Pages

Friday, December 30, 2022

Urban Fantasy / Horror Feature: Accursed Son by Eric Avedissian #blogtour #urbanfantasy #fantasy #horror #giveaway #rabtbooktours @RABTBookTours @angryreporter

 


 

   The Martyr's Vow Series, Book 1


Urban Fantasy / Horror

To Be Published: 12-12-2022

Publisher: Shadow Spark Publishing


photo add-to-goodreads-button_zpsc7b3c634.png


Armand Tarkanian is trapped in the ultimate dead-end job: embalming decedents under his abusive uncle’s watchful eye. Every day he goes through the motions, making death look beautiful while his life is anything but.

A car accident leaves him indebted to Berj, a mysterious man with rune-carved gold teeth and a penchant for worshipping old gods. Blackmailed and desperate, Armand feels more trapped than he was under his uncle’s thumb. But the embalmer harbors his own dark secret, a bloodline curse that allows him to communicate with the dead.

When the spirits show him how they were murdered, Armand must choose between fealty to the sadistic and manipulative Berj, or joining the Legion of the Lamb, a monster-hunting biker gang with their own agenda. What began as a dangerous game between secret societies has led Armand on a frightening quest to save the only family he’s ever known and a chance to get closer to the rebellious misfits who saved him.

 

Heartfelt and provocative, Accursed Son is a story featuring generational clashes, found families, and the rewards of tempting fate.

 


Review
Love every part of this dark (in the best way), action, adventure ... it had a story that gripped my attention the whole time, I didn’t want to put the book down. 
The author does a great job making you feel like you're in the thick of it with the characters throughout the course of the book. 
Eric Avedissian has struck an excellent balance. Fast. Engaging. Enthralling. Captivating.

About the Author

Eric Avedissian is an adjunct professor and speculative fiction author. He lives in New Jersey with his wife and a ridiculous number of books. When not chained to his writing desk, he hikes the Pinelands and wastes too much time on social media. Accursed Son is his first novel. Visit him online at www.ericavedissian.com and on Twitter: @angryreporter.


Contact Links

Website

Instagram

Twitter

Goodreads 


Purchase Link

Amazon



RABT Book Tours & PR

Thursday, December 29, 2022

Action / Adventure Feature: The Canadian Beaver Lodge Assassins Association by Jerry Cripe #blogtour #bookreview #giveaway #action #adventure #rabtbooktours @RABTBookTours

 



Action/Adventure

Date Published: November 30, 2022

Publisher: Acorn Publishing


photo add-to-goodreads-button_zpsc7b3c634.png

 

On a routine delivery, courier Jaxy Thrie must ferry a priceless item—a Fabergé guardian angel once worn by the Empress Maria Feodorovna—to a Russian heiress in British Columbia. Things get out of hand when Jaxy loses the valuable medallion. He finds himself in fast trouble with the Romanov Guild, who accuses him of theft. It falls on Jaxy to restore the national treasure to the Royal Museum while dodging bullets from a greedy band of robbers, the Mounties, and the Canadian Beaver Lodge Assassins Association.




Review
This was a very cohesive read. There is a great balance between the characters, their life, and the plot.
The writing style was easy to follow along with and helped me keep flipping pages steadily til the end. 
If you like action and suspense, read this story. 

About the Author

A lifetime resident of California, Jerry moved to Santa Barbara after graduating from USC to work in the aerospace industry. Today, he designs night-vision cameras for everyday use. In his free time, Jerry likes to write and use his musical talent to compose original scores for piano and guitar. After his first loves—song and storytelling—Jerry enjoys hiking, spending time in the garden, and baking sourdough bread.


Contact Link

Website

Instagram: @jerrycripewriter


Purchase Links

Amazon

Barnes and Noble



a Rafflecopter giveaway RABT Book Tours & PR

Wednesday, December 28, 2022

Historical Romance Feature: Kiss Me, My Duke by Fenna Edgewood #promo #historicalromance #releaseblitz #rabtbooktours @RABTBookTours @BookBuzznet

 

#2 The Blakeley Manor Series


Historical Romance, Regency Romance, Steamy Regency Romance

Date Published: December 29, 2022

Publisher: WOLF Publishing


photo add-to-goodreads-button_zpsc7b3c634.png

 

In this simmering steamy Regency romance by USA Today bestselling author Fenna Edgewood, a handsome but arrogant duke and a prim young housekeeper join forces in a dangerous endeavour… only to find out that falling in love will be the greatest risk of all.


