What this means for me is that I get a 15 page manuscript critique from Bree Despain! Hurrah!
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| Bree Despain presenting at her book launch March 13, 2012 for The Savage Grace |
Thank you to everyone who voted for me and crossed fingers, toes etc or what ever you did to help. It worked. I've decided to post my short story here, and I'll load it here at the end of this post.
The Savage Grace is the concluding volume to The Dark Divine series. Links to all three books can be found here.
My short story, Savage Beginnings, is a direct tie-in short story. It is written with permissions. The story introduces you to Grace, the main character. You meet her as she's seen in the first book, but through the eyes of a character of my own Angel. She gives you perspective of what Grace is now, in her innocence, and what she will be come.
Welcome The Savage Grace through the award winning short story by LC Piper Savage Beginnings.
Savage Beginnings
By LC Piper
“Hottest guy
ever?”
Angel froze at the
sound of the voice. She barely heard it
over the ruckus of dozens of teens moving through the halls. Her ears still hurt and her mind swam in the
chaotic mix of sounds.
“No way…” another
voice began.
Angel eased her
locker door shut just enough to see the two girls. They didn’t look familiar, but there was something about the
voice of the first that dug at her inside.
The first girl dropped her backpack
and a box of pastels fell to the floor. They scattered across the industrial
tile of the high school hallway. Angel
could hear each stick snap in slow percussion.
It was almost musical. She
smiled at the clarity she now found in sound.
Before it would just have been a clatter and crash, but now it was a
chorus of hollow thunks, crisp crackling snaps and a crescendo of chalky
tinkling.
“I wouldn’t know,”
she spoke. The girl knelt down to pick
up her dropped art supplies. Leaning
over the mess, her hair fell into her face.
She pushed it back, smudging red pastel from her finger along the top of
her cheek.
It was a welcome
imperfection to her smooth light complexion.
Like a streak of war paint it made her look primally attractive and a
little dangerous, Angel noted.
“Hurry
up,” painted girl’s friend said, glancing over her shoulder.
Angel ducked back
behind her locker swinging it to hide her face. She had been caught staring.
Her breath stalled in her throat.
She waited for a moment, both fearing and expecting she’d been discovered
eavesdropping. No one came. Angel relaxed her grip on her locker door and
pulled her fingers free. Three spiraled
silver metal filings fell to the floor from where her hand had dug into it.
“You could help.”
Painted said.
Angel peeked
around her locker again. Her
embarrassment at being caught lingered in her face and she blushed, but
curiosity compelled her to look again.
The painted girl
crouched there with her friend collecting her things. Something about this one spoke to her.
Was it her voice?
How she fussed over the broken colors?
Her worries are so inconsequential, Angel thought.
She had felt like
her before and ached to be carefree again.
Overwhelmed by the desire for her past life, her heart skipped a
beat. Suddenly she was short of breath
and had to inhale deeply. Things would
never be the same for her. She was a
fallen being now. Twisted by darkness
and bathed in corruption. Doubt ruled
over her. It told her she was beyond redemption and she believed.
Watching painted
girl, Angel was reminded of who she had been. How similar they were! She could
smell the memory of it. It’s the scent
of how she was right before a single bite corrupted her.
This girl’s life
was about to change.
Finished, the two
stood and left. Angel couldn’t resist
and crept after them. A short distance
later they came to a classroom door.
She stopped across the hall to watch.
Angel sensed him
before she saw him. Tiny hairs on the
back of her neck flared. A wave of
alertness fueled by adrenalin surged through her body. A growl grew under her breath. Muscles in her arms, chest and back
spasmed. Angel fought back the growing
change in her, searching for her calm.
There was no doubt he also knew she was there, but he didn’t show
it. He knew that he was being observed.
Friend of the
painted girl gestured to him. He was
dressed in a ragged t-shirt and jeans.
Or what was left of them. His
dark black hair hung down just enough to obscure his face and hide bared and
gnashing teeth intended for Angel.
Painted girl’s
eyes narrowed in offense. Ever more she
looked dangerous and native from the red pastel on her cheek.
“Excuse me, you’re
in my spot.” The painted girl said.
Instantly he
soothed himself and looked up. His hair
fell back from his face revealing a small, practiced smile.
The growl quieted
in Angel’s throat and her limbs relaxed.
She felt her inner wolf lay to rest.
“Then you must be
Grace,” he said.
Deep inside a
portion of hope for herself and the savage Grace failed. There was nothing she could do here. Everything was already in motion.
Oh Grace,
Angel thought. You have no idea how
he’ll change you.
