#Giveaway ~ The Designed by Kate Tailor (The Designed Series #1) ~ #Sci-Fi #Paranormal ~ #Review

The Designed by Kate Tailor
(The Designed Series #1)
Publication date: January 26th 2015
Genres: New Adult, Science Fiction

Synopsis:

What if the next new drug was you? Raleigh’s body produces a drug that could define the future of medicine if the dangerous world surrounding it doesn’t kill her first.

Eighteen-year old Raleigh Groves can sense disease in others and is suffering from her own unexplained illness as well. After years and dozens of doctor visits, she has given up hope of ever finding a cure, let alone a diagnosis. Then she meets a man who explains that her talent and curse are linked. Her body produces a drug, Lucidin, which allows her to sense others. She’s rare, and the drug she makes is coveted.

Rho has spent the last few years on the run. The Lucidin that is racing through his system makes him a target. Surrounded by addicts and dealers on one side and scientists and doctors on the other, he has to rely on his wits and his team to stay one step ahead. So far he has stayed afloat, but some of his brothers haven’t been as lucky.

As Rho and Raleigh collide they must face the perilous world of Lucidin together. Nothing is black-and-white and Raleigh must decide where her alliances lie. Sometimes the hardest heart to sense is your own.

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AUTHOR BIO:

Kate Tailor lives in Boulder, Colorado. She has a background in molecular biology and pharmacology. Writing has been a passion of hers since she was young.

Author links:

Facebook / Website / Goodreads

My Review

                       

I have to say that this is one of the best books I have read in awhile. I was hooked right from the start. We start with Rho, and him trying to escape, we do not know why or anything, but we just feel we need to root for him. There is not alot with Rho, but enough to really like him.

Raliegh is the main focus of this book, and I really liked her too. I loved her strength, and how she didn't take crap from anyone. I loved how her "problem" ended up making her very strong.

This book is a sci-fi with a touch of the paranormal, which I love.

I do not want to say too much, but want to say its written extremely well, and an awesome read. I didn't want it to end.

I give this 5 out of 5 stars. I highly recommend.

I was given a copy of this book for my honest review.

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Chapter 1

Rho opened his eyes and tried to focus on the whitewashed brick wall to his right. His sense of time had become muddled, and he suspected that he’d lost some days altogether. Initially, he’d held on to a vague hope that he’d be able to mark time by the moon—which he occasionally glimpsed through the paper-thin curtains—but he soon understood that even that small endeavor was impossible. He was rarely conscious long enough to establish the time of day, and a bright morning could give way to the darkness of midnight in the blink of an eye. The sun slipped through the window during the day, but in the pitch black of night the only light emanated from the vitals monitor and the dials on his IV. As his eyes followed the small tube that ran down from the IV bag to the needle that pierced his right arm, he noticed that the white wall was splashed with vivid magenta and tangerine hues. At least he could be certain that it was morning.

All his life, Rho had prided himself on his powers of recollection. Now, any observations he’d made were difficult to remember. He tried to go over what he knew. Every time he awoke he was lying in this small room, and the soreness of disuse was creeping into his muscles and joints. As far as he could tell, he hadn’t been moved from the bed. His mouth was dry, and he hadn’t had anything to eat or drink. He’d been here for what he considered a long time—far too long to stay alive without eating or drinking—and he realized that the IV bag must contain nutrients and a very strong sedative. Two-man teams sometimes unintentionally roused him when they were checking his vitals and replacing the IV bag. And based on the colors on the walls and the slant of the light, it seemed that they only appeared at sunrise and sunset.

Rho looked over at his left arm. His port was connected to tubes running to and from an extraction machine. The machine whizzed periodically, sounding as harmless as a hair dryer, but Rho knew better. He’d heard about others being drained to death. It wouldn’t be the strong sedative or foggy reality that would end him. The greedy extraction machine that siphoned the Lucid from his blood was the real threat.

Lucid was the street name for the complex hormone scientifically known as Lucidin. It had quickly come to define Rho’s life, and it was why he’d been captured in the first place. Lucid makes controlling autonomic functions—such as heart rate and blood pressure—as easy as controlling breathing. But that was just one of the properties that made it so coveted. Lucid was a weapon as much as anything else, and Rho knew it could be his salvation…as long as they didn’t take every last drop of it from him.

Yesterday, they’d extracted too fast and Rho’s body had given up its fight to live. Death claimed him, but only for a minute. His captors brought him back to life with an electric jolt from a defibrillator. Rho’s death was unpleasant but quiet, and he thought that if his jailors had any respect for him at all they would’ve let him die. He’d heard one of the men—presumably a doctor—conclude in a gravelly voice that if they were going to preserve him for a while longer they’d have to drain him more slowly and reduce his dose of sedative. Like an elephant hunted for its tusks, he was going to die because of his captors’ insatiable need for Lucid.

The decision to slow extraction and reduce the sedative afforded Rho extended moments of alertness—and a small reserve of Lucidin. He turned his head to the vitals monitor. A little heart in the corner was blinking in rhythm with his heartbeat while a line graph displayed the peaks and dips. Two numbers divided by a line showed his blood pressure. Utilizing the Lucid that the extraction machine had yet to rob him of, Rho lowered his heartbeat and blood pressure. His goal was to keep his vitals hovering just above unconsciousness until the morning team had come and gone. This gave him something to focus on besides the past, the dismal-looking future, and his growing concern that his brothers would suffer the same wretched fate.