Lost: One duke's sister. Found: The unexpected love of a lifetime.

Edmund "Dare" Blakeley, the Duke of Dareford, is on a mission to find his younger sister who has been ruthlessly abducted. The only problem? He needs the help of his housekeeper to do it.

Before she was his servant, she had another name… and all of London swooning at her feet.

Miss Laurel Spencer has no wish to cavort with a duke–even if he is her brother-in-law. In her younger days, she saw how love can utterly destroy a woman.

But when the duke's younger sister and Laurel's elder brother go missing, she reluctantly agrees to accompany Dare to London to search for them.

As Laurel calls upon old friends in low places, including the most notorious gaming hell in London, her past begins to resurrect itself. Soon Dare is forced to realize how little he knows about the enigmatic woman by his side... and how desperate he is to uncover everything he can about her.

One reckless moment of passion…

Suddenly, a missing sister is the least of Dare's worries. After a wild night in Laurel's bed, his happiness hinges on proving his love is sincere... to a woman terrified of ever risking her heart, even if it means becoming his duchess.

As the Blakeley family mysteries are uncovered, not everyone is glad to see the truth coming to light… and one man will do anything to see that it stays buried.


 About the Author

Fenna Edgewood writes swoon-worthy, humorous stories of love, family, and adventure. In other words, the most important things in life! She is an award-winning retired academic who has studied English literature for most of her life. After a twenty-five-year hiatus from writing romance as a twelve-year-old, she has returned to the genre with a bang. Fenna has lived and traveled across North America, most notably above the Arctic Circle.

 

Contact Links

Website

BookBub

Amazon

Facebook

Goodreads

Instagram


Publisher's Links

Website

Facebook

Instagram

 

Purchase Link

Amazon


RABT Book Tours & PR

Literary Memoir Feature: Skinny Dipping in a Dirty Pond by Lis Anna-Langston #blogtour #bookreview #literary #memoir #giveaway #rabtbooktours @RABTBookTours

 

 

Literary Fiction / Memoir

Release Date: October 1, 2022

Publisher: Mapleton Press


photo add-to-goodreads-button_zpsc7b3c634.png

A young girl in a small southern town in the 80’s enlists the help of an unlikely group of friends and family to help her survive an unconventional, sometimes abusive childhood. Often left in the care of a paranoid schizophrenic uncle who lives downstairs and a psychotic uncle upstairs, the narrator stacks up a few heartbreaking observations. When her mother abandons her in favor of her addictions, the girl goes to live with her grandmother but finds happiness cut short when her grandmother dies. Her uncle believes the voices in his head have trapped his mother in a basement across town and as he slowly looses grip on reality, he also looses his ability to take care of her. Taken to a Group Home to live until a case worker can find her a place to go, her mom’s ex shows up and is forced to make a choice.


Praise for Skinny Dipping in a Dirty Pond:


One child's vulnerability and resilience to forces beyond her control make a raw and colorful splash in this tenderhearted memoir.

-RECOMMENDED by the US Review


"Skinny Dipping in a Dirty Pond is highly recommended for fiction readers looking for coming-of-age and family narratives that are anything but ordinary and predictable. Its lively tone packs a punch."

- D. Donovan, Midwest Book Review


... I have to tell you that as I enjoyed this great book, I realized no 9 year old could have the thoughts or quick comebacks that Cotton does. Any kid that had to go through what Cotton did would become old way before their time. But in truth, this is mostly a story of Cotton telling about her life but living in the moment. Does that sound nuts? Well, whatever the technique, it worked. It made a story so very poignant that it touched my heart. Lis-Anna Langston created a character you will fall in love with and a book you'll be sad is over when you turn the last page.

