Another exerpt from Twist

Chapter Twenty-six

Jayne sat in the upstairs hall, his tail lashing back and forth like a snake. He was obviously displeased with me.
“Join the club,” I said as I ran down the stairs.
Trent had been moved to the clinic. He lay curled on his side on the metal table, the knobs of his spine exposed to a lantern that sat on a nearby rolling cart. A huge needle lay next to it. Berta stood next to him and wiped his face. Shane was by the window, watching the commotion outside as he pulled on a pair of rubber gloves.
I swallowed the bile that rose in my throat, which was considerable given the fact that I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten.
Berta bent over and spoke in Trent’s ear. “Abbey’s here,” she said. She looked up and smiled at me encouragingly.
“Hey,” I said as I walked up to the table. “You finally woke up.”
“Shane said I should go back to sleep.” I had to bend down to hear him; his voice seemed so distant. “Cause it’s gonna hurt.”
I looked up at Shane who was watching the two of us. “Anesthesia? I mouthed. He shook his head no.
“Yes, it’s going to hurt,” I said to Trent. “But you’re a ninja now. And ninja’s are brave and strong.”
“Do ninjas cry?” he asked.
“Sometimes,” I said. “When something really hurts.” I didn’t want him to be worried about trying to be brave.
“Ninjas are way cooler than pirates,” Shane said.
There he was with that line again. I wondered exactly what it meant and I gave him a puzzled look.
“Do you know any pirates?” Trent asked.
I arched an eyebrow at Shane. “A few,” I said. “But I know a lot more ninjas. And he’s right. They are cooler.”
Shane picked up the needle and handed me a piece of plastic. He pointed toward his mouth with his finger, and I quickly got the meaning.
“Put this in your mouth, and when it hurts bite down,” I said to Trent and he obliged. “That’s what the cool ninjas do.”
“You’re going to have to hold him,” Shane said.
I took Trent’s upper body, and Berta took his legs. I watched as Shane dabbed the base of Trent’s spine with alcohol and then inserted the needle.
The noise the boy made was wretched. Trent clamped his teeth down on the piece of plastic, and tears poured from between his clenched eyelids. I tried to soothe him. I don’t even know what I said beyond “Ninjas are cool” over and over again, but he seemed to respond, smiling up bravely at me when he could.
Shane backed off the plunger on the needle, and a cloudy liquid filled it. I was surprised; I’d expected blood. Shane frowned when he saw it.
“It’s over now,” I said as Shane pulled the needle away.
Trent didn’t answer. He’d passed out; from the pain or the fever, I didn’t know which.
Shane held the vial up to the candlelight and looked at it closely before placing it on a tray.
“What?” I asked.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he picked up Trent and carried him to the wardroom. I stood at the door and watched as he gently placed the boy on a cot, and Berta pulled a blanket over him.
The look on Shane’s face was grim as passed by me again. He picked up the vial and left the room. I trailed after him with Jayne bringing up the rear as we once more went downstairs.
Shane attacked his work table. He lit several candles and prepared a slide with the fluid drawn from Trent’s back. I leaned against the edge of his sofa as he examined the slide and then went over to his desk and pulled down one of the thick books that sat on the shelf above.
Jayne looked up at me questioningly as Shane flipped through innumerable pages. Finally I saw Shane settle on a page and study it intently. He slammed the book shut and dropped it on his desk with a thud. He leaned over the desk with his back to me, his hair falling across his face. I watched as a long shudder moved down his spine.
“What is it?”
“Bacterial Meningitis.”
“Can you cure it?”
He laughed. It was mirthless, almost sinister. The sound gave me chills, and I rubbed the goose-bumps on my arms.
In one movement, he suddenly swung his arms and cleared his desk. Books, papers, binders, pencils and pens; everything went flying to the floor. Jayne jumped and ran under the bed. I heard a low growl in the cat’s throat and his eyes glowed with a strange gold light.
“How can I cure it?” Shane asked in a hoarse voice. “I’ve got nothing to cure it with. Nothing. No meds. Those were gone a long time ago, used up in the pandemic, where once again all I could do was stand back and watch people die.”
“We’ll go to the hospital, to doctor’s offices, pharmacies,” I said. “We’ll find some.”
Shane shook his head like he was talking to a child. “What do you think people have been doing for the past hundred years? I, myself, have cleaned out every stockpile of medicine in this city.”
He stretched his hands out in front of him, spread the fingers, and arched the palms. He looked at them as if he’d never seen them before.
