Authors: Alexia Purdy, Cameron Jace, Chrystalla Thoma, Katie Salidas, Megan Duncan, Nadège Richards
Publication date: June 11th 2014
Genres: Dystopia, Young Adult
Dare yourself to enter into post-apocalyptic future with this gritty collection of first-in-a-series books by six bestselling authors! Discover unique worlds packed with non-stop action, adventure, and suspense set against a gritty, futuristic backdrop.
NOTE: Together, these books have over 320 5-star reviews on Amazon!
Over 1400 pages of stories, with *exclusive* content from Alexia Purdy, Katie Salidas, and Chrystalla Thoma!
'Morning’s here. Another restless night. I’m up before the others, unable to attempt any more sleeping. My mother still tosses and turns, constantly reaching next to her, subconsciously touching the empty mat where Randy should be. It makes my heart squeeze for a moment as I feel her longing, but it also ignites my determination to go find him and get more food and supplies.
I grab a duffle bag sitting near the front door. Lacing up my boots, I can feel my mom watching me, but I don’t meet her eyes. The question is coming.
“Where are you going?
I pull out my shoulder holster for my 9mm and strap a sheath to my thigh for a machete, which had belonged to my father. I was okay with the machete, but I know how to use a gun thanks to him.
I flick my eyes up to my mother and do my darnedest to not roll them.
My hand flicks out into the air. “Out there.”
She says nothing but watches as I finish prepping. I’m turning to walk toward the garage when she grabs my arm, holding it with an iron grip.
“Don’t look for Randy.” She pauses, swallowing as her voice breaks. “Get as many supplies as you can. Food. Guns. Water.”
I nod. Her face is stoic, but I see the tears fighting to slip from her eyes.
“I’ll see you back here before sunset.” With that, she lets go and turns away to go sit on the couch near a sleeping Jeremy. The silence lingers around us, but it says so much, it’s overbearing. Something tells me things are never going to be the same after today. For her, for me, or for anyone else.'
Best for ages 16 and up~
Initiation: Being a Vampire is a crime punishable by eternal servitude in the arena as a Gladiator of the Iron Gate. Mira, a newly turned vampire, must prove she has what it takes to survive in the human’s world. It’s kill or be killed. Immortality is not guaranteed.
“On your feet, 8254-A.”
Her heart stuttered, skipping more than a few beats. Not again.
The guard butted his gun against the bars of her cell. “On your feet.”
On edge as she was, holding her tongue wasn’t as easy as she’d have liked. “I have a name. It’s Mira!” Smarting off would only get her more painful torture, but she couldn’t help herself. The least they could do was use her name.
The soldier responded with a fast click of his light, shining it straight into her eyes. “On your feet, 8254-A.”
So, it’s going to be like that, she thought, shielding her face from the burning light. “Okay, I’m up.” She winced as fiery tongues of light seared every bit of her open flesh. She took an unsteady step toward the cell door.
“Stop! Come no closer.” The warning was clear in the soldier’s voice. He was not going to put up with anything except utter obedience.
Mira held her hands up in surrender, squeezing her eyes shut against the burn. “I’ll do whatever you want. Just get that bloody light out of my eyes!” She didn’t mean to shout but the pain was intolerable.
“8254-A, you will stand with your arms where I can see them.”
What little bit of civility she had was spent. “I’m already doing that. Will you shut off that damn light?”
The light clicked off and blissful darkness enveloped her. It took a moment for the sting to subside, but Mira let out a sigh of relief anyway.
The faceless guard, hidden behind his black helmet and shield, spoke again. “8254-A, you’re to report to the arena for placement.”
She’d heard rumors of what happened to vampires but hoped that was all they were. “Am I allowed to ask what that is?”
“You fight to the death.” The guard’s tone was nothing short of mocking. “If you live, you’ll be put up for auction and earn yourself an owner.”
Mira had not been given a weapon, but her opponent had. Things were not looking too good for her. The Magistrate had definitely stacked the deck on this fight.
“Hate to be the one to kill you,” Tegan said, holding up his short sword.
“Hate to be the one to die,” Mira responded, her voice monotone to conceal the swirling pit of emotions turning her stomach. She very well might die this time in the arena. Not from the fight, however. Tegan might have the upper hand, but she was the better fighter. No. Her worry came from the uncertainty of what she was about to do.
“Joking aside, I’m sorry. I may not like you, but you’re a damn good fighter. I don’t like being put in this position.”
“Then don’t be in this position.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“No more talking!” the handler shouted, and butted Mira in the back with his UV torch.
“And what will you do if I continue?” Mira couldn’t help herself. If she was about to die, she was not going to do it kowtowing to the humans.
Before her handler could reprimand her, the door to the arena opened. Light flooded into the waiting area, momentarily blinding Mira with its brightness. She shielded her eyes, and so did Tegan.
“Inside – now,” the handler said as he shoved at Mira, forcing her into the arena.