- Our Town Book Reviews




Review
A Beautiful, Intimate Portrait.
One of the notable aspects of this book is the deep self-reflection.
I did think that the book ended too early. By the end of the book, I had become engaged with the author and the story.
This book is a highly recommended. It is rare for any memoirist to give so intimate a portrait of self-doubt. Great piece of writing. 


About the Author

Lis Anna-Langston was raised along the winding current of the Mississippi River on a steady diet of dog-eared books. She attended a Creative and Performing Arts School from middle school until graduation and went on to study Literature at Webster University. Her two novels, Gobbledy and Tupelo Honey have won the Parents’ Choice Gold, Moonbeam Book Award, Independent Press Award, Benjamin Franklin Book Award and NYC Big Book Awards. Twice nominated for the Pushcart award and Finalist in the Brighthorse Book Prize, William Faulkner Fiction Contest and Thomas Wolfe Fiction Award, her work has been published in The Literary Review, Emerson Review, The Merrimack Review, Emrys Journal, The MacGuffin, Sand Hill Review and dozens of other literary journals. She draws badly, sings loudly, loves ketchup, starry skies & stories with happy aliens.


You can find her in the wilds of South Carolina plucking stories out of thin air.


Contact Links

Website

Instagram

BookBub

GoodReads

Amazon Author Page

IMDB


Purchase Links

Amazon

B&N

Kobo

iBooks

Books A Million

 

 

 

RABT Book Tours & PR

Women's Fiction Feature: The Corpsman's Wife by Sabine Chennault #blogtour #bookreview #womensfiction #rabtbooktours @RABTBookTours @MKWebsiteandSEO


Contemporary Women's Fiction

Date Published: June 23, 2020

Publisher: Hellgate Press


photo add-to-goodreads-button_zpsc7b3c634.png

 

Getting away from her abusive, soon-to-be-ex-husband, Susi Jury accepts the invitation of her lifelong best friend, Tracy, to attend the Navy Boot Camp graduation of her younger brother at Naval Station Great Lakes near Chicago. At a celebration for the graduates at a local bar, she accidentally spills red wine on a young, handsome sailor—Lance Wells. Love at first sight? Absolutely.

The next morning, as they lay in bed confessing their love for one another, she realizes that her life has just changed forever—and so far, for the better. Lance returns to the base and Susi to her home in Arizona. Soon comes the first hurdle in their relationship: Susi is pregnant.

What follows is a romance for the ages that spans more than twenty years. From a long distance courtship, followed by the birth of a daughter, then through marriage, overseas deployment, loss, loneliness, and eventually coming to terms with the effect that PTSD can have on a relationship.

As the years pass, Susi witnesses how Lance’s Navy experience as a Fleet Marine Force Corpsman changes him. A short deployment during Desert Storm, a horrific plane crash on Guam, the horrors of 9/11, and the Battle of Fallujah—all seem to drain the spirit out of a once vibrant and devoted husband, leading to an act of desperation that finds Susi in a situation she could never have imagined.




Review

The characters were well done and likable.
At times here were eyebrow raising scenarios and dialogue. I do feel that the writing and story line are well done enough that the reader can suspend disbelief.
I thoroughly enjoyed this book, some parts of the story were predictable, while others left me confused as to why events leading to them weren't expanded upon.


About the Author

Sabine Chennault (1961), born in Ewersbach, Germany, came to America in 1981. She worked as a waitress and later as an Optician before becoming the office manager and later a licensed Optician. From 2002 until 2003 she attended Scottsdale Culinary Institute where she graduated with honors; several years later she obtained a Bachelors’s degree in English literature and went on to pursue her MA in family counseling. She quit school to dedicate herself full time to writing.  She lives with her husband Lance and their three dogs in Daaden Germany.


Contact Link

Website


Purchase Link

Amazon


RABT Book Tours & PR

Tuesday, December 27, 2022

Business Nonfiction Feature: The Game of Value Creation by Karl Yaacoub #promo #nonfiction #business #rabtbooktours @RABTBookTours @KarlYaacoub

 

Nonfiction / Business

Date Published: September 27, 2022

Publisher: Mindstir Media


photo add-to-goodreads-button_zpsc7b3c634.png

The Game of Value Creation takes you inside the world of active investors, who acquire companies that offer substantial opportunities for value creation and turn them into success stories using a proven, calculated, and tactical approach, so that you too can benefit from the strategies that work for the big fish in your own business.