“I used to think my hands were for healing,” he continued. He turned the left one over, and in a heartbeat his eyes took on that strange red glow that frightened me so. I watched with my stomach churning as that thing, that stabber, that life-sucker extended out of it. He held it up for me to see.
“This is all I’m good for,” he said. “This. Taking life. Killing. Ending it.” He took a step toward me. I wanted to retreat but the sofa was already pressed against my back. “I could save him,” he said. His voice was speculative. “I could change him.”
“No.” I shook my head fiercely.
“Why not?”
I didn’t like the look on his face or the fact that he’d taken another step closer.
“Save Trent. Save you. I could save everyone. Then we could all live happily ever after; at least while we aren’t trying to kill each other off.” Shane took another step. He turned his palm over again so that the thing in his hand stood straight up. I couldn’t help but look at it. “How bout it Abbey?” he said. “Want to live forever?”
I looked into his eyes. The red glow was still there, but it covered something else.
“No,” I said.
“Think of all the fun we’ll have,” he continued. He took another step.
“Stop it Shane,” I said. I grabbed his hand and wrenched it away. It was an old move, one I’d learned in my karate class. Twist the fingers back, and the body will follow. “You said you couldn’t change us before. What are you doing?”
The weapon in Shane’s palm retracted, and I watched the skin close over it so that his palm once again looked normal. It amazed me to see the opening coincided with his life line. If I traced it would it run on continually? Did eternal life show in patterns on the skin?
I looked once more at his face. His eyes lost their red hue as he looked at me for a long hard moment but I felt rage and frustration simmer beneath their surface.
Suddenly, Shane fell to the floor. It was if all his strength left him at once. He sagged down, his back against the couch and his head on his knees.
“No matter what I do, I can’t stop it. I can never stop it,” He said. His voice was shaky. Was he crying? “It never ends,” he continued. “It’s nothing but an eternity of death.”
I knelt down beside him. I touched his hair and let my fingers trail through the silky blonde strands. He looked up at me. His eyes were dark, practically navy, and they filled with tears.
“I told myself a long time ago not to care. Doctors aren’t supposed to get personally involved with their patients. I try to keep everyone at a distance because I know in the end they’re all going to die.”
I realized then his pain. His loneliness. His solitude. And the reason why he always ran hot and cold with me. He was scared of caring for anyone. He’d watched so many people die through the years; his brother, his parents, his friends and the people who lived and worked in this small community trying to stay alive. And now Trent was dying. Trent, who was probably as close as he’d ever come to having a child of his own.
I wrapped my arms around his shoulders; I pulled his head under my chin. I stretched my legs out so that one went behind him and the other over his lap and I pulled him close.
His body was tense, his muscles rigid. I stroked his hair and held on tight until I felt him relax against me. His arms crept around my waist and he wrapped his hands in my shirt. I felt it bunch up and move, exposing the bare skin of my back. He let out a long sigh and moved his head up on my shoulder so that I could feel the brush of his breath on the skin of my neck.
We sat still for a long, long moment. I continued to run my fingers through his hair. Jayne came out from under the bed and lay down beside me, his paws tucked up beneath his chest. His rumbling purr seemed louder than normal as it broke the deep dark silence that surrounded us.
“No one touches me,” Shane said quietly.
I didn’t understand, but said nothing, just continued with my fingers in his hair.
“They’re all afraid to touch me,” he said. “Afraid if they touch me they’ll become infected. They don’t mind when I touch them, as long as it’s medicinal, but they won’t touch me.”
I nodded. I felt his lips move against my neck as he spoke again.
“Physical comfort is a precious thing,” he said. “You’re the first person to give it to me in one hundred years.”
I didn’t know what to say. I’d only done what I wanted; I gave him what I felt he needed. I’d offered comfort. It was the most natural thing in the world.
“Abbey…” his voice trailed off as his hands freed themselves from my shirt and his fingers caressed my back.
I felt that touch down to my core. Heat coiled inside me. It bubbled and twisted and spread from the center of my body to follow the trail of his hand which moved gently up my spine.
“Abbey,” he said again. I turned toward him as he lifted his head from my shoulder.
“Abbey,” he whispered as I looked into his eyes.
They were blue. Very blue. For a moment I’d been afraid they’d be glowing with red fire. Instead, I saw something more dangerous.
Dangerous, yet so very very tempting.

