“Daniel––”
“They are all okay and in the van. Now move!”
I jumped into the van as the sirens approached, travelling fast. All around us people peeked through their curtains. This was the last I would ever see of the ghettos. This glimpse of cold, vague, slack faces, all gaping in my direction, would be the last I saw of the Blemished. I blinked and they were gone.
Daniel wrapped his good arm around me. He pulled me tight into his chest, so tight that I could barely breathe. “You’re all right,” he whispered into my ear. “I can’t believe you’re all right.
I pulled back and looked at him. “You look terrible.”
“He’s lost a lot of blood,” Mary said. She reached into a pack and took out medical supplies.
I turned to Angela and Sebastian. “Are you both okay?”
Angela wrapped her arms around me. I pushed my head into her shoulder. “I’m glad you made it, Mina.”
“I’m glad too.” I said. “I don’t think I could start a new life without my best friend.”
Sebastian smiled at me shyly as I pulled back from Angela. “I’m glad you’re safe, Mina.”
I sighed. “We all made it.”
“We’re not there yet,” Reg shouted back as he swerved into a tight corner, trying to throw the Enforcers off course.
Mary slapped me on the back. “Let the girl enjoy her moment. We’re past the worst now, lass. In a few days’ time we’ll be in bonnie Scotland. Yer friend here’ll have proper medical treatment and all will be well.”
“You think?”
She smiled. “Ah know so.”
“The Professor will be looking forward to seeing you,” Ali said.
“What?”
“The Professor. That’s yer dad, right?”
“Yes,” I breathed. “He’s in the Clans?”
Ali nodded. “Waiting for ye.”
I felt about to explode with emotion. Tears streamed down my cheeks.
Ali laughed at my stunned expression. “No need to cry, kid. Yer going home to family.”
A Note from the Author
A huge thank you for your support by buying this book, the next instalment, The Vanished, is available now.
If you would like to keep up to date with my new releases, and hear about awesome freebies first, then sign up for new release mail alerts.
It would be fantastic if you could leave a review on the site you bought the book. I loved writing this book, and love hearing what you thought.
Best,
Sarah Dalton
http://sarahdaltonbooks.com/
https://www.facebook.com/sarahdaltonbooks
About the Author:
Sarah grew up in the middle of nowhere in the countryside of Derbyshire and as a result has an over-active imagination. She has been an avid reader for most of her life, taking inspiration from the stories she read as a child, and the novels she devoured as an adult.
Sarah mainly writes speculative fiction for a Young Adult audience and has had pieces of short fiction published in the Medulla Literary Review, Apex Magazine, PANK magazine and the British Fantasy Society publication Dark Horizons. Her short story ‘Vampires Wear Chanel’ is featured in the Wyvern Publication Fangtales.
The Blemished is Sarah’s debut novel and part of the Blemished series.
www.sarahdaltonbooks.com
http://theblemished.com/
@sarahdalton
The Blemished series – Now in a bargain boxed set!
A beautiful world comes at a price…
The Blemished is a frightening take on a fractured future where the Genetic Enhancement Ministry have taken control of Britain. It will take you on a ride filled with adventure, romance and rebellion.
Want More?
“The Compound bustled with action and anticipation, causing my stomach to do a flip. I stopped in my tracks, realising something, something I hadn’t thought of before. We were going to war, and people were going to die.”
The Vanished are the forgotten: those who live beyond law or society. Mina fought for freedom. She fought for a better life – a future. But even a free world can decay.
As Mina begins her new life in the Clans she meets people with surprising knowledge about her power, knowledge that could change everything – even her relationship with Daniel. But as she makes new friends, old friends turn against her in shocking betrayal.
Life in the Compound is tough; there are ways and traditions so strange that Mina begins to suspect foul play at the very heart of her new home. Instead of leaving corruption behind in Area 14, Mina is faced with the rotten core of human nature as a Clan warlord threatens to invade the Compound. The Clans are turning against each other and Mina is stuck in the middle.
The Vanished is the second instalment in the Blemished series and follows Mina’s story as she continues to challenge those in power and seek out new dangers. With even more rebellion, romance and betrayal, The Vanished promises to take the reader on a roller-coaster ride of adventure and emotion.
Will freedom fall?
Get in on iTunes here: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-vanished/id956857263
Chronicles Of Steele: Raven
Episode One
Pauline Creeden
© 2014 Pauline Creeden / Cover Design Copyright © 2014 by Alchemy Book Covers. All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this novel are fictitious and are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Description
Human life has value.
The poor living in the gutter is as valuable as the rich living in a manor.
The scoundrel is no less valuable than the saint.
Because of this, every life a reaper takes must be redeemed.
Raven has lived by this first tenet since she was trained by her father to become a reaper. But since his death, she’s been spending years redeeming the lives she’s taken. By her count, she’s even and it’s time for that life to end. If she settles down and becomes a wife, she might just feel human again. But on the way to the life she thinks she wants, the baron of New Haven asks her to complete a task which she cannot ignore...
