Fight Song Chapter 17

Hey'a, everyone! After a two-week hiatus, Fight Song is back— with good news: I've finished editing the novella! Now all that remains is to post it all on here. Last time, Callie and Jonathan tested Callie's theory that she could interfere with the Death Song, or at least with Welsh's version, by singing its opposite. This week, Callie and her friends make plans and enjoy food. Because food is important.

As always, comments, critiques, suggestions, and questions are welcome. I'd love to hear what you think! Thanks for reading!

Chapter 17: Challenging Plans

Baskin and Robins was so crowded that the line stretched out the door, despite the fact that the sky had turned from blue to indigo and the streetlights would turn on any minute. Jonathan seemed ready to brave the crowds anyway until I convinced him to instead hit up the corner store for a pint of rocky road, along with bowls and spoons to eat it with. We headed to the park and found ourselves a bench, then divvied up the ice cream.

While we ate, Jonathan gave me another piece of good news: he finally found someone who had video of one of Welsh’s attacks. “It’s not good footage—” he shrugged and scooped up another spoonful of ice cream— “but it’ll work. It’s from a small hotel in Ohio, not the one you worked at, but probably a similar situation. An older couple owns it, and they seemed more confused than anything about why I wanted a copy of their security camera feeds from a particular date. Then I told them that I was a reporter tracking down a murderer who had slipped past the cops, and . . .” He shrugged. “I guess they’re mystery fans, because they said they’d send it over.”

“Thank God.” I meant it too. “At least now we have two videos besides whatever we take ourselves. When they send it, can you forward it to me, please? Like, as soon as you get it?”

“Of course.” Jonathan started to take another spoonful of ice cream, then paused with the spoon halfway to his mouth. “Why the rush? Are you . . . Callie, how soon are you planning to confront Welsh?”

“Um . . . Soon?” I shrugged, hoping that my nervousness didn’t show in my smile. “I just don’t want to wait longer than I have to, you know? Now that I know my plan will work, and now that we have video to back up our claim, I just don’t see a point in putting it off. And I’m worried that if I do hold off, I’ll chicken out.”

“I can’t imagine you chickening out of anything, Callie.” Jonathan contemplated his ice cream for a few minutes before adding, “Are you sure that acting this soon is wise?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “It won’t be this soon by the time I actually compile everything and convince Welsh to actually face me and all that. And . . . I guess I’m just wondering, is it wise to wait at this point? I know what I’m doing about as well as I ever will.”

“What are you doing, then?” Jonathan set down his ice cream on the bench between us and leaned forward. “I know about once you’re facing Welsh. But before then?”

“You’re going to send me the video feed you got and copies of any other information that I don’t already have. That’s the first thing. And I’m going to compile everything we know along with a letter of some kind explaining what happened to me and what I’m going to do, and I’m going to give copies of that to people who I trust, just in case.” I paused. “You should probably do that too. And after that, I’ll contact Welsh somehow— that’s the one thing I haven’t figured out how to do, especially without giving him a way to trace me— and send him a still from one of the video feeds and a warning that if he doesn’t meet me at a particular place and time, I’ll release everything to the police.”

“Maybe we should do that anyway. Try one last time.” Jonathan rested one arm on the back of the bench, watching me. “Maybe the video feeds will be enough.”

“Maybe.” But I didn’t think so, and my voice said as much. “If you want to, you can try. I still don’t think they’d believe us, though. Anyway, once I contact him, and he responds, it’s just a matter of meeting him and getting video of him trying to kill me.”

“That sounds terribly safe.” Jonathan’s tone was drier than Death Valley itself. “Just so you know, I’m calling the police as soon as it looks like Welsh is going to make a move. It’ll take them time to get wherever we are, and I don’t want you to have to deal with him longer than you need to.”

“Call away. I don’t want to have to deal with him longer than I need to either.” I paused, staring off into the treetops as I thought. “We should probably try to have more than one camera going. I have a little point and shoot that can be controlled by remote, and it’s got pretty good battery life. We can set that up somewhere and hope it doesn’t turn itself off by the time Welsh gets here. Your fancy camera takes video too, right?”

Jonathan gave me a mock-offended look. “My camera is a Canon 5D Mark III. Until the Mark IV came out last year, it was one of the best cameras on the market, and it honestly might still be. Its predecessor was used to shoot parts of The Avengers, among other things. Yes, it takes video too.”

“Oh, give me a break. I know instruments, not cameras.” I shoved his shoulder lightly. “Anyway, that’s good. Any chance that your best-camera-on-the-market will automatically upload your video to some kind of non-local device?”

Jonathan hesitated, then shook his head. “Er, no. The developers haven’t gotten to that yet. My phone takes decent video too, and that does automatically upload, but only if you have a WiFi connection.”
“I guess that’s better than nothing.” I wouldn’t count on WiFi, though. While I didn’t know where I’d tell Welsh to meet me, I doubted it would offer an internet connection. “We’ll just work with what we have.”

Jonathan and I stayed long enough to finish our ice cream, then I headed home. As I walked, I texted Uhjin to let her know I needed to talk to her tonight or tomorrow. She texted back within a few minutes: K. Tomorrow. Not ideal, but at least that would give me time to think about what I’d say and how much to reveal.

And that’s exactly what I did— all night. My thoughts kept me awake late into the night, late enough to hear Uhjin sneak in well past midnight and stumble into her bed. I finally dropped off, only to wake to my alarm what seemed like mere moments later. I groaned and rolled out of bed. Darn it, why’s worship band practice got to be so early?

By the time Uhjin and I headed home after church that afternoon, though, I knew what to say. And once we sat down to our lunch of sandwiches and apples and peanut butter, I couldn’t wait any longer. “I tested my theory of how to counter Welsh’s ability. It works.”

Uhjin looked up from her sandwich so quickly that her fancy hairdo nearly fell over. “What? Really? So does that mean you’re going to make a move soon? Did you and Jonathan make up yesterday?”
“Yes to all three. Jonathan was able to get ahold of a second video source besides yours, so we’ll have both of those and then what we capture.” Once again, I explained the plan I’d outlined to Jonathan, though Uhjin already knew some of it. “And there’s one last thing you should probably know.”

Jonathan already knows, after all. And if I’m going to take the step I plan to take, I want Uhjin in on it too. I can trust her, I know. Uhjin knows how to keep secrets. “See, I . . . How do I say this .  . . I’m not exactly normal. Maybe it’s better to just show you.” I sang a brief series of notes. The water in my glass flowed upwards in a twisting column, started to burst out in a fountain, and just as quickly backtracked the way it had come.

Uhjin whooped— and I mean actually whooped, fist-pump and all. “I knew it!”

