The Vicious Deep {Early Interview}

I want to give a warm, friendly welcome to Zoraida Cordova {The Vicious Deep} today and thank her for sharing an insight into the world of the unknown and for sharing this beautiful cover with us!

Release Date: May 1st, 2012
Publisher: Sourcebooks Fire
Age Group: Young Adult
Pages: 250
Format: Hardback

Set against the backdrop of a Coney Island summer comes The Vicious Deep, the story of sixteen year old Tristan Hart whose life is turned upside down when the mermaids make an unscheduled return to land in search of their new king.

When a sudden storm pulls Tristan from lifeguard duty into a deadly riptide, he discovers what he really is—a prince of the Sea Court. Turns out, his girlfriend hopping and talents as a swimmer aren’t caused by his teenage prime hormones after all.

In this modern Arthurian tale with a twist, when all a guy wants to do is get The Girl and enjoy the freak show that is a Coney Island summer, Tristan has to fight for his life, the lives of his friends, and his humanity, if he still wants it, as he’s caught in a race for a throne that is as ancient as the gods.

 

Isn’t that such a GORGEOUS cover?!?

 

Now that the cover has been revealed. Let’s take a look at the answers Z posted with my questions!

 

 

 

How would you describe The Vicious Deep?  

The Vicious Deep is a classic adventure story with a twist. When a young reluctant hero (in my case, Tristan Hart) is chosen for this higher destiny, especially in modern times, there's a lot of potential for misfit fun. Then there's the eternal battle between good and evil, where the protagonist finds themselves wondering why they were chosen. Think Buffy and the darkness that surrounds her, but the reality ground by her human friends. Think of the retellings of King Arthur, a young boy who would change everything with the help of his knights and Merlin. Think of Luke, dear dear Luke who starts off as a whiny teen in a backwoods planet who becomes a jedi. There are a lot of familiar elements, but a lot of new shiny elements also.   

I absolutely love Buffy and the retellings of King Author are good too. I think we see most of these familiar elements in many books today, but we never tire of the hero winning and the villain losing. I wonder how it would be if it was the other way around? Nobody would probably like it :] As girls we always crave a sexy, shining knight that always comes to our aid. I am excited to read this book and see the different elements and takes.

 

Which of your characters do you feel you relate to the most and why?

Layla Santos, Tristan's best friend. She sees things from a different perspective than Tristan does. She's loyal to her friends above all and is willing to go on whatever journey he's on.

 

She sounds cool and like a great character! I cannot wait to meet her :]

 

Were you a reader in your teen years and if so, who was your favorite author?

 

I'm only 24! HAH! When teen books really started becoming available, other than OTHERWORLD and ANIMORPHS, I was really into Amelia Atwater Rhodes. When I found she was only 13 and published by Random House, I was all, "I want to be her!" Her vampire and witch series really brought me to a new level of wanting to write.

 

LOL. I know what you mean. I will be 21 next month and I still consider myself a teen reader, but I am starting to see where I am switching between adult and teen. I think we stay young at heart and it is only the exterior that grows old. I LOVE Amelia!! I remember picking up one of her books in middle school, and thinking wow this book is a little creepy (so I didn’t read it once it got dark). Now looking back and having read all her books I cannot help but think, ‘What was it that creeped me out so much?’ I also cannot believe that she was only 13 when she wrote her first book – Pure genius in my book!

What one 2011 release are you most looking forward to reading this year?

 

DARKET STILL: Magic Most Foul by fellow Apocalypsie Leanna Renee Hieber 

 

I am also looking forward to this book! I looks so good!!

 

Are you currently in the process of writing a sequel or newer book?

 

I'm working on book two. It's due very soon!

The scary process looks like this.

 

YAY!!

 

Meet The Author

 Blog | Facebook | Twitter

 

 

I hope you all enjoyed the cover reveal and the awesome interview with Z! I also hope that my commentaries were not too much in the way :]

 

Thanks again Z for the interview and being featured on Ashley Suzanne!

Ashley Suzanne

Static and Demon Whisper {Interview & Excerpt}

"STATIC is an edgy, dark, and delicious read! Tawny Stokes is a tasty new voice in YA fiction." –Michelle Rowen, national bestselling author

 

During the summer before her senior year, 17 year old band groupie, Salem Vale, has been following her favorite punk rockers, Malice, from gig to gig hoping that one night she might get backstage and meet the sinisterly sexy guys. She’s been saving her virginity for the lead singer Thane.  One fateful evening she gets her wish.  It’s a dream come true.

Except the dream turns to a nightmare when she wakes up in a dumpster, tossed away like yesterday’s trash, with no memory of what happened the night before. She feels strange, different, as if something is trying to get out.  Soon she realizes she’s changing…turning into something not quite human.

Now a hunger deep inside claws at her to feed, to siphon energy from those around her.  Before she can do just that, Trevor, the band’s roadie shows up and stops her from killing.  With his help she learns to control the hunger inside, because he’s just like her.  And in return he wants her help to do one little thing…

Help him kill the members of Malice.

 

Excerpt

 

 

Chapter 1
You belong to me…

I own you…

The hypnotic timbre of Thane’s voice surged through my body making me tingle all over. Like a rush of heroin injected into my vein, soothing me, exciting me, I was completely and utterly hooked.

The bustling crowd in front of the stage swayed back and forth and I swayed with them. I was caught in the movement—the flow of people stirred like a whirlpool to the intoxicating rhythm and razor sharp lyrics of Malice.

Your life’s in my hands…

I’m sucking your soul…

My favorite band for the past year, I’d traveled, with my best friend Chloe, across Idaho and Washington in the past two months to see them play. My mom had been really cool about it, even lending me her car—an old POS, but a vehicle nonetheless—to drive to the shows just as long as I didn’t drive home trashed. I’d attempted it one night, but got scared when I couldn’t keep it on the road, and pulled over at a rest stop. Chloe and I slept in the car.

Thankfully no crazed psycho killer raped and mutilated us. The worst that came at us was a stray dog looking for some scraps. Chloe gave it the rest of her cheeseburger that we’d picked up a MacDonald’s drive thru after the show.

