Hey y’all! I’m super excited to reveal this book excerpt! One because
I’m her publicist and two because I’ve read this book and it’s amazeballs!!! Oh
and check below for the giveaway!
Prophecy Girl
Cecily White
Paperback: 352 pages
Release Date: April 2, 2013
Publisher: Entangled Teen
ISBN: 1620612941
Amelie Bennett.
. . . Ending the world, one prophecy at a time.
I was born to
slay Crossworld demons.
Big black flappy ones, little green squirmy ones. Unfortunately, the
only thing getting slain these days is my social life. With my high school
under attack, combat classes intensifying, and Academy instructors dropping
right and left, I can barely get my homework done, let alone score a bondmate
before prom.
Then he shows
up.
Jackson Smith-Hailey. Unspeakably hot, hopelessly unattainable, and
dangerous in all the right ways. Sure, he’s my trainer. And okay, maybe he
hates me. Doesn’t mean I’ll ignore the wicked Guardian chemistry between us.
It’s crazy! Every time I’m with him, my powers explode. Awesome, right?
Wrong.
Now my teachers think I’m the murderous Graymason destined to bring
down our whole race of angelbloods. Everyone in New Orleans is hunting me. The
people I trusted want me dead. Jack and I have five days to solve the murders,
prevent a vampire uprising, and thwart the pesky prophecy foretelling his death
by my hand. Shouldn’t be too difficult.
Getting it done without falling in love. . . that might take a
miracle.
And here’s the
excerpt!
Matt had snapped
the leg off his chair and swung it at the air, Alec Charbonnet’s head seemed to
be bent in prayer, and Lyle, in an unlikely show of heroism, held up his
Theories textbook to shield a whimpering Channeler behind him. In the distance,
I could hear Marcus shouting evacuation orders, but, for the most part, it was
just screams. High-pitched, horrible screams.
“Lisa!” I
yelled. “Get Katie and get out!”
“But—”
“I’m right
behind you, I swear. Go!” I wrenched my arm out of Lisa’s grip, desperate to
find some foothold in the madness.
So far, only
lesser demons had come through—small creatures that scratched and bit with
nasty precision but rarely killed. Under normal circumstances, they were about
as threatening as a swarm of winged ferrets.
Except this was
far from normal.
Through the
haze, I watched Jack raise his sword in a defensive arc. His face held no fear
as he parried the demon attack, deflecting blow after blow. Bright streaks of
crimson appeared on his cheeks, his shirt shredded to bloodstained ribbons. He
swung his blade with the force of a battle-axe, sheets of black ichor spreading
down his hands. Yet as fiercely as he fought and as much damage as he
inflicted, I knew it wouldn’t be enough. Until that gate was closed, the demons
would keep coming.
And they’d get
bigger.
We’d been warned
to expect hand-to-hand combat challenges, the occasional loose fiend, trainers
lurking behind corners to pounce on us for “training purposes.” But untamed
demon hordes and blasts of hellfire?
No way.
Somebody had to
do something.
I squinted
against the heat and lifted up my hands. “Exitus,” I yelled weakly. The swirl
of heat and fire tightened in my fingers for a second, then went slack.
“What are you
doing?” Like a shot, Jack’s head snapped in my direction.
“I’m helping,” I
shouted from my hiding spot behind the chair.
“You’re
irritating them. Go away!”
“I’m irritating
them?” I mumbled as he sliced through another demon wing.
Much as I ached
to argue, I had to give him snaps for honesty. It was true, I sucked at the
channeling thing. Once, I had tried linking power with Lyle during Fundamentals
class last year. Total disaster. It had taken a solid month for his eyebrows to
grow back.
Still, did Jack
really expect me to sit and do nothing? He was getting slaughtered. Alone.
Smalley and the rest of the faculty huddled near the exits. Even the trainers,
who were allegedly hired for stuff like this, bustled safely toward the back.
I watched as
another charcoal-skinned demon slid through the opening, its serrated teeth
snapping at the air.
“Jack! Behind
you!”