“What?” I groaned. “You too? Who’s next, Rebecca revealing that she knows all?”

“You don’t live with Rebecca, silly.” Uhjin wrinkled her nose at me. “You live with me. Even if I’m not here that much. Anyway, I did make it to most of your concerts and recitals and stuff last year, and there was that one— the lights kept being weird, and they were always the weirdest during your solo bits.”

“Yeah . . .” I winced, remembering that concert. The songs our instructor had chosen had all been dangerous ones for me, so full of power that I could barely keep it under control. “Do you think anyone else realized based on that?”

“Probably not.” Uhjin shrugged. “I knew something was up, but I only noticed because the lights in the dorm room also did weird stuff when you were practicing for the concert. And then I started looking, and I started seeing other stuff, and then you kept staying out late with your violin once we moved to the apartment, and every now and then you’d come back all beat up like you did the other night, and . . . yeah. I guess I didn’t actually know it, but I guessed. So you’re an actual legit superhero? Really?”

“I have powers. I’m not an ‘actual legit superhero’ . . . not yet, anyway. Maybe soon.” Definitely soon. But I don’t feel quite ready to say  that out loud. One step at a time. “You know you can’t tell anyone else, right?”

“Duh. That’s basically the first rule of being a superhero’s . . . what am I?” Uhjin made a face. “Oh. Ew. I’m probably basically your Jarvis or Alfred or whatever, since mostly I’ve just fed you and patched you up and listened to you plan.”

“You’re my friend is what you are. Anyway, do I look like Batman or Tony Stark or anyone like that? If we’re going to make comparisons to fictional superhero companions, you’re more of . . . um . . .” I paused, realizing that I couldn’t think of a good comparison that didn’t involve romantic connotations, the death of the companion, or both. “You’re beyond compare. Let’s go with that.”

“Oh, fine.” Uhjin pouted a moment, then bounced back up with a wicked grin. “Oooooh. Wait. You’re a superhero. Jonathan’s a reporter. Does that mean he’s your Lois Lane?”

“What the— Oh, shut up!” I flopped back in my chair and smacked my forehead with my palm. “Jonathan is my friend. Like you. Nothing else. Anyway, I’m not even remotely like Superman, and aside from the newspaper bit, he is nothing like Lois Lane.”

“I’m just saying.” Uhjin shrugged, completely unapologetic. “Anyway. So how do I fit in with your plan?”

“You . . . uh . . .” I grabbed a slice of apple and scooped up some peanut butter with it. “I figured you’d probably stay here? Where you won’t be in danger?”

“Jonathan’s going to be there, isn’t he?” Uhjin’s mischievous look suddenly hardened into determination. “I have as big a stake in this as he does. Maybe bigger.”

“Jonathan’s been helping me with the search longer than you have, though,” I pointed out, taking a bite of apple. “And he’s only there because he has a camera and I need someone to call the police when necessary.”

“I have a camera too. And a phone. And a camera on my phone.” Uhjin crossed her arms. “Welsh killed my sister, and because of that, not only did I lose my closest friend, I spent years wondering if I was crazy. I want to help you take him down.”

  “Yes, but . . .” I hesitated. “It’ll be dangerous. And you do realize that I’m not going to kill him, right? The point is to get proof and put him in custody.”

“I know. I know.” Uhjin waved her hand as if dismissing my contradiction. “And I know it’s dangerous, but I’m not scared. Or, I’m more mad than scared. If Jonathan can risk it, so can I.” She paused, leaned forward, taking on a pleading look. “Please, Callie. I don’t have to be right up there, but let me be nearby, helping you somehow. One more person to take video and call the police can’t hurt, right? Jonathan will probably be close to the action; what if something happens to him? You need a backup.”

She made a good argument, enough that my determination wavered. “Well, yes, but . . . I . . . I’ll see what I can do, ok? I still need to figure out where to tell Welsh to meet me; if there’s a location near there where you can see safely, you can come.”

“Yes!” Uhjin sat back, fist clenched in satisfaction. “You won’t regret this, Callie. Wait and see.”

“I hope not.” I smiled weakly, sending up a silent prayer. Please, God, protect Uhjin. Protect Jonathan. Don’t let me regret bringing them. And, please, protect me too.

Lightporter Release Tour: Twinepathy & Lightporter Reviews!

Hey'a, everyone! We're taking a little bit of a break from the Song of Leira blog tour to recognize another awesome book releasing this month: Lightporter, the second book in C.B. Cook's IDIA series! I really enjoy this fun superhero series, and I'll be reviewing both books in this post. But first, let's hear a little bit about the book and author.

About the Book

(Light-por-ter)

n. someone who has the ability to manipulate light and can use that ability to teleport

Albany and her twin sister, Brooklyn, have gotten more comfortable in the superhero world. But when Blaze starts acting secretive and weird monsters attack, the girls realize there is more going on that they still don’t know about. Before long, they discover that Blaze is hiding something—or someone. With FOE still hiding in the shadows, the girls must decide who they can trust… before it’s too late.

Find it on: Amazon || Goodreads

About the Author

C.B. Cook is just a girl trying to find out where her King is guiding her, while writing the stories of the people she creates, the worlds she wants to live in, and the adventures she dreams about. Also known as a mysterious creature called an “author.” She's a Christian and a home school graduate dedicated to changing others' lives through the power of the written word.

Find her on: Amazon || Goodreads || Wordpress || Pinterest

My Reviews:

Twinepathy:

"There was an idea . . . to bring together a group of remarkable people, to see if they could become something more."

Well, actually, there was an IDIA, and from that came an awesome novel about a pair of telepathic twins, a girl who lost her memories, a woman as full of mysteries as she is determination, and a serial memory murderer. And yes, you did read that last bit right.

Twinepathy is an exciting adventure that blends twists of mystery with superhero action. Yet it balances that action with a look at the normal— or semi-normal— life of a superhero and the decisions they have to make.

Probably my favorite thing about Twinepathy, though, is C.B.'s creativity in creating superpowers and superheroes. Some of the powers she comes up with are fairly unique in and of themselves— Data's, for instance, and the aforementioned serial memory murderer's. Others seem standard on the surface— telepathy, light powers— but are made unique by the way she thinks through unexpected applications of those powers. It makes for a real treat.

The characters are another thing I enjoy . . . but not entirely. To be honest, Albany annoys me, and I think she gets away with way too much. However, she has her moments, and the many side characters, major and minor, are awesome. Blaze is the best: a great guy who can be both snarky and sensitive as the situation demands. (I'd say that I'd date him if he were real, but he doesn't date.) Anvil is my second favorite, a scary guy with a bit of a soft side who's absolutely loyal to his friends. Data is intriguing and surprisingly likable for someone who keeps so many secrets. And Keller is someone to whom I can relate to in her desire for independence and care for her sister.

