Tuesday, July 7, 2015

Arelia LaRue Book #6 REPRESSED Teaser

Hi Guys! Book 6 cover, release date and pre-order info will be posted on August 1st.


Here is a little teaser :) Enjoy!


Chapter One

They Would Do Anything to Materialize Their Every Wish
Darkwood Plantation Present Day

The summer wind wasn’t warm enough to dry the fat beads of sweat that dripped off of my grimy forehead. They trickled down my hot cheeks and further stained the once clean yellow lace dress I wore.  I unsuccessfully tried to block out the taunting screams and drunken laughter that seeped through the cemetery gate. As if mocking my plight, the wild swamp animals joined in on the exhilarating hollers that continued to rise at an alarming rate. 
Despite the eerie moonlight that shone on the gnarled oak claws the world was cloaked in a heavy darkness. It took me a split second to realize that this darkness that surrounded me wasn’t literal. It was spiritual. Something within my soul told me that the world I once knew was slowly succumbing to this madness. In the twinkling of an eye everything had changed. Everything I thought was truth had evaporated into the ghostly past. One by one lies were coming out of the antique French armoires. Whatever else was hidden would not remain that way for long. Lies couldn’t be repressed forever. They had a way of catching up with you.
   
The only thing I could think of was running. I had to outrun the stench of toxic herbs and spicy rum that hounded me. I had to outrun the claws that that tugged on my hair. I had to outrun my past. I had to outrun The Past and somehow stop it from manifesting in the present. I wanted to run until my bare feet turned raw and bled viciously.  Alas, as Bade would lovingly say “silly Arelia.”
I felt silly because I knew that I couldn’t run forever, but I was smart enough to admit that I was terrified of the battle that lay ahead.  I had made the mistake of buying into the lie that had been forced down my throat since birth. The lie that insisted that time was linear. Things happened and they forever remained within the confines of crusty old history books. Society forgot the faces, voices struggles and warnings of those who came before them and the world moved on. The past is over, but the present you can seize and all of that jazz. It was such a limited way of looking at life. I had come to realize that Bon Dieu was much bigger than our minuscule perception.
“I’m hungry and my feet hurt.” The irritated voice interrupted my philosophical musings. My sweat turned ice cold and chills inched their way up my back. The tiny hand that was entwined with mine tightened its sweaty grip almost crushing my fingers in the process. I refused to look to my side. I couldn’t face her. “Did you hear me? I’m hungry!!! My feet hurt and I’m tired. Do you even have a plan?” The voice was getting increasingly annoyed with every step we took. “Emilie always had food.”
I let out a small sigh as I brushed away a wisp of Spanish moss that had managed to creep into my ear. “Of course Emilie always had food,” I said under my breath. It was the number one rule of war: food and entertainment. 



I had learned "Panem et Circensus" from the million and one times that Sabrina had forced me to watch Gladiator. She had claimed that it was the only movie in which Russell Crowe would ever be remotely hot.  Distract the masses with food and entertainment while Rome burns.  A flashback from our ninth grade history class hit me.  I remembered nerdishly cute Mr. Jackson with his furrowed brow and floppy hair furiously reading us Juvenal: “The people who once upon a time handed out military command, high civil office, legions- everything, now restrains itself and anxiously hopes for just two things: bread and circuses.”
At that time Sabrina had mockingly stuck out her tongue at his angst. In retrospect it became clear that ever step she had taken had been a carefully placed sign prepping me for this big revelation. I had been so clueless and attached to the material that I had completely neglected the spiritual. I couldn’t think about that though. I didn’t have the option of lamenting over the imaginary Sabrina Richards and beating myself over my shortcomings. I had to take down Emilie and find Him. Who was this mystery man and how did he have so much supernatural power over Emilie and Ghede Massaka?
“I’M HUNGRY!!!” The tiny hand started to dig its sharp claw like nails into my knuckles. “I’M HUNGRY! I’M HUNGRY! I’M HUNGRY! You’re pathetic, do you know that? I’d rather be dancing with Ghede Massaka and his smelly sack! Take me back to Emilie!”
I couldn’t face her. I couldn’t look at her. It was too painful. The product of Cecile and Edmond’s twisted relationship was forever perfectly preserved in the form of a beautiful baby zombie.
“Look at me!” she demanded. “You’re such a coward!”