This is my stop on the Ashes blog tour! Organised by YA Bound Book Tours.
Ashes (Arson #2)
YA Paranormal Thrill-Ride
September 11th 2011
MORE THAN THREE MONTHS HAVE PASSED SINCE ARSON AND EMERY WERE SUDDENLY TAKEN. TAKEN AND THEN SEPARATED. AND EXPERIMENTED ON.
The minds running Salvation Asylum have abducted them for a dark purpose. A campaign has been set in motion to genetically alter mankind. Unknowingly, Arson has become the most vital instrument in this global scheme, initiated by a select group of brilliant scientists and cunning world leaders. Confused, trapped, and unable to fully manifest his abilities, Arson faces a new existence crawling with questions. Will he ever see Emery again? Is Grandma still alive? Can the fate of the human race really hang in the balance of one choice?
Nightmare and reality collide in Ashes, book two in the gripping ARSON trilogy. Love will be tested. Powers will shift. And the past will invade the here and now as Arson discovers a part of himself he has never before known and fights against his own shocking origins. Will this boy who once tempted fire be able to take on a fearful future? When the struggle intensifies and secrets come to light, will Arson be ready to accept the haunting revelation that there may be others out there, others like him?
Book One, Arson by Estevan Vega
ARSON GABLE FEELS LIKE A FREAK. HE CAN CREATE FIRE. HE NEVER ASKED FOR IT. HE NEVER WANTED IT. BUT HE CAN’T SHUT IT OFF.
Before now, three things were true: he both loved and despised his grandmother; his life was going nowhere; and he was alone. But when a strange girl–who feels more normal behind a mask than inside her own skin–moves in next door, Arson hopes to find something he’s never had: purpose. After years of living in fear, he will be forced to confront his haunting past and embrace the unknown as he walks the fine line between boy and monster. Edgy, realistic, and breathtaking, Arson, the chilling chronicle of an isolated teenager with unimaginable ability, is set to ignite the hearts and minds of a new generation.
Grand Prize Includes:
Signed copy of Arson
Signed copy of Ashes
Custom Arson T-Shirt
E-books of Arson and Ashes (Nook or Kindle)
Custom Personalized letter from Estevan Vega telling you how classy you are 😉
$25 Amazon Gift Card
About Author and Links:
I’m a writer. Well, technically an author, because they say that you magically become an author (i.e. true creative) if you’ve published something, and you’re a writer if you haven’t (you know those closet aspiring geniuses who just scribble stuff into notebooks and hide it from the world?). But I still call myself a writer. I’m one of 4 brothers. The middle son. I guess that’s supposed to make me uber weird and dysfunctional, but the jury’s still out on that one. I love mint chocolate chip ice cream. Like, really love it. Watching movies and going to rock shows are 2 of my favorite pastimes, and I am addicted to telling stories. Read more at his Goodreads page.
Thanks for reading!
Arson and Emery are separated. Neither one knows the whereabouts of the other. They’re stuck. Trapped. Afraid. Emery’s new existence is a four wall prison. No doors. No light. Her thoughts are warring with her mind. Her thoughts, and the fear of dying here as a captive. Who has taken her, and what do they want?
Emery finally came to. A migraine trampled through her head. All she could do was hope that her body would keep awake long enough for her to catch a glimpse of the unusual shadow from the other side. Quite a few came and went, but one in particular—she could tell which shadow, based on how long it stayed in one spot and how its feet danced behind the door as it listened to her breathe—was curious, and she wanted to know it. If it had a name. She wanted to know why it was here, haunting her. She spent hour after hour wishing it were Arson finally coming to rescue her. He’d take her back home.
Anywhere but here.
The taste of rust filled her mouth. The putrid soak of damp concrete stifled the air in her nostrils. It was the taste of no control.
She spent the next uncounted moments raking bent fingers through the greasy knots in her hair then leaned back against the wall and tried to hide from the darkness. “No,” she said, shaking her eyes open again. “Stay awake.” Where is the food? she wondered, hungry as ever. She fought to catch a clearer glimpse of the shadow lurking outside. Was it the one she’d been hoping for? She wanted it to come back and keep her company.
Emery held her head between her knees as blood began to rush. The sudden flood to her brain forced her mind to want to go black and stay lost somewhere. Head up, head down. She didn’t even have shoelaces. Someone had dressed her, fitted these rags on her. What had she done to be treated like such a criminal? “I’m a person. A human being!” she yelled at the walls. They didn’t seem to care. “Let me out!” She bashed once, twice, several more times against the concrete surface.
The ridge of her hand leaked red.
Something suddenly moved across her feet. In the dark, she couldn’t tell what it was. But a splinter of light invaded from the bottom slit in the door just then, long enough for the light to reveal that the creature had sharp nails for teeth and a slimy, hairy sack for a stomach. A thin, pink tail dragged behind it.
She screamed, before kicking the rat across the room, praying it didn’t find her again. She heard the creature squeal when it smacked against the ground. Maybe it broke its little neck.
Suddenly, there was new movement outside the door. She swore she heard breathing. Then footsteps. Then a deeper breathing. Closer and farther away; then closer again. Who was it? What did they want?
“Hey, if you can hear me, I need to get outta here. Hello?
Can you help me, please?” She crawled toward the door, somewhat apprehensive about the furry villain that might still be lurking close by. “Please, help me.”
The begging became sobs that were never heard. Or worse, were ignored. If there were a living, breathing human being outside, how could they keep her here, locked away from the world?
She listened carefully as the footsteps once more escaped her. No food this time; maybe dinner was later, or breakfast. It was easy to misplace hours in a room with no clock.
“Come back,” she begged the cold sounds outside her door.
“Come back to me.” Her slippery mouth brushed up next to the wall. She tasted dirt, wanting to throw up.
Too late. She wondered if, because she hadn’t eaten anything, particles of her were coming up out of the dead space inside. Parts of her erupting and splattering disgusting mess on the ground.
Emery scraped the wall with her nails like a lunatic. She hoped to find a hole, a stitch of brighter light, something real to hold onto. Then she pounded her forehead against the wintry surface. Once was enough to knock her out cold.