For eight gigs, I’d been entranced by the four member—three guys and one girl—band. My body responded to every aspect of their music. My head pounded to the constant heady thump of the drums, my heart thrashed to every guitar riff, and my thighs clenched with every word lead singer Thane uttered into the microphone.
Some songs he looked like he was making love to the equipment, running his fingers up and down the silver pole, uttering a lover’s words in its ear. I ached and throbbed wishing I could be that thin pole of shiny metal. If only he’d hold me like that, gripping me tightly, running his sweet lips over my face and neck. My eyes nearly rolled back in my head in ecstasy imagining what that would feel like.

That was when Chloe punched me in the arm starling me from my fantasy. “Salem?”

“What?” I grunted, peering at her between strands of black and blond hair hanging in my eyes.

“Do you want some of this?”

I glanced down to see her passing me some vodka. I took the offered bottle and tipped it to my lips swallowing down a good portion. It burned going down, but it was a good burn, telling me I was still sober. Which I needed to be if I was going to complete my mission of getting a back stage pass to meet the band. This was their final gig for the summer in my home city—Boise, Idaho—and I wouldn’t get another chance to offer up my virginity to Thane. I’d been holding onto it just for him.

My mom had always told me that virginity was a gift and the guy better be someone special enough to give it to. I figured Thane was extremely special. I mean, my mom had given hers up to some Rock God in the 80’s, I suspected it was either Keith Richards or Iggy Pop because she had signed pictures of them both thanking her for a stellar night and when she mentioned either one of them she got this little smile on her lips and a devilish sparkle in her eye.

Before I could hand the bottle back to Chloe, the couple next to us bumped into my arm and I nearly dropped it. I turned around to glare at them, but they were so busy making out that they didn’t notice. That was one thing I did notice about Malice gigs, there always seemed to be a lot of couples kissing and groping each other either on the stage floor or in darkened corners peppered around the venue.

In Spokane, when I went to the bathroom at the club the band was playing in, I happened upon two girls making out in one of the stalls. Although I was an equal opportunity snogger, that had thrown me for a loop. I certainly knew some people were gay, I didn’t have an issue with that—I had an uncle who was gay and a friend at school—it was just I’d never seen it so graphically displayed before.

Once I’d finally given the bottle back to Chloe, she wiped the top with the hem of her t-shirt—I guess she didn’t appreciate my spit—and took a pull, then tucked it back into the pocket of her army green jacket that swam on her lanky but scrawny frame.

“Did you figure out how we’re going to score backstage passes yet?”

Shaking my head, I set my attention on the security guards off to one side of the stage, handing passes on strings to a few big-breasted Goth wannabes. At every show I watched similar guards giving passes to similar types of girls. The two times I’d asked for one, they’d looked me up and down, likely taking in my black 10 holed Doc Martens, jeans-a few worn spots at the knees and on the ass—shaggy mop of black and white hair, and Betty Boop t-shirt that didn’t stretch out to a DD cup, or to a C for that matter and disregarded me in the time it took to do the bra calculations.

This time I came armed. I’d shoved my mom’s silicone gel boobs into my bra under my vintage Sex Pistols t-shirt. That made me go from an A cup to a perky B. I was also wearing my extra special pair of worn jeans that made my ass look good. I’d considered also wearing my mom’s butt enhancer panties—she had real body image issues—but decided against it. I didn’t want to look like a complete whore.

“I’m going to ask real nice.” A trickle of sweat ran down the back of my neck. I wiped at it. I really didn’t want to have sweat stains on the back of my t-shirt. The heat in the club was nearly oppressive. Too many bodies packed into too small a room.

Chloe eyed me dubiously, black eyeliner starting to run down her gaunt cheeks. “You did that the last time. And the security dude was a real dickhead about it.”

“That was before I had these.” I stuck out my chest and cupped my boobs.

Chloe shook her head, her short cap of fire-engine red hair swinging. “Do you really think that’s going to work?”

“Duh? That’s all guys understand. Boobs. It’s as if they are actually communicating with them, the way they stare.”

“Well, then, good luck with hypnotizing these security assholes with your perfect B boobs.” Chloe laughed. “You should go soon cuz it sounds like they’re getting ready to wrap up the set.”

She was right. Devon, the girl band member, stepped forward to roll into her bass solo, her pink Tokyopop pigtails bouncing to the rhythm. It was the beginning of their song, Sin City, which they always played second to last. Straightening my shoulders, I made my way, by pushing and shoving, through the pulsating crowd toward the right side of the stage.

When I reached my destination, there were three bimbos standing in front of me giggling and jiggling at the two beefy security guys. It just about made me want to barf. I actually had to put my hand to my mouth just in case I did.

“Excuse me,” I yelled over top one of the girl’s bleached blond head. “Can I get a couple of passes?”
The blond whipped around to glare at me. She had one of those hoops in her nose that made her look like a bull. I wondered if I waved a red flap if she’d charge at me. She looked scary enough to do just that.

One of the security guys looked me up and down. “Sorry. I just ran out.”

I noticed the passes dangling from the all three of the girls’ hands. “They got some.”

“Those were my last three.” He shrugged and went back to ogling one of the three girls who was wearing a black fishnet top and nothing underneath. I think her nipples were even pierced. I managed to spy a glint of sliver when she turned to glare at me too.

Blondie continued to glare at me. “Why don’t you run along little girl? Go play with your Goth Barbie.”

I hated when people assumed I was so young. I was seventeen but short—five feet one—and I got mistaken for fourteen all. The. Time. It didn’t help that I was small too—a whopping size one—with petite delicate features courtesy of my mom who looked like a punk pixie most days with her short spiky black hair and colorful tattoos covering a lot of her tight compact body.

So it didn’t surprise me when my hands began to shake from the anger welling up. I despised confrontation but right now I hated not having a back stage pass even more. I glanced up at the stage and watched as Thane moved around with his long sinuous limbs and silky black hair falling in his perfect pale face making my stomach clench. I had to get backstage no matter what.

“I wasn’t talking to you.” I finally said.

She arched her pierced eyebrow and set one hand on her ample hip. “Excuse me? Who do you think you’re talking to?”

I took in her appearance, noticing she wore cheap purple hair extensions, I could plainly see one of the clips in her hairline at her temple, and her face was adorned with several piercings. She looked like she’d been put together with pins.

I smirked. “Skankenstein?”

The two security guys laughed at that, as did one of her friends but not the one with her nipples poking out.