Just when Raven decides to give up on her life as an assassin, she’s pulled right back in. The Chronicles of Steele: Raven is a steampunk-inspired fantasy set in an alternate universe.
Chapter 1
Human life has value.
The poor living in the gutter are as valuable as the rich living in a manor.
The scoundrel is no less valuable than the saint.
Because of this, every life a reaper takes must be redeemed.
RAVEN STEELE COUNTED every footstep she chanced through New Haven with the knowledge that any could be her last. But the gamble wouldn’t last long. She quickened her pace. Only two kilometers of brownstone street stood between her and the safety of the forest.
A throng crowded the street. People. Men. Women and children. It had become too easy to think of them as cattle. But they were human. Her deepest desire was to become one of them and live a normal human life. Gregory would make her feel human; he always did. Her heart quickened at the thought of him, and her tread became light.
Raven winked at a fat-cheeked baby held by a pinch-faced woman with silver hair pulled into a severe bun. The woman looked Raven up and down, tching her tongue and shaking her head. Even in the city, a woman in breeches instead of a skirt remained unacceptable. Or maybe the crossbow snapped to the magnets on the back of her corset made the difference.
Would the woman know her secret?
Raven swallowed hard and assured herself of the ignorance of the populace. Few knew what a reaper was, much less the
ir prohibition from the city.
Only the occasional cloud blighted the deceptively clear blue sky over New Haven. Sunlight sifted through and between the buildings stacked next to one another like books on a shelf. An automated horse bore down on her, and she flattened herself against the cool brick. The coachmen yelled at the crowd, “Out of the way! Clear the road. Coaches before walkers!”
The scraping metal and shouting continued down the street, scattering merchants who gave the coach malicious looks and then checked their wares for damage. Beside her, a bronze clockwork mechanical man pushed a merchant's cart, its jerky movements unsuitable for zeppelin-living high society. It stopped just before the haberdasher’s shop.
With a wave of his arm and a grand flourish, the man next to the clockwork man produced a small metal gadget in his palm. “Don’t be the last of your neighbors to procure this one. You’ve never peeled potatoes as expeditiously or had as much merriment in the doing. Your children will quibble over whose turn it is to do what used to be scutwork.”
He placed the gadget next to a pile of potatoes, and the clicking and whirring of the blades set the crowd into exclamations of eager yearning. The people applauded and mobbed the stand, blocking the entire walkway. No elbowing through the throng this time. With a sigh, Raven hopped off the walk onto the street, nearly stepping into a pile of manure left by a flesh horse. Her metal-heeled boots clicked with each step on the smooth stones.
Seagulls crowded a fishmonger’s cart on the other side of the street. The monger accosted her as she neared the bridge, but quickly moved on to the next person behind her when she shook her head. Boats docked behind him and bobbed up and down in the river. Skipping up the steps of the footbridge, she pushed away a black flyaway curl from her eyes and pulled the tendril behind her ear.
Halfway across the bridge, she inhaled a lungful of the salty air and released a contented sigh. Only a day’s journey still stood between her and Gregory’s house, and for once, she wasn’t injured. She smiled to herself as she imagined the look of surprise on his face. She planned to tell him she loved him this time. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. Would he be ready for marriage? Was she?
The fishmonger’s scream broke through the chattering crowd on the bridge. He jumped into the river to avoid an out-of-control carriage pulled by a polished brass automated horse. Steam poured from the nostrils of the metal horse and leaked from its joints in an unnatural manner. Its black lacquer carriage careened on two wheels through the turn onto the bridge before righting itself. Wires shot out of the neck of the metal coachman where the head should have been. The reins in its limp, useless hands were slack and whipping against the horse’s metal flank.
Raven jumped to the rail, moving out of the way of the crowd as they stampeded toward her. She gripped the lamppost and her reaper training kicked in. No fear. Breathe deeply. Think ahead. Make quick decisions.
The black lacquer carriage squeezed between the bridge railings, and the oak boards of the narrow footbridge splintered apart as though they were balsa wood. The railing to the left gave free another meter and the automated horse jerked in that direction.
In a quick, natural motion, Raven unsnapped her crossbow and felt through the quiver attached at her thigh for the right bolt. Pulling the wire from her belt’s winch, she hooked it to the arrow, pointed it at the wooden post of the gas lamp standing closest to the carriage, and pulled the trigger.
For a moment, the heavy metal horse hung over the edge with the carriage wedged between portions of broken railing. The horse’s brass legs still poured steam as they struggled in the air, creating the eerie sound of scraping metal. Gouges raked along the black side of the carriage as it inched its way toward the river. A small hand pressed against the window. The door surged past the railing and swung open. The body of a young boy tumbled out. He hung from the door handle with his fingertips. A gasp and a few screams filled the air behind her.
A female voice shrieked, “It’s the young baron!”