In conclusion: Twinepathy may not be the most amazing book in the world, but it's a fun, exciting read for superhero fans of all ages. Whether you love Marvel, DC, or just adventure and awesome powers in general, you'll enjoy this.

Lightporter: 

A good superhero novel is hard to find. Thankfully, the search ends here.

Though the second in C.B. Cook's IDIA series, Lightporter brilliantly avoids the dreaded Second Book Syndrome. This is partially due to an increase in writing quality and partially due to Albany's character development. While she still makes mistakes, she behaves with much greater maturity and much less stubbornness, which means I liked her better.

Though still told from Albany's perspective, a fair portion of the book centers around Blaze- which is just fine with me! He remains one of my favorite characters, even if he's a bit out of sorts for a while. We also learn a little more about Anvil, one of my other favorite characters, and he plays a pretty big role here. (On a side note: can I have a cookie-baking party with him and Blaze and the twins and Maddie and Jen? Because that sounds super fun, and I want to try his cinnamon chip cookies.) In addition, we encounter a few other new faces, both friendly and unfriendly, which I very much enjoyed. (One character in particular got me very excited, even if I was wrong in the end about his true identity.) Everyone, new and old, gets their moment of glory one way or another.

Plotwise, the book is pretty solid. It's not non-stop action, but things never stop happening long enough for me to get bored. FOE continues to make trouble, though it's definitely our friends the IDIA crew driving the plot. We learn more about FOE and their plans, just enough to raise the stakes and make us worried. And the ending is highly satisfying.

Lightporter is not perfect. Action scenes and transitions sometimes feel less smooth than they could. Dialogue occasionally seems a bit off. But overall, it's a fun, clean superhero adventure and a fabulous continuation of the series.


What do you think? Are you excited to try out this great IDIA? (Sorry, sorry, I'll stop . . .) If you are, now's a great time; both books are currently $0.99 on Amazon! If you're not yet convinced, well, just check out the rest of the day's stops (list below) . . . and especially make sure to stop back here on Saturday for an awesome interview with one of my favorite characters!
Thanks for stopping by!
 -Sarah (Leilani Sunblade)


Tour Stops for Monday, June 11th
Writefury – Character Interview and Lightporter Review
Dreams and Dragons – TwinepathyandLightporter Reviews
Light and Shadows – Book Spotlight and Author Interview

Song of Leira Review

Hey'a, everyone, and welcome to the Song of Leira blog tour! I'm super excited to announce that Song of Leira, the final installment in the Songkeeper Chronicles, finally released this past week. The festivities for this release, including a Facebook party and a photo contest, will continue all month, so that'll be fun too— you've got a whole month of reviews, interviews, character spotlights, guest posts, and more, besides the already-mentioned "big things", to enjoy! Today, I'll be sharing my review of the book— but before that, a little about Song of Leira and its author!

About the Book:  

 The Song bids her rise to battle.

Reeling from her disastrous foray into the Pit, Birdie, the young Songkeeper, retreats into the mountains. But in the war-torn north, kneeling on bloodstained battlefields to sing the souls of the dying to rest, her resolve to accept her calling is strengthened. Such evil cannot go unchallenged.

Torn between oaths to protect the Underground runners and to rescue his friend from the slave camps, Ky Huntyr enlists Birdie's aid. Their mission to free the captives unravels the horrifying thread connecting the legendary spring, Artair's sword, and the slave camps. But the Takhran's schemes are already in motion. Powerful singers have arisen to lead his army - singers who can shake the earth and master the sea - and monsters rampage across the land.

As Leira falters on the verge of defeat, the Song bids her rise to battle, and the Songkeeper must answer.

 

 

 

 

 

About the Author:

Gillian Bronte Adams is a sword-wielding, horse-riding, wander-loving fantasy author, rarely found without a coffee in hand and rumored to pack books before clothes when she hits the road. Working in youth ministry left her with a passion for journeying alongside children and teens. (It also enhanced her love of coffee.) Now, she writes novels that follow outcast characters down broken roads, through epic battles, and onward to adventure. And at the end of a long day of typing, she can be found saddling her wild thing and riding off into the sunset, seeking adventures of her own (and more coffee).

She loves to connect with fellow readers and wanderers online through her blog, Facebook page, newsletter, and Instagram.

 

 

 

 

My Review:

This, my friends, is a book well worth waiting for.

Ok, so, two years isn't that long of a wait— not compared to how long some authors have taken to release new books. But with our favorite characters in dire straits, fans of the Songkeeper Chronicles have been anxiously waiting for this final installment to reassure us that, yes, the Takhran will be defeated, Amos, Birdie, Ky, and the rest will live, and the Song will be restored. And now that that book is here and those questions can be answered, I just have to say: Song of Leira is the best of Gillian's books yet. And trust me, you won't see the ending coming.

One of the things Gillian does best— always has done best— is theme, and Song of Leira is no exception. Powerful without being preachy, cheering without being cheesy, Gillian speaks her message clearly through the decisions of her characters and the results of those actions. Even in the midst of darkness, even when our characters are at their most beaten-down, they find hope, for the Master Singer is still in control. Even when it doesn't make sense, characters choose to follow His lead— and in that, they find triumph, though there is much heartbreak along the way. And even when evil is overwhelming, they seek to do the good set before them, for such is where the fight begins and ends. The road is hard and the path is long; Gillian doesn't try to pretend otherwise. But there is light at the end of it.

Besides the themes, one of my favorite things about the Songkeeper Chronicles is the characters themselves. It's amazing to see how they've grown and changed since Orphan's Song. Birdie, once pushed here and there by the decisions of those around her, steps forward to seek the Song and follow its lead for herself. Ky, once constantly at odds with the ways of the Underground, now finds his way as their leader. Even Cade has mellowed out some. And Amos . . . oh, poor Amos. The brokenness he once hid behind a bold mask has been compounded until he can hide it no more. They're all broken, these characters. At times it seems as if they're just fumbling and feeling their way along in the dark; they're lost in the storm of sorrow and trouble they face. Yet they stay strong and hold true to what they know, and even the most broken find healing in the end.

Yet it's not just the characters who've grown. It's the author as well. Orphan's Song, Gillian's first book, felt . . . safe. There was danger, there was fear, there was a cliffhanger ending, but very rarely did I doubt that the characters would make it through somehow. And there were parts in Orphan's Song, even in Songkeeper, where I read it and I thought, that, that could've been handled better. This seems off. 

