by Alechia Dow
Don’t miss this spectacular debut novel... Can a girl who risks her life for books and an alien who loves forbidden pop music work together to save humanity? This road trip is truly out of this world! A beautiful and thrilling read for fans of Marie Lu and Veronica Roth.
Two years ago, a misunderstanding between the leaders of Earth and the invading Ilori resulted in the deaths of one-third of the world’s population.
Seventeen-year-old Janelle “Ellie” Baker survives in an Ilori-controlled center in New York City. With humans deemed dangerously volatile because of their initial reaction to the invasion, emotional expression can be grounds for execution. Music, art and books are illegal, but Ellie breaks the rules by keeping a secret library. When a book goes missing, Ellie is terrified that the Ilori will track it back to her and kill her.
Born in a lab, M0Rr1S was raised to be emotionless. When he finds Ellie’s illegal library, he’s duty-bound to deliver her for execution. The trouble is, he finds himself drawn to human music and in desperate need of more. They’re both breaking the rules for the love of art—and Ellie inspires the same feelings in him that music does.
Ellie’s—and humanity’s—fate rests in the hands of an alien she should fear. M0Rr1S has a lot of secrets, but also a potential solution—thousands of miles away. The two embark on a wild and dangerous road trip with a bag of books and their favorite albums, all the while creating a story and a song of their own that just might save them both.
The idea of bringing stories to those in need outweighs my fear.
Makes me a rebel.
If I die for it...there are worse things to die for.
And in my heart, I know I’m doing the right thing.
—Janelle Baker, secret librarian
Praise for The Sound of Stars
“This book has everything! Aliens set on conquering earth, a determined heroine with a hidden stash of book...and proof of the power of music and stories to give those with every reason to hate the will to love.”
—Joelle Charbonneau, New York Times bestselling author of The Testing and Verify
“Alechia Dow is an incredible new voice—The Sound of Stars was a true pleasure to read.”
—Saundra Mitchell, author of The Prom novel and editor of All Out and Out Now
“A stunning exploration of the comforts that make us human and the horrors that challenge our humanity.”
—K. Ancrum, author of The Wicker King
Alechia Dow is a former librarian and pastry chef living abroad with her partner in Germany. When she’s not writing, you can find her having epic dance parties with her daughter, baking, reading or taking teeny adventures around Europe.
www.AlechiaDow.com
The Sound of Stars
Alechia Dow
To the dreamers, readers, librarians and music makers—even if you only sound good in the shower. And to Liv, you’re the stars in my eyes.
Contents
PROLOGUE
PART ONE
UP IN THE STARS PODCAST
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
THE STARRY EYED: “FAIRY-TALE GIRL”
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
PART TWO
STARRY EYED AND BUSHY-TAILED!!
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
THE STARRY EYED: “THESE STARRY DREAMS”
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
PART THREE
THE GOOD MORNING SHOW
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
THE STARRY EYED: “EVERYTHING”
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
E! NEWS
CHAPTER 21
PART FOUR
THE STARRY EYED: “LOST WITH YOU”
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
TUMBLING ROCKS MUSIC ENTERTAINMENT MAGAZINE
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
PROLOGUE
The invasion came when we were too distracted raging against our governments to notice. Terror had a face and we elected it, my mom said. We were more divided than ever, and that division made our defeat easy.
One moment we were screaming at each other—fingers pointed at the bigotry, the chaos, the hatred—and the next our gaze lifted to the chrome spaceships hovering behind the clouds. No one knew what to do. There was panic; there was fear. Anyone who could left the city and headed for their second homes or their families out-of-state.
Not us, though. We had nowhere to go, no option but to stay behind, locked inside our apartment, waiting for the news to tell us what was happening. For days, the reports told us nothing other than what we already knew; there was now incontrovertible proof we weren’t alone in the universe.
News was hard to come by. There were whispered rumors, nothing confirmed, nothing that inspired confidence in Mom or Dad, who already expected the worst. We didn’t dare leave our apartment building till something concrete reached our ears. It never did.
Other than speculation, there was no official communication that first week. The White House was silent. It was as if they invited chaos by not releasing a statement, by not acknowledging the truth or establishing a plan. All we could do was sit on our couch and wait. That was the longest week of our lives.
And then, one night, the sky lit up a brilliant orange, brighter than the sun. The explosion that followed shook our walls and pierced our eyes. We hit the aliens, the radio blasted across the block. Three massive ships were hit; one in the US, struck over New York, crashed onto the California coast! We destroyed them, people shouted in the streets. Had we won? Was it over?
And then they struck back.
Army bases were their first targets. But there was still hope, the news reports said. We still had our national guard. We didn’t need jets and planes. We needed troops on the ground. They were mobilized just before the invasion.