Karl Yaacoub, a former investment banker and private equity investor, reveals how to view a business as a series of interconnected parts while applying the same principles as world-leading institutions to help your organization achieve success.


About the Author

Karl Yaacoub has over 11 years of experience in investment banking and private equity. He started his career with Standard Chartered Bank, a British multinational financial institution listed on the London and Hong Kong Stock Exchanges, where he completed assignments and deals in Asia, Europe and the Middle East.

He then joined a newly formed investment company with a capital of USD 680 million that had just listed on the Dubai Financial Market (DFM), where he played an active role in sourcing and assessing investments in the Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC), Europe and Southeast Asia and executing deals totaling USD 500 million.

Karl has executed deals in a variety of industries, including but not limited to commercial real estate, oil and gas, chemicals, technology, healthcare and education.

He has worked closely with a range of professionals who work for the world’s top investment banks, private equity firms, sovereign wealth funds, management consulting firms, family offices and legal firms. He enjoys a truly international network of colleagues, investors and friends around the world.

Karl is a Chartered Financial Analyst (CFA®) Charterholder and holds a Bachelor of Engineering in Electrical and Computer Engineering.

He is a Chicago Bulls fan and enjoys live music entertainment and unusual gastronomic experiences. He and his family reside in Chicago, Illinois. He is reachable via email at karl.yaacoub@gmail.com.


Contact Links

Facebook

Twitter

Instagram

LinkedIn

 

Purchase Links

Amazon

B&N


RABT Book Tours & PR

Fantasy Feature: Blood of the Hunted by Marc R. Micciola #promo #fantasy #excerpt #rabtbooktours @MarcMicciola @RABTBookTours @BookBuzznet

 

Fantasy

Date Published: December 15th 2022

 

photo add-to-goodreads-button_zpsc7b3c634.png

 

Weylyn, Olwen, and other members of the marginalized and subjugated group known as the Tóráin are trying every day to gain equality and freedom. Their enemies, which consist of vile human monarchs, their soldiers, and a masked witch assassin known only as The Dove, continue to tighten their grip around the necks of the Tóráin.

Leading The Resistance, Weylyn and Olwen endure many trials that test them physically and mentally, relying on their loved ones to keep them from losing hope. They both wish to see a time of equality and peace, but to achieve that requires more than what they have. Desperation leads The Resistance to find new allies all across the continent of Kosavros with the goal of finally defeating their oppressive overseers.

Their fight for freedom and respect leads Weylyn and Olwen down paths that open their eyes to new dangers, both involving themselves and the rest of the world. However, they do not waiver. For the Tóráin are known for their resilience, and they have already endured much. What comes next will be hard, but they’re ready to fight for their lives. Together.

 


Prologue


Weylyn

Cloque, Fleuris  |  November 1789


I tried to ignore the hateful screams coming from the crowd. The insults were shouted in both the common language and Fleuran, with someone even yelling a curse in the old language priests used. Things had already been thrown onto the stage by people who hoped to strike the lycan that was tied up for all to see. I kept my hood high so that I could remain as hidden as possible. I tried to slouch to hide my height while being sure to avoid eye contact with those around me. I had always been proud to be a lycan, and the lack of horns or colored skin was doing wonders for me right now. My satyr friends — as well as the sprites I knew — would have a much harder time blending in with the crowd today than I would. That was if anyone had taken the risk to come. Uncle Benen had refused to allow Brina and me to leave the house, but I snuck out the window late last night and hid in an alley until afternoon came. I could have gone to Ossian’s house, but the satyr would have just tried to keep me inside like Uncle Benen had. I couldn’t stay away. I couldn’t hide. I needed to be here for him. Even if the smartest and safest thing for the Tóráin in the city was to stay inside, I had to be where I was. Deep down, I knew all of the Tóráin felt the same way. We couldn’t abandon him now, not when he needed us the most.