But Song of Leira is anything but safe. The pain, the darkness, the sorrow, they're as real as the joy and the hope and the peace. Beloved characters fall and fail and are lost and— not going to lie— some die. (One death in particular, midway through the book, just about tore my heart in two.) Gillian has clearly taken lessons from the masters in how to put readers' emotions through the wringer along with her characters. But none of the book, from the darkest sorrow to the brightest joy, is overdone or underwhelming. It's right. The prose, in many places, is beautiful— not something I say about many books. And the ending— oh, the ending! I don't think I can say much about it without giving spoilers, but it's magnificent. Just trust me and read it.

In conclusion: Song of Leira is an excellent ending to the Songkeeper Chronicles. The deep themes and beautifully broken characters will speak to readers' hearts, and the storyline itself will keep them constantly turning pages. If you're a fan of the Songkeeper Chronicles, you won't be disappointed— and if you haven't read the series yet, what are you waiting for?

Are you excited for Song of Leira? What about the book are you most looking forward to? If you haven't read the series yet, are you interested? Please tell me in the comments!
Thanks for reading!
 -Sarah (Leilani Sunblade)

Fight Song Chapter 16

Last time on Fight Song, Callie and Jonathan talked through their differences and Callie learned that Jonathan doesn't get paid to be unobservant. This week, the two test Callie's theory that she can stop Welsh's power by singing its opposite song. As always, questions, comments, and critiques are welcome. Enjoy!

Chapter 16: The Anti–Death Song

Jonathan texted me the next evening: Julián had agreed that we could try our plan next weekend. I found myself counting down the passing days before then as eagerly as if I were waiting for Christmas. If this worked . . . Well, it wouldn’t solve all my problems, but it would solve one of the major ones.

Midway through the week, Uhjin texted me while I was on lunch break: Uncle sent security feed video! I checked; Welsh is in there. 

I sent up a silent prayer of thanks when I saw the message; Jonathan and I had yet to find anyone else who’d give us access to useful camera feeds. I texted back: Thanks! Will transfer to my comp tonight. Make copies. The last thing we needed was to lose our best piece of evidence because of a careless deletion, or, worse, a hacker.

Saturday arrived at last with the type of heat and humidity that I’d expect from mid-August, not May. The day had barely cooled at all by the time Jonathan and I met outside Julián and Ana’s apartment building that evening. We trekked up the metal stairs to the third floor and down concrete walkways to their door. Jonathan paused before knocking. “Ready, C— Ava?”

I nodded. “Ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s do this.”

Jonathan knocked. A moment later, Julián answered. “You are early.”

“Sorry.” I glanced at my watch. He was right; in our eagerness to test our idea, we had gotten here ahead of schedule. “Do you want us to come back?”

“No. If you can do what you say, we should not wait.” Julián stepped aside so we could enter. “She is worse than last time.”

“Thanks for the warning.” I walked inside and approached the couch. “Mrs. Reyes?” I circled the couch and had to hide my shock.

Julián hadn’t been exaggerating. Ana is so thin she seems to be merely skin draped over bones; her eyes are dark and hollow and haunting. Her face glistens with sweat; her breath comes in gasps— yet she had managed to sit, propped by pillows, and she attempted to smile at me. “Julián said . . . you think you can help?”

Is her condition confirmation of my theory or just the natural effect of having been under Welsh’s power for any length of time, no continued drain required? I don’t know, but I hope it’s the former, that my theory is right, that I can save her. “I think so, yes. Did he explain what Jonathan told him about what I’m going to try?”

“Yes.” Ana leaned back against the couch cushions, her eyes sliding shut. “Go on . . . if you wish to try . . . try now. Before I am . . . all the way gone.”

“Right.” I knelt by the couch. “Can I hold your hand? It might help.”

Ana nodded as if that small motion exhausted her. I grasped her bony hand, so light and fragile that I couldn’t help feeling like I’d break it if I wasn’t careful. Then I shut my eyes and listened.

At first, I couldn’t hear anything, nothing but Ana’s gasps and the traffic outside and all the normal songs of an apartment in the city. I listened closer, tuning out the natural noises so I could focus in on the songs of power. There was the chiming tune of the water in the glass on the bedside table; there, the hums of plastic and metal and wood; there, the complicated melody of the woven fabric of the couch, and all around, the ever-shifting song of the air. No Death Song. For the first time in my life, my heart fell because of its absence. Had I only imagined it last time? Was I wrong after all?
I focused in, listened more closely. The high-pitched hum of the lights, a sound I normally blocked out for fear of losing my sanity to it, grated over my ears. I winced, but still listened, praying desperately. Please . . .

Then, like a rasping whisper, like the slight shuffle in autumn leaves when you’re walking home long past dark and your brain turns every sound into warning of monsters and serial killers, I heard it. It lay beneath all the other music, barely perceptible, but poisonous, corrupting every song it latched onto. As I recalled, it was not quite like the normal Death Song. Its beat was slower; its not-notes more orderly. I could work with this.

I listened for several minutes, forcing myself to pay attention so I could piece together the song’s reverse. I started with the basic rhythm— not so hard to figure out; that wouldn’t change between the original and its antithesis. Then I moved to the notes themselves— far more difficult. I couldn’t work in bars; I had to take it one note at a time. Finally, I thought I had the song correct, or, at least, I could hear an anti-note and figure out its real self quickly. Then and only then did I take a deep breath, open my mouth, and start to sing.

Nothing happened. The Death Song still scraped across my senses. Ana still labored for each breath. My voice faltered. Was I wrong? Can Welsh’s power not be stopped after all?

I have the song wrong. That’s it. That must be it. I wasn’t sure if I was acting out of desperation or determination, but I worked my way through the song, adjusting one note, then another and another until— yes! The not-melody of the Death Song faltered, the anti-notes off-pitch as if played by an amateurish child. But the song didn’t stop, not yet.

I adjusted another note, then paused for breath. What else can I try? Maybe my timing is off . . . I started again, careful to match each note to its antithesis, each chord to its opposite, without missing a single beat.

And this time, it worked.

The Death Song faltered again, skipping and repeating like a scratched CD. The melody splintered into greater discord, anti-notes screeching and distorting. Oddly enough, the distortion made them sound more normal, not less. Then, finally, it stopped altogether.

I sat back and released Ana’s stiff hand— why so stiff? Please, please, no— and opened my eyes. Ana still slumped on the couch, wide-eyed and gasping, but her gasps didn’t sound like those of someone choking or unable to breathe. They sounded like what I’d expect from someone who’s been drowning and just found their way back to the air. “You ok?”