“You bitch!” she shrieked.

I didn’t expect her to hit me. But she did. Hard. An open hand slap right across my left cheek. It stung like hell. I’d never been slapped before and didn’t realize how badly it could hurt. I think my lip was cut as well because I could taste blood in my mouth. I glanced down at her hand and noticed the solid silver rings on her hand. The bitch had turned them in.

“Hey,” one of the security guards shouted, “If you’re going to fight take it outside.”

A little crowd started to form around us. The scent of blood always got teenagers’ attentions. We were like animals in that regard. I don’t know how many times I’d been in one of those crowds watching as two or three or more people beat the crap out of each other for pathetic and irrelevant reasons.

I could read the lips of the guys standing closest to us as they passed the word on about the bitch fight about to happen. What was it with guys wanting to watch two girls fight? I really hated to be in the middle of one, all eyes watching, ready for the scratching and hair pulling that usually entailed in a girl fight and hoping for blood.

Usually a loner, I didn’t like a lot of attention. Preferring to stick to my three or four good friends, I didn’t much like being in a crowd, except at a gig. But then when I came to a Malice concert, it was always just between me and the band. The crowds never bothered me. I just came to hear the music and watch the sexy guys on the stage—I came for the rock fantasy.

So standing in front of a fuming blond bimbo out for blood in a fighting circle surrounded by twenty or thirty people wasn’t making me feel all that good. Again, I felt like I was going to barf. I didn’t want to fight. I wasn’t big on violence; I didn’t even play fighting games on my DS. But I was not the type of person to back down either. My mom had always taught me to stick up for myself. Although I’m sure she didn’t mean that I should punch the shit out of this girl. Even if I wanted to.

Rubbing my cheek, I tried to appeal to the girl’s reasonable side, assuming she possessed one. “I think for that you should give me your backstage pass. We’ll call it even.”

She laughed. “Not likely.” Then she shoved me hard. I stumbled backwards into the murmuring crowd. Two sets of hands pushed me back into the circle. Hey, thanks guys!

It was obvious I wasn’t going to walk away from this easily. Or at all by the murdering look in the blond’s eyes. But no one ever said being a groupie was easy.

Not sure what to do, I glanced up and locked gazes with Thane. He was standing near the side of the stage looking down at me; the microphone stand gripped tightly, his dark eyes piercing me. Heat blossomed inside of me. I’d never been looked at like that by a guy before. As if he wanted to devour me from the toes up. I put a hand to my stomach where butterflies started to flip flop around like beached fish.

A rush of something I couldn’t name shot through my body. Adrenaline or lust, I didn’t know which, but whatever it was made me feel really good. Powerful even. Sexy. Like one of the female members of the X-Men. Storm maybe, or Rogue, maybe even Dark Phoenix before she went insane and killed everyone.

Whatever it was, I liked it.

Putting my attention back on my blond nemesis, I decided I needed to act if I was going to get out of the situation. Faster than I knew I could move, I reached up and snatched the bull ring from her nose.

She screamed and grabbed her nose with both hands. Blood seeped between her fingers to drip on the floor.

The sound of her skin and cartilage ripping made me shiver. Even above the music I had heard it ring in my ears. I felt bad for liking the sound, but she had it coming.

Her two friends gathered her in the safety of their arms but they both stared at me with a mixture of venom and apprehension. I suspected no one saw that coming. I certainly hadn’t.

In a daze, I looked around me, and noticed that she’d dropped her backstage pass onto the floor. Leaning down I snatched it up and smiled. I finally got my backstage pass.

As I hung it around my neck, my gaze met Thane’s once again. He was singing the last lines of their last song but he was watching me. And he smiled.

I smiled in return.

 

“You’re going to love Static — a deep, dark and sexy ride. This is a creepy and unique addition to the YA paranormal genre that goes a little bit further and gives a little bit more.” – Janet Gurtler, author of I’m Not Her and If I Tell, Sourcebooks Fire.

”STATIC is an edgy, dark, and delicious read! Tawny Stokes is a tasty new voice in YA fiction.” –Michelle Rowen, national bestselling author of Demon Princess series

“Static is an edgy, unique, whirlwind paranormal story with great action and amazing storytelling. This one leads you down a path you won’t forget. Don’t miss it!” – Denise A. Agnew award-winning author of Dark, Deadly Love

 

Awake a year-long coma, where he literally spent in hell, Caden Butcher, 17, developed a special power.  He can speak to demons in their own language.  This new trick helps him take over the family exorcism business, from his broken alcoholic father.  Having to take care of the finances, Caden makes a decent income getting rid of demons.  He’s known as the young whiz-kid exorcist to the stars, obtaining most of his work in Hollywood.  But what others don't know is the exorcisms are all staged with the help of his best buddy, a demon he met in hell named Dantalion (Dan).

When an exorcism goes wrong, Caden discovers the demon inside a teen girl is not the run of the mill malicious entity but an adversary from down under who is hell bent on Caden’s destruction.  The International Order of Exorcists, an organization that tolerates Caden at best because of his respected father, starts their own investigation because of his screw up.

Now with the help of his demon buddy, and Caden’s girlfriend Aspen Spencer, a skilled necromancer, Caden must track down the rogue demon before he can expose Caden as a fraud and destroy everything that matters to him in his life, ending his reign as the one and only Demon Whisperer.

Excerpt

 

Chapter 1

The skin on Alan Bigby’s pock-marked face rippled as if something was alive underneath it. Something big and bad and nasty wanted out to rip something apart. Unnatural black veins popped out on his forehead and temples as he bucked and writhed against the iron shackles chaining him to the chair. The fat rolls of his enormous ass hung over the sides and jiggled with each spasm. If it had been under different circumstance I would’ve laughed at that.

“I’m going to rip out your innards, Butcher, and eat them raw,” he spat at me.

Then he really did spit. Viscous green phlegm spewed from between his thin cracked lips and landed on the toe of my black Doc Marten. Disgusted, I shook it off, and then dug into the beat-up, brown leather bag I had slung over my shoulder and across my chest for the holy water. It was time to get busy. No more messing around. I had to exorcise this guy and be done with it. The money from this one would pay the rent for the condo my dad and I had. Groceries too for a few months.

“Not today, you’re not,” I said as I unscrewed the sliver cap on the bottle of holy water.