A two-man team arrived just as the sunrise was giving way to a sunny, cloudless day. The doctor looked at the readout of Rho’s vitals, and the other man walked over to the extraction machine.

“Damn! He’s doing worse,” announced the doctor in his gravelly voice. “We’ll have to slow the extraction and reduce his sedative a bit more.”

“What? Are you serious?” screeched the assistant. Lowering his voice, he said, “We already did that yesterday.”

“Yes, we did. But if we don’t do it again we could lose him…too soon.”

“I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all. No, I don’t,” said the assistant as he removed the vials of Lucidin from the extraction machine and delicately placed them in a case.

“He can’t harm us when he’s in this state,” the doctor assured him. “Anyway, the longer we keep him alive, the richer we’ll be. You like that don’t you?”

“Fine, if you insist. I’ll do it,” agreed the assistant.

Rho felt a pang of joy—his plan was working. He had to concentrate to keep his heart from kicking up a notch. After replacing the IV bag and adjusting the extraction machine, the men left.

Rho took a long breath and sighed with relief. Unlike most prisons, his had no bars or locked gates. The drugs and fatigue were enough to trap him in his own body—but not for much longer. He would make his escape today. His captors were unlikely to lower the extraction and sedative dose any more than they just had, so he had to make his move. He would do it tonight, when the second team came to check on him.

Today was the first day in a long time that he was aware of each and every moment. He darted his eyes across the room. A small seagull was preening itself on the windowsill. One of the guards had once asked why there weren’t bars on the window. The answer was that the drop would likely kill Rho, and even if he survived the current would pull him under. Occasionally he’d heard people speaking in French, and he figured that he must be somewhere along the French coast.

Knowing that he could die while making his escape, he savored the hours. Part of him wanted to reflect on his life, but he pushed those thoughts out of his mind as soon as they arose. Those thoughts too closely resembled grieving, and he wasn’t about to grieve the life that he was fighting to save….

The sunset was particularly beautiful. Mauve and azure hues playfully painted his room, as though Mother Nature wasn’t aware of the suffering he endured. Maybe she was aware of his suffering—and glad to see it. After all, he was an affront to her.

Rho heard voices as the evening pair opened the door to his room. Of all the teams, Rho was most familiar with this one. These two talked the most, and the young man had once taken a phone call in the room, but he was swiftly reprimanded by the old man. The young, unsure little attendant asked a lot of questions, and although the old man seemed to be aggravated by his companion’s inquires, he always answered.

“The morning crew said he was doing poorly,” the old man said in a sure, deep voice.

“They turned down the machine again. He’s not giving us as much Lucid,” noted the young man as he retrieved the vials.

“From the look of his vitals, he’ll only last a few more days.”

“He’s going to die, isn’t he?” asked the young man. Despite his current job, he wasn’t the heartless kind.

“The world will be better off. He’s dangerous. They’re monsters…all of them. Don’t let his angelic looks fool you. He’s the devil.”

Rho wasn’t sure if the last part was true, but the part about him being dangerous certainly was.

The young man put away the vials of Lucidin. He was clearly troubled by Rho’s situation, and he didn’t respond to the comment. As he leaned over to change Rho’s catheter bag, Rho jerked, causing urine to spill out.

“Oops!” exclaimed the young man.

“You need to be less clumsy,” the old man scolded.

“It’s all over the place. I’ll have to clean him up.”

“Yes, you will!” barked the old man as he walked around the bed and unfastened the leather restraints that bound Rho’s arms and legs. “Get fresh sheets and clothes out of the hall closet…and a sponge and soap,” he yelled as the young man hurried out of the room.

The old man disconnected Rho from the vitals monitor and extraction machine and began to undress him. This was the opportunity Rho’d been waiting for. He didn’t need a machine to sense the old man’s heart. It had a stent and it wasn’t strong—not that it mattered. Rho willed it to stop. The old man grasped at his chest, giving Rho a haunted look. A moment later, he fell dead to the floor.

The young man dropped everything as he stepped inside the room. Without giving Rho much thought, he mumbled a curse under his breath and rushed over to position the old man for CPR. Rho knew that the young man was strong and stressed. His lungs were taking in deep breaths…until Rho stopped them from contracting. The effect was akin to drowning on dry land—like a fish left to flounder in the sun—and he was soon slumped over the old man. It was unpleasant for him, but unlike the old man, he would live.

Rho struggled to sit up. His muscles had atrophied from lack of use. Crawling out of the bed was painful, but he managed to get the phone from the young man’s pocket. He sent a text message and then quickly deleted it before return the phone to its pocket. Rho whispered a prayer, even though he wasn’t sure if people like him deserved a God. Then he pulled himself over to the window, opened it, and jumped.

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Cover Reveal : Matt Archer: Redemption (Matt Archer #5) by Kendra C. Highley ~ Read Excerpt

Matt Archer: Redemption - Cover Reveal

By Kendra C Highley

Young Adult Paranormal

Date Published: July 3, 2014

    

   “There’s more to me than you know…”

When Matt Archer’s sister, Mamie, said those words to him three years ago, he had no idea how prophetic they were, or what this would mean for his family.