Tears started to fill my eyes as I watched the soldiers bark out instructions to the witches, the women casting spells to torment the brave lycan they had restrained. I was mad at myself for doing so, but I looked away. I looked up, blinking away the water from my eyes as I stared at the looming image of the Sainte Mère Cathedral. I inspected the spires and the stained-glass window high above us as I tried to gather myself. The gothic church’s shadow stretched over nearly the entirety of Dame Square, swallowing the crowd in darkness despite the sun shining brightly in the afternoon sky. After taking a deep breath, I forced myself to look back down at the stage. The image I saw would give every single Tórán who had braved the crowds today a great pain in their heart. The lycan before me meant a lot to our community. He was always empowering those who were deemed devils simply because they were different. We all knew we were hated, but that lycan made us feel like we were worth something. He made me who I am today, and now I had to watch someone take him from me. Today, they were executing the most important person in my life: my father.

The pain I felt was not only the anticipation of loss, but also the knowledge that I could do nothing to stop it. All I could do was stand there, at the front of the crowd, and stare up at my father. He was tied up to two poles and spread uncomfortably. The witches had forced him into his feral shape, no doubt to make him appear to be the monster they would portray him to be. Humans continued to throw food at him, some even threw stones. No one stopped them. The officers and witches weren’t focused on the wrong doings of humans today. Their eyes were fixed on our kind. ‘Diables’, they called us. Beings from another world that many would see eradicated if it were up to them. Today was about sending a certain message to our kind, while sending a completely different one to their own. We were to be humbled and defeated, while humans would be propped up and celebrated. A story would be told on that stage, and none of my kind were supposed to enjoy it. I stared at my father’s face, hoping he would look up and lock eyes with me. For a moment it seemed like it would happen, but I was shoved from behind and forced to turn around.

“I knew I smelled a stray chien. You salauds aren’t allowed to mingle with us up here. Back of the crowd, Diable.”

I looked back over my shoulder at my father to catch him looking right at me. I refused to show weakness. “I’m staying right where I am.”

One of the young men who had confronted me raised a fire poker in the air, but he never got around to actually hitting me with it. A slender hand attached to a lean arm grasped his wrist and he grew red in the face.

“Rosey!” he whined. “What are you doing? He started it!”

Rosalie — my very best friend and one of the few people I knew I could trust outside of my father — was a human. Not even a witch. She was just a regular, wonderful, human. Her parents had helped mine for years since I was a pup. We grew up together, and despite my clear edge in strength, she was always rescuing me from ignorant assholes. The teen harassing me dropped his weapon and used his other hand to reach for Rosalie’s shoulder.

 “Don’t call me Rosey, “ she said as she grabbed his outstretched hand and twisted his fingers roughly. “And I highly doubt Weylyn started anything. Leave us alone or your father will find out just how much of a petit con you’ve been.”

The boy’s face scrunched up before he left through the crowd, massaging his injured hand. His friends followed him, prompting Rosalie to let out a deep sigh before fixing her dress. She grabbed a hold of my arm, laced her fingers through mine, and looked up at my father. The two of us stood there, trying to send him our strength for what felt like hours until trumpets sounded. Up the steps came King Louis, soaking in all the praise the majority of the crowd was giving him. He eventually waved at them to quiet down so he could speak, and I knew that what came next would make my blood boil.

“Gens de Cloque!” King Louis shouted with a pompous grin on his face. “I have been a just king, have I not? I have been a gracious, and bountiful king, have I not? Under my rule, all have prospered! Yet we still have...ordures...that want to see that lovely life tarnished. This monstre murdered ten officers. Dix protecteurs! For that heinous crime, the only plausible sentence is death! But first, we will make an example out of him!”