I glanced over at Eleanor Bigby standing in the corner wide-eyed, wringing her hands as she watched in horror as her husband twisted and pulled at the restraints I had put on him. He was bound to a metal chair in the middle of a pentagram that I’d inscribed in blessed chalk on the blond hardwood floor of their big expensive house overlooking the Hollywood Hills. I could see the white sign out the front bay windows.

She probably had no idea that when she called the Butchers to exorcize the demon possessing her husband that it would look like this. She probably thought watching her fat husband crab-walk across the ceiling of their bedroom was disturbing enough.

“Dude, is he going to hurt himself?”

I glanced over my shoulder at the guy holding the camera trained on Alan Bigby. He had shaggy blond hair and a freshly clipped soul patch that I nearly envied. Except I didn’t like him much. He was a dick with too much time and money on his hands.

“For the last time, dude, shut up. I’m the only one supposed to be talking,” I answered, forgetting that the exorcism was being televised.

Trey Summers was an up-and-coming film maker, touted to be the next Tarantino, but I thought he was a hack. He’d directed one lousy music video for some useless pop star and voila he was an insta-star. I thought he was a talentless hack with delusions of grandeur and of getting a lot of ass. Although he did appear to be getting quite a bit by the looks of the two chicks he’d come to the house with.

The red-head smiled at me around the little white straw she had in her mouth. She was enjoying that drink just a bit too much.

I didn’t smile back. It kind of made my stomach churn that she’d come to an exorcism for a good time. The fact that the house was full of people, watching, waiting, while drinking and enjoying finger food passed out by waiters in tuxes, made me down right nauseous. Why in hell did I hang out with these people? Why did I ever agree to this being put on TV? Ten thousand, that was why.

Seven in my pocket, well me and my dad’s pockets, and three to the International Order of Exorcists. Because they were going to be some pissed that I agreed to the recording. It was against the order’s mandates to involve the media in what we did. The world knew we, meaning exorcists, existed but it was in keeping the peace to keep our business on the down low. But since I’d been crowned the exorcist to the stars, I figured it was good publicity for everyone involved. I was hoping the three grand would appease the more militant members of the I.O. into letting me off with a warning.

I returned my attention to Alan, who was still struggling against his restraints and mumbling under his breath. He was speaking Latin. I recognized the dialect but not the particular words. As far as I knew, it was probably a bunch of gibberish. A bunch of scary sounding Latin words strung together nonsensically to sound menacing and ominous. It was par for the course. Every exorcism was the same. Demons were so predictable.

I took off my black wool cap, shoved it into my bag, and then ran a hand through my short mess of brown hair. I was starting to sweat a little. It wasn’t the exorcism that had me sweating it was the scrutiny from the masses of people watching. I had to be careful with this one. More cautious than I usually was in situations like these.

I took a step toward the pentagram, making the sign of the cross with the bottle of holy water. It splattered everywhere. Drops landed on Alan Bigby. Smoke curled up from blackened spots on the back of his hands, and two pinpoints on his cheek. I winced as the demon inside writhed from the pain. Holy water was like acid to them.

“Dues, et Pater Domini nostril jesu Christi…”

I started the exorcism, incanting the Rituale Romanum, in the original Latin. I’d done the ritual so many times before it was like reciting Jingle Bells at Christmas time. Cake, man. Cake. Although this time, like all the other times, I changed a few words. The last thing I wanted to do was send the demon back to hell. It just had to look like I did.

If I did accidentally send him back, Dan would be so pissed at me. And I really didn’t want him mad. He was a bastard when he was angry. I knew that well. I still had the scar on my chin from his last temper tantrum.

As I continued to say the verse, I recapped the holy water and slid it back into my bag. I figured I’d inflicted enough pain for the crowd’s enjoyment. I didn’t want to damage Alan Bigby anymore than he already had been. His wrists looked pretty raw from rubbing against the iron handcuffs. But he’d heal. Besides, Alan Bigby was a dick. He screwed around on his wife and he bilked two of his business partners for millions. I’d done my research on the guy. My marks always had certain traits—they were rich, influential and total assholes. People who had it coming to them in all kinds of ways.

Karma was definitely a bitch.

Exorcisms were never all that easy on the possessed. Some demons really messed around with their hosts. Inflicting all kinds of horrors on their bodies and minds. I’d seen one demon tear the fingernails off an eight year old girl just for fun. That image still made my gut roil. Luckily, Dan was cool. He’d never do that. Deep down he was a decent shit for a demon. Besides, that was part of our deal. No permanent physical or emotional damage.

For show, I thrust my hand out toward Alan and said the words even louder, letting the pitch of my voice rise higher and higher over the din of the murmuring crowd. They were leaning in, eager for more. I glanced around me and took in all the awestruck faces. They were mesmerized, enchanted by the scene. By my power.

Man, did I have an enormous ego. My dad was right. It was going to get me into trouble one of these days. Hopefully not today.

As I neared the end of the ritual, Alan twitched and convulsed, his eyes rolling back in his sockets. That got a gasp or two from the crowd. The demon was really putting on a show now. Undulating like rippling water beneath Alan’s pale skin. At one point, it looked like it he was going to punch a hole through Alan’s midsection. Mrs. Bigby cried out, putting a shaky hand to her mouth. I hated doing this to her, she was a decent lady, she just managed to marry a dickwad, but hell, a guy had to make a living.

“Qui cum Patre et eodem spiritu sancto vivit et eregnat Deus…”

I could feel Trey pressing in behind me with his camera, like a media happy vulture. I wanted to whip around and knock the guy once or twice in the face. He had no manners. And he had no understanding about personal space. Because he was definitely invading mine.

But I didn’t need to do anything, because the demon inside Alan took that moment to focus on Trey.

“Trey Summers, you lecherous son-of-a-bitch.”

It was funny hearing those words with Alan’s voice. Especially since the two men were business partners. Alan was funding Trey’s first movie. Which after tonight, I imagined was going to be in the dumper. I mean, who would want their exorcism broadcasted to millions on YouTube. Alan really wasn’t looking his best right now. No one looked good with a demon inside them.

I glanced behind me and saw Trey’s face pale. I had to bite down on my tongue to stifle the laugh that wanted to burst out. Not that I enjoyed wallowing in other people’s misery, it’s just that his misery was fair game.