Major cities across the world were overrun within days. The battles raged just outside our walls. The Ilori—we learned their name and their abilities—didn’t use bombs. Didn’t need weapons. They marched in black armor and masks and used their hands. They hunted by sound; they could hear our hearts beating, our inhales of breath. They could use their minds to destroy ours. And yet, after taking out the leaders, they didn’t. These seemingly invincible creatures responded only to our attacks. Whatever their goal, it didn’t involve annihilation—not that that made a difference.
There were losses on both sides; more of us than them, but enough of them to make humans feel like we stood a chance. Every dead Ilori was taken and analyzed. I still remember the way people cheered in their homes as breaking news reports filmed, not from news stations, but from hospitals within protected bunkers. Scientists had found a way to kill the Ilori. They weren’t indestructible. Underneath their armor they looked like us. They had eyes, ears, lips, hair and skin, which meant they could bleed. Their blood was as red as our own. Yet, killing them was difficult. If you were lucky enough to outnumber them ten to one, you might be able to overpower them, maybe even shut them down.
Electricity...that was their source of power, we were told excitedly. They need it to survive. I chuckle thinking of it now; how we thought, because we found their weakness, we’
d win. How our soldiers switched out their guns for electrical weapons, and we thought we had a chance.
We were wrong.
PART ONE
THE CENTER
Up in the Stars Podcast
Transcript of the Interview with Allister Daniels and Cecil Wright by Mandy LaHoya.
Mandy: Hey, it’s your host, Mandy LaHoya of the Starry Eyed podcast, Up in the Stars! And guys, I’m beyond excited. This week’s fast and fresh interview is the biggest of my career and it’s everything I’ve ever wanted. Today I’m here with Allister Daniels and Cecil Wright of the Starry Eyed! Can you even believe? Not only is it super rare you’d get to speak to one of them, but the two of them together—
Cecil: (inaudible)—not my fault. That’s all on Allister.
Allister: My apologies for Cecil, Mandy. He forgets the world doesn’t revolve around him. We’re very happy to be here, please continue.
Mandy: (giggles) Right! It’s not only rare that the two of you are together for this interview, but you usually disappear before a release. So, we’re really surprised and lucky to have you on here! Anyway, let’s dig in. First question: What inspired your new album, The Sound of Stars?
Allister: The Sound of Stars is about love and...annihilation. I put my heart, my everything, into these lyrics. And Cecil, Rupert, Whisper—they’re truly brilliant—found the perfect harmonies to make this our best album.
Cecil: That’s kind, Allister. The thing about Allister’s lyrics is that he—he really has a story in mind, and every track tells an important piece of it. He’s extraordinarily talented—
Allister: Thank you, Cecil. I wasn’t expecting that.
Cecil: And difficult...just a phenomenally difficult person. But yes, The Sound of Stars is about love during conflict. Bridges during division. It’s our present, our past and, we believe, our future.
Mandy: That sounds amazing and intense, and I can’t wait to listen! But you said you put your heart into this, Allister—why? Why does this album mean so much to you?
Allister: (clears throat) Because...it might inspire our fans, our listeners, to save the world, to save each other, to...find hope. And we need hope more than ever right now. The only way we’ll survive is if we build connections through passion. Through love.
Mandy: That’s beautiful. And I know your music will change the world, it has definitely changed mine.
Cecil: (laughs) Don’t encourage his vanity, Mandy. I promise you, he has a big enough ego as is. Ow!
Allister: Thank you, Mandy. It means a lot to us that our music reaches and resonates with so many people. And we’d love to share The Sound of Stars with you today, if you’re up for it?
Mandy: Heck yeah! Let’s do it!
CHAPTER 1
“I have had all this hanging on my mind, without being at liberty to speak of it to a single creature...”
Elinor Dashwood, Sense and Sensibility, Jane Austen
JANELLE
I blame the Starry Eyed for the risks I take. Allister Daniels, the lead singer, once said that life’s short, but it’s the longest thing you’ll ever do, so give more than you take and be kind. I guess that meant a lot to me, because here I am, giving and being kind... And it’s probably gonna be my downfall.
It’s that thought that sticks with me as I stop to tie my shoe, slipping a scrap of crumpled paper into my sock before standing. Easy, all part of the routine; collect a note from the edge of the trash can in the back corner, hide it and read it when I get home. I wonder what my patron wants this time. Mysteries are always popular, so’s military nonfiction for those looking for hope. But it’s about time everyone understands that there is no hope. This is it.
It’s warm in here; half the building is sweating in this makeshift gym while human guards look on with boredom. I swipe the beads of sweat lingering at the base of my hat and blow air through my teeth. Sometimes we go into the courtyard, but it’s winter now and the Ilori don’t trust us to take care of ourselves. Still, I’d rather be cold than in here, overheating. So I guess I’d prove their point.
The lights blink, telling us we have a few more minutes before we’re to go back to our own apartments.