The crowd roared. The group of witches and officers stood ready now, surrounding the stage as torturers began whipping my father. He kept his fur covered head held high, defiant despite his pain. The people whipping him moved on to more forms of torture, dragging on the inevitable much to the enjoyment of the crowd. They cut at his ears, pulled his teeth, removed his fingertips, and even branded him with the royal sigil of Fleuris. Not once did my father cry out in pain. Not once did he give them the satisfaction they wanted. What they were doing to him had brought tears to my eyes yet again, but I also felt a sense of pride in seeing the strength my father was showing. The torturers looked at the king with lost expressions on their faces, prompting King Louis to rise from his chair and draw the saber at his waist. He began carving his prisoner. He sliced at his arms, and then his legs, then his back, and then his chest. All that and yet, still, there were no cries out for mercy or even a grunt from the pain. Now visibly angry, King Louis grabbed my father by the snout and shouted at him.

“Why must you defy me? You’re dead, Diable, there’s nothing to fight for anymore! Scream like I know you want to! Show everyone the lâche we know you to be!”

His face was bloodied and swollen, but at that moment I knew that he was looking at me. Our eyes finally locked, and I squeezed Rosalie’s hand. I took a small step forward, but Rosalie held me back. I looked down to see her crying as she shook her head. Bringing my attention back to my father, I found my eyes to be drowning in tears so much that it was hard to see. It all felt so hopeless...until he howled. Right in the face of the bastard that had committed so many wrongs to him and his kind, my father howled to the sky. Howls broke out from the crowd, followed by screeches and whistles from the harpies and other creatures who had come. King Louis was beside himself from this display. He drew his pistol from its holder, placed the barrel between my father’s eyes, and fired.

The world around me evaporated into nothing until all I could see was my father’s body limp on the stage, held up only by the ropes around his wrists and ankles. My eyes were locked on the horrid sight until Rosalie began pulling me through the crowd as more whistles, and screeches, and howls flooded the city. I barely paid attention to the chaos that was erupting as Rosalie and I pushed our way through the crowd. We eventually escaped the large mass and slipped into an alley.

“We need to get clear of here. My house is close enough, and we’ll be safe there.” Rosalie tried to pull me, but I stood my ground.

“My father is…he’s…” Rosalie came forward and put her hands on my face. The contact had me snapping to attention. “Uncle Benen. Ossian. Darby. They…I have to tell them what happened.”

“Yes. But not right now. Right now, we need to get you off the streets.” The general noise of a boisterous crowd turned into loud screams and gunshots. “Weylyn!”

I nodded furiously. “Yes. Right. Okay. Your house first then.”

The two of us ran off into the city, but the sounds of the riot that had broken out in Dame Square followed us for some time. I barely saw what was in front of me, Rosalie holding my hand and guiding me most of the way. I couldn’t shake the image of my father, torn apart, with a bullet wound leaking from his head. I still couldn’t believe it. My father was dead.

 

About the Author

Marc R. Micciola lives in Ontario Canada with his two dogs Ace and Rielly. He tries to get to the gym when he can in the week, and when he isn't there, he's working on his next project. Writing is a big part of Marc R. Micciola's life, but things such as hockey, video games, and spending time with friends and family are also passions of his. Despite being a fantasy author, Marc R. Micciola prides himself on his ability to create a great mix of realism and fantasy, blending the two together in just the right amounts to provide worlds you can escape to while also having real characters that are relatable.

 

Contact Links

Website

Twitter

Instagram

 

Purchase Link

Amazon


RABT Book Tours & PR

Science Fiction Feature: The Body Politic by Stella Atrium #promo #teasertuesday #excerpt #sciencefiction #giveaway #excerpt #freeebook #rabtbooktours @RABTBookTours @SAtriumWrites


Book II of The Tribal Wars


Science Fiction

Date Published: 1/8/2022

 

photo add-to-goodreads-button_zpsc7b3c634.png

 

BookLife Editor's Pick

 

Brianna Miller returns to Dolvia where tribal women protest the oppressive rule of Rabbenu Ely by self-torchings in the Cylay Square.  Brianna re-establishes her tribal schools and takes on assistant Kelly Osborn who is mixed blood and also a poet.

Kelly visits a neighboring planet Cicero where her aunt Carline Bryant takes over her education. While returning to Dolvia, Kelly meets the Australian adventurer Hershel Henry who has signed on for a tour of Dolvia as a photo-journalist.  Henry takes an opportunity to interview the khalif on the opposing side of the tribal wars.