“Have I ever told you how much of a loser I think you are, Trey? You suck.”

Trey looked around, his cheeks reddening. “That’s just the demon talking, right?” He looked at me, pleading in his gaze. “Right?”

I let him suffer for a few more moments while I finished the incantation. “Amen.” I signed the cross in the air.
Alan’s body made one more desperate back breaking spasm, and then slumped down into the chair, his head hanging slack, his mouth open, drool dribbling down his double chins.

“Yeah, Trey, it was the demon talking.” I could hear his sigh of relief. I crossed the lines of the pentagram to unlock Alan’s wrists. “But guess where he gets his material from.” I tapped my finger against Alan’s forehead.

That roused Alan from his stupor and he blinked up at me, spittle coating his chin. Wide-eyed, he looked around, taking in the spectacle that was his exorcism. He would’ve had no idea what was going on. The last thing he likely remembered was whatever he’d been doing twenty four hours ago before he’d become possessed. Everything else would be a blank. Although some demons allowed their hosts to be aware of what was going on. It was the biggest mindfuck of all to watch yourself do horrible unimaginable things and be unable to stop.

I knew Dan kept his hosts dumb. It was also part of our bargain.

I unlocked the cuffs and helped Alan to his feet. He stared at me, his dark bushy eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Who the hell are you?”

“Caden Butcher, sir.”

“The exorcist?”

I nodded.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Saving your soul, sir.”

Mrs. Bigby took that moment to rush to her husband’s aid. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed his doughy cheek. “Oh Alan, I was so scared.”

He didn’t immediately respond to his wife, but continued to gape around the room as more people started to crush in on him, wanting to welcome him back, or take pictures. I saw flashes out of the corner of my eye.

“Who are these people?” Alan sputtered. “Someone tell me what the hell is happening here?”

I put my hand on his big shoulder, preparing him for my big speech. I one I’d practiced like a hundred times before in front of a mirror. Doing exorcisms in Hollywood was very much like acting. “Alan Bigby, you were possessed by a level one demon and I performed an exorcism on you to banish the demon back to hell.”

He looked to his wife for confirmation. She nodded vigorously, as she continued to cling to him and kiss his cheeks. “I was so scared, Alan. You were actually crawling up the walls in the bedroom.”

He looked back at me. “You’re serious?”

“Completely.”

Shaking his head, his gaze settled on Trey who was still holding the camera on his shoulder. His face darkened. “Are you taping this?”

Trey licked his lips nervously. “Ah, yeah, I am, Alan, but it’ll be really-,”

Alan shrugged off his wife’s hands and rushed toward Trey. “Turn that fucking thing off you asshole!”

Smiling, I got the hell out of the way. Good thing I got my fee upfront. There was no way in hell Alan Bigby, up-and-coming producer, was going to pay me for making him look like an ass on TV.

Interview

 

How would you describe Demon Whisperer and Static?

 

Dark, dangerous, original thrill rides that you won't be able to put down.

 

Which of your characters do you feel you relate to the most and why?

 

Probably Salem from Static, because of her love of music and her stubborn pigheadedness to do things on her own.

 

Were you a reader in your teen years and if so, who was your favorite author?

 

Big time reader.  Stephen King was my main source of literature.  Probably explains a thing a two about me.

 

What one 2012 release are you most looking forward to reading next year?

 

Fear: A Gone Novel by Michael Grant, I LOVE this dystopian series.  So good.

Are you currently in the process of writing a sequel or newer book?

 

I am writing the next Caden Butcher book, and working on something completely new, something really high-concept and exciting. Can't wait to talk about it.

 

 

Tawny Stokes has always been a writer. From an early age, she’d spin tales of serial killers in love, vampires taking over the world, and sometimes about fluffy bunnies turned bunnicidal maniacs. An honour student in high school, with a penchant for math and English, you’d never know it by the foot high blue Mohawk and Doc Martens, which often got her into trouble. No longer a Mohawk wearer, Tawny still enjoys old school punk rock, trance, zombie movies, teen horror films, and fluffy bunnies. She lives in Canada with her fantastical daughter, two cats, and spends most of her time creating new stories for teens.

Tawny also writes adult paranormal/urban fantasy fiction under the name Vivi Anna, and is an aspiring screenwriter.

Website | Facebook | Twitter

 

 

Happy Reading!

Ashley Suzanne

Invisible {Interview & Book Excerpt}

Today I would like to welcome Jeanne Bannon to Ashley Suzanne. Come on in, kick back and enjoy a hot cup of cocoa!

Release Date: September 30, 2011
Publisher: Solstice Publishing
Age Group: Young Adult
Pages: 186
Format: Paperback and Ebook

Lola’s not pretty. Lola’s not popular. Lola wishes she could disappear … and then one day she does just that... For seventeen-year-old Lola Savullo, life is a struggle. Born to funky parents who are more in than she could ever be, Lola’s dream of becoming a writer makes her an outsider even in her own home. Bullied and despised, Lola still has the support of her best pal Charlie and Grandma Rose. Not only is she freakishly tall, Lola’s a big girl and when forced to wear a bathing suit at her summer job as a camp counselor, Lola’s only escape from deep embarrassment seems to be to literally vanish. Soon after, she discovers the roots of her new “ability”. Slowly, with Charlie’s help, Lola learns to control the new super power. The possibilities are endless. Yet power can be abused, too… Then, when tragedy strikes, Lola must summon her inner strength, both at home and at school. She has to stand up for herself, despite the temptations and possibilities of her newfound super power. A coming-of-age story that will warm the heart.

For some reason I actually like this cover! I know that it is a little plain, but it has a lot of mystery behind it.

How would you describe Invisible?

 

Invisible is about a teenage girl named Lola. Lola's not pretty, she's not popular. As a matter of fact, she's picked on at school and doesn't quite fit in with her own family. She wishes she could disappear and one day, she does. Lola now has to learn how to deal with her newfound superpower and the temptation it holds for revenge. I would categorize Invisible as magical realism. It's for young adults (hopefully with cross-over appeal).

Which of your characters do you feel you relate to the most and why?

 

I relate to Lola the most and the reason is that when I was in grades 7 and 8, I was bullied. I feel Lola's pain and her desire to just not be seen. Obviously the experience of being picked on, even though it only lasted two school years, stayed with me long enough to come out in my writing.

