Not this week. Today I’m getting back to the darker side of my work where I began. Back to my roots. To the kind of story that drew me into Stephen King and Laurel K. Hamilton novels and gave me the desire to write my own twisted tale.
My heroine is Suri Carver. The picture to the left is how I imagine her.
Black heart. Selfish. Deadly with or without a weapon.
The world locked her away for doing her job. Now they need her again. Will she turn her back on the people who sent her to prison, or will she find her way back to humanity and save their sorry asses one last time?
Here are the opening six lines from Mortal Machine:
Water leaked through a spider web of cracks in the block ceiling and splashed into the rusted toilet.
Another stream plinked against a tin plate by my cell door.
Drip. Drip-drop. Drip.
It was the cruel heartbeat of Telusa Prison where the monsters of the world were sent to die.
And a bonus six from later in the first chapter:
The guard’s mouth gaped open. “Fuck me, you’re Suri Carver. Is that why they keep you in solitary, so the shifters won’t kill you?”
I tilted my head back and belted out a laugh. “No, you ignorant lump. They put me in solitary so I won’t kill them.”
How has your writing changed?