More About Twist

Another great reveiw from Romance Reader at Heart

Despite being lost in some of the nuances of the time travel plot on occasion, I still managed to devour TWIST in a day. It is action-packed, engaging, and definitely my type of read.

The heroine is kick-butt, but in a Sydney Bristow of Alias way, and her hero's torment makes him nothing short of hot. The plot is, quite frankly, one of the best post apocalyptic I have run across, rivaling the Crimson City series. Now for me, lover off all things Crimson, that is saying something.

There are detailed scenes that have me smelling the hospital antiseptic and shopping in the shack-like tents for provisions right along with the characters. Fabulous details and dialogue written by the author make it so.

So, if you enjoy the following few TV shows and movies—Mad Max, The Matrix, Xena Warrior Princess, and Stargate—then you really ought to love TWIST.

Shannon Johnson

And now a sample of Twist

Prologue


Would I make it?
My feet pounded on the pavement, splashing through the puddles that remained from last night’s rain. Was it just last night that it rained? It seemed as if years had passed. They had passed. Still, the things they held were yet to occur.
Think about it later. Just run.
I had to get there on time. I just had to. I refused to think about what I’d do if I didn’t.
My hand tightened on the hilt of my katana as I ran. The scabbard was laced against my thigh. I didn’t even feel it; it had become so much a part of me in the time just past.
When I started martial arts training I never even considered the possibility that I would use the weapons to actually kill anyone. I think it just turned out to be one of those funny twists of fate. It was just something that happened.
My original life plan was to be an architect. Just like my dad. But in another one of those funny life twists he was killed in a freak accident. The last words he spoke to me were “We’ve got all the time in the world.” Then he stepped off the curb and got hit by a speeding car.
Like I said: Funny twists of fate. And here I was, caught up in another.
One more block. Luckily I was used to running. I ran every morning with Charlie—or used to. Lately my running consisted of “for my life” instead of exercise.
How many mornings had it been since we ran? Two, as far as Charlie was concerned. More for me.
Don’t think about it.
I saw the lights from Java Joe’s up ahead.
Shane had told me it happened when he left. When he got tired of waiting for me. How long had he waited?
The door opened and my heart skipped a beat as the light bounced off golden blonde hair and he stuck his hands in his pockets and moved down the sidewalk.
“Shane!” I yelled as I tried to run faster. She would be waiting for him, just past the coffee shop in the alleyway.
He didn’t hear me. He kept walking, and then he disappeared. He was in the alley. Shane had told me it happened in the alley. I gripped the Katana in both hands as I fronted Joe’s and raced on by. When I reached the alley I skidded to a stop.
“Hey, Lucy,” I called out. My heart pounded wildly in my chest; I took a deep breath and willed it into submission. If I made a wrong move, Shane would be lost to me forever.
Lucinda turned. Her bright red hair settled on her shoulders and she looked down her aristocratic nose at me. Behind her Shane stood as if hypnotized, his bright blue eyes staring off into the night as if he were waiting for something. If he only knew what fate this woman planned for him.
“How do you…” Lucinda stopped suddenly and looked over me appraisingly. “You know,” she said. “You did it. You opened the gate.”
“I did,” I said. I held the katana firmly in my right hand and stood balanced on the soles of my feet with my legs slightly apart. Ready…waiting…willing to do what ever was needed.
“I think I’ll keep him anyway,” she said with a flip of her hair. “It will be fun to watch him fight his nature.”
“He’s mine,” I said. “You told me yourself. He will always be mine, no matter what you do to him.”
“How about if I kill him?” she said.
I twisted the blade of my katana so that light from the streetlight was reflected into Lucy’s face. It also must have awakened Shane from whatever trance she put him in. He blinked and looked over Lucinda’s shoulder at me.
“What’s going on?” he asked. “What are you doing?” He looked in shock at the katana which was so much a part of me now that I barely noticed I was holding it.
“Lucy and I have some unfinished business,” I said.
“You told me you didn’t know her,” Shane said accusingly. My heart lurched at his tone, at the strangeness he felt around me. I would fix that. I had to fix that or I might as well have stayed where I was.
“Oh, Lucy and I go way back,” I said. “Don’t we?”
“Do we?” she asked.
“About a hundred years, give or take a few.”
“I’m out of here,” Shane said.
He took a step and Lucinda slammed him against the wall. With one hand closed around his throat, she lifted him in the air so that his feet dangled over the ground. She kept her eyes on me; even when Shane grabbed her wrist and kicked her in the side, she barely flinched.
“Put him down Lucy,” I said.
“Make me,” she replied.
I looked at Shane whose face was full of confusion. He was desperately gasping for breath. I had to make sure he stayed. If he ran I would lose him forever. So I said the only thing that made any sense at all in the current madness that my life had become.
“Ninjas are way cooler than pirates.”

The process

I just finished Twist this week. The past six weeks of writing have been hard to say the least due to my father being in and out of the hospital several times. It has made me realize how much of writing is about the mental process, especially when you get down to the last few chapters of a book.

Writing is not something you just sit down and do. There's so much mental preparation that is involved. I guess the easiest way to say it is you have to get your head in the zone and it is so easy to get knocked out of the zone.

