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103,000 word Upper YA Urban Fantasy - UPDATED
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Chapter One (view spoiler)[ CHAPTER ONE: IT’S TOO DAMN HOT FOR A MONSTER TO BE JUST WALKING AROUND
As Julian studied the mangled remains of the boy who had once been Campbell Locke, it was easy to see how the humans could have mistaken the death for a homicide. The latest in a string of vicious murders by the now infamous “Melbourne Slasher”, who had plagued the streets of this city for near on three months now—or so the papers said.
The teenager’s throat had been slashed with what, to human eyes, looked like a knife. But Julian knew better—that wound had been inflicted by an incredibly sharp claw.
Julian had positioned himself on a first floor window ledge not ten metres away from the crime scene. It was the perfect vantage point, or would have been had his legs not been cramping from the awkward crouching position he’d been forced to assume in order to balance his tall, lean body on the narrow ledge. The preternatural eyesight bestowed upon him almost a century and a half ago allowed Julian to make out every detail of the narrow alleyway: the ground a peculiar patchwork of cobbles, concrete and bitumen; walls the brick exterior of low rise buildings whose original colour could not be determined through the layers of graffiti—some of which, Julian had to admit, was quite remarkable. There was a blue industrial rubbish bin set up against the wall of the nightclub that backed on to the alley, overflowing with black bags and glass bottles. Julian could feel the vibration of the heavy bass from the club’s music thrumming through the walls around him. At the other end, the mouth of the alley, was a row of uniformed police officers standing guard over the crime scene and sending any curious onlookers on their way.
Julian was tempted to move closer. To walk right up to the crime scene and stand amongst the mingling investigators. After all, with his invisibility glamour in place no one would be able to see him. But it was a risk he could not afford. He was well aware of how much crime scene technology had progressed since his time amongst humans. They had something called “forensics” now, where scientists could track a killer using the smallest piece of evidence: a drop of blood, a strand of hair, even the tread of dirt from a foreign location. Julian frowned as he glanced at his boots, the soles of which were crusted with the remains of the faery he’d disposed of three hours earlier. These humans would be baffled enough as it were with the lack of evidence to be found at this scene; he didn’t think it wise to confuse them further with the presence of an otherworldly substance. Not to mention that the invisibility glamour was somehow affected by flash photography—he was not in the mood to explain to Lord Mortem why there had been a “ghost” sighting at the most recent “murder” scene.
An awareness brushed across Julian’s mind and he immediately looked up, scanning the rooftop opposite. It didn’t take long to spot Moss; he had his hood down and even without Julian’s superior vision, it would have been difficult for him to miss that mop of bleached dreadlocks contrasting starkly against the midnight sky.
Julian swept his gaze over the crime scene one last time before letting the ledge fall away from him. It was a split second of dark emptiness as he passed through the shadows, and then he was standing on the roof next to Moss.
‘Crazy night, dude,’ Moss said in his Floridian surfer drawl.
Julian ran his eyes over his friend. They had gone their separate ways tonight, and it was clear by the smears of blood over Moss’s face and the tear in his sleeve he’d had almost as interesting a night as Julian. Moss always looked slightly rumpled, though; unlike Julian, who, even after killing the banshee that had been about to take centre stage in front of twenty thousand humans under the guise of a popular musician, a passionate kiss of gratitude from said musician (whose memory Julian had, most unfortunately, been obligated to alter moments later), and crouching on the window ledge for a good two hours, was still as tidy and well-pressed as usual, not a hair out of place.
‘You could say that,’ Julian said. Though a hundred and forty years had passed, he still spoke with the same accent and manner he had cultivated during his life as the son of an English peer. He would have liked to believe there was little else from that life that remained, though he knew this was not the case.
‘So, this one makes three.’ An uncharacteristically sombre expression crossed Moss’s face. ‘Any ideas?’
Julian shook his head. ‘Something with claws—which narrows it down to at least a thousand Shadowlanders.’
‘It’s hot.’ Moss emphasized the statement by rubbing the back of his forearm over his sweat-streaked brow.
It was indeed. The Australian summer was only a week away, and Melbourne had been hit with a blast of the kind of humidity usually reserved for the northern parts of the country.
‘That should rule out an Infernal creature, yeah?’
Julian frowned. ‘I think it would be foolish to rule anything out at this stage.’
***
Inside the club, Mira breezed into the VIP lounge and parked herself on a stool by the bar. ‘Gin, Tam,’ she said to the barman, ‘lots and lots of gin.’
Tam chuckled. ‘Rough night?’
‘You have no idea.’ She leant her elbows on the bar and lifted her hands to massage her temples. Her accent was Australian, though it hadn’t always been. She had taken pains to erase all traces of her former self from existence ten years ago and Australia had seemed as good a place as any to do it.
Tam slid a glass of Mira’s usual poison—gin over ice with a slice of lime—across the bar and she lifted it to her bow lips for a generous pull.
‘I’ve got a question for you,’ Tam said, resting his forearms across the bar so they were at eye level. Tam, like all grigori, was both obscenely tall and obscenely handsome—a combination that had sent Mira straight to his bed upon her arrival in Melbourne ten years earlier.
Mira raised a carefully manicured brow and dared to meet those entrancing golden eyes. ‘Yes?’
‘Why have so many of your boys been crawling around the club lately?’
‘My boys?’ Mira’s other brow shot up to join the first.
Tam ran a hand along his forehead. ‘I mean, all these Trackers. Roaming about like they own the place, making everyone nervous.’
Mira’s doe eyes widened. She placed the glass back on the bar with a loud thunk. ‘Trackers?—Who? Where?’
