Bloodliner
Page 32
"Good morning, Sheriff Briar." Duke sounded pleased; he liked the Sheriff a lot. "Can I get you a cup of coffee?"
"No, thank you," said Briar. "I just need to talk to Gaia. I hate to interrupt..."
"You can't fool me, Dale." I smirked as I turned to face him. "Interrupting me is how you get your rocks off." It was a joke, because Dale Briar was a rockhound on the side--a rock collector slash prospector slash amateur gemologist.
But Briar wasn't in the mood for jokes. "This is pretty important, Gaia." He winced and combed his fingers through his thick brown hair. He looked uncomfortable.
"You need to wrap up Ray Long?" I figured there must be loose ends from the killer I'd turned over the night before. Wouldn't be the first time. "Can it wait like an hour or so? I'm with customers."
Briar shook his head and sighed. "Can't wait, Gaia. It's about Aggie."
Suddenly, I shot straight into red alert mode. I got up and walked away from Minthe and Nephelae without a word or a sideways glance.
"When was the last time you saw her?" said Briar. His expression was frighteningly grim.
I didn't want to answer. I was afraid of what he might say next. "Yesterday morning. Around eight."
"Okay." Briar fidgeted with a ring on his right pinky, twisting it back and forth. The stone was a super-rare red tiger's eye I'd found for him with my talents. Okay, I'd made it for him. He'd tumbled, cut, and set it in gold like a pro. "I'll tell you flat out, Gaia. Aggie's missing, and you were the last to see her."
"Missing?" The word sounded unreal as I said it.
"She didn't show up for work today," said Briar. "Didn't call in, either. No one's seen or heard from her since...well, since you saw her yesterday morning."
"That's over twenty-four hours." My heart pounded like a heavy metal drum solo. I felt flushed and chilled at the same time. Forget red alert; I was at Defcon Five and climbing.
"Does she have any family?" Briar raised his shaggy brows hopefully. "Maybe there was an emergency and she had to drop everything."
"No blood relations," I said. "Aggie's like me."
Briar nodded. He didn't know everything about my world, but he knew enough to get the picture. He'd seen me in action more than a few times. "Can she take care of herself like you?"
I shook my head. Aggie didn't have my kind of abilities, and she wasn't much of a fighter.
"Then this just became my top priority." Briar turned and reached for the doorknob.
I beat him to it. He had to jump back to avoid getting hit in the face with the door as I flung it open.
Without a word to him or anyone, I charged out into the parking lot toward my black hybrid Toyota Highlander SUV. I was behind the wheel before Briar even got the door of his cop cruiser open.
And then I was gone, whipping out of the parking lot like I'd just robbed a bank. Briar chasing me with lights and siren blazing, barely keeping up.
Aggie. My breath caught in my throat as I raced toward her apartment. As I felt my mood shift into a third gear, one that had nothing to do with smooth sailing or sinking fast. One in which everything that slowed me down or distracted me peeled away, leaving nothing but a knifepoint of crystal clear focus and white hot intensity. Willingness to do terrible things. To do anything it took. Apocalypse in the chamber, hammer cocked, finger on the trigger.
For this mood, I didn't have a clever nickname.
*****
What happens next? Find out in Earthshaker, now on sale!
*****
About the Author
Robert T. Jeschonek is an award-winning writer whose fiction, comics, essays, articles, and podcasts have been published around the world. DC Comics, Simon & Schuster, and DAW have published his work. According to Hugo and Nebula Award winner Mike Resnick, Robert "is a towering talent." Robert was nominated for the British Fantasy Award for his story, "Fear of Rain." His young adult urban fantasy novel, My Favorite Band Does Not Exist, was named one of Booklist’s Top Ten First Novels for Youth. Visit him online at www.thefictioneer.com. You can also find him on Facebook and follow him on Twitter as @TheFictioneer.
*****
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Now on Sale from Robert T. Jeschonek
A Young Adult Fantasy Novel That Really Rocks!
One of Booklist's Top Ten First Novels for Youth
Being trapped in a book can be a nightmare—just ask Idea Deity. He’s convinced that he exists only in the pages of a novel written by a malevolent author . . . and that he will die in Chapter 64. Meanwhile, Reacher Mirage, lead singer of the secret rock band Youforia, can’t figure out who’s posting information about him and his band online that only he should know. Someone seems to be pulling the strings of both teens’ lives . . . and they’re not too happy about it. With Youforia about to be exposed in a national magazine and Chapter 64 bearing down like a speeding freight train, time is running out. Will Idea and Reacher be able to join force
s and take control of their own lives before it’s too late?
School of Rock meets Alice in Wonderland in this fast-paced, completely unpredictable novel of alternate realities, time travel, and rock ‘n’ roll. If your favorite band does not exist . . . do you?
"Overall, My Favorite Band Does Not Exist is a wacky and enjoyable trip...full of intriguing, imaginative concepts that keep a reader hooked." –Thom Dunn, The Daily Genoshan
"This first novel has all the look of a cult fave: baffling to many, an anthem for a few, and unlike anything else out there." –Ian Chipman, Booklist Starred Review
"Chaos theory meets rock 'n' roll in adult author Jeschonek's ambitious, reality-bending YA debut." "...this proudly surreal piece of metafiction could develop a cult following..."–Publishers Weekly
"Reading this reminded me of authors like Terry Prachett and Neil Gaiman…" –BiblioJunkies
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*****
BLOODLINER
Copyright © 2012 by Robert T. Jeschonek
www.thefictioneer.com
Cover Art Copyright © 2012 by Ben Baldwin
www.benbaldwin.co.uk
Published in May 2012 by Pie Press by arrangement with the author. All rights reserved by the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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