Now, he knows. And it changes everything, bringing the war right to Matt’s doorstep.

In the epic conclusion to the Matt Archer series, the endgame is near. Betrayed by an enemy, the wielders have been called off the hunt by their own government, despite increasing reports of paranormal activity—and deaths—worldwide. Matt is forced to sit on the sidelines, knowing that proving monsters exist means revealing who—and what—he is. Soon the world will know his name…which will only make his job harder.

Matt’s only hope resides with a man he barely knows—his father. If Erik Archer can put together the final puzzle before the monsters do, maybe they’ll have a chance. Maybe.

Mystery, tragedy and the power of family combine as Matt races to win the war and save the people he loves. There’s just one thing he’s afraid of…

It might already be too late.

EXCERPT

        

When I was fourteen, I picked up a knife, ignorant of the destiny that awaited me. That night seems like a lifetime ago, even if it’s only been three years.

A lot of things can change in three years.

A boy can become a man. A man can become a soldier. And that soldier can witness things he’ll never forget. Earn scars that won’t fade. Cut down enemies. Save lives.

Lose them, too.

Through it all, I’ve tried to remember who I am, where the legend ends and the man begins. Not to lose myself to my blade-spirit and become a monster. Some days are harder than others. I’ve seen friends die in this war, injured myself, and nearly lost the girl I love more than anyone, all for the cause. The price for being named the guardian of humanity is high, especially when my own government is calling me a criminal.

Despite all the obstacles, despite the pain, one thing remains true: it’s still worth the fight.

My name is Matt Archer. And I’m going to save the world.

Or die trying.

* * *

Packed into a black government SUV with five other people on the way to a Congressional hearing wasn’t my idea of fun.

That it was my reality made it even worse. Especially since riding with these particular men gave me a migraine of epic proportion. Being in close contact with the other knife-wielders always caused me pain. It was better than usual—I’d gotten used to the sensation of overwhelming power somewhat. Still, not the best way to start this day.

My new suit wasn’t heavy, but a trickle of sweat ran down my back the closer we got to the Capitol and my tie felt like it was trying to strangle me slowly. If I’d had my way, I’d be going to the hearing in bloodstained BDUs and my oldest combat boots—the ones with African sand still on them. The House Armed Services Committee wanted to call me a hardened juvenile delinquent? Fine, at least let me look the part.

Everybody else—except Will—told me that was a terrible idea. So Mom and Aunt Julie took me shopping and wrangled me into the suit. Complete with shiny new wingtips.

I felt, and probably looked, very stupid.

“I heard CNN was going to carry C-SPAN live during the hearings,” Will said. He stared out the window with his shoulders bunched up around his ears. “Everyone in the world will know who we are after today.”

Everyone in the world would know…but how we’d be judged was the question. Would our accusers accept that everything we’d done was to protect and defend the defenseless? Or would we go down in flames, remembered by history as the very worst of violent offenders?

What worried me most was that the world wouldn’t learn the truth until it was too late: that the war wasn’t over. Pentagram Strike Force had been pulled off of active duty to participate in this political circus. Meanwhile, the Dark Master had gained a toehold in our world. The search for the Chinese shaman, our final lead—along with hunting the last two prime monsters—should’ve been our priority, and necessary to putting an end to the Master’s reign of terror. Instead we were here, sold out to Congress by the enemy’s favorite human servant.

As we made our way through the streets of D.C., Tink made a sullen noise in my head. I’ve never liked this place. Too many skeptics.

“Insulted some people don’t believe in you?” I asked, biting back a nervous smile. “Do we need to clap and bring you back to life?”

Will laughed, while Tink growled. The nickname is bad enough without the jokes, thank you very much.

The other wielders didn’t react. Parker was more pale than usual, and his freckles stood out like measles on his face. Ramirez glared out the window. Jorge had his hands folded in his lap and his eyes were closed, almost like he was praying.

“Anybody else coming to the party?” I asked.

“This is it, far as I know,” Parker said, the faintest hint of Alabama twang coming through. “We brought a couple of our guys as character witnesses, but they aren’t allowed to testify unless they’re called. So it’s just us.”

Ramirez flashed me a rare smile. “Murphy’s here.”

“I heard,” I said. “He’s driving my family over to the hearing.”

“He can’t wait to see you.” Now Ramirez was chuckling. “Said he’d watch as we do the walk of shame through the crowds at the Capitol.”

“Wait…crowds?” I asked. “What crowds?”

“Haven’t you been watching the news?” Parker raised an eyebrow. “That’s why we’re taking a caravan with draconian seating arrangements. They wanted the wielders to be the first out.”

“We gave up on watching the news a few days ago when that anchor on MSNBC called me and Matt ‘budding psychopaths,’ who’ve become trained killers,” Will said.

“You’re in for treat, then,” Parker said.

He wasn’t kidding. As we turned down First Street leading past the Capitol steps, people choked the sidewalks. Some had signs saying we were saviors. Some yelled that we worshiped Satan. Every single one of them watched the cars pass. We were sacrificial lambs, going to the slaughter, and it would all play out on television.

“This…is gonna suck,” Will said as an egg splattered against the SUV’s window.

“They can’t get near the entrance,” Johnson told him. “They have barriers holding everyone back.”

Yeah, because a little bit of plywood would be an excellent deterrent against mob violence.