Were you a reader in your teen years and if so, who was your favorite author?

 

Yes, I was always a reader. Though I never read fiction for teens. I would pick up whatever novel was lying around the house that my mom or dad had read. I remember reading books by authors like Jeffery Archer and Sidney Sheldon as a very young teen. Later I read anything and everything by Stephen King. And in my eyes, he's da man!

What one 2011 release are you most looking forward to reading this year?

 

I'm looking forward to the release of a book written by a friend of mine. It's titled The Girl in the Box, by Sheila Dalton. It's due out the end of November.

Are you currently in the process of writing a sequel or newer book?

 

I'm at the end of rewriting a paranormal thriller titled Dark Angel. I actually started this book before Invisible. It's much longer than Invisible and I've been working on it for over two years. Hopefully it will be ready to shop around by the end of the year.

Book Excerpt

Chapter Three
I always leave Grandma Rose’s apartment with a smile on my face and an ache in my heart. I wish my mother were like her. How lucky for my mom to have such a wonderful, almost normal, mother. I’m stuck with a parent in an ever-present state of adolescence, whose life’s mission is to desperately hang onto what’s left of her looks. My mom, with her rat’s nest of hair stacked high on her head, dyed cherry red with chunky blonde highlights and dark brown lowlights, and extensions thrown in for good measure. A woman can’t ever have too much hair, she’s forever saying. Giving me her version of what passes as parental advice. I prefer Gran’s words of wisdom – “extensions make a woman look trampy” and “dye your hair only when the white comes in.” It seems more dignified, because I think a woman can have too much hair.
Dad’s just as bad, with his funky jeans, Ed Hardy T-shirts, pointy-toed boots, pierced ears, tattoos and a soul patch. He’s going to be fifty next year, for God’s sake. The thought makes me cringe. I live with dim-witted middle-aged teenagers.
Gran tells me all the time it’s not what’s on the outside that’s important and I know she’s right. I suppose I’m a bit of a hypocrite, since I’m always complaining about my weight or my height, or the fact I don’t have a boyfriend. But I’m supposed to be obsessed with fitting in and with my looks; after all, I’m the teenager.
It’s only a ten-minute walk home from Gran’s. I tilt my face toward the sun, soaking in the warmth of the spring day as I make my way along familiar streets. When I approach the park on the corners of Whiteside Avenue and Moorehouse Drive, I stop dead. Sudden dread causes the beat of blood to fill my ears.
There are three boys and a girl - Nino Campese, Tyler Campbell, his girlfriend Julia and Jon Kingsbury. They’re seniors like me and even though we’ve known each other since kindergarten, once adolescence hit and separated the weak from the strong, the cool from the nerd, I became prey. I was hunted by those better looking, and with more attitude, simply for their entertainment.
I plunge my hands into the pockets of my jean jacket and hang my head. Taking large quick steps, I tread quietly. They’re talking and laughing and the foul scent of cigarette smoke wafts past me in the breeze. From the corner of my eye, I spot Julia and Tyler sharing a butt as they cling together under the large plastic orange slide. Nino’s holding court and Tyler’s laughing at something Nino has said and Jon, well Jon just stands there, looking bored.
Why is he with them? My heart sinks. I thought Jon was different.
Tyler’s eyes flicker my way; immediately I pick up my pace.
“Hey!” someone yells.
I don’t answer.
“Where do you think you’re goin’, ya fat cow?” Nino hollers, as he jogs up beside me followed by Julia and Tyler.
“Home,” I say, not stopping.
Nino jumps into my path. “Where’s your girlfriend, Savullo?” He sneers and spits a snotty gob at my feet.
“Lesbo freak,” Julia chimes in and flicks a butt at my face.
It bounces off my chin with a burning sting. I glare down at her with her hawkish nose and eyes that are too close together. “Get out of my way,” I growl through gritted teeth and try to step around them, but Tyler grabs my elbow, his fingers bite into my flesh and a small groan escapes me.
“We’re not done talkin’ yet, hippo,” he snarls.
I yank free. Tears sting my eyes and the heat of anger and embarrassment reddens my face.
“Leave me alone!” I scream and push. Tyler’s tall, but skinny and I manage to knock him on his ass. But as soon as I take a step, Nino and Julia are on me.
“Leave her alone,” Jon calls. He hung back from the action and is still standing by the orange slide.
I slam a shoulder into Julia’s face and hear a crunch as my bulk meets her nose. Blood spurts and the purple blur of manicured nails flash past, as she whips a hand to her face.
She gazes up at me in surprise. “You broke my nose, you bitch!” Then she looks at Tyler with eyes that say “you better do something about this.”
My heart beats so hard, the swishing of blood in my ears is a roar. They’re swearing, yelling and threatening me, but panic has taken over as adrenaline pushes into my veins, and I make out nothing coherent.
I turn and try to run back the way I’d come. But another hand is on me, biting the flesh of my upper arm through the fabric of my jacket. Then a fist smashes into the back of my head. “You’re nothin’ but a fat dyke.”
My knees smack the gritty concrete as my legs buckle, and deep heaving sobs erupt from me. Why do they hate me?
“Where the hell did she go?” Nino asks, his voice laced with astonishment.
“Holy shit!” Julia and Tyler exclaim at the same time. “What the…?”
Slowly, I pivot and look at them. They’re turning in circles, searching for me.
Jon is with them now. “She’s gone,” he whispers in wide-eyed disbelief.
“What? How?” Nino asks.
I creep away on elastic legs.

Thanks Jeanne for stopping by and for showing us a peak at Invisible!

Ashley Suzanne

Say Not What If {Interview & Giveaway}

“Say Not What If” is about a man on death row, and has as its theme the concept that time is our most valuable commodity. As someone once said, “waste anything but time, because we really are promised no tomorrows.” This theme is explored through the life of a man who sacrifices his marriage and everything else for his career. He realizes much too late the terrible consequences of this decision, and then desperately tries to regain those lost years by making a much worse choice. The resolution of this latter choice involves an additional examination of the concepts of accountability and responsibility, redemption, and the morality of the death penalty.

 

 

Interview

How would you describe “Say Not What If?”