She nodded. “I . . . I am. I think.” She sounded stronger; winded, yes, but not weak. “Your song . . . it hurt. But it was good pain.”

Jonathan and Julián were both staring wide-eyed. I wondered what they’d seen while I’d been focused on the Death Song. Jonathan offered a hand to help me up. “Well. I guess it worked.” He said it like he didn’t know what else to say, like he wasn’t quite sure if what he’d seen was real or not. “Good work.”

I took his hand and pulled myself to a standing position. “Thanks. And—” I turned my attention back to Ana and Julián— “Thanks for letting us test our theory.”

“No, we should thank you. You have given us hope.” Julián rested his hand on Ana’s shoulder, looking down at her tenderly. “Hope where we thought we had none.”

I shrugged, glancing down, not sure how to respond. “I . . . You’re welcome? Mrs. Reyes, I hope you keep getting better.”

“I think I will.” Ana nodded. “You will stop Welsh with this?”

I nodded. “I hope to, yes.”

“Good. Remember to remember me when you face him.” She smiled a slow, satisfied smile. “Good luck to you, Ava. Though I do not think you will need it.”

“I hope not.” I hooked my fingers in my pockets, not sure what to do with my hands. “Well, we should get going. Thanks again.”

With a few more polite thanks and well-wishes on both sides, Jonathan and I departed. We headed back to the street in silence. Once there, I glanced at him. “What did you see while I was singing?”

“I . . . I don’t know. I don’t know if I saw anything.” Jonathan shook his head like he was clearing his head of sleep. “Your song was . . . I don’t know. I don’t have good words for it, and I’m a writer. I thought I was going to go crazy from hearing it, but at the same time, I wanted to keep listening. It messed with my head. I thought I saw things— lights, mostly; some kind of weird shadowy thing once— but they’d be gone a minute later.”

“Weird.” I’d barely even considered what it would be like for someone to hear the anti-Death Song, especially someone who normally didn’t hear the songs at all. “Well, maybe it’ll confuse Welsh the same way. At least we know that I can keep him from killing me long enough to get what we need.”

“True.” Jonathan nodded, straightening, apparently more confident now that we’d moved back to a topic he was comfortable with. “I’d say that calls for a celebration.”

“Maybe.” I wrinkled my nose. “I’m running low on coffee money, though. No more trips to the café for a while. And it’s too hot for coffee anyway.”

“Who said anything about coffee? I was talking about ice cream— my treat, as long as you don’t order the biggest thing on the menu.” Jonathan grinned at me. “What do you say?”

I laughed. “Well, if you put it that way, who am I to turn down ice cream? Let’s go.”

Self-Published Favorites

Hey'a, all! As you may or may not know, Indie e-Con is coming up fast— the scavenger hunt and Facebook party are tomorrow, and then the con proper begins the Monday after! For those who aren't aware, Indie e-Con is basically an online convention of indie and self-published authors and readers. Authors post about their experiences and advice, and there are contests, critique opportunities, free stuff . . . it's awesome. And because of Indie e-Con (and a helpful comment from my sister), I decided that this would be a good time to spotlight some of my favorite self- and indie-published books.

Self-Published Favorites

1. Samara's Peril by Jaye L. Knight. Ask most fans in the Christian-self-publishing circle about their favorite books and the Ilyon Chronicles will probably pop up somewhere on the list. I'm not quite as obsessed as some of them are, but, y'all, Samara's Peril is good. The character development is great (and pushed us past one of the things that kept me from loving other books in the series quite as much as I might have), the conflicts span the scale from small to epic, we learn stuff about a certain character's history that made me so happy . . . Plus, Samara's Peril contains, in my opinion, the best-handled Christ figure in Christian fantasy since Aslan and Narnia, along with one of the best extended battle sequences I've read outside of a Sanderson novel. Basically, it hits all the right buttons for me to count this my favorite self-published book I've ever read.

2. Lady Dragon, Tela Du by Kendra E. Ardnek. Y'all knew this one was coming; I've certainly talked about it enough. There's no Second Book Syndrome here, just a straight-up awesome plot, a pair of main characters who I love both as a couple and in their own rights (snarky practicality+dependable dreamer+childhood best friend romance= happy Sarah), an excellent villain with an equally excellent arc, and an emphasis on family. Oh, and a complete lack of unrealistic warrior prodigies, which is just icing on the cake. (As a bonus: Kendra's upcoming book, Worth of King, is just as good, or very nearly so, even though it has a very different feel. It comes out in August and I can't wait.)

3. Plenilune by Jennifer Freitag. This is a heavy book, both physically and emotionally. However, the weight doesn't make it less awesome. The writing style is the type of beautiful you usually don't find in modern books, a type of beautiful that can only come from an author who's willing to take her time with a story (and expects her readers to do the same). Yet despite a relatively slow pace (think The Lord of the Rings for comparison), the story never sags or grows dull but holds your interest all the way through. Granted, names and battles are sometimes confusing and overwhelming, and I got lost once or twice— the main reason this isn't second or even first on my list. But for the patient reader, this is a delight. Also, it has a Dammerung. Dammerung is awesome. I don't even know how to describe him without giving away too much, so I won't try, but yeah. He's one of the best parts of the book. Read it and you'll get what I mean.

4. Golden Daughter by Anne Elisabeth Stengl. I'm not sure if this quite counts as self-published? I mean, yes, Anne Elisabeth published it herself, but she also created her own small publishing house that publishes other people's books, so . . . yeah. That's the only reason why this isn't at the top of the list, because in terms of how much I love this book, well, let's put it this way: Tales of Goldstone Wood is one of my favorite series in the world. It's on par with The Lord of the Rings and most of Brandon Sanderson's work— honestly, it probably ranks slightly higher than a lot of Sanderson novels. And Golden Daughter is one of my two favorites in Goldstone Wood. It's just so unique, from the plot (twisty and unpredictable) to the setting (magical and magnificent and based on ancient Asia!) to the characters (Sairu is a contradictory delight). It balances humor with heartbreak, pain with promise. It answers questions and asks new ones. It's everything I love about Goldstone Wood wrapped up in one book.

5. The Beast of Talesend by Kyle Robert Schultz. And now for something completely different . . . The Beast of Talesend is a short, steampunky spin on one of my favorite fairy tales featuring a detective main character who makes his living debunking magic . . . at least until he's magically transformed into a monster. (Not a spoiler; it says so in the blurb.) It's not an epic tale by any means, but it still grabs your attention and doesn't let go 'til the end. It also has a healthy dose of humor, especially in terms of character banter, and a pair of awesome brothers whose relationship is one of my favorite bits of the book.