We turned the corner on Independence, heading for the Sam Rayburn building. It was one of the House’s office buildings and where we’d have the hearing. You’d think the President was coming to visit, because we were led by a police car and followed by two motorcycle cops.

More people crowded the mall around the Capitol building and lined the streets all the way to our destination. Tink was jumpy, twitching around my skull. Instinctively, I reached for my knife handle, sheathed in my thigh pocket.

Ramirez’s eyes tracked the movement. “The knives have to stay in the car.”

“I thought they’d demand to see them,” I said.

“We don’t want members of Congress to get a hand on them, so the plan is to lock them up and leave them with Johnson.”

Being without my knife in tense situations usually caused me physical pain and leaving it behind sounded like torture. “But—”

“This is the only way we’ll be certain to get them back,” Ramirez said as he handed his knife to Johnson, looking as if it hurt to loosen the handle from his fingers. “General’s orders.”

We followed his lead. I set the blade in its metal box and locked it in. My head ached the instant contact was broken.

I’ll be nearby no matter what. You aren’t forsaken just because you aren’t wearing the knife, Tink said. All the same, don’t do anything stupid.

“Okay,” I murmured. Will whispered something similar and Captain Parker smiled at us. Instructions were universal sometimes.

A rap on the window announced the MPs’ arrival—military escort from the SUV to the hearing rooms. I didn’t know if that was for our protection, or to make us look more like criminals.

We slid out of the vehicle, all of us steely-eyed and standing erect. The MPs led us along the barricaded street. Cameras pointed our direction and reporters screamed questions. As of now, anonymity wasn’t a luxury I had anymore. Everywhere I looked, people were staring at us. I could almost hear the gasps of surprise zooming through Billings as our faces started showing up on television. Greenhill High was on fall break, but that only meant the news would travel faster.

The building itself was white stone, with two massive statues guarding the front door. Crowds of people surrounded them, pressed against the blue police barriers and jostling to get a better look.

As we headed for the stairs, someone shouted my name and the voice sent a shock wave through my chest. I stopped dead in my tracks and searched the crowd for the source, finding who I was looking for when I spotted a flash of auburn hair. I wasn’t sure how she’d gotten here…but I was sure she would be grounded for six months for coming.

Ella stood at the edge of the barrier, scowling at the MPs. I knew how she’d gotten such prime real estate—by holding a sign that read “No more monsters under your bed, courtesy of my boyfriend!”

Penn stood next to her, directing the crowd in a chant. Something about “stupid politicians.”

“What are they doing here?” I asked.

“No idea,” Will said.

Before the MPs could react, I ran for Ella. I heard Will pounding the pavement behind me, but she was all I saw. Ella dropped her sign and flung out her arms. We got in one long kiss before one my escorts put a hand on my arm.

“I can’t believe you came,” I told her in a rush.

She lifted her chin. “There’s no way I wouldn’t be here for you today.”

The MP’s grip tightened around my bicep. I dug my heels in. “I love you.”

A second MP had joined the first, tugging at my arms. As they dragged me away, she yelled, “I love you, too!”

The frenzy from the press got more chaotic, jostling to shove microphones in Ella’s face. The last thing I saw as the guards pushed me into the building was her granting interviews, looking like the queen of all she surveyed.

Our handlers led us to a small room off the hearing chambers. A few minutes later, my family showed up. My uncle and his wife, Colonel and Captain Tannen, came in first, followed by General Richardson. Not long after, Mom, Mamie and Brent arrived. Mamie looked anxious, twirling a pigtail around her finger, but Mom was angry. The night she’d found out about the hearings…well, I’d never seen her that pissed off, and her mood hadn’t improved much over the last few weeks. She paced the room, looking like she wanted to punch something really hard.

Once we were all settled, Army counsel gave us last minute pointers. Mom glared at him several times, finally saying, “Enough. You’re making them nervous.” She put her hand on my shoulder. “Tell the truth. That’s all you can do. Don’t let them twist your words.”

I would do my best, because I needed to focus on getting through the proceedings without slipping up. If I did, Uncle Mike, Badass Aunt Julie and General Richardson could lose their jobs. Or go to jail for endangering minors. Take your pick.

The general and Uncle Mike talked quietly in one corner, wearing their Class As. It was the first time since his wedding that I’d seen my uncle in full dress uniform. The large section of commendation ribbons on his jacket made him look impressive and I stared longingly at the uniform. I hated being in this suit. I belonged in uniform, but when I begged to enlist with Mom’s permission, no one had gone for it.

“You wouldn’t complete basic in time for the hearings,” Captain Johnson had said.

Mike had ground his teeth a full minute before adding, “Before he died, you promised Colonel Black you’d go to West Point. Stay the course and we’ll get you there.”

Mom’s answer was even simpler. “No.”

So here Will and I were, looking awkward in coat and tie, as if this was some joke of a graduation ceremony instead of a moment that would decide the fates of every single person in this room. I tugged at my collar, wondering if it would suffocate me before the hearing was over.

Mamie touched my hand. Brent loomed behind her, an ever present watchman to keep our sister out of harm’s way. Despite the gravity of our situation, she smiled. “Go get ‘em, Tiger.”

And so I was laughing when someone knocked. A House page about Mamie’s age stuck his head in. The guy eyed Will and me warily, then said, “I’m here to escort you to the proceedings.”

