A new spin on zombies!
Path Unchosen by Kim Cleary
(Daughter of Ravenswood #1)
Publication date: September 7th 2013
Genres: Dark Fantasy, New Adult, Paranormal, Urban Fantasy
Synopsis
When eighteen-year-old Judy Hudson discovers she’s a necromancer and sees first-hand the pain her powers can cause the dead, she just wants to deny who she is. The zombie plague is long over. She wants to find a more normal life, but that’s a challenge when a beautiful otherworldly man, who claims to be her guardian, saves her life.
Judy tries to set right the harm she inflicted on a spirit she raised, but new zombies attack—zombies raised from among the long-time dead. Someone else just like her is out there, and he’s not trying to set anything right. To save her own life, and protect the innocent inhabitants of the nearby town who’ve become her friends, Judy has to figure out who’s raising the dead and why. She must also learn to control the darkness inside her—a seductive darkness that promises her power beyond her wildest dreams.
Judy tries to set right the harm she inflicted on a spirit she raised, but new zombies attack—zombies raised from among the long-time dead. Someone else just like her is out there, and he’s not trying to set anything right. To save her own life, and protect the innocent inhabitants of the nearby town who’ve become her friends, Judy has to figure out who’s raising the dead and why. She must also learn to control the darkness inside her—a seductive darkness that promises her power beyond her wildest dreams.
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Excerpt
He’d brought me here to kill me. What other reason could Father Andrew have for driving me to such a remote spot?
I tried to pull my arm free, but he gripped my wrist even harder. There were no buildings in sight, not even a copse of trees to shelter in. Even if I could escape his grip, where would I run? I’d freeze to death before I could find help.
The stone seemed to watch me.
How could that be? I’d never been here before.
The stone called to me, teased me with sweet laughter. For a fleeting moment, I smelled flowers and saw children dancing. Was it trying to communicate with me? Telling me to trust it?
Father Andrew seemed oblivious to its power. At its base, he pushed me to my knees and droned out another prayer. I lowered my head and folded my hands but didn’t say the words.
“Father.” I coughed and cleared my throat. “What’s happening?”
He stopped his muttering. “I should have put you back two years ago.”
A heavy weight pushed against my chest, the same weight I felt in the chicken shed. “What do you mean?”
He pressed his palm on the top of my head. “I found you here. It is best, for the sake of us all, that I bring you back.”
“But you said someone left me in a box—”
He squeezed my scalp. “You were left in a box, but here. I found you here.”
My leg muscles tightened, ready to carry me away, but my intuition told me to wait. I gulped deep breaths to calm the pulsing in my veins. He licked his finger, traced a cross on my forehead, then trudged back to where Moppet waited in front of the wagon.
Father Andrew grabbed the blanket, strode back, and hung it around my shoulders. Tears tracked down his cheeks. He didn’t wipe them away. This time when he got back to the wagon, he climbed in and set Moppet to a fast walk. They grew smaller and smaller in the distance and disappeared.
He hadn’t killed me. He abandoned me here, where he found me. Was he giving me a chance to live, or did he expect me to die here? Delicate crystals of snow drifted to the ground in this surreal landscape. A pale gray sky hung so low a sudden urge to jump up and touch it filled my head.
I climbed to my feet and slumped against the monolith. Something clunked against the weathered stone. I pulled the forgotten watch from my pocket and traced my fingertips over the initials. BG—was this watch, these initials even connected with me?
Whiteness stretched out in all directions like a crisply ironed sheet. Snowflakes fell in my hair and eyelashes. The coldness of each one stung as it landed on my face.
At least the weathered stone blocked the wind. Where could I find shelter? Where could I go? Not back to St. Stephen’s that was for sure. Never back there.
Hunger gnawed at my stomach. My legs gave way, and I fluttered into semi-consciousness.
Hot breath brushed against my neck, and strong hands lifted me from the snow. Warmth encircled me as if someone wrapped me in a downy quilt, but it was a fleeting sensation before darkness surrounded me.
