DOUBT (Among Us) by Anne-Rae Vasquez @Write2Film #Paranormal #Thriller #YA

Zero: “Shadow is on his way to bring you to Graphix. Saw your text about Shadow. Sorry but you are going to work with him whether you like it or not. I won’t change the mission instructions.”

Cristal looked down at her watch. She had been standing outside the Global Nation’s building for thirty minutes.What was taking Kerim so long?

Before she started texting Harry to find out if he had heard from Kerim, she heard an engine roar from a distance. She looked up and saw Kerim, aka Shadow, dressed in a leather jacket and black jeans riding into the Global Nation’s parking lot on his black and yellow Ducati.

He slowed down and stopped his bike in front of her. He removed his black helmet to reveal his dark wavy hair, slicked back against his head. He pushed his sunglasses on top of his head, his grey steel eyes shining against the sunlight.

He waved for her to climb onto his bike and handed her an extra helmet. Really? He wants me to ride that thing? She paused for a moment before placing the helmet on. Kerim motioned with his head for her to climb on. Is he serious? Am I one of his fan girls?

She refused to budge, standing with her arms crossed in front of her.

“Come on, get on,” he said.

Still, she didn’t move.

Finally, he reached out his hand, waiting for her to grab it. She paused for a second, pushed it away, and climbed on the bike by herself.

“Hold tight, Cristal,” he called back to her as he started the engine.

Mmm, I love his sexy accent. She glanced around. Where did that come from? Focus on the mission.

Cristal leaned closer to him but tried not to hold too tight. No need to give him the wrong impression. She closed her eyes as the motorcycle started moving, the sound of the motor roaring underneath her. The bike sped through the streets, but she dared not open her eyes. Her heart was pounding hard; her knees felt weak, and her head was spinning inside the heaviness of the helmet. If I’d known he was going to pick me up on a motorcycle, I could have taken a cab, she thought to herself.

Cristal had never felt comfortable in enclosed places, partly due to her fears of having an asthma attack. As a child, her father had not wanted her to rely on a puffer. Instead, he had trained her to control her breathing when she felt an oncoming attack. Unfortunately, this was hard to do now with a helmet on her head.

After what felt like a roller-coaster ride, she noticed that the engine had stopped and opened her eyes. She took in her surroundings and realized that they were parked in front of Gabriel’s apartment building.

She let go of Kerim and slowly got off the bike. He climbed off and removed his helmet. Her legs felt like rubber bands beneath her. She swayed off balance. Kerim grabbed her by the waist with one arm. She felt her stomach squirm. Get this helmet off. I can’t breathe!

As if hearing her thoughts, Kerim reached over with his other hand, unsnapped the strap under her chin and gently removed the helmet before tying it to his bike. The cool air caressed her cheeks. She took deep breaths, drinking in the oxygen. Kerim’s other arm was still wrapped tight around her waist. Once her head was cleared, she glanced up at him.

This close, she was able to see that his skin was a smooth olive color; his nose perfectly straight and Romanesque, and his grin was mischievous but playful.

She removed his arm off her waist and firmly pushed him aside. He stepped back, letting her pass. She didn’t know why she was so irritated by him being there. Yes, he was extremely attractive but that was a superficial asset. And yet, she always seemed to be drawn to the Christian Bale or Johnny Depp rebellious type of guys. Just like her chocolate ice cream addiction, she knew she had to stay away from bad boys, even if they were delicious desserts. She felt herself blush and hoped Kerim hadn’t noticed.

Do you love shows like J.J. Abrams’ Fringe and read books like Cassandra Clare’s City of Bones?

“Doubt” mashes fringe science, corporate espionage and paranormal encounters to catapult you into an out-of-this-world experience.

At 21 years old, Harry and Cristal are fresh out of university with their PhD’s. Labeled all their lives as being ‘weird’ and ‘geeky’, they find true friendships with other outcasts by playing online virtual reality games.

Harry Doubt, a genius programmer and creator of the popular online game ‘Truth Seekers’, has a personal mission of his own; to find his mother who went mysteriously missing while volunteering on a peacekeeping mission in Palestine. His gaming friends and followers inadvertently join in helping him find her; believing that they are on missions to find out what has happened to their own missing loved ones. During Harry’s missions, Cristal and the team of ‘Truth Seekers’ stumble upon things that make them doubt the reality of their own lives. As they get closer to the truth, they realize that there are spiritual forces among them both good and evil, but in learning this, they activate a chain of events that start the beginning of the ‘end of the world’ as they know it.

Doubt is Book 1 of the Among Us Trilogy. Among Us is a book series which delves into the world of the supernatural and how it intersects with the everyday lives of seemingly ordinary young people as catastrophic events on earth lead to the end of times. Among Us weaves the theme of a young man and woman, who while not fully understanding their ‘abilities’, are drawn together in their desire to find out the truth about the world they live in which is similar to themes used in J.J. Abrams’ TV shows Fringe and Lost.

What readers have to say…

As a big fan of the show Fringe, this book appealed to me tremendously. The writing was well done, and the way the “supernatural” forces were introduced was great.