The general stood. “All right, gentlemen. Time to go.”

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About the Author:

Kendra C. Highley

Kendra C. Highley lives in north Texas with her husband and two children. She also serves as staff to two self-important and high-powered cats. This, according to the cats, is her most critical job. She believes chocolate is a basic human right, running a 10k is harder than it sounds, and that everyone should learn to drive a stick-shift. She loves monsters, vacations, baking and listening to bad electronica.

Author Links

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Blog

  

#Giveaway ~ Division Zero (Book 1) by Matthew S. Cox ~#Sci-Fi #Paranormal Book ~ 5 Star Review

Division Zero by Matthew S. Cox
(Division Zero #1)
Published by: Curiosity Quills Press
Publication date: March 7th 2014
Genres: cyberpunk, New Adult, Paranormal

Synopsis:

Most cops get to deal with living criminals, but Agent Kirsten Wren is not most cops.

A gifted psionic with a troubled past, Kirsten possesses a rare combination of abilities that give her a powerful weapon against spirits. In 2418, rampant violence and corporate warfare have left no shortage of angry wraiths in West City. Most exist as little more than fleeting shadows and eerie whispers in the darkness.

Kirsten is shunned by a society that does not understand psionics, feared by those who know what she can do, and alone in a city of millions. Every so often, when a wraith gathers enough strength to become a threat to the living, these same people rely on her to stop it.

Unexplained killings by human-like androids known as dolls leave the Division One police baffled, causing them to punt the case to Division Zero. Kirsten, along with her partner Dorian, wind up in the crosshairs of corporate assassins as they attempt to find out who – or what – is behind the random murders before more people die.

She tries to hold on to the belief that no one is beyond redemption as she pursues a killer desperate to claim at least one more innocent soul – that might just be hers.

Buy Links

Amazon | Barnes and Noble | Kobo

AUTHOR BIO

Born in a little town known as South Amboy NJ in 1973, Matthew has been creating science fiction and fantasy worlds for most of his reasoning life. Somewhere between fifteen to eighteen of them spent developing the world in which Division Zero, Virtual Immortality, and The Awakened Series take place. He has several other projects in the works as well as a collaborative science fiction endeavor with author Tony Healey.

Hobbies and Interests:
Matthew is an avid gamer, a recovered WoW addict, Gamemaster for two custom systems (Chronicles of Eldrinaath [Fantasy] and Divergent Fates [Sci Fi], and a fan of anime, British humour (<- deliberate), and intellectual science fiction that questions the nature of reality, life, and what happens after it.

He is also fond of cats.

Awards: Prophet of the Badlands (excerpt) – Honorable Mention – Writers of the Future

Author Links

Blog | Goodreads | Facebook | Twitter

I loved this very different type of book. It’s a mix of sci-fi/paranormal that I loved. I really enjoyed the surprise twist that came up, in a sixth sense type of way. I sure didn’t see that one coming. I just loved that. Was saddened by it too, but was a great twist. I am not going to tell you what it is I am talking about. You’re going to have to discover that on your own.

The world in this book reminded me a lot of an older movie I always loved, called the Fifth Element, with the flying cars and all the up and down traffic etc. Then we have Kristin who is in my opinion a ghost whisperer, well she has more abilities than that, but was like that. She is called a Psionic which I have never heard of so not sure if that is a made up word or not.

Over all I was on the edge of my seat and really was engrossed into this story. Wished it didn’t ‘t end. I enjoyed it a lot.

I give this book 5 out of 5 stars. It’s an awesome read.

I received a copy of this book for my honest review.

Tour wide giveaway

Open internationally - Ends July 14th

--Signed copy of Division Zero + 25$ Amazon gift card

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Chapter One

Crisis

A drift in the wind, a catchy advert jingle wafted down from above, ensnaring Kirsten’s thoughts as it had been designed to do. The melodic din drew her eyes up to a sky the color of soot, hidden somewhere beyond the frenetic clutter of hundreds of moving objects. Glittering ad-bots saturated the grey fifty feet above her, flitting just below faster moving lanes of hovercar traffic. Smaller bots zoomed along, careening around lumbering giants struggling even to move forward. The boxy droids lit the smog with a patina of bright holograms that soaked the street below with unabashed commercialism. Any of the products they hawked could be hers with two taps of a thumb on the screen of her NetMini, arriving within minutes via flying delivery bot. Sadly, none of them sold love, sincerity, or a do-over for her twenty-two years on the Earth.

Running away from home had been the scariest decision of Kirsten’s life as well as the easiest. It had taken her only ten years, not to mention the urging of a ghost, to make up her mind; and ten minutes to vanish into the endless glittering night of West City. She could not forget what her mother had done; those memories would haunt her forever, as they had that morning.

The form-fitting uniform did little to protect her from the cold car hood as she waited, on the verge of tears. Nicole would return soon, and she did not want to answer the barrage of questions that would follow being caught crying. She shifted to allow feeling to return to her butt, one side at a time, and stared at the window of the shop her friend had entered. The redhead chatted with the clerk, an infectious smile across her face. Kirsten’s head sagged forward as she picked at the retaining strap securing her sidearm. In less than an hour, she might need to use it on a living man. The same dread came back each time she tried to put the dream out of her mind, leaving her doubting she would even want the food Nicole bought.