“Janelle,” a whisper comes from the crowd behind me. I slow down, allowing whoever it is to catch up to me.
“I loved it. Thank you.”
I don’t turn around but recognize the voice. Marcus from the eighth floor. He borrowed one of my dad’s books, Watchmen. My dad is—was—a big fan of graphic novels, while my mom loved romance and classics. As for me, I like everything, especially YA where girls kick ass and boys don’t get in their way. Most of my patrons go for my books, but every so often, I get a request that has me looking beyond my stuff. And I’ll do it, every time, if it means a story can change someone’s outlook, if even just for a day.
Stories do that for me.
When recreation time’s over, we shuffle our way back into the hallway and up the stairs, where the air is immediately less stale. I should be grateful that we’re all locked in here, that we’re alive. That we’re clothed, fed, sheltered and the Ilori don’t seem to want to kill us...until we break their precious rules. But freedom might be better than survival.
Back at my apartment, I snatch the book request from my shoe.
Something with dark humor, please. Jack 3B
My mind’s already roving through possibilities when a knock on the door has me frozen in panic. It’s too soon to expect anyone. The numbers rise to the surface of my mind, threatening to overtake my world for a few minutes before I can be a functioning, normal person again. But there’s no time for that right now, and I can’t keep panicking like this. I gulp and open our beige door, my heart pounding.
Zoe Landson stands before me, an uneasy pout on her lips. “I know this is wrong, but I really need a book.”
“You shouldn’t be here.” My gaze darts up and down the hallway, making sure there are no guards around to bust us. We’re lucky everyone important is either prepping dinner or upstairs.
Zoe’s gaze locks on mine. “I know, but—”
“This isn’t how I operate.” I pull her inside and flick off the lights, washing us in shadows. I never do library business in the apartment. “There’s a system. First, we establish contact through passed notes. That’s half a transgression if caught. This—” I point to her in my apartment “—is a whole one.”
The rules of social transgressions are pretty easy: Speaking in private places? Half a transgression if it’s innocent, i.e. not plotting to attack or something. If it’s about contraband and making plans to engage in illegal activity? That’s one transgression, and you get only two until you’re executed. Lying won’t work with them. The Ilori have ways of finding out whatever you try to hide. They’re powerful, especially if they think you’re planning their demise.
“Then I vet you. I find your secrets and I test your loyalty.” What I don’t say is that I rely heavily on Alice for that—she finds the dirt on everyone. It’s her talent and my secret weapon. “Then, and only then, can we discuss books.”
Zoe squints at me through the moonlight that shines in from the bare living room window down the hall and across from the kitchen. She’s a year younger than me, and although we both are—were—outsiders in this building, we were never close. My parents inherited this apartment, and her dad was the repairman slash janitor. We stuck out, and probably would have stuck out even more if we became friends. “I’m sorry, Ellie. But I really need a book.”
I shake my head, nostrils flaring. “You broke my rules.”
“Please. You don’t know what it’s like over there.” She motions to the door, across the hall to her apartment. “My dad’s all I got and he’s—”
“How do I know you won’t toss me to a Kill Squad to cover your own ass?”
I clench my jaw, the words harshly whispered. Honestly, I dou
bt Zoe’s gonna do that, but I vet people just in case. I like my rules and process. “You don’t come here outside of socialization hours, and we never talk about the library. You slip me notes like everyone else. And you don’t give them a reason to suspect either of us. This system works—and it has for a year, but it only works when people follow it.”
A tear tumbles down her cheek, catching the light. Her bottom lip trembles.
Just say no. Don’t do it. Why risk yourself? These are the things that run through my mind before I once again decide my role as librarian is more important than my life. Yeah, she came to my apartment, potentially exposing me, and yeah, I’m terrified of punishment. But a part of me likes the challenge. And another part of me, the foolish one, still holds on to the words of Allister Daniels.
Give more than you take. Be kind.
I lower my voice. No one’s around to overhear us, but better safe than sorry. “What are we talking?”
“Really?” Her eyes widen, but I keep my face blank, impatient. “Paranormal, please?”
I nod. “Don’t come back here again. Follow the rules, or you’re off the list. Got it?”
“Thank you, thank you.” Zoe goes to hug me, but I inch backward. We aren’t friends like that.
I give her a polite smile that probably comes off as more of a grimace. I ease the door open, allowing her to peek out first. Satisfied, she bolts across the hall. I don’t wait to hear her door close before I shut mine. That was close.
Too close.
My breathing finally slows just as the doorknob bumps into my back. I scoot aside to let my mom in, shoving Jack’s note underneath my hat. “Janelle, what are you doing? Why are the lights off? Are they here?”
There’s frenzy in her jerky motions, and her loose bun loses a few strands of matted dark brown curls. When was the last time she showered? I take in her blue scrubs, which hang off her diminished frame.