6. An Earthly King by Hazel West. Clean, solid urban fantasy is hard to find (I should know; I've looked), which is one of the many reasons why I love An Earthly King. The fact that the fantasy bit is primarily based on Celtic/Irish mythology just makes it even better, and it has a really nice blend of the urban and fantasy elements (as opposed to the first book, which felt more heavily fantasy). Plus, we've got fun brotherly relationships (both between actual brothers and between friends-so-close-they're-almost-brothers) and an actual mystery what is this.

7. Magician's Trial by H.L. Burke. I officially need to learn to reserve judgment on any self-published trilogy or series until after I read the second book because something along the lines of the following consistently happens:

Friends: SARAH THIS BOOK AND SERIES ARE GOOD YOU SHOULD READ THEM!
Me: Ok! *reads book one* Oh. That was pretty good. Not amazing, but not bad either. 
Friends: THEY'RE SO GOOD.
Me: Uh-huh. *procrastinates on book two*
Me: *finally reads book two*
Me: What the pumpernickel, that was SO GOOD.
Friends: WE TOLD YOU SO.

And, yes, I may be referring particularly to one specific friend who does this a lot, but, yeah. Basically, that's what happened with the Spellsmith and Carver series. The first and third books are good, but the second is the absolute best. Steampunk mystery is right up my alley (especially when it's an actual mystery), and this involves a magnificent blend of science (specifically engineering) and magic that I really enjoyed.

8. The Sky Riders by Christopher Hopper. We can't have a favorite-self-published-books post without a mention of one of the books and authors that first drew my attention to self-publishing in the first place and gave me one of my first experiences with steampunk. I gave this book five stars the first time I read it— looking back, I'm not sure I would do the same now. (I was a proofie on it, so there might be some sentimental attachment going on.) However, it's still a good book with an exciting plot and a fascinating world. My only real caution is that it ends on a cliffhanger and the second book is, well, nowhere in sight. Ah well.
 
What are your favorite self-published books? Please tell me in the comments!
Thanks for reading!
-Sarah (Leilani Sunblade)

Fight Song Chapter 15

Last time on Fight Song, Callie attempted to make plans and got mildly distracted by life and loneliness. This week, she and Jonathan meet up for the first time since their argument to actually talk through ideas and hopefully work things out. As always, comments of any kind are welcome!

Chapter 15: Possibilities

I arrived early to the café again that Saturday afternoon, coming straight from work without even bothering to change out of my red polo uniform. And, like last time, I found no sign of Jonathan. Lannis was working the counter, and she greeted me with a tired smile as I approached. “Meeting your reporter friend again?”

“Yeah.” I dug out my wallet. “One coffee, please. Black, with cinnamon. And . . .” I thought a moment. “And when my friend comes in, put his order on my card.” Hopefully that would get our meeting off to the right start. If it worked, it would be worth drinking an extra mug of instant coffee instead of the good stuff.

“Will do.” Lannis tapped in my order and waited for me to stick my debit card in the chip reader. “I hope whatever you’re doing goes well.”

“So do I.” I pulled my card back out and replaced it in my wallet, along with my receipt. Five minutes later, I was sitting in a corner booth, coffee in hand.

Another ten minutes passed before Jonathan walked in and approached the counter. I watched him give his order to Lannis, saw surprise cross his face, probably when Lannis told him he didn’t have to pay. He waited by the counter as she got his drink— cold brew again— and then walked over with his coffee in hand. He slid into the seat across from me. “Hey. Thanks for the coffee.”

“You’re welcome.” I curled my fingers around my cup. “How’ve you been?”

“Fine. Busy.” Jonathan shrugged, trying and failing to look casual. “You?”

“Same. Fine. Busy.” Darn it, why did this have to be so awkward. I couldn’t look at him, so instead I stirred my coffee with the little stirrer I’d picked up and watched the dark liquid swirl. “Look, I’m sorry about how I acted last time. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did.”

“You’re forgiven. I wasn’t exactly behaving like a gentleman.” Jonathan took a sip of his coffee. “So. You want to lure Welsh into a confrontation, then video how he attacks. And somehow you think you can keep him from killing you in the process.”

I nodded. “That’s basically it, yes.”

“But how?” Jonathan gestured towards the window. “You know what happened to Ana and to Welsh’s other victims. You’ve seen it yourself. And you claim that you can neutralize his life-draining thing, but I don’t see how that’s possible, even with your power—”

He stopped short, going even whiter than he normally was. “Er . . . sorry . . .”

I stared at him, trying to process— had he really just said what I thought he’d said? Oh, no, no, no . . . “What did you just say?”

“Well, uh,” Jonathan sighed. “Look, I didn’t say anything about it, because you were obviously trying to keep it secret, but I’ve known for a while that you have some kind of superpower. No offense, but you aren’t exactly subtle, and besides, I’m a reporter. It’s my job to notice things.”

Oh, great. First Uhjin, now this. I thought I was doing well at keeping secrets, but apparently not. What’s next? Rebecca revealing that she knows everything too? Granted, Jonathan knowing already would make my plan easier to explain, but I still tried to stall a few extra minutes. “If you’re so certain I have powers, what do you think they are?”

“Some kind of elemental control, I’m guessing. You can obviously do stuff with air, based on what happened during the holdup here—” Jonathan waved his hand to indicate the café in general— “and if you were the one who stopped the mugger in the subway, then you’ve got some kind of earth or stone manipulation. And it could be just those two, but it would make sense for you to have some kind of control of fire and water too, basically a Master-of-Elements type of thing, like in that TV show.”

That comment stopped my mind spinning long enough for me to give Jonathan a hard look. “You think I’m the real-life equivalent of the Avatar? Really?”

“I said it was a guess,” Jonathan replied, defensively. “I could be wrong. But you can’t deny you have some kind of power that lets you control at least the two.”

He was right; I couldn’t deny that much. Not honestly, anyway. “You’re not going to tell anyone.”

“Of course not. I haven’t told anyone this far, have I?” Jonathan shook his head. “I made a promise, on my honor as a journalist. And when I make promises, I keep them.”

He has a point. And this will be easier if he knows the truth. Not like I wasn’t thinking of telling him anyway at one point. So, I sighed and let myself slump. “Fine. Yes. I have powers. But I’m not the real-world Avatar. It’s not that simple. It’s . . . it’s music. That’s my power. Everything in the world has a song— the wood that makes the tabletop, the glass in the window, the coffee in your cup. Most people can’t hear the songs. I can. And when I play or sing one of those songs, I can manipulate the thing it connects to.”

Jonathan nodded slowly, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. He seemed so attentive, I was surprised— and relieved!— that he didn’t have a notebook and pen in his hands to write down my every word. “So you’re thinking that you can wait until Welsh has you under his power and then use your songs to fight back. But we don’t know how much time you’d have to do that once Welsh starts draining your life . . .”