Why do people always look at the sky for answers? There’s nothing up there but smog and useless crap no one needs to buy.

She shrank away from gleaming steel edifices towering around her. Today, just like the people, the city felt like it wanted nothing to do with her. She looked down to Earth, to the unending flow of humanity that squeezed past where the wide patrol craft intruded upon the sidewalk. Glowing cybertattoos, luminous hair, blinking electronic devices, and the occasional loud conversation leapt out from the sea of people and caught her attention for a second or two at a time. She watched them go by, all walks of life, from wealthy businessmen to body-modifying cyber freaks, every one of them oblivious to her presence or mood. She folded her arms and wondered how they would react if they knew they passed three feet away from a psionic.

She imagined them screaming and running, eyes filled with terror.

A crowd two steps away, yet as alone as if she floated on the other end of the universe.

I’m being silly, this is just newbie work. I’ve been doing this for six years―why am I letting it get to me today?

Sure, Division 0 stuck a laser pistol on her hip and sent her out here to be shot at; but they cared more than her own family had. They also did not want to burn her at the stake for her gifts.

A cheery singsong voice patted her on the cheek as her friend returned. “Hey, I hope you like jalapeños in your egg. It’s all they had left.”

The uninvited happiness drew her attention to Nicole weaving through the river of people with her arms held high. Two plastic cartons teetered atop two cups of coffee―an effort to shield them from the jostles of passing humanity. Glossy black tactical armor gleamed in the ambient light as she moved. Kirsten felt silly for not having requested the same for this run; her I-Ops uniform, made of thin cloth, seemed a stupid choice for front line work. Just as Nicole reached the curb, a teen a little younger than them shot through the crowd on powered wheels sprouting from cybernetic legs the color of unpainted steel. He parted the river of bodies, Nicole included, away to both sides as he rumbled past. Kirsten leapt in an attempt to save at least one of the cartons as they went flying, but stopped when they both stalled in midair like paused video.

Nicole narrowed her eyes at the boy, and he swerved with a startled yelp to the left, as if shoved by unseen hands. He bowled, screaming and flailing, into a pile of trash with a loud crunch. The clatter of some unseen metal object rolling away tarnished the subsequent silence. Kirsten knew what her friend had done, and smiled despite her anxiety. Coffee and food floated over to her before Nicole released her telekinetic grasp on it.

She scowled. “Damn idiots. Can’t we give him a citation for that? I swear, someone gets a Mishiro booster and they think they can fly.”

Kirsten’s smile gave way to a guilty glance down the street at the moaning pile of limbs. She set her food on the roof of the car. “That was mean, and I’m not sure. I’m gonna check him out to make sure you didn’t hurt him.”

Nicole rolled her eyes and hopped into the driver’s seat, getting started on her food. A few minutes later, Kirsten returned, looking relieved.

“Well at least you don’t still look like your cat died.” Nicole offered a sympathetic glance while she slurped her coffee. “Careful, the eggs are spicy.”

Kirsten managed a shrug as she got in and opened her coffee. “I’m just nervous about this warrant run.” The gull-wing door on her side sank closed with a soft pneumatic hiss.

Nicole paused, mouth open an inch from her food. Eyes shot to the right. “You’re not a precog, are you?”

“No. I deal with ghosts.” The harsh synthetic coffee choked the last traces of sleep from her taste buds.

Nicole’s contagious cheer returned. “And beat the snot out of them! Is it true that all the power went out in a three block area when you took out that Wharf Killer one?”

“Actually, he sucked the power out of the area before I obliterated him; he was winding up for something big.” The memory came with a shiver.

Nicole gasped like a wide-eyed kid. “Ooo, I wish I could see it.”

“No, really you don’t.” Kirsten tried to force the images out of her thoughts. “Not all ghosts are pretty. I’m just glad I never met him when he was alive.”

“It’s cool you can whip ghosts like that―hey, isn’t that pretty rare for an astral?”

Kirsten hesitated. She hated talking about her other gift. Most people, even other psionics, feared anyone with it. “I… um… I can do the mind blast thing too.” She looked down, picking at her uniform. “It somehow works together.”

Much to her relief, Nicole’s jovial smile did not weaken. “Neat.”

Nicole’s fingers danced over the controls, bringing the car to life and flooding the cabin with dim azure light cast by holographic displays as they winked on one after the next. With a tap of the control stick, they rolled away from the sidewalk and got underway. At first, Nicole tried to drive on the ground so they could eat, but after rounding the corner into standstill traffic, she decided to switch to hover mode.

“What’s the point of having a police car if we don’t fly?”

More than a mouthful of coffee scorched its way down Kirsten’s jalapeño-tenderized throat as the car lurched upward. Once the tears and coughing stopped and she could breathe again, Kirsten glared. She knew how Nicole liked to fly and stopped trying to enjoy her food, inhaling the rest before she wore it. The patrol craft picked up speed and altitude, drifting through the layer of advert droids as it plowed a twisting whorl through the smog. Nicole banked corners hard, making the windows on the sixtieth story of several buildings shudder. Kirsten looked behind them, grumbling.

“If this thing didn’t have police lights on it, we’d have a Division 1 patrol car behind us already. Do youhave to drive like you’re fifteen?” Kirsten rubbed her neck and coughed. “This isn’t cyberspace, you could kill someone.”

