The
Zodiac Collector
Laura
Diamond
Genre:
Young Adult Fantasy
Publisher:
Spencer Hill Press
Date
of Publication: September 23, 2014
ISBN:
1937053636
ASIN:
B00LOB5EPA
Number
of pages: 314
Word
Count: 70,000
Cover
Artist: Lisa Amowitz
Book
Description:
For
almost-16 year-old Anne Devans, the annual Renaissance Faire means
three things--her dad spending weeks in the smithy, her bipolar mom
doing some manic costume making, and another ruined birthday for her
and her twin sister, Mary.
This
year, Anne wants things to be different, and she's going to do things
her way. On the eve of the Faire, Anne, along with a reluctant Mary,
conjures up a spell that will make their 16th birthday party a
whirlwind event. Little do they know that it's a literal request.
After
the mini tornado in their room subsides, the girls realize they've
invoked the power of the Gemini Twins, Castor and Pollux. That's the
good news. The bad news is they also caught the attention of a
sorceress named Zeena who has been collecting children born under
each Zodiac Sign to enhance her power. Once she captures Anne and
Mary, Gemini twins, the entire Zodiac, and the world, will be hers.
Anne
leads the fight against Zeena, but her one-sided decisions could
throw them into a world so far from home, even the Renaissance Faire
would seem like a brilliant vacation. Between managing their new
Zodiac powers, dodging their manic mother and trying to stop Zeena,
they'll get a 16th birthday they'll never forget.
Excerpt:
The
Renaissance Faire wrecks my birthday every year. A month before the
actors and merchants arrive to transform Hopewell Falls Park into a
sixteenth-century towne—yes, with an “e”—Mom stops taking her
lithium. Within forty-eight hours she’s higher than a prom queen
accepting her crown. As the best seamstress east of the Appalachian
Trail, she thinks it’s her duty to stay awake for days, surviving
on double espressos and cigarettes, to make the royal court’s
costumes. She says mania makes her more productive, but all it does
is turn her into a raging beast that puts Sauron, the Basilisk, and
the Kraken all to shame.
Her
internet business, Devans’s Dazzling Dresses, caters to the
Renaissance crowd and occupies her all year long, but our local faire
gives her the most sales.
“These
orders came in months ago. Why wait until the last minute to finish
them?” I hover near the doorway to the living room—a.k.a. Mom’s
studio—and try not to choke on the stagnant air. A wheeze plays at
my lungs. I finger the inhaler that I always carry in case I have to
take a puff.
The
room has the best natural lighting in the whole house. A large bay
window, stretching from floor to ceiling, is the envy of every
do-it-yourself crafter on the block. I dream about curling up on the
seat cushion with a book and a cup of hot chocolate, but Mom never
lets anybody in there. No. Matter. What.
I’d
need to wear a gas mask, anyway, to prevent an asthma attack.
Heavy-metal
music throttles my eardrums. I resist the urge to clap my palms over
my ears. Mom says she can draw energy from the sound waves. She
thinks the bands create their music specifically for her. No amount
of lithium makes that go away.
“What
else am I supposed to do? This is how I create.” Her blue eyes
spark with fury as she takes a drag on her cigarette. Two inches of
ash hang on the end. It’s beyond me how it doesn’t fall off and
burn the fabric she’s working on. At least the dry cleaner can
erase the smoky stench from her masterpiece after it’s done. She
throws a pincushion at me and returns to her ironing. “Now get out
of here. Don’t you have finals to study for or something?”
“But
Mary’s and my birthday is coming up and I wanted to talk to you—”
My voice squeaks and tears burn at my eyes.
Her
head snaps up, sending wild-colored curls swaying with agitation.
“I’m. Working.”
I
can’t even get two sentences out and she’s in attack mode. My
stomach twists on itself as instinct claws at my chest, begging for
clean air. Ask quickly and get out. That’s the plan. I lick my dry
lips. “We’re turning sixteen. It’s important.”
She
plucks the cigarette from her mouth and pulverizes it in a nearby
ashtray. Her nicotine-stained fingers shake, fumbling to light
another one. It takes two flicks for the lighter to ignite. Her
cheeks hollow out as she sucks in along drag. She holds it in for a
few seconds, eyes closed in fleeting bliss, and blows it out. The
lines of her face—webbing crows’ feet, jagged wrinkles across her
forehead, arcs from her nose to the corners of her lips—deepen.
Pale gray fog surrounds her like she’s a smoldering dragon working
up to the big explosion of fire.
“Everything’s
about you and your sister, isn’t it? Well, did it ever occur to you
that the work I do helps pay the bills around here? I don’t see you
bringing in a paycheck.”
“Whatever.”