Tam nodded over her shoulder and she turned to follow his gaze. She was forced to grip onto the bar to prevent herself from falling off her stool. There was indeed a Tracker; dressed in the all-black signature attire of military style pants and a hooded vest over a long-sleeved shirt that denoted him as one of the elite soldiers of The Order of Dark and Light. Over his back were sheathed two weapons: a sabre sharp enough to decapitate any threat, and a long, thin staff that, when asked to, would become a scythe capable of turning any Infernal being to ash. There were other weapons hidden all over his body, Mira knew: various types of knives, throwing stars, garrotes. She knew, because up until ten years ago, she had dressed in that very same attire on a nightly basis. She still had it, her precious uniform—the one final connection to the place she’d called home for two and a half centuries. But she rarely wore it, preferring a simpler (and more easy to explain) look of jeans and a leather jacket.
His back was to them as he weaved his way, unseen, through the throng of oblivious humans. His hood was up, hiding what Mira knew to be a mass of dark, untidy waves.
Griffin, Mira thought, as dread coursed through her body. It had to be. No other Tracker moved like that—like a panther hunting its prey. Careful. Patient. Graceful. Every one of his senses honed to his surroundings. Deadly.
‘Are you okay?’ Tam asked.
Mira turned back to find his handsome face full of concern. She knew he hadn’t meant to upset her; he didn’t know that she’d broken away from The Order—the society of Reapers led by Lord Mortem, the Horseman of Death, sworn to maintain the balance between life and death—and had spent the past ten years as a rogue, countering the few minor attacks that had threatened Melbourne. Because of the limited Infernal activity, Melbourne—Australia in general, really—had always been somewhat of a safe-haven for Shadowlanders who preferred to keep out of The Order’s business, and Mira had been able to use that to her advantage.
She chanced a glance back in his direction. His back remained to them, his attention on the dance floor. But that could change any moment. Any moment those laser green eyes she’d been running from for a decade could lock onto her and it would all be over. Was that why he was here? Was he tracking Mira? Or was it…no. Surely he could not have found her—Mira had been so careful.
She turned back to Tam once more. ‘I have to go,’ she said quietly. She took his hand in hers. ‘If you ever cared about me,’ she said, eyes pleading, ‘ever at all, I was never here, you never knew me.’
Tam blinked a few times in confusion, nodded slowly. Mira let go of his hand, drew the shadows around her and disappeared.
***
On the packed dance floor, Sachi Manning and her friends were dancing like absolute crazies: twirling in circles, arms in the air, drinks sloshing everywhere, and the massive smiles plastered to all their faces told the world they didn’t give two shits if they looked like idiots. They were together: Sachi, Gabe, Jordy, Olivia and Tali. These were Sachi’s best friends in the world and they were celebrating. Exams were over. They were free.
Olivia took out her phone and started taking pictures. Gabe drew Sachi beside him and bent down, struggling to get them both in the frame; he was so tall and she was so short, almost every photo she had of them since his year seven growth spurt was like this one. The thought made her burst out laughing. She dragged Jordy to her other side for another photo. Her two boys: Gabe, her oldest and closest friend—the boy who had found his way into her heart at the age of five, set up camp and never left—and Jordy, her stupid cousin who was more like another brother.
Sachi sent her boys away and hugged Tali and Olivia to her side. It took a few attempts, but eventually Olivia was able to get a decent selfie of the three of them, all smiling like idiots, all so ecstatic that they never had to set foot in that hell-hole people called school ever again. It had been these two girls who’d gotten Sachi through it. She didn’t make friends easily, especially not with girls, but Tali and Olivia had made six years at an all-girls school reasonably tolerable—and she loved them for it.
More drinks were drunk, more dances were danced, more photos were taken. The group continued their celebration and Sachi soaked it all up, completely oblivious to the victim in the alley, who hadn’t died as he was supposed to; oblivious to the woman in the VIP area, who’d disappeared into darkness; and oblivious to the boy with the laser green eyes, currently watching her from the balcony above the dance floor.
She would not be in the dark for long. (hide spoiler)]
It is a story of grief, friendship, loyalty, survival, persistence, love, incredibly atrocious whip nae naeing, and far too attractive immortal Reapers.
Find out what really happens when we die, where all the mythical creatures we've ever heard of really come from, and how World War One really started in Out of the Shadows.
Hi everyone!
I posted this a few weeks ago but didn't get any bites - my 'beta needs' have changed, though, so I'm updating the post in the hopes of generating a little more interest.
My first novel Out of the Shadows, the first in a proposed five book Urban Fantasy series called Shadowlands is currently undergoing an initial round of beta reading. I have a few friends and family providing some general feedback, as well as a few others providing some more thorough comments.
After the first round I'll be making some revisions and sending it out again to gather some more in depth feedback on pacing, world building, character development, dialogue etc.
This second round will start late November, so that's what I'm looking for now - readers who are available to read a 103,000 word book in late November.
The book is set in predominantly in Melbourne, Australia and does use Commonwealth spelling and grammar, as well as the odd Australian/British term for certain things, but so far the feedback I've had from the readers outside Aus has been positive.
I would really love a couple more readers from outside Aus to better gauge the book's marketability, and also some readers in the 16-20 year bracket would be great as it is supposed to be Upper YA.
The book is told in multiple third person POV, so it would be preferable if you're familiar with this style of writing as it has very different conventions to first person.
I'm not about to claim my book is 'the next...' or anything but a couple of my readers have compared the writing style to Sarah J Maas's Throne of Glass books and Cassandra Clare's Shadowhunters books (probably because these are popular third person multiple YA books)
If you're interested please send me a message on GR or you can email me at ashleebye@gmail.com
Chapter One is attached in the post below.
cheers
Ash