 

“Say Not What If” is a nearly 10,000 word story written as a long rhyming poem, but is nonetheless very easy to read and understand. It is about a man on death row, and has as its theme the concept that time is our most valuable commodity. As someone once said, “waste anything but time, because we really are promised no tomorrows.” This theme is explored through the life of a man who sacrifices his marriage and everything else for his career. He realizes much too late the terrible consequences of this decision, and then desperately tries to regain those lost years by making a much worse choice. The resolution of this latter choice involves an additional examination of the concepts of accountability and responsibility, redemption, and the morality of the death penalty.

 

Which of your characters do you feel you relate to the most and why?

 

I identify most closely with the warden of the prison where the protagonist is put to death. The warden embodies and reflects my own views on the death penalty. He supports believes the death penalty is an appropriate or at least morally defensible punishment for truly heinous crimes. But he also understands the claim that its imposition at least arguably makes the state no morally different than the person being executed. This is why he despises those who stand outside prisons and cheer while someone is being executed. He questions his own morality just for presiding over executions, and wonders if by doing so he has the same blood on his hands as murderers being put to death. He notes the awful stench of death, and the gasps of those being executed that accompany the death penalty. This guilt is ultimately one reason why he quits. He also quits because the demanding nature of his job prevents him from spending enough time with his wife and son. He wants to avoid having the same regrets that were ultimately why the protagonist ended up on death row.

 

Were you a reader in your teen years and if so, who was your favorite author?

 

School and studying took up a lot of my time as a teenager, but I read when my schedule would allow. Both my parents were readers, and there were always many books in the house. We made frequent trips to the public library and to local book sales.

My favorite author was George Orwell. “1984” seems more and more relevant now as our privacy is continually being eroded by the same technology we insist is necessary for a meaningful life. I also loved “Animal Farm.” Some of my other favorite authors and books as a teenager were Ray Bradbury and the “Martian Chronicles,” and Arthur C. Clarke and “Childhood’s End.”

But my favorite book then and now is “One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich,” by the Russian writer Alexander Solzhenitsyn. The book is literally a day in the life of a prisoner in a Soviet gulag. Harrowing.

 

What one 2012 release are you most looking forward to reading this year?

 

My current situation unfortunately does not allow me to purchase many books. I am therefore unable to buy new releases. I buy most of the books I read at local book sales, or even more unfortunately, when book stores decide to close and therefore discount their inventory. Borders is a recent example.

I am currently reading “The Big Burn,” by Timothy Egan, which I did buy at a Borders that was closing. The book is about one of the worst forest fires in American history, in August 1910. Egan skillfully relates the frightening size of the fire, as well as the desperate attempts to contain it by a nascent fire service, overwhelmed forest rangers, and a collection of completely inexperienced immigrants, college boys, day workers, and miners. Many died. There are stories of heroism and bravery, as well as cowardice and greed. He shows us the best and worst of people, qualities that strangely seem equally likely to appear during a crisis. He also explores the broader conflict between the desire Teddy Roosevelt had to establish permanent national forests, and that of corporations and industry who wanted to harvest those same forests for their timber.

Egan is the author of “The Worst Hard Time,” another excellent book, about the dust bowl and its consequences.

I also recently read “Big Coal,” by Jeff Goddell, about the coal industry in the U.S. Another very good book.

 

Are you currently in the process of writing a sequel or newer book?

 

I am not currently writing a sequel to “Say Not What If,” but do have some ideas about writing a second part, or another story written in the same format. It is simply a matter of finding the time I suppose. But the importance of not wasting time and procrastinating is something I should be familiar with after writing “Say Not What If.”

 

 

Andrew is offering one lucky reader a chance to win a print copy of “Say Not What If”.

Just leave a comment with a way to reach you and you are entered.

Thanks for stopping by and sharing! I wish you the best of luck and the most success!

 

Happy Reading!

Ashley Suzanne

After Obsession {Giveaway & Interview}

 
Release Date: September 13, 2011
Publisher: Bloomsbury USA Childrens
Age Group: Young Adult
Pages: 320
Format: ARC
Source: Publisher

Aimee and Alan have secrets. Both teens have unusual pasts and abilities they prefer to keep hidden. But when they meet each other, in a cold Maine town, they can't stop their secrets from spilling out. Strange things have been happening lately, and they both feel that something-or someone- is haunting them. They're wrong. Despite their unusual history and powers, it's neither Aimee nor Alan who is truly haunted. It's Alan's cousin Courtney who, in a desperate plea to find her missing father, has invited a demon into her life-and into her body. Only together can Aimee and Alan exorcise the ghost. And they have to move quickly, before it devours not just Courtney but everything around her.
Filled with heart-pounding romance, paranormal activity, and rich teen characters to love-and introducing an exciting new YA voice, Steven Wedel-this novel is exactly what Carrie Jones fans have been waiting for. Meet your next obsession.

How did you  two meet, anyway? Is it true this Wedel guy used black magic to lure Carrie to Oklahoma in 2008?

CARRIE: Actually author Melissa Marr set us up on a speed date at a conference in Oklahoma where we had to go around to tables talking to people for five minutes. Melissa said she put us together because we were both mellow and nice.  Ha! We had her fooled. Oh! Wait, maybe that was part of the Wedelian black magic. Geesh! How did I not know?

STEVE: hehehe I love it when a plan comes together! Seriously, until I saw the schedule Melissa had put together, I didn’t have a clue who Carrie Jones was. But the chemistry was instantaneous. We developed a little introduction as we went table to table and just had a great time. Later, Carrie stole the fruit out of my beverage, though. I’m not sure I’m over that yet.

Carrie, you are a respected New York Times bestselling author. It probably came as no surprise to you to learn that Wedel had created some fantasy in which you would write a book with him. Why didn’t you simply report him to the police immediately when he continued to harass you? Do you feel you encouraged his demented obsession through your innocent e-mails?

CARRIE: Since I work as a part-time police dispatcher, I knew that the complaint about Wedel would not really be taken seriously. There were no explicit death threats involved. Since I was on my own without law enforcement back-up, I figured that I might as well just do it.

No, actually I was super excited to try to write a book with Steve. It seemed like a cool experiment. And if I failed, I got to fail WITH someone. That’s never happened before.  I’m used to failing alone. How about you, Steve? Was it freaky writing YA instead of Adult?

