Shadow
The Romany Outcasts Series
Book Two
Christi J. Whitney
Genre: YA, fantasy/urban fantasy
Publisher: HarperCollins/
HarperVoyagerUK
Date of Publication: June 2, 2016
ISBN: 9780008122409
ASIN: B0155OP8MK
Number of pages: 400
Word Count: 98,754
Cover Artist: Cherie Chapman
Book Description:
The second volume in this incredible YA trilogy.
When stone hearts break they shatter.
Sebastian Grey used to be a normal teenager. Now he’s a creature whose sole purpose is to be a guardian for secretive gypsy clans.
When the Romany gypsies need his help, Sebastian is given a second chance to protect Josephine Romany – the girl he loves. But this is no easy task when some of them think he’s as bad as the shadow creatures attacking their camp.
Yet to keep Josephine safe, Sebastian might have to embrace his darker side. Even if that means choosing between his humanity and becoming the monster everyone believes him to be.
Excerpt:
‘My apologies if
Caliban hurt you,’ said the man. ‘It’s what he’s trained to do.’
The men lowered
their hoods. It was Phillipe and Stephan – two of Quentin’s Marksmen. They
watched me with disgusted expressions as I forced myself to stand. My muscles
felt like iron cords.
‘You’ve trained
him to attack innocent people?’ I snarled, brushing myself off.
‘Of course not,’
Phillipe sneered. ‘He’s trained to attack your kind.’
My kind.
I really hated
that phrase.
I examined my
arm. The sleeve of my jacket was ripped, but there wasn’t a mark on my gray
skin. My eyes widened. Not even a scratch. But it still hurt like crazy, and I
rubbed my arm gingerly.
‘It’s fortunate
we weren’t out with the rest of the dogs,’ said Stephan with a cold smile.
‘Caliban here is relatively mild-tempered.’
As if on cue,
the dog’s muzzle flashed with sharp teeth.
‘Nicolas asked
me to come,’ I said evenly.
Stephan tilted
his chin. ‘Yes, we know.’
I was about to
get an escort, I realized.
‘Come with us,’
Phillipe ordered.
Stephan slid his
bow from his shoulder and fitted an arrow to the string. ‘Caliban and I will
follow behind. Just as a precaution, of course – in case you start getting any
ideas in that ugly gray head of yours.’
Quentin Marks’
welcoming committee was not something I’d anticipated. I gathered my bags, and
Phillipe led our unpleasant little party across the Sutallee Bridge. I
unconsciously slowed as we passed over the abandoned mine shaft where Josephine
and I had taken refuge so long ago. There was a sharp poke in the middle of my
back, right between my pent wings.
‘Move it,’
Stephan said, jabbing me again. ‘We’re already late for lunch.’
I fought the
insanely strong desire to whirl around and shove the arrow down his throat.
Instead, I bit my lip, tasting blood, and picked up my pace. We reached the
iron fence that surrounded the Fairgrounds. Phillipe pulled out a ring of keys
and opened the gate.
I’d assumed
everything would look as it had the last time I’d been within the walls of the
Circe de Romany. But there were no tents or pavilions. No rides or decorations,
either. Only trailers – along with several RVs, trucks, and buses – arranged in
a tight circle, right in the middle of the property.
Their
configuration created a large open space in the center of the caravan. Tarps
were arranged over tables and chairs. A fire pit had been built, and laundry
hung from clotheslines spread between trailers. People bustled around the
clearing, preparing for the approaching storm. Another peal of thunder echoed
overhead. The clouds had thickened, and the sky looked ready to split apart at
any moment.
‘Hurry it up,’
said Stephan with another jab to my back. ‘I don’t intend to get wet.’
Lightning
flashed. Women scurried to get the clothes off the lines while men anchored the
tarps more securely in the ground. Phillipe led me to a small trailer and flung
open the door.
‘Get inside.’
The howling wind
was motivation enough – even without Stephan’s sharp arrow in my back – and I
scampered up the steps. My nose instantly wrinkled at the unpleasant smell.
Phillipe caught my look.
‘The dog
trailer,’ he said.
‘Just be glad
they’re out on patrol,’ said Stephan with a malicious laugh. ‘They’re quite
territorial.’
The Marksmen
backed me into the stinky enclosure, weapons drawn.
‘We’ll come for
you when Nicolas returns,’ said Phillipe. ‘Until then, welcome home.’
With that, he
slammed the door, locking me inside.
About the Author:
Christi J. Whitney is a former high school theatre director with a love for the arts. She lives just outside Atlanta with her husband and two sons. When not spending time with them or taking a ridiculous number of trips to Disney World, she can be found directing plays, making costumes for sci-fi/fantasy conventions, obsessing over Doctor Who, watching superhero movies, or pretending she’s just a tad bit British. You can visit her online at www.christijwhitney.com or connect on Twitter (@ChristiWhitney).
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1 comment:
Awesome tour!
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