A good, clean read for any age.

It was an excellent story that I’m sure both adult and teen urban fantasy fans will enjoy. You don’t have to be a gamer or know one to identify with the characters. They’re very well developed and definitely feel like people. I would definitely recommend it to a friend and I’m really looking forward to the second book.

…the novel is written in such a languid style, it moves on effortlessly and absorbs the reader into the story completely. Although the story itself revolves around the online gaming industry, one does not have to have an in depth knowledge as it is ably explained and discussed within the plot line.

OMGosh! I just finished reading “Doubt” INCREDIBLE! I couldn’t put it down.

˃˃˃ >>> Depth and Substance mashed up with Fringe Science. Will entertain young and old alike.

This book is intended for mature young adults and new adults. Ages 16 to 45 +

˃˃˃ >>Inspired by real Truth Seekers Aaron Swartz and Harry Fear

The main character Harry Doubt was inspired by Aaron Swartz, internet prodigy and activist, co-founder of the Creative Commons and Reddit, and Harry Fear, journalist, documentary filmmaker and activist whose coverage of the conflict in the Middle East was seen on UStream by millions of viewers.

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Genre - Young Adult, Paranormal, Science Fiction, Thriller

Rating – G

More details about the author

Connect with Anne-Rae Vasquez on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://amongus.ca

Dora Machado's The Curse Giver #Excerpt #AmReading @DoraMachado #Fantasy

Chapter One

Dread stared at Lusielle from the depths of the rowdy crowd. Concealed under a heavy hood, only the stranger’s black eyes dared to meet her gaze among the growing throng. The man’s eyes refused to flinch or shift from her face. His stare was free of the hatred she had gotten from the others, but also devoid of mercy. He held on to her gaze like an anchor to her soul, testing her fortitude, knowing full well her fears’ vast range.

She had always been meant for the fire. Even as she had escaped the blaze that killed her parents and burned the inn to the ground, Lusielle had known that the flame’s greedy god would return to claim her life. But she hadn’t expected it to happen after days of torture, surrounded by the raging mob, found guilty of a crime she didn’t commit, betrayed and condemned.

The town’s cobbler, one of her husband’s best customers, tightened the noose around her neck until it cut off her breath. She had waited on him countless times at the shop, and had always padded his order with a free measure of coriander to help with his wife’s cough.

But none of the town’s inhabitants seemed to remember any of her kindnesses as of late. On the contrary, the crowd was booing and jeering when they weren’t pelting her with rotten fruit. They treated her as if she were a common thief.

The brute who had conducted her torture shoved the cobbler aside, tying her elbows and wrists around the wooden stake. Orell. She remembered his name. His bearded face might have been handsome if not for the permanent leer. Like the magistrate, he wore the king’s burgundy colors, but his role had been more vicious. Had he been granted more time, he might have succeeded at extracting the false confession he wanted, but the magistrate was in a hurry, afraid of any possible unrest.

Orell yanked on the ropes, tightening her bonds. The wound on her back broke open all over again. She swallowed a strangled hiss. It was as if the thug wanted her to suffer, as if he had a private reason to profit from her pain.

But she had never seen him until three days ago, when he and the magistrate had shown up unannounced, making random accusations.

Lusielle couldn’t understand any of this.

She knew that the king’s justice was notoriously arbitrary. It was one of the main reasons why she loathed living under King Riva’s rule. But she also knew better than to express her opinion. Ruin and tragedy trailed those who dared to criticize the king. That’s why she had never mentioned her misgivings to anyone.

What had she done to deserve this fate? And why did they continue to be so cruel? After all, she wasn’t fighting them anymore.

True, she had resisted at first. Out of fear and pride, she had tried to defend herself. But in the end, it hadn’t mattered. Her accusers had relied on the testimony of the devious liar who had turned her in—Aponte Rummins—her own husband.

The mock hearing had been too painful to bear, too absurd to believe. Aponte swore before the magistrate that Lusielle was a secret practitioner of the forbidden odd arts. It was ridiculous. How could anyone believe that she, who had always relied on logic, measure and observation to mix her remedies, could possibly serve the Odd God’s dark purposes? And how could anyone believe Aponte’s lies?

But they did, they believed him as he called on his paid witnesses and presented fabricated evidence, swearing that he himself had caught her at the shop, worshipping the Odd God. In the end, it had been her husband’s false testimony that provided the ultimate proof of the heinous charge for which Lusielle was about to die.

Burning torch in hand, the magistrate stepped forward. Still in shock, Lusielle swallowed a gulp of bitter horror and steeled for the flames’ excruciating pain. She didn’t want to die like a shrieking coward. But nothing could have prepared her for what happened next.

The magistrate offered the torch to Aponte.

"The king upholds a husband’s authority over his wife in the kingdom," the magistrate shouted for the crowd to hear. "There can be no protests, no doubt of the wisdom of royal justice if a husband does as he’s entitled to do by his marital rights."

Aponte could have forgone her execution. Considering the magistrate’s proclamation, he could have chosen a different punishment for her. Instead, he accepted the torch and, without hesitation, put the flame to the tinder and blew over the kindling to start the fire.

