“My femur
was shattered,” she
said. “Two of
my vertebra had to
be replaced.”
“Pretty convenient
excuses,” I said.
Carina thumbed
the knuckgun’s switch
from SAFETY to
BURST, effectively changing its
purpose from SCARE
JUBAL to TURN JUBAL’S
SKULL INTO A
BRAIN GEYSER.
I tried
to jerk away from
the deadly weapon—I
love myself and I
don’t f****** like
anything that has
the potential to
kill that self—but Carina’s
grip on my
collar just tightened.
She had me pinned
to the column.
I grunted.
“You’re awfully strong
for a stick
figure.” “It was a
miracle I wasn’t
killed on impact.”
“Exactly, so
what are you
yelling at me
for?” I said.
“It’s not like you
didn’t know what
you were getting
into ahead of time,
hiring me. You’re
just mad that
I saw through
your manipulation in time
to save my
own skin.”
Carina’s dark
eyebrows twitched together,
and her head cocked
a fraction of
a fraction. “Manipulation?”
“Don’t play
dumb with me,
Bloodslinger, it looks
terrible on you.” I
tried again to
squirm away from
the knuckgun. “Will you
put that piece
away already? We
both know you’re
not going to use
it on me.
It’s served its purpose—I’m
very intimidated and a little bit
aroused.”
Carina made
a disgusted sound
in her throat
and shoved away from
me, lowering the
knuckgun to her
side. “What are
you doing here, Van
Zandt?”
“What kind
of stupid question
is that?” I
straightened my jacket. “You
know why I’m
here. You’ve opened
every message I sent
you since you
got back to
Emden.”
“You hacked
my wristpiece?!”
I am invincible. I am a mutant. I
have 3 hearts and was born with no eyes. I had eyes implanted later. I didn't
have hands, either, just stumps. When my eyes were implanted they asked if I would
like hands as well and I said, "Yes, I'll take those," and pointed
with my stump. But sometimes I'm a hellbender peeking out from under a rock.
When it rains, I live in a music box.
But I'm also a tattoo-addict,
coffee-junkie, drummer, and aspiring skateboarder. Jesus actually is my
homeboy.
No comments:
Post a Comment