Adrenaline coursed through her veins, and Raven leapt toward the boy—toward the river. She fell in a controlled arc, the wind pulling her long hair as taut as the line from her belt. The carriage broke free from the bridge a moment before she reached it. She thumbed her winch to release more line and grabbed the boy in a full embrace. The cold water enveloped them.
The sudden change in temperature forced the air from her lungs, but she held it in as they darted below the surface. Her submerged body jerked to a stop as the line reached an end. The boy’s forehead struck her in the temple. Saltwater burned her eyes, and stars danced in her vision. Bubbles of air escaped her lips.
The boy went limp in her arms. She gripped him tightly in one arm and hit the rewind lever on the winch. She grabbed the line, and it wrenched her toward the light above. Streaks of her long, black hair stuck to her face as she emerged from the river. She released her breath and gripped the line. The winch pulled her toward the bridge, and the crowd above applauded. Gasping, Raven struggled with the sudden, heavier weight of the boy, struggling to hold him until they reached the top of the bridge. The line cut into her hand and her arm muscles ached.
Her tall black boots squished against the side of the bridge as they were pulled steadily up. She pushed off a tarred pylon to make it over the lip before the cable pulled them against the railing. The winch slowed when it neared the top. She reached up with her free hand and grabbed the crossbow bolt. With a flick of her thumb, she depressed the lever and the grappling hooks withdrew. After pulling the hook free of her line, she replaced the bolt in her quiver. A slow zipping sound continued as the winch on her belt drew in the cable. She allowed hands from the crowd pull the boy from her grasp. She blinked the saltwater from her eyes, her vision still blurred, her muscles quivering.
Four armed guards and one skinny man in a bowtie surrounded the boy she’d hauled to the surface, shooing away the people. Two other guards stepped forward to hold back the crowd.
With a sputter and a cough, the boy retched water from his lungs. The tension in Raven’s chest relaxed. She smiled and attempted to step toward him, but a vice-like grip took hold of her arm. Her fingertips twitched; she was ready to grab the knife on her hip and fight her way out, if necessary. The hard faces of two guards stared down at her. She could smack one in the jaw with the back of her head, and when he loosened his grip, throw a punch at the other. The taste of escape grew bitter on her tongue when she considered the surrounding crowd. She made a count of the collateral damage and clenched her jaw. The last thing she needed were more kills on her conscience, more lives to redeem herself for. With a deep sigh, she remained still.
The man in the bowtie held the wet boy to his chest. His cold blue eyes pierced hers. He pointed and said, “Arrest her.”
Raven shook her head and wondered if she had water in her ears. Surely she must not have heard him correctly. But fingertips dug into her skin and she knew bruises were forming as the two men lifted her. They led her toward another of the brown-suited guards. This one had a red band on his upper arm. His air of authority indicated he could be nothing but their leader.
Red Band proceeded to disarm her and said in a clipped tone, “I’m going to have to ask you to cooperate. If you promise to behave, I’ll cuff your hands in front of you.”
Raven snorted as he unbuckled her belt and pulled it free. “Is this how your lot shows appreciation? Perhaps I should have minded my own business?”
His brown eyes softened, but it didn’t stop him from pulling the goggles from her wet hair and handing them to a guard at his side. “We could have saved him.”
Who decided night vision goggles and a belt winch were weapons, anyway? She smirked. “Maybe you could have—downstream—if he didn’t drown first.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed and gave a half nod. “It’s best if you remain silent.”
He slapped the handcuffs on, and the cold metal pinched her wrists. Raven winced but made no sound. T
he two thugs beside her lightened their grip, once her disarming and cuffing were complete. For his part, Red Band gripped the chain between the cuffs and pulled her forward like an ox.
She shuffled her feet, hearing the general murmur of disapproval in the crowd for the first time. For a moment she wondered if they condemned her or the arrest. She shrugged. What did she care? Red Band mounted a flesh horse and reached down for her. She smiled with relief at the small blessing–at least the thing wasn’t automated.
One of the thugs gripped her by the waist and lifted her to sit in front of Red Band. She was wrapped in the prison of his arms. A second black lacquered coach holding the boy moved away from the bridge. Although pulled by a brass horse, this carriage had Bowtie at the reins instead of an automaton. Her captor urged his horse after the coach.
Her hips swung with the motion of the horse’s walk, and she leaned against Red Band’s chest. She hoped her hair dripped on him and soaked through his brown suit. It made no sense for the Duke of New Haven’s Guard to wear brown. Brown might be a good color for a dirty job, but a bloody one? As a reaper, Raven wore black—the appropriate color for the purpose.
The barren branches of the few trees along the road stretched over their heads like skeletal hands. Fallen leaves crunched under the hooves of the horses. She took consolation in the fact that she at least still headed in the direction of Gregory’s house. Gooseflesh grew on her arms as a breeze picked up.
Riot Girls: Seven Books With Girls Who Don't Need A Hero Page 61