Her friend flashed a wicked little grin. “It got your mind off of whatever really killed your cat, didn’t it? Ooo, mind blast, really?” Nicole flashed a mock-accusing squint, then giggled. “That’s cool. No wonder Morelli avoids you.” Then came the sincere pout. “You could have told me, it doesn’t bother me. I think it’s cool.”

“Sorry, it’s just, you know how people get about mind blasters. I’m nowhere near strong enough to erase an entire brain permanently.” Kirsten examined her nails. “I never had a cat. Look, it’s not a big deal. Just a bad dream is all. Really, I’m fine.”

Nicole had known her for a few years and accepted she did not like to talk about that dream. “Suit yourself. Say, how’d your date go?”

Kirsten’s head slumped forward. “Horrible, he―”

“Oh, I’m thinking of going blonde like you, does it help with―”

Kirsten blinked at the scatterbrain next to her. “…ran screaming out the door…”

“…attracting guys? Oh.” Nicole offered her a sheepish look. “Another runner, huh?”

“Yeah.” Kirsten fidgeted with her cup. “The second I told him.”

“Trail of flames leading to his car?” Nicole shook her head. “Why did you tell him on the first date? You know they always run.” She looked away for a second before her brain switched gears again. “Oh, hey, did you get carded again or did they believe you were over twenty-one?”

Kirsten’s face turned red. “I tell them up front because I don’t want to get attached and then have him freak out on me. I have to be honest.”

“Someone got carded!” Nicole giggled.

Kirsten glared out the right side window. “Well, now I know why Eze put us together. I look like I’m thirteen and you act like it.”

Nicole gave her a raspberry. “You’re tall for thirteen.”

Staring into the endless black of her uniform, Kirsten searched for answers that did not dwell there. A warped version of her face sulked back from her silver belt, and she turned to the window with a sigh, looking through her reflection at the passing century towers. Hundred-story monoliths; each was a variation of the same standard pre-fab design like most of the city. Full of happy people, or at least people happy enough to fake being happy. Kirsten frowned.

Is there a man in any of those buildings that isn’t a shallow jerk?

“Probably not,” replied Nicole.

“Dammit.” Kirsten gave her friend a light slap on the back of the head. “Get outta my mind.”

The car swerved as Nicole ducked, causing Kirsten to grab the oh-shit handle.

Oh, come on, you know you do it all the time.Nicole’s telepathic voice pierced her consciousness.

“Seriously, no, I don’t. Just because we can doesn’t give us the right to just pick through people’s thoughts without probable cause. Didn’t you pay attention at all in class?”

“You are such a downer.” Nicole frowned. “Besides it’s just you, not some citizen.”

Kirsten stared in silence at the NavMap, watching a small yellow triangle creep along a blue line. Sometimes having friends that did not run away in fear at the sight of a psionic could be as much a curse as a benefit. Several minutes of silence passed and Kirsten sensed something. She turned her head, looking through the intermittent flashes of sunlight gleaming off the ad-bots below. A feeling pulled her stare down into the darkness that clung to the narrow alleys below.

“You haven’t seen them, but they’re out there.”

Nicole made a sarcastic look of fear. “Ooo…your little shadow-men?”

“Look in my head now if you have the proverbial balls.” Kirsten dared her with a gaze, recalling the memory of her last meeting with a Harbinger. She steeled herself against the memory of the mass of darkness gliding out of the shadows, piercing silver eyes locked upon the malevolent spirit it had come to claim. “Just please don’t have an accident; in your pants or with the car.”

Nicole accepted her challenge and locked eyes. Her amused grin shattered to a half-open mouth, taking with it all the color in her face. When her body went limp, the car’s safety system brought them to a hovering standstill. Kirsten gave her an ‘I told you so’ smirk.

“Wow…well…” Nicole stared at the hover lane in front of them. “Okay then. Consider me glad I can’t see that shit.” A visible tremble settled into her hands as she clutched the control sticks.

Kirsten rubbed her friend’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that to you.”

Nicole’s voice faltered as she coped with the images and sounds, and worst of all, the inherited feeling from reading a memory. “You see that stuff all the time? How are you not sucking your thumb under your bed every night?”

“I had a scarier demon to practice on.”

Nicole’s eyes closed, her hands stopped shaking. “I don’t even want to know.”

“It’s weird.” Kirsten folded her arms. “Ghosts don’t bother me. The Harbingers make me a little nervous, but I know they’ll leave me alone. They only go after evil souls. Some living punk with a gun, though―that scares me to death. I don’t know what to do.” Kirsten turned toward the window. I don’t want to be responsible for sending people into that world.

Nicole went into a well-rehearsed recital of standard Division 0 combat doctrine, trying to explain to her ‘what to do’ in those situations. Her friend’s telekinesis and temperament suited field work with a tactical team, not to mention she lacked the patience or finesse demanded by I-Ops. One of her favorite tricks involved telekinetically yanking the guns out of a suspect’s hand. She had started printing still images of the faces they made, caught by her helmet cam, and hanging them above her desk.

Kirsten’s role came with much less glory. She arrived well after the shooting stopped to do the figuring out, not to mention all the typing. Ghosts on the other hand, she did not mind fighting. With them, she had the upper hand.