 

Book I of The Tribal Wars is AVAILABLE NOW!


Fantasy

Date Published: 10-08-2022

 

photo add-to-goodreads-button_zpsc7b3c634.png

 

BookLife Editor's Pick


On Dolvia, Lt. Mike Shaw demands Dr. Greensboro’s doctoring skills at the hospital, forcing the closure of her bush clinic. She witnesses forced labor, forced migration, and the threat of an epidemic from bad water. She sees how tribal women–often wearing burkas–find solutions for saving the children in a conflict zone, and she commits to the their cause for Home Rule.

Brianna Miller is an isolated girl–a mixed-blood orphan–among the Dolviet tribes. With the lessons from Dr. Greensboro, the abuse from soldiers, the sisterhood among victims, Brianna prepares for a future she will choose for herself. But first she must travel offworld.


FREE FOR A LIMITED TIME - 12/27 - 1/16

Amazon

Barnes and Noble

Kobo

iBooks

Scirbd

 


Excerpt from The Body Politic

We entered China through Xinjiang province and traversed the high Takli Makan Desert overnight. In the morning, the train stood for several hours in Dunhuang, changing personnel from Russian to Chinese and taking on supplies. I watched from the window while porters in tunics and baggy pants loaded goods from a cart. They stopped suddenly, and the noise subsided, so I craned my neck to glimpse the source of the interruption. Some Blackshirts were hustling a group of peasant families, tied together with ropes and shuffling in obvious fear, across the tracks and down the causeway toward a holding area. Laborers returned to their work with measured gestures, careful not to attract unwanted attention, and the way closed behind the new arrivals.

I told myself that this repression was not my problem; I was just passing through.

Presently, a detachment of Russian soldiers wearing blue uniforms with red tooling took up positions outside our VIP car at the end of the train. The officer entered with authority and tucked his hat under one arm. Rufus stood squarely in the aisle with his knees bent and a hand on his knife hilt. The officer stopped.

After a moment, he looked past Rufus’s shoulder to me. “You are Brianna Miller of Arim?” he asked in English. “We are assigned.”

“I have security already, as you can see.”

“These, uh, warriors are included in our detail. The train now enters a province with some, uh, social unrest. Daniel Chin is concerned that your group experiences no, uh, in-con-ven-nience.” His hesitant words and rounded accent made me think his English was newly learned, perhaps his third language.

“Nu delaya,” I said, and Rufus relaxed his posture. Kyros placed a big hand on the officer’s shoulder from behind and led him to a seat several paces from me.

“What do you propose?” I asked.

“We will take the adjacent car and establish a presence around your group.”

“The adjacent car is for the students.”

“They may have to move forward.”

“How many in your squad?”

“Twelve.”

“I cannot provide for twelve. Six only.”

“We brought provisions, and you will be glad for twelve before we reach Beijing. I am Captain Chandliss, and you may direct any questions to me.”

“Captain Chandliss, I assume you are Lithuanian by birth, and your real name has two ‘z’s and three ‘k’s.”

He only smirked.

“Are the soldiers from your same province?” I asked.

“Most of them.”

“Why not provide a Han Chinese detachment to manage our security?”

“My orders were brief,” he said as he twisted to see where Kyros had stationed himself. “I gathered that your Dolviet escort would resent Blackshirts as security.”

I grinned. At least he had the sense to acknowledge what anyone could see. “And what else did Daniel Chin say in conversation?”

The captain didn’t react to the mention of Daniel Chin’s name. “Orders from Paris didn’t mention a bevy of students. You do have accommodations for them on the shuttle and the Company yacht?”

“My arrangements are made,” I said tolerantly. “Thank you for your interest. The students will remain where they are, and you will take the next car. Since you have twelve men and provisions, I expect that the students will remain as safe as I am safe.”

Captain Chandliss watched me for a moment. “Well. The train leaves in twenty minutes, so I’ll excuse myself to put all in good order.” He stood and nodded, unable to break military training. “Ah, how may I address these warriors?”