Like a defenseless knight who’s lost his courage, I retreat. I
storm upstairs, my ever-ready puffer in one hand while I wave away
the haze of smoke with the other. The whole house smells like stale
nicotine and my asthma is flaring like Jenny Johnson’s face that
time she farted in gym class. I slam the door behind me.
“You
interrupted Mom, didn’t you?” My ever-perceptive twin, Mary,
guesses right. She removes her earbuds and sets aside her biology
textbook.
“No.”
I take a hit from my inhaler and flop on my paisley bedspread.
Doesn’t matter that I stare at the ceiling. Her accusation crashes
over me like a tsunami. I roll on my side to face her. “Yes.”
She
runs her hands through her curly espresso-colored hair and glares at
me with her jade eyes. “Why?”
“Why
not? We’ve never had a real, disaster-free birthday party because
of the Renaissance Faire. Isn’t it about time?” I refuse to
surrender to her disapproval. She’d never challenge Mom. At least I
try. My Papillon dog, Castor, leaps on the bed. The fringe of his
sable ears flutter like streamers as he licks my cheeks.
Mary
averts her gaze and picks up his brother, Pollux. It was Mom’s idea
to name them after the Gemini twins. She called it “kitschy.”
Pfft. Amazing she didn’t name us after them.
“Well?”
I sit up. Castor’s and Pollux’s dark eyes stare at me with
sympathy. The cozy bedroom is their safe haven as much as it is ours.
“The
more you bother her, the less likely it is we’ll get a party. I bet
she won’t bake a cake this year, either.” She presses her chin
against Pollux’s head.
“So
it’s my fault we won’t get a party?”
She
winces. “I didn’t say that.”
Regret
presses on my shoulders and slides down my spine to nestle in my gut
like a snake. It coils in my stomach, tail rattling with agitation.
“I don’t mean to make things worse.”
“I
know,” she barely whispers.
I
take a deep breath and imagine the regret snake spontaneously
combusting and evaporating into nothingness. Better than having it
strike and lodge its fangs into my liver. “What kind of cake would
you want?”
“It
would be cool to have a tiered one, with piping and flowers. Maybe
even edible pearl candies or something.”
The
corner of her mouth hitches up.
Mary
likes pretty things. I prefer edgy. “What about one with a knight
beheading a dragon on top? Blood-red icing can trail down the sides
and pool around the base.”
She
scrunches her nose and scratches behind Pollux’s ear. “Gross.
Maybe we can get a Papillon cake. It’d be so cute.”
It’s
not a bad idea.
Her
half-smile fades. “Doesn’t matter. Mom won’t go for any of it.”
“It’s
so unfair.” Amped on the pain of injustice, I launch myself to my
feet and pace our bedroom, from our window overlooking the wooded
park across the street, to the desk we share on the other side. The
braided rug between our twin beds massages my bare feet.
“Yeah,
and what are you going to do about it? Nothing, that’s what.”
Mary cradles Pollux in her arms and carries him to his doggie bed.
After gently lowering him to the round cushion, she stares at her
closet, gaze scanning every inch, and taps her chin. Sucking on her
bottom lip, she falls into an OCD trance, and I’ve lost any chance
at wrangling her back into the conversation about Mom.
About
the Author:
Laura
Diamond is a board certified psychiatrist and author of all things
young adult paranormal, dystopian, and horror. She’s a lucid
dreamer, meaning she can direct her dreams while they’re happening.
When she’s awake, she pens stories from her dreams and shares them
with her readers.
Laura
has many published titles including the Pride Series (New Pride,
Shifting Pride, soon to be re-released, and Tsavo Pride), the Endure
Series (Endure and Evoke, soon to be re-released), The Zodiac
Collector, a novella Sunset Moon in the Lore anthology, and several
shorts stories. When she’s not writing, she is working at the
hospital, blogging at Author Laura Diamond–Lucid Dreamer, and
renovating her 225+ year old fixer-upper mansion.
Tour giveaway – open to US Shipping Only
Prize pack 1: Autographed set of Shifting Pride, Endure, & Lore and swag bookmarks
Prize Pack 2: Autographed copy of Lore (the anthology) and swag bookmarks
Prize Pack 3 &4: Swag postcards of books, a zodiac ring, & a zodiac bracelet representing main characters from The Zodiac Collector (Libra & Gemini)
Bonus: Laura is giving an ecopy of the short story, Tsavo Pride, to everyone who purchases The Zodiac Collector--simply email her proof of purchase and she’ll send the short. Laura’s email: authorlauradiamond@gmail.com Rafflecopter
a Rafflecopter giveaway
I love YA and this book sounds different and interesting. The writing is great and I would love to read it!
ReplyDeleteThanks for hosting me today!
ReplyDeleteThanks, Danie!