Author Bio
Excerpt
He’d brought me here to kill me. What other reason could Father Andrew have for driving me to such a remote spot?
I tried to pull my arm free, but he gripped my wrist even harder. There were no buildings in sight, not even a copse of trees to shelter in. Even if I could escape his grip, where would I run? I’d freeze to death before I could find help.
The stone seemed to watch me.
How could that be? I’d never been here before.
The stone called to me, teased me with sweet laughter. For a fleeting moment, I smelled flowers and saw children dancing. Was it trying to communicate with me? Telling me to trust it?
Father Andrew seemed oblivious to its power. At its base, he pushed me to my knees and droned out another prayer. I lowered my head and folded my hands but didn’t say the words.
“Father.” I coughed and cleared my throat. “What’s happening?”
He stopped his muttering. “I should have put you back two years ago.”
A heavy weight pushed against my chest, the same weight I felt in the chicken shed. “What do you mean?”
He pressed his palm on the top of my head. “I found you here. It is best, for the sake of us all, that I bring you back.”
“But you said someone left me in a box—”
He squeezed my scalp. “You were left in a box, but here. I found you here.”
My leg muscles tightened, ready to carry me away, but my intuition told me to wait. I gulped deep breaths to calm the pulsing in my veins. He licked his finger, traced a cross on my forehead, then trudged back to where Moppet waited in front of the wagon.
Father Andrew grabbed the blanket, strode back, and hung it around my shoulders. Tears tracked down his cheeks. He didn’t wipe them away. This time when he got back to the wagon, he climbed in and set Moppet to a fast walk. They grew smaller and smaller in the distance and disappeared.
He hadn’t killed me. He abandoned me here, where he found me. Was he giving me a chance to live, or did he expect me to die here? Delicate crystals of snow drifted to the ground in this surreal landscape. A pale gray sky hung so low a sudden urge to jump up and touch it filled my head.
I climbed to my feet and slumped against the monolith. Something clunked against the weathered stone. I pulled the forgotten watch from my pocket and traced my fingertips over the initials. BG—was this watch, these initials even connected with me?
Whiteness stretched out in all directions like a crisply ironed sheet. Snowflakes fell in my hair and eyelashes. The coldness of each one stung as it landed on my face.
At least the weathered stone blocked the wind. Where could I find shelter? Where could I go? Not back to St. Stephen’s that was for sure. Never back there.
Hunger gnawed at my stomach. My legs gave way, and I fluttered into semi-consciousness.
Hot breath brushed against my neck, and strong hands lifted me from the snow. Warmth encircled me as if someone wrapped me in a downy quilt, but it was a fleeting sensation before darkness surrounded me.
Author Bio
Kim writes urban fantasy for anyone who longs to discover they are extraordinary. She writes about hopefulness and determination, and about heroes who push through extraordinary situations and obstacles, one step at a time. Magical friends and gorgeous guys help, or hinder, in one adventure after another.
When not writing, revising, or thinking about writing, Kim gardens, plays with her dog, chats on social media, catches up with friends or cooks an Indian feast. She is a member of Writers Victoria, Romance Writers of Australia, The Alliance of Independent Authors, and a certified chocoholic.
Kim grew up in Birmingham, UK, studied medieval history and psychology at Adelaide University in South Australia and has worked all over Australia and in London. She now lives with her husband and an adorable Cocker Spaniel in Melbourne, Australia.
When not writing, revising, or thinking about writing, Kim gardens, plays with her dog, chats on social media, catches up with friends or cooks an Indian feast. She is a member of Writers Victoria, Romance Writers of Australia, The Alliance of Independent Authors, and a certified chocoholic.
Kim grew up in Birmingham, UK, studied medieval history and psychology at Adelaide University in South Australia and has worked all over Australia and in London. She now lives with her husband and an adorable Cocker Spaniel in Melbourne, Australia.
Thanks for being on the tour, Jess! :)
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