I took my lap top with me to the hospital and went down to the main lobby to write. I found a nice cozy table, turned my back to the TV and wished I'd brought my noise canceling headphones along. The scene I was working on was fairly easy to drop into because it had been formed in my mind since the character, Shane, evolved in my mind.

Then I was graced with the visit from the little old lady with the walker. I recognized her as a hospital volunteer from the aqua coat she wore. There were several empty tables and chairs in the lobby but no, she had to come and sit down right next to me with her walker and oxygen tank. Then she preceeded to stare at me. I felt as if I was being stalked by Darth Vadar.

Out of the story immediately. Instead of writing about Shane's brother's tragic death I'm like what is up with this woman? So I move to another table but my mind is on the woman. Especially when I realized she'd moved into the exact chair I vacated. Guess I missed her name on it.

This is just one of the interruptions I had while trying to find quiet corners to write in. And after a week of running back and forth to the hospital and waiting on test results and getting my dad back home it's not easy to trudge the stairs to my office and just sit down and write. There are too many things rolling around in my exhausted mind.

It takes us so long to write a book. I wrote this one in a little over four months. But so much happens in four months that its hard to remember what you wrote when you were first starting the story. I spent the entire day yesterday, rereading. Why? For continuinty. For flow. I wrote this chapter in the car. I wrote this chapter while on vacation. I wrote this chapter at the hospital. How many different moods was I in while writing? One thing I found, that when I was so tired I could barely keep my eyes open I made Abbey tired too. At least we could relate to that.

I'm happy with what I wrote. Twist was a bit different for me. A first person urban fantasy. Time Travel, alien races, lots of kick butt action and a love story. And lots of Abbey's witty observations. I think that was the best part of the whole story. It will be out in February. And now I have to totally switch gears and write a colonial period historical and prepare for the release of my next sci-fi romance, Starshadows.

Yes, my mind is spinning!

Back to the Future

I'm back. The past month has been hard. I've been out promoting my historical release, Rising Wind, trying to finish up Twist and spent a lot of time sitting in the hospital with my dad who got suddenly sick. He's fine now. But my time, so precious, suddenly got away from me.

Time is like money. You spend what you got. My former boss used to compare life to a ride. Everyday you get on the ride. Every day you pull a ticket out of your pocket. One day you reach in your pocket and there's no ticket. No more ride. You're out of time.

So I'm having all these time dilemnas while writing Twist,a time travel story. Yep, ran out of time. My deadline is today and I still have another 10,000 words or so to write. Luckily my editor gave me a bit more time to finish it. Time which is cutting into my next deadline.

I often wish I could stop time when I'm writing. Just long enough for me to get the book done so I could do some other things. Like unpack all the boxes piled up in my office from the move last summer. To finish all my crafty projects like quilting and scrapbooking. To go on trips.

If only I had more time...

Twist

Here's the cover to my alien vampire book. Which is really a time travel. It's for a new line by Dorchester Publishing called Shomi and with more of an urban fantasy edge. Thing Underworld, Blade Runner, along that line. All the covers are Manga inspired.

My book will be released in Feb 08. But the first in the line, Wired by Liz Maverick will be out in July, followed by Marianne Mancusi's Moongazer

We're real excited about the line so if you see Wired on the shevles be sure to give it a try. Liz writes awesome action and is an award winning author with her Crimson City series. Moongazer, which I've read, features an alternate universe and you never know which one is real until the very end.

I'm off for a week of writing and relaxation at the beach!

Monkey Wrenches and stuff like that

My current wip is an unban fantasy called Twist that I'm writing for Dorchester's new Shomi line. The covers are really cool, Manga style and its our hope that we'll pick up a bunch of new readers with the concept.

So yes there were guidelines for this line. And apparentlly when I pitched it to the aquiring editor he got so excited about my concept that he forgot one part of the guidelines.

No vampires.

So I'm halfway through the book which is due Sept one and scheduled to be released Feb 08 and I get a really sweet and apologetic email from my editor.

"uh, Colby, I forgot...we're not using vampires or werewolves in this line."

"uh, (insert editors name here). Did you forget that the vampires are my badguys?"

"Nope. But still, we got to do something. Make them nonvampire vampires or something like that." (thats a generalization of what he said.)

So after I had a morning meltdown we put our heads together. And what did we come up with?

Aliens. Aliens who are the reason there is a vampire legend. Actually it was pretty cool to come up with a new concept on an old tale. Plus we made up lots of slang and my heroine only lost a few of her really snarky lines.

So I lost the past two weeks to rewriting my nonvampires into existence. And I"m pretty excited about Twist. In spite of the monkey wrench.