“Which is why that wasn’t my plan. I hope to neutralize his power, not just fight him off.”

“Then how . . .” Jonathan’s expression darkened. “Callie, can your songs . . . Do people have a song too?”

“Yes— no—” I tangled my words, trying to answer both the question asked out loud and the question implied. “They do, but . . . It’s forbidden. Sort of. I promised myself I wouldn’t use it after I figured out what it could do. It’s not right, taking someone’s will like that. And, anyway, I already tried it on Welsh. I shouldn’t have. But I ran into him, and I . . . I wasn’t desperate. But he was killing someone else, and I wanted . . . I wanted him to face me and feel as helpless as his victims did. And I wanted to make him tell the truth, to hear it from his own mouth. So I used it. I don’t even know if I would’ve heard the truth, or if the song would’ve made him tell me what I wanted to hear . . . I didn’t get that far. Remember how Ana said Welsh had a silvered tongue or whatever? She wasn’t joking. And that power of his was a lot stronger than my song.”

“Oh.” For once, Jonathan didn’t seem to know what to say. “So . . . but . . . I guess you survived? How?”

“Someone else showed up. A super. Don’t ask which one. I had never seen her before, and I haven’t seen her since. She got me away before Welsh could even start.” And thank God for that. Without Audrey’s help, I wouldn’t be here right now. “That’s all beside the point, though. The people’s song won’t help us, and I never should’ve used it anyway. But what might help—” I paused— “This will sound weird, but what might help is the Death Song.”

Jonathan raised an eyebrow. “That sounds . . . ominous. So, you can control . . .”

“No!” I shook my head hastily. “No, definitely not. The Death Song . . . it’s not even a song. It’s sort of the opposite of a song, but not just noise either. It’s like someone turned the melody and the notes and everything inside out and backwards. I don’t know how to explain it other than that. I hear it any time someone nearby is dying. That’s how I knew Welsh was killing Lacey three years ago. But the Death Song sounds different in different situations, and when he kills someone, it’s . . . more ordered, I guess. Less chaotic. Just a little bit, but I think that if I heard it, I could figure out its inverse. And if I can do that, then I might be able to stop him from using his power.”

“You think.” Jonathan rubbed his temples and then took a long drink of coffee. “If you can figure out the inverse, and if it works, and you still have the time constraint. Those are all big ifs. And if you’re wrong, Callie, you’re still dead. You won’t get a second chance.”

“I know. You think I don’t know that?” I slumped. “I can’t think of another way to get evidence, though, not without someone definitely dying. And . . . and if I’m going to do this, if I’m going to be a hero and not just a girl with a couple fancy tricks up her sleeve, that means risk, doesn’t it?”

“Well, yes. You’re right. But it shouldn’t mean unnecessary risk. If you’re going to try this, we need to find a way to test it.” Jonathan seemed to have resigned himself to the fact that I was doing this whether he liked it or not. “You’re sure this wouldn’t work on deaths not caused by Welsh?”

“Positive. If it would, do you think I’d be sitting here right now? I’d have the power to stop death in my voice. I’d be off, I don’t know, sneaking into hospitals to cure dying cancer patients or something.” I let out a short laugh. “Nothing can be that easy, even with powers.”

“So in order to test it, we’d have to find Welsh killing someone. So we’re back to either following him around or else trying to predict where he’d strike next that wouldn’t be you.” Jonathan took another swig of coffee. “And neither of us has the time or resources for that, especially not since he only seems to kill in the city when he’s desperate or provoked.”

“Yeah. And I’ve definitely provoked him, but I don’t think he’d come for me himself unless I made him really mad.” More than I don’t think he would. I know he wouldn’t. He’d just hire thugs to try to kidnap me and take me to him. “You know, the Batman movies made this whole bringing-criminals-to-justice thing look so easy.”

“That’s because Batman makes plenty of ethically questionable choices along the way.” Jonathan shook his head. “Why does the Death Song change, I wonder? Maybe something to do with the transfer of life energy, since it’s directed to someone else? If that’s the case . . . does the victims’ energy continue to drain to Welsh the last three days after he kills them? You’ve spent more time around one of his victims than I have. Is the song the same?”

I thought back to Lacey and Ana, to what I’ve heard. “Yes. It’s a lot fainter, almost not there at all. But it’s the same song, and it keeps going all three days. But, then, I wonder . . .” I’d started to stare off into the distance; now I pulled my attention back to Jonathan. “Could you ask Julián and Ana if we could come see them again?”

“Probably. Why?” Jonathan pulled out his phone, whether to create a reminder note or to email Julián, I wasn’t sure. “Welsh failed with Ana. He’s not still pulling energy from her.”

“He might be. I don’t know if he knows he is, but he might be. I heard the Death Song in her apartment, and it sounded like Welsh’s variation. And it would make sense if he was. When Ana got away, whatever connection he made to take her life energy might’ve been partially broken, but not all the way broken. So he might still be killing her, just really slowly.” Never had I been so excited to realize someone was slowly dying. “And if that’s the case, then I should be able to test the song with her.”

“That . . . actually sounds like a workable theory.” Jonathan made a ‘huh’ face. “I’ll contact them and ask if we can talk.”

“Don’t ask if we can talk. Tell them what I think I can do.” At his surprised look, I added, “Ana can sense people’s gifts, remember? She knows about my powers.” Though, honestly, the list of people who don’t know seems to get shorter every day.

“Right. I forgot about that. I’ll tell her. In the meantime, we can start thinking about how to set up a confrontation with Welsh, and— have you talked to your other witness? Asked about getting copies of the security tapes?” I nodded, and he went on. “Good. It probably won’t do much good, but I’ll review my list of other witnesses and events and see if I can get anything too. You know, as a backup plan.”

“I can help with that. A little.” Jonathan’s probably more likely to get results, though. He seems to have way more connections than I ever will. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Jonathan stood. “I should go— I have another story I’m working on, and it’ll take time to through the list again. Let me know if anything comes up. And . . . thanks for trusting me again.”

“You’re welcome. Thanks for being trustworthy. And for coming back.” I gave him a half grin. “Good luck with your story.”

“Thanks.” He headed off with a wave, carrying his coffee. I stayed at the table for several minutes after he left. So many pieces were still missing from our plan, and yet it seemed to be coming together at last. Bowing my head, I silently prayed: God, let this work. Let us be able to stop Welsh. Let my quest finally end.