He turned in
time to see the thing flying at his back. With inhuman speed, his sword came up
in a glittering sweep to slice through its neck. Black blood spilled across his
chest as the monster crashed to the floor in a stringy heap…just as two more
like it hurtled through.
It was insane.
Why was no one fighting?
Marcus and
Daniel had funneled the last Channelers through the exits and were circling
back to collect the Watchers and senior faculty. I recognized what they were
doing. It was standard protocol for a rift-kill. First, they would clear the
room and ward all the vulnerable points of exit. Only a small contingent would
be left inside, one or two bonded pairs. When the demon flow had cleared, the
Watcher would launch a charmed explosive device, etched with glyphs powerful
enough to collapse the gate from the other side. We’d seen it a hundred times
in training videos.
But this made no
sense.
If I left the
room now there would be no Channelers. No one to shield him when the gate
collapsed.
Terrified, I
stood and pushed through the demon horde to where Jack fought, his sword
slicing the air like a whip. My chest was taut, and, with every step, heat
seemed to billow up inside me.
“Give me a
weapon,” I yelled.
“Bennett, I told
you to get out of here. That’s an order!”
“I’m not leaving
you. Give me a sword and let me fight, or give me your hand and help me
channel.”
His eyes were
dark with fury as he whirled. “It’s not your fight.”
“You’re going to
die.”
“Bennett, for
the last time,” he said, thrashing at the blackskinned horde. “Get! Out!”
With a final
hacking swipe, he flipped his sword to the opposite hand and made a grab at my
arm. I’m not sure what he intended—to push me back, or maybe march me to
Smalley’s office for a quick disciplinary lecture. Whatever his intention, it
vanished the instant his hand touched me.
It was as if I’d
been electrified, like a toaster oven suddenly plugged into the wall. All the
power from the rift hurtled toward us, raw and hot and terrifying. I lifted my
free hand again, black flames lapping at my outstretched fingers.
“Exitus!
Concedia! Incendia!”
Every command I
could dredge up from last year’s Defensive Fundamentals class sprang to my
lips. White and gold sparks flew out of my fingers and a hot wind blew,
whipping the curtains into tight little circles. It felt like someone had
injected liquid flames into my veins, as if the building and everyone in it
were suddenly bleeding fire. Crossworld energy swelled inside me, blackening my
heart and everything around it.
“Holy hell!”
Jack ripped his
hand off my arm but it was too late. Energy hung between us, thick and ropey
ribbons of light. I could feel my power reverberating off his. My eyes slammed
shut as a whip of heat cracked across my face, the darkness intensifying. Every
instinct told me to duck, to run, to hide. But I didn’t. If I let go of the
channel, the gate would open again, and I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t
let him die.
With an ungodly
grunt, Jack launched himself at me, his weapon clattering to the floor beneath
an acidic wave of black flame. The dull ache of impact ripped through my
shoulder as we hit the ground and began to roll. Maybe it was instinct, maybe
cowardice, I don’t know. But as soon as I felt him on top of me, I melted. My
body sealed itself to his, every part of us fitting together like pieces of an
ancient puzzle. Every hard plane of his chest, every inch of his warmth against
me…even the smell of him, all sweat and soap and salty blood.
He felt like
home.
Crossworld
energy stretched across my soul as he tucked me beneath him. Somewhere in my
ribcage I could feel my spirit suffocating, helpless and weak. I wanted to will
the flames into submission but my control was gone.
I was drowning.
About Cecily:
Cecily Cornelius-White, Psy.D. makes a habit of avoiding boredom
whenever possible. She has enjoyed careers as a hand model, GAP salesgirl,
movie projectionist, psychotherapist, yoga instructor, university professor,
artist, dance choreographer, eating disorders specialist, psych diagnostician,
book reviewer and copy editor. None of which are as much fun as writing novels.
She currently lives in Springfield, MO with two FABULOUS
kids, and a schizophrenic yet well-mannered cat. She can swear in Klingon, take
down an alien aggressor using only her mind (or a pair of chopsticks), and kill
giant spiders without getting schmutz on her shirt.
When not singing to herself, she spends time creating new worlds and
thinking up ways to make this one better…
Where you can
find her:
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