“Remember: when
people tell you something’s wrong or doesn’t work for them, they are almost
always right. When they tell you exactly what they think is wrong and how to
fix it, they are almost always wrong.”
― Neil
Gaiman
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The Glass Man
Lila Gray #1
Paranormal / Fae
Lila Gray is just a human — at least that's her mantra when she accidentally topples a building or bends a paranoid local's gun into modern art. That she can sense and control the minds around her doesn't prove anything, either. Unwilling to put others at risk, she hides in the wilderness from the beautiful creature who hunts her, one who sees her as his ultimate prize.
Alone, the egocentric Glass Man can kill with a thought. Mated with Lila, he's a supernatural weapon prepared to annihilate the humans he loathes.
Caught in the Glass Man's latest scheme, Lila is plunged into a hidden fae realm, faced with a secret birthright and a forbidden romance.
With the Glass Man threatening everyone she loves, can Lila accept who she is in time to end his bloody reign? Or will she succumb to his dark power and become the vehicle of destruction for the human race?
Alone, the egocentric Glass Man can kill with a thought. Mated with Lila, he's a supernatural weapon prepared to annihilate the humans he loathes.
Caught in the Glass Man's latest scheme, Lila is plunged into a hidden fae realm, faced with a secret birthright and a forbidden romance.
With the Glass Man threatening everyone she loves, can Lila accept who she is in time to end his bloody reign? Or will she succumb to his dark power and become the vehicle of destruction for the human race?
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Excerpt:
I plunged my knife into a log and pried against the bark, hop- ing for a squirming morsel to quiet my rumbling stomach. The thought of choking down another fat grub or crunching on a cricket made me gag, but berry season had ended a few weeks before, and I couldn’t find anything else. Autumn in the north was pretty, but the cuisine sucked.
A scream pierced the silence. My hand flinched, causing the knife tip to break through the rotten wood and stab into the side of my other hand. “Shit!” I applied some pressure to stop the bleeding until the skin knitted back together.
The sound came again—a piteous, frightened cry. Damn. What now? My presence alone could put an entire town in danger, but if I didn’t check the source, my conscience would chew at me for weeks. With a sigh, I folded my jackknife before slipping it into my pocket. After shouldering my backpack, I stuffed my hair beneath my black cap and tossed a handful of leaves over the matted grass I’d knelt on.
Instinct pointed me west.
A third instance of the call stabbed at my heart.
I sprinted through a thick stand of trees crowned with golden
leaves, clinging to a small hope the problem might resolve itself before I arrived. No amount of wishing ever made it come true. After running for several minutes, the forest thinned out. Light cut wider swaths through the dense shadows along the ground. I picked up the pace until I broke through the edge of the woods and stopped on a ridge.
A sprawling farm sat at the bottom of a deep valley, sporting
a black barn, silo and an old fashioned house with a giant wrap- around porch. Acres of gnarled apple trees stretched beyond it as far as I could see. Who’d put a farm in the middle of nowhereville Pennsylvania?
I’d happened upon lots of orchards in the populated part of the state, but I hadn’t seen a town for days, only wilderness not fit for girl or beast. Power lines snaked along the southern ridge. I shouldn’t have been anywhere near a town unless I’d somehow veered off my intended course. The downy hairs on the back of my neck took notice and sent a prickle along my back.
I bent down to pluck a flock of burrs from my shoelaces while I scanned the buildings for signs of movement. Nothing stirred or made a sound to disturb the quiet evening.
The scream had to have come from down there; my instincts were never wrong.
Maybe my wish had come true for once, and I wouldn’t have to intervene? I’d wait just in case and satisfy the nag that occupied the background of my thoughts.
I crouched in the damp grass. The sun edged closer to the jag- ged line of conifers on the western ridge. Half an hour slipped by with nothing more exciting than a squirrel cussing me out from a nearby maple. I shrugged. Perfect. Civilization’s descent toward anarchy had made it hard for me to remain in obscurity even from nature’s own creatures.
I headed south along the rim of the valley, reminding myself of my own rule: don’t draw attention to self. Before I made it ten paces, energy, like a warm kiss upon the wind, pulsed through the air.
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