Fight Song Chapter 14

Last time in Fight Song, Callie came up with a plan . . . only to end up in an argument with Jonathan. This week, she attempts to go it alone, which goes, well, about as well as you think it will. As always, comments, questions, suggestions, and critiques are welcome. Thanks for reading!

Chapter 14: Lonely

Uhjin wasn’t there when I got home. No surprise. I made a sandwich and settled down to wait for her. I needed to ask her about getting the security camera feeds, and now that Jonathan was out of the picture, I’d need her help with executing my plan too. True, she wouldn’t have Jonathan’s experience or connections. But she was the best option I had— the only option.

Hours passed. I jotted down notes about my plan, such as it was, and practiced my guitar, my violin, my singing. No Uhjin. Apparently I’d missed her; she’d come and gone while I was at the café. I stuck a note to the fridge telling her that we needed to talk about my mission and then went to bed.
The next morning, there was a second note next to mine: “Ok. See U at dinner.” And, sure enough, Uhjin was waiting when I got back from my shift at the music store that evening. We chatted lightly as we made our dinner, sausage and rice skillet, and then she listened and ate silently as I explained my plan. I didn’t mention my powers outright, not yet, just told her that I’d figured out a way to counter Welsh’s power. She didn’t press for details, just asked what she needed to do to help.

We talked for an hour, trying to form my idea into a plan, or something like one, anyway. Planning had never been my strong suit; I was better at improvising. Uhjin promised to ask her uncle about getting a copy of the security feed, and we discussed how we could use that to lure Welsh out, where we should stage the confrontation, how to make sure we got decent video— all without really deciding anything.

The several days passed much the same way. Uhjin and I kept radically different schedules, so our only chance to meet and talk was at dinner. Our progress was further slowed by the fact that neither of us really had any idea what we were doing and we both were all too aware of what the consequences would be if we got this wrong. More than once, I wished for Jonathan’s help; his resources and his knack for planning would’ve made this five times easier.

And, honestly, I missed Jonathan’s company, not just his help. Over the last few weeks, he’d become a friend, not just an ally. Journalist or not, I felt I could trust him in a way that I couldn’t trust a lot of others. And until our last meeting, he’d always listened to my ideas. Always talked to me like an intelligent equal. I guess that’s what made his refusal to hear me out this time hurt so much.

Thursday morning I skimmed the Herald’s webpage in search of an article one of my friends had told me about, an interview with Professor Morris, everyone’s favorite music prof, about her current concert series. As I scrolled through the site, another name caught my eye: Jonathan Davis.

I paused, clicked the article, a lengthy piece about recent immigration protests downtown. So this is what had him stressed on Saturday. It was a well-written article. Unbiased. Honest. I stared at it for a while, lost in thought.

Jonathan was at fault. He was the one who hadn’t listened. He was the one who’d shut me down, who’d turned down my idea without having all the facts. He should be the one to apologize, if either of us did.

But, at the same time, I can’t blame him for being incredulous, maybe even scared. And I can’t say that I was a perfect angel. I could’ve kept my cool better. Been more patient, less defensive. And in the end, he’d said he wanted no part of my plan, but I’d said I wanted no part of him.

After a few more moments of consideration, I grabbed my phone and tapped out a text. Hey. Saw your article. Looked good.

I hoped for a quick response, but— nothing, not until after I’d gone to work and gotten through my morning shift and hit my lunch break. Then, when I checked my phone, there was a message waiting: Thanks. And a second text beneath it, sent a full fifteen minutes after the first one: Are you still going with your plan?

I took my phone and my sandwich and typed my response as I ate: Yes. Trying. Hard w/out help.
Several minutes passed. I finished my sandwich and sipped from my water bottle, watching Rebecca across the breakroom. She was standing just outside the door, chatting with her boyfriend and her boyfriend’s sister— I thought her name was Saxon; I’d seen her when I visited the city library to use their wifi a few times. I couldn’t help a pang of jealousy, seeing them— Rebecca especially. She fit so easily with people; she drew them in and won their hearts and kept their friendships without even trying. No matter where she went, she always found her way inside the circle. And why shouldn’t she? She had no secrets to keep, no reasons to stay on guard even among friends, no murderers to hunt and be hunted by. She could relax and be open with others, and as a result, they liked her. Lucky girl.

My phone buzzed, breaking me out of my self-pity. I bet, Jonathan’s text read. Do you still really think you can keep Welsh from killing you?

Would I be going through with this, or trying to, if I didn’t? I didn’t ask that, though. Instead, I responded: Yes. I think I found a way to neutralize Welsh’s power. Haven’t been able to test it, though.

This time, I barely set my phone down before Jonathan replied. What??? How???

Three question marks. That was impressive. I shook my head with a smile, but before I could respond, Jonathan texted again. Guess I should’ve realized you’d have some plan. You’re not an idiot. Sorry for treating you like one. 

And there it was, what I’d been hoping for. I silently thanked God and then typed my reply. You’re forgiven. Does this mean you’ll help with the plan after all? I hoped he’d say yes. I needed his help— Uhjin was doing her best, but Jonathan knew practical crime better from his journalistic work, and he knew Welsh better.

A minute passed. Two.  I glanced at the clock. I only had a little bit of break time left. Please, respond.

Finally, his message popped up on the screen. Sure. If you’ll let me. Meet at the café on Saturday?

I breathed a sigh of relief and smiled as I responded: See you there.

A Call for Betas!

Hey'a, all!

Do you find yourself in need of something new to read? Do you want to read something of mine that isn't Fight Song? Did my various posts about Blood in the Snow over the course of the last year make you really curious about the book?

If the answer to any of those questions is "yes," well, you're in luck because I'm looking for beta-readers for Blood in the Snow! (For anyone who's new here and doesn't know what Blood in the Snow is, it's a retelling of Snow White blended with The Goose Girl, set in a world inspired by ancient Asia.) The novella is currently about 20K words long, but may be closer to 25K once I send it out— I want to expand a few scenes now that I don't have a wordcount limit.

Due to my current plans for Blood in the Snow, this will be a pretty quick turnaround. The timeline I'm aiming for is as follows:

May 7 – May 14: Beta-readers sign up while I work on expanding those scenes. If you're reading this after May 14 but before June 5 and want to sign up, you can, but you'll have less time to read the novella.
May 15: I send out Blood in the Snow to beta-readers.
May 15 – June 5: Beta-readers read the book and send me feedback.

Beta-readers can make comments in the document itself, type out their thoughts in an email, or do both. I may also have some specific questions that I ask all the beta-readers; if that happens, I'll send them in the email with the novella.

Interested? Awesome! Here's the form to sign up!

Thanks, everyone! I can't wait to hear your thoughts!
-Sarah (Leilani Sunblade)