of everything Georgia does. Founder of Month9Books, YALITCHAT.ORG and the weekly #yalitchat on Twitter, Georgia spends most of her days writing, editing, or talking about books. That is, of course, when she is not listening to music, reading or watching her favorite shows. She lives in North Carolina with four dogs, a frog, a parrot, 2 kids, parents, and a husband.
My Sister’s Reaper
Available in print and eBook from Month9Books in
May 2013
Scion of the Sun
Available in print and eBook from Month9Books in
November 2013
And now, a sample from USA Today bestselling author Nicola Marsh’s SCION OF THE SUN, coming from Month9Books in November 2013!
Chapter One
I always thought cults were for crazies.
Until I joined one.
Though, let me clear up any misconceptions. I’m not crazy. A freak maybe, but not crazy. Which is why I’m here. Freaks R Us. A “boarding school for the intellectually gifted” tucked away in the back streets of Wolfebane, New Hampshire. Intellectually gifted? Yeah, right. We have a pristine lake surrounded by majestic mountains. We have lush green fields that turn into fabulous groomed ski trails in the winter. We have upscale restaurants and thriving businesses and fancy homes; city pizzazz with small town coziness. We even have our very own homegrown C.U.L.T.
The Clique of Unique Luminary Telepathies.
When the average person searched this place on the internet, the home page read Co-Ed for Unified Learning and Teaching, a New Age school for the hippest of the hip. It appeared to be a rambling English manor, sandstone and massive latticed windows and French doors, surrounded by a cottage garden gone wild.
All very civilized for a place of learning, but what I’d learn scared the crap out of me.
I’d heard the rumors. Students being indoctrinated, engaging in whacky ritualistic stuff, never coming out. Most kids who’d grown up in Wolfebane had been dared to scale the walls or try a trick-or-treat door knock at Halloween. I’d never been so foolish. Nan’s interest in “the other side” spooked me enough without dabbling in the forbidden at a school for kooks. A school I now had to attend. Freaking great.
“Going in some time this century?”
I glared at Colt, sitting smug in his beat up Chevy, eager to get rid of me. Being Nan’s sole neighbor, I’d been thrust on his family when she got carted off to the hospital. I hated staying with his uptight family as much as they hated having me.
“Nah, think I’ll hang with you a bit longer. It’s so much fun.”
He pointed at the door. “Get out.”
I didn’t budge. Colt didn’t scare me. C.U.L.T. did.
“I had no choice staying with your folks. What’s your excuse?”
His expression turned stubborn.
“How old are you anyway? Nineteen? Twenty tops?”
“Twenty-one,” he gritted out. “Too old to be babysitting dorks like you.”
“Dork? That’s mature for a guy tied so tight to mommy’s apron strings he’s still living at home.”
His hands clenched on the steering wheel and I jiggled the door handle. The door opened on the third try. I couldn’t get away from him quick enough.
“If you were this smart-assed with your Nan I’m not surprised she had a stroke.”
Low blow and that’s what it felt like, like he’d kicked me in the guts. The same nauseating feeling I’d had when I’d told her what I’d seen, and she’d uttered five mysterious words—she took the wrong one—and keeled over.
“And she’s in a long-term coma?” He drove the boot in harder. “Probably do anything to stay away from you.”
I grabbed my backpack, slung my messenger bag over my shoulder and slammed the door. I couldn’t get away from him fast enough. It wasn’t what he’d said as much as the possible truth behind it.
He leaned across the bench seat and leered out the window. “Enjoy the lock-up. Perfect place for psychos. You’ll fit right in.”
“Screw you.”
Colt gave me the finger, gunned the engine, and squealed away from the curb, leaving me standing in front of my prison.
Wolfebane High had sucked, but boarding school? Fine for my fictional faves Zoey Redbird and Rose Hathaway and Cammie Morgan. Me? I wasn’t the kick-ass heroine so much.
I stiffened as a group of girls exited the school gates. No uniforms, just a motley mix of preppy and prissy mixed with cheerleader chic. In my faded jeans, striped hoodie and worn pink ballet flats, I stood out like the nerdy bookworm I was.
One of them, a tall blonde with shiny hair to her waist, stopped and glanced my way. I half smiled. She scrutinized me from head to foot, before giving