“Rufus, the son of Cyrus the ketiwhelp killer,” I said with a hand gesture. “And behind you is Kyros rabbe Sudl of Southeast Arrivi.”

He nodded to each warrior. “Ma’am,” he said and left.

Kyros looked at Rufus and mouthed “ma’am” with humor. Rufus covered his mouth with one hand to hide his response.

 

# # #

 

Later, I was called into the student car, I assumed due to the presence of soldiers. But the issue was trivial; something about a stolen item and whom to punish. The boys waited in a silent row, cynical and without gestures. The oldest girl Bernice was in tears, as were two eight-year-olds. I sighed, regretting my decision to include them in my travel plans.

Leah approached with submissive gestures. “These ones need daily lessons to keep their minds off homesickness. They need a common goal.”

I immediately thought of an old method Hakulupe Le had used in the Somule schools to bind students as a group, a method she had learned in prison, in fact. I spoke to the group. “Not all of you will board the shuttle to engage in space travel. I have accommodations for only seven, including the boys, so I must choose who is most worthy. To make this choice, we will devise a test. You will each share your history with the others, and at track’s end in three days’ time, you will each write the biographies of all the others, including the boys. After reading those papers, I will decide who remains with the clutch and who will return to their province. That is all.”

Leah quickly spoke. “May we have writing paper?”

“I will ask Captain Chandliss.”

“May we take our meals in the dining car?”

“What difference does that make?”

“Please.”

“Captain Chandliss manages your safety now. I’ll ask him.”

“Thank you, Rularim. Thanks again.” Leah knew when to flatter.

“I am not Rularim. I’m Brianna Miller.”

“We all thank you.”

“Yes, well. No more complaining and no crying.” I left before she could make another request.

Less than an hour later, Captain Chandliss came into my car. Kyros stopped him at the door but let him pass after a tense moment. “The students want their meals in the dining car. I have no authority for this.”

“Negotiate with the porters,” I instructed, “so the group can take a meal after the other diners have left, twice a day. Ask for a set menu with bland dishes because they have to board the shuttle soon. No sweets from the dessert tray but maybe rice pudding for each.”

His posture emphasized his disbelief. “Do you understand the expense?”

“Rufus will pay from the treasure of Kyle Rula.”

The disbelieving look on the captain’s face wandered to the warrior who was seated at a laptop with his back to us. Rufus turned slowly to fix me with a level stare. He opened the pouch at his belt and extracted a single uncut emerald as big as my thumb knuckle and placed it next to me. The gem was opaque with a sandpaper texture. Without glancing at the captain, Rufus turned back to the computer screen.

I saw the eyes of Captain Chandliss grow large at the sight of the gem. “Have it assayed at the next stop,” I said. “Then pay the porters for their trouble and distribute the remainder among your soldiers.”

The captain stood tall and looked at each of us, perhaps taking a moment to assess the opportunity. “My detachment will bear the current expense. I will have the gem appraised in Beijing where its value is far greater. I will subtract a commission for our service with the students and return the remainder to Rufus before your party boards the shuttle. We will take eight percent.”

“Four percent,” I said.

“Six percent.”

“Four point five percent, and no gratuity.”

“Done.” The captain scooped up the gem and turned on his heel. He left hurriedly, passing through the door that Kyros was holding open, just as though he needed to escape before I changed my mind.

Kyros said, “Much is learned about a man when he resists temptation.”

 

About the Author

Stella Atrium is an award-winning writer who presents otherworld stories about female protagonists of diverse ethnicity who encounter obstacles relatable to our lives today. How do women in a war zone gain voice in the marketplace using the few tools available to women?

Stella Atrium teaches at university in addition to online writing courses. She lives in Chicago, Illinois.

 

Contact Links

Website

Facebook

Twitter: @SAtriumWrites

Blog

Goodreads

Pinterest


Purchase Links

FREE FOR A LIMITED TIME - 12/27 - 1/16

Amazon

Barnes and Noble

Kobo

iBooks

Scribd

 

 

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway 


RABT Book Tours & PR