Tegan strolled in unaided. He lifted his arms and greeted the crowd, who cheered and screamed his name.
Mira, not wishing to play into any of the bulls***, strolled into the center of the arena and awaited the start of the fight.
The crowd around cheered and jeered. It was hard for Mira to make out exactly what they wanted. It seemed many were upset that she was not acknowledging them, while others seemed eager to get on with the match.
Tegan joined her in the center of the arena. “What’s the matter with you today? Why aren’t you playing the part?”
“I’m done with this bulls***.”
“You’re only done when they say you’re done, and you know how that ends.”
“I thought we were supposed to be the bloodthirsty ones.”
Tegan snickered. “True.”
“Do me a favor. Whatever happens here today, remember that we do not deserve this. Keep that thought close to you and remind the others.”
“Wow, I didn’t take you for the sentimental type.”
“I’m not. That message was not meant to make you feel bad for me. Feel it for yourself, and do something about it.”
“As if I could.”
“When the time comes, you might get your chance.”
Finding Hope: After the death of the one person he called mother, Elei leaves the Trashlands of Ost for the city – looking for other people and for answers. But he soon finds out that people are complicated and answers hard to come by…
Rex Rising Excerpt:
Elei inhaled the humid air and tried to get his bearings, to remember something, anything. In the end, he had to admit defeat. “Which island is this? Is it Kukno?”
“Are you saying I tricked you?” The boatman’s voice was dry. “We’re right where you told me to take you. Dakru.”
Dakru! The heart of the Seven Islands, risen in their perfect center, pushed out of the depths of the sea by the gods — at the beginning, before their divine hands molded the flesh of fish and birds, and then man. Elei stared at the shore, not quite believing he was there.
Until the boatman planted a heavy hand on his shoulder and shook him. “Hey, snap out of it. Pay me my second half and jump out now, or the sea will have you.”
Looking into his hard eyes, Elei had no doubt he meant it. He reached into his pocket and took out his thin wad of bills. Blood ran in a hot line down his hip as he counted and gave over the money. The boatman counted it again, eyes darting to the remaining bills and Elei’s gun peeking out of the holster.
Not good. Grimacing, Elei climbed out of the boat, scrambling on hands and knees to keep his balance on the blocks of the pier, fumbling in the half-darkness as the sea sang and sighed all around him and cold water sprayed his face. His left wrist throbbed, felt slightly sprained. His body felt numb, uncoordinated; the pain in his side echoed in his limbs, in his head.
Like an insect, he crawled on the giant squares, skinning hands and knees, until he finally reached the pier road. He could have wept for relief. Maneuvering his heavy legs, he climbed to his feet and glanced back at the boat which was already speeding away — a speck blacker than blackness, a white line of surf. Then he turned with a knot in his stomach to face the unknown shore.
The island was Dakru, but which city was this one? A memory returned and Elei frowned. Krisia. The boatman was supposed to drop him at Krisia, a small enough seaport to avoid Gultur police control. What had possessed him to go there?
Elei staggered along the pier toward the storehouses lining the seafront and the wound hurt like a son of a bitch with every step. He should have hidden in the mountains of Ost until he figured out what happened.
Nobody in their right mind would come to Dakru. The Gultur presence was stronger there. Their capital, Dakru City, the Gultur stronghold, rose in the center of the island, dominating the plains at the feet of the rugged mountains, and the dakron mines spread around it in a spiderweb of power. The source of the Gultur wealth lay in the control of the dakron mines, where the mineral fuel, pure and invaluable, was extracted. The police presence would be stronger here as well. And he was an illegal migrant.
This is mad. Why would I…
Someone had chased him. A face he knew, a man’s hard features, surfaced in his memory. Falx? He wondered why Pelia’s head of security would go after him, though it made no difference now. Nevertheless, it explained why he’d chosen — wisely in retrospect — not to travel with legal transportation over the immense bridges between the islands. He’d still been able to think when he’d boarded the boat, body pumped full of adrenaline.
Now the images, the words, the thoughts turned hazy. He stumbled and had to stop to catch his breath, his hand clenching on his side. Just move. He licked his lips, his throat raw from thirst, knowing he couldn’t rest there — too conspicuous, too dangerous. Keep moving. He had to get to Artemisia. He knew that. And from there…
Elei grappled with the memory. Where did he have to go? An address, he had an address. Where was it? His hand dove into his pocket and drew out a crumpled scrap of paper. The letters jerked and swam in his vision.
There. He must get there. A name. And a place, an address. He wondered how far he had to go, how easy it’d be to find transportation and whether streetcars ran that stretch. He pushed the paper deep into his pocket, patted it. The knot in his gut unwound a little. He had a goal. Get there. Just do it.
Go to Aerica.
Find Kalaes Ster.
Resonant: As the first days of the end of humanity tumble across the City of Las Vegas, turning everyone into vampire-like creatures, April Tate will find out what it really means to survive.