"Go now," he said, grinning like a hog about to gorge. "Go find your dark lord."

Lusielle glared at the poor excuse for a man who had ruined her life many times over. She had known from the beginning that he was fatally flawed, just as he had known on the day he claimed her that she couldn’t pledge him any affection.

But Aponte had never wanted her affection. He had wanted her servitude, and in that sense she proved to be the reluctant but dutiful servant he craved.

Over the years he had taught her hatred.

His gratification came from beating and humiliating her. His crass and vulgar tastes turned his bed into a nightmare. She felt so ashamed of the things he made her do. Still, even if she loathed him—and not just him, but the slave she had become under his rule—she had tried to make the best of it.

She had served him diligently, tending to his businesses, reorganizing his stores, rearranging his trading routes and increasing his profits. His table had always been ready. His meals had been hot and flavorsome. His sheets had been crisp and his bed had been coal-warmed every night. Perhaps due to all of this, he had seemed genuinely pleased with their marital arrangement.

Why, then, had he surrendered her so easily to the magistrate’s brute?

Aponte had to have some purpose for this betrayal. He was, above all, a practical man. He would not surrender all the advantages that Lusielle brought to him—money, standing, common sense, business acumen—without the benefit of an even greater windfall.

Lusielle couldn’t understand how, but she was sure that the bastard was going to profit handsomely from her death.

The scent of pine turned acrid and hot. Cones crackled and popped. The fire hissed a sinister murmur, a sure promise of pain. She didn’t watch the little sparks grow into flames at her feet. Instead, her eyes returned to the back of the crowd, seeking the stranger’s stare. She found him even as a puff of white smoke clouded her sight and the fire’s rising heat distorted his scarred face’s fixed expression.

The nearing flames thawed the pervasive cold chilling her bones. Flying sparks pecked at her skin. Her toes curled. Her feet flinched. Pain teased her ankles in alarming, nipping jolts. Dear gods. They were really going to burn her alive.

Lusielle shut her eyes. When she looked again, the stranger was gone from the crowd. She couldn’t blame him. She would have never chosen to watch the flame’s devouring dance.

A commotion ensued somewhere beyond the pyre. People were screaming, but she couldn’t see through the flames and smoke. She flinched when a lick of fire ignited her shift’s hem. A vile stink filled her lungs. Her body shivered in shock. She coughed, then hacked. Fear’s fiery fingers began to torment her legs.

"Come and find me," she called to the God of fire.

And he did.

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Genre – Fantasy/Dark Fantasy

Rating – PG-18

More details about the author

Connect with Dora Machado on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://www.doramachado.com/

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The Curse Giver by Dora Machado @DoraMachado

Chapter Eight

PROPELLED BY SHEER WILL, BREN GRABBED his saddlebags and made it to the top of the stairs. His blood pounded in his temples. The scar on his face burned like a glowing chunk of coal.
Eleanor had a way of stirring his angry blood into a rapid boil. He was tired of listening to her complaints. No matter how much he allotted to Tolone, it was never enough.
Even so, he was used to enduring her gripes. It was her daring that perturbed him most. She should be smart enough to refrain from tempting him, but she had always been even bolder than all of her audacious ancestors put together. If it would have been in his power, he would have released her from her obligations years ago.
He shouldn’t have come, but a man was entitled to a dry bed and a warm meal, especially if he was paying generously for it. The rainy season had made a mess of his camps and his men deserved a proper roof and a dry pallet every once in a while.
There was also the matter of the woman. She shouldn’t have to spend her last days on a wet horse and her last nights on the soggy ground. She didn’t deserve to be murdered coldly in a back alley among paupers and whores or in the forgotten wilderness of a wind-swept ridge.
There he went again, trying to justify the absurd delay. But he was done delaying. Eleanor’s lewd dance had stirred up his wrath. Wrath was good, the ultimate motivator. A stoked up man was the most efficient killer, a hunter worthy of Laonia and the house of Uras.
He had to do it, now, before he changed his mind.
He entered the room he kept at the seed house of Tolone and dropped his saddlebags by the door. The chamber was still warm, but the fire had died down into a pile of glowing embers. The chamber’s gloom matched his bleakness.
Not for the first time, Bren wondered what type of weakness had earned his father the curse that plagued his house. He might never know, because his father was dead and so was the rest of his line.
He wasn’t feeling very merciful tonight, a change that was bound to help. He came upon the bed in two strides. There was no point in explaining, no benefit to warning, coaxing or compelling. He was angry—at himself, at his fate. He clutched the hilt of his sword and ripped off the blankets from the bed.
The woman was gone.
He stared at the empty mattress in disbelief. A most improbable line was neatly written on the sheet, a flowing trail of ink on white linen.
Whether it was kindness, courage or charity, I thank you, my lord. Farewell. L.

Award-Winning Finalist in the fantasy category of The 2013 USA Best Book Awards, sponsored by USA Book News

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Genre – Fantasy/Dark Fantasy

Rating – PG-18

More details about the author and the book

Connect with Dora Machado on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://www.doramachado.com/