Nicole stopped hard at a red traffic control node when her attempt to beat the yellow failed. Kirsten shot down her suggestion about hitting the bar lights and zipping through, not wanting a reprimand. Their argument stalled with the appearance of a newsbot trailing a billboard-sized hologram of a mutilated body. Reporter Kimberly Brightman’s voice emanated from the coasting droid, with details about the latest in a series of attacks by out-of-control dolls. As always, the Newsnet worked it up, stirring the stew of paranoia. Where would the next attack be? Could your doll go crazy too? Does death lurk in your own kitchen?

“How can they air that crap?” Kirsten gestured at the monolithic screen. “Children could see those.”

“I dunno…dolls creep me out, don’t you think?”

Kirsten shrugged. “Not really. Though if I ever got run over by a PubTran, I’d rather just die than have my brain stuffed in one.”

“No.” Nicole shook her head. “I mean the AI ones, the fake people. Not the real-brain ones… and those sub-sents are even creepier.”

Kirsten pointed out the signal had changed. “What do you mean?”

Nicole muttered as she formed her ideas. “I mean it’s like, what if all the AI’s in the world talked to each other and no one knew it? What if they were all part of this network that like, hated humans? And what if one day―”

You could carry the same thought for longer than twenty seconds. “You’ve been watching too many Holovids, Nikki. Self-aware AI’s are considered citizens under the law.”

“Oh, that’s just the first part of their plan.” She held up her finger in triumph, and then lost her train of thought. “By the way, I heard Samir finished fixing your car.”

ADD sucks. Kirsten smiled at the expected topic flip. “Oh, that’s good.”

Nicole grinned. “Hey, isn’t that the car everyone hates? Don’t you have problems with it?”

Kirsten gave her a dismissive wave. “No, not at all.”

“I heard it almost killed the last like dozen people that drove it. Why was it in the shop anyway? Is it true Morelli borrowed it and wound up putting it through a fortieth-floor window of an office building?”

“Yeah, pretty much. It’s been fine for me. I didn’t think it’d be a problem to let him use it.”

The comm flashed, and a six-inch holographic rendition of Captain Jonathan Eze’s shaved head appeared in the center of the console. He glanced back and forth between the two women and gave a curt nod.

“Field Agent Logan, I need you to drop Agent Wren off back here as soon as possible. I’ll have Forester go with you on that warrant pickup.”

“Understood, sir.” Nicole saluted her intangible Captain. “Whee! Code three time,” Nicole shouted.

Eze nodded again, and faded out.

Kirsten glared. “Command actually lets you carry a weapon… in public?”

Nicole wrenched the car around with a laugh, in a hard about-face that smacked Kirsten into the door. Revving the throttle control almost all the way forward, she flicked on the bar lights and streaked at three hundred miles per hour back to the command building.

Ten minutes later, they came to rest in front of the parking deck. Squad Corporal Forrester walked through the large cloud of cryonic mist and debris kicked up by their arrival, and saluted Kirsten as she got out. Unprepared, she fumbled to return it.

I’ll never get used to that.

She still felt like a newbie even though she had been on active duty since the age of sixteen, and Forrester’s enlisted rank took longer to attain. With the rank of Agent, she held the status of officer―now all she had to do was feel like one.

The hot ion rush of liftoff left Kirsten’s legs wrapped in tingly sparks as the hovercar peeled up and away from the building, leaving a trail of wobbling windows. Kirsten shook her head and went down into the garage where Captain Eze waited by her patrol craft. His reflection, framed in glare from the overhead lights, shone clear within the just-washed gleam of the hood. A twinge of alarm in his voice overshadowed his usual comforting mannerism.

“Kirsten, we’ve got a situation. Two Division 1 patrol officers have gotten themselves trapped by a possible category four manifestation.”

She gulped. The Wharf Stalker rated only three. “How much do we know?”

Eze’s hand on her shoulder stalled her ever-widening sapphire eyes. “Some mechanic took a few pot shots at a passing Div 1 unit. They pursued him into an abandoned building, and at some point thereafter hit their panic buttons. By the time backup arrived, they were gone. There are also reports of strange sights, screams, and to use the technical term they did: ‘weird shit’.”

“What sector?”

Eze shook his head. “No sector, it’s off the map. Southwest of where the city plates stop, a pre-war building right on the surface.”

She bit her lip, never having been that far south before. “Who’s the mechanic?”

“I’ll relay the details while you’re en route. No criminal record, no idea why he fired. Their sergeant wants someone out there ASAP. His people are refusing to go inside.”

Refusing? With fellow officers in danger? What the hell is this thing?

“On it, sir.” She leapt into the waiting car.

Kirsten tapped at the control sticks urging the car to power on faster. Any trepidation she had at tangling with something that might be worse than the Wharf Stalker evaporated under her sense of duty. She thought only of other cops in danger.

Twenty minutes of blurred buildings later, the patrol craft shot out over the edge of the city. The exposed Earth fifty meters below looked desolate and brown; dotted here and there with scrub-brush and cacti. The car descended into the shadow of the endless urbanity behind her. The rearview monitor filled with the vast network of pipes and support struts between the great city plates and the ground, a place known as The Beneath. She had been down there before, many years ago, but now was not the time to dwell on old memories.

Not with lives at risk.

You can find the rest of the blogs on this tour, here