‘Melpomene’s Daughter’ teaser and excerptPosted: April 25, 2015 Filed under: On the Isla's Inheritance trilogy | Tags: Melpomene's Daughter Leave a comment
Melpomene’s Daughter is scheduled for release next Tuesday. Finally you guys will get to read my favourite book in the series. Some parts were challenging to write, because there were a few different loose threads from the other books that I needed to braid together, but the end result is (IMNSHO) worth it!
To celebrate, I thought I’d give you guys a glimpse at a teaser and an excerpt in advance of the big day. Because squee!
If you’ve got some catching up to do, for details on the various places you can buy the first two books in the series, click here.
Excerpt from Chapter Two of Melpomene’s Daughter
“Isla?” Ryan called from inside the shed, his voice echoing against the steel walls. “Can you come here for a sec?”
Great. Could this day get any worse? I grimaced, heading down the path, and stopped a couple of metres away. The steel in the walls didn’t bother me—something about the manufacturing process diluted the iron’s toxic effects even as it hardened the metal. Still, I could feel the nauseating effect of the iron sculptures from here. “I’m not coming inside.”
“Right.” My older cousin appeared in the doorway. Dishevelled ginger hair stuck up on the top of his head and bags smudged the skin under his eyes. His aura was a sad, dull silver.
“You look awful,” I said, and then winced. Good one, Isla.
Ryan didn’t seem to notice. He rubbed his forehead. Freckles stood out on his pale skin. “I haven’t been sleeping. And I’ve got a rotten headache.”
Ryan’s visions were revealed through his drawings and paintings. Other aislinges—human seers created by the aosidhe—had their individual abilities manifest in different ways. Everest’s Shannon had been able to envision the locations of people and places, but as far as I knew, she’d never been able to see the future as Ryan did.
Ryan nodded grimly. “I tried to ignore it. I didn’t want to paint it. But the dreams got worse and worse.” His hands shook, and he added in a croaking voice, “I didn’t have a choice.”
“I’m so sorry, Ryan.” Tears of remorse burned the back of my eyes. I swallowed hard. I hadn’t meant to make him into an aislinge, and now I had no way to undo it.
“That’s not what’s bothering me. Here, let me show you.” He ducked back inside the shed and returned within moments, holding a large sheet of paper. He’d drawn a picture in black ink, which glistened in the afternoon sunlight. Ryan’s hands shook, distorting the image. I gently took it from him.
The picture was of a headstone. The edges were still sharp, as though the stone was newly made, and there was no grass growing on the dirt before it. A fresh grave. But the headstone was blank.
“Whose is it?” I whispered.
“I don’t know. Believe me, I’ve tried to see. I have. I just can’t.”
Gnawing at my lip, I stared at the picture. All of Ryan’s previous visions—of my mother, an attack on Dad’s farm, Everest’s impending death—had been tied to me, as though his power was only attuned to things I’d care about. If the vision was of a duinesidhe’s death, such as Jack’s or my mother’s, I doubted they’d have such a prosaic human headstone. But my human family, my friends…
“Shit,” I said.
Also, in case you missed it, this month I’ve been busy writing about writing over at Aussie Owned and Read. You can read my post on dialogue tags here, and on the advantages and disadvantages of first-person point of view here.