STEVE: Oh, I’m used to failing alone. But then, I am older than you, Carrie. Writing YA wasn’t all that freaky, really. Getting used to first person present tense took a while, though.

Rumor has it Steve chained Carrie to a desk and forced her to write this novel. In an effort to end the torment, you both set a breakneck pace and finished the book in a very short time. Is that how it happened?

CARRIE: It took less than a month to write that first draft. Enough said. Although as supporting evidence, I do have chain marks on my ankles. Really, I’ve never had so much fun writing a book before. I’d check my email all the time muttering, “Has he sent a new chapter yet? What?! WHAT?!? No new chapter.”  Then I’d rush out my chapter to see what would happen next.

It was kind of like when you have a crush on a boy and you really want him to text and he doesn’t and you’re like – come on! Come on!

It was probably the opposite for Steve. He was probably all, “NO! NOT ANOTHER CARRIE CHAPTER!”  Was it? (Please say “no,” Steve. Please say “no.”)

STEVE: Not even close! I felt exactly the same. I couldn’t wait for that next chapter, and as soon as I got it I was inspired to write my next part right then. If something happened and I couldn’t write my chapter on the same day I got Carrie’s latest I was wracked with guilt and afraid she would need more time, or would withhold her chapter as punishment and I’d have to wait longer for it. Like she said, writing has never been so much fun.

Artistically speaking what did each of you contribute to this book? How is it different than the usual novel you write?

STEVE: Well, the most obvious answer is that the book is written in alternating points of view between Aimee, Carrie’s character, and Alan, my character. Carrie’s writing is very much character driven and very feminine. She sees a lot of detail that I tend to gloss over. I’d say this novel is much richer in detail and tone than anything I’ve done previously and I blame Carrie for that.

CARRIE: It is much quicker, much more plot-driven, and has a lot more testosterone in it. Steve puts a really man energy into his chapters and he’s so good at dialogue and flow. I was really lucky to write with him.

Wedel has been sighted wearing a cowboy hat and driving a 40-year-old pickup truck. Carrie, on the other hand, is an East Coast girl with a Mini Cooper. Is it possible that you both found shared ground upon which to build a plot? What are some of the commonalities and differences between the two of you?

STEVE: I think our politicians could learn a lot from me and Carrie. Sure, we have some differences, but our ultimate goals are pretty much the same. We both want to tell good stories that entertain and just maybe carry a positive message. We share an interest in the supernatural and Norse mythology and the plight of the modern teenager. To be honest, I didn’t really know how good Carrie was with the paranormal elements until we wrote this book. Need wasn’t published yet, remember. I figured I’d provide most of the chills, but she wrote a scene with a knife that stands my hair up every time I read it.

CARRIE: Dude. When your hair stands up on end you’re like 87 feet tall. Steve has long hair…. Really, really long hair.
Sorry. Back to the question.

Well, he is quite tall and I’m --- I’m not quite tall and he has a lot of facial hair and I – I DO NOT! I think the thing we have in common is that we both really care about people and stories and teens. I mean, Steve will become a huge stress monkey if something is wrong with one of his students or his kids, and I think that passion and caring and love of people comes out in both our writing despite our political, physical, and motor vehicle differences.

What reaction do you anticipate from your loyal fan base regarding this collaboration? Is it something they’re going to like? Will they pity you for what you’ve endured? Or will they simply ignore it?

STEVE: Hopefully Carrie’s fans won’t feel the need for pity. No residents of Maine were harmed in the creation of this book. Not physically, anyway. I think my fans will like it. I know my students will, and I’ll be thrilled to have a book school librarians will make available to high schoolers.

CARRIE: I hope they like it despite the fact that there are no pixies. They will all probably fall in love with Alan, the main character that Steve created, the way I did. Oh my gosh! You think they’ll ignore it? Hold on. I have to go panic now.

After Obsession features a girl in Maine and a boy who comes from Oklahoma. Are there other elements in the novel that mirror your lives or your relationships to your Okie or Mainiac collaborator?

CARRIE: Well, Steve is tall. Alan is tall. Steve  is less politically correct than I am. Alan is like that too. Aimee and I both try to eat healthy and we both paint…… Um…… Wedel? Can you answer this one?

STEVE: Alan and Aimee learn a lot about each other, and that was true for me and Carrie as we worked together. I learned a lot about living in a small Maine town. Can you believe they really don’t have football in most Maine high schools? I know I worked in several details gleaned from my life as a high school teacher.

The concept of demonic possession is something you haven’t dealt with in your previous fiction. Did the idea for the novel come from your month-long captivity? Carrie, was it a feeling of helplessness as Wedel subjected you to a Southern drawl and stories about the high school students he tries to teach?

CARRIE: I think it came from Wedel because he is twisted like that.

STEVE: I honestly don’t remember. I remember there was a pretty short period where we kind of kicked around some pretty basic plot ideas. That was November 2008. Carrie was working on something for the National Novel Writing Month, so we agreed to start writing in December. Not being bound to NaNoWriMo, I went ahead and wrote a chapter, then confessed to what I’d done. Turns out, Carrie had done the same thing. So, I’m not sure who’s idea the possession was, but I guess I did the research on it as we got into the book.

Carrie, you are known for strong young female characters instrumental in solving their own problems, much like you allegedly gnawed through the chains and escaped Wedel. Has the revolving point of view used in After Obsession diluted the strength of Aimee, the female protagonist? And Steve, you are known for your horror and your detail. Did you find it hard to tone it down for this book?

CARRIE: No. I think by seeing her actions through Alan’s eyes it actually makes her stronger.

STEVE: In YA, even demons have to watch their language. Actually, the scary elements aren’t that toned down from my solo novels. And, I guess I’ve mellowed with age, because I’m not including as much graphic content in my other books as I used to.

Carrie, are you suffering from Stockholm Syndrome? Would you collaborate with Wedel again, or are you simply glad to be free? Steve, have you moved on to bigger and better authors to torment?  What are your states of mind as After Obsession moves closer to publication?

CARRIE: I would love to experiment again, if he still wants me.

STEVE: Bigger and better? That would be hard to find. I’d write with Carrie again in a heartbeat. Maybe I wouldn’t even have